Page 10 of Azrael

“It’s okay.Not my first time having stitches.Although, the last time I was in the Emergency Room.”

He smiled faintly.“All right.Let me prep everything I’ll need.”

* * *

Azrael

“So,” I said conversationally, trying to distract her as Doc treated her wounds, “you said you’ve been looking for me.How’d you know where to find me?”

Her gaze shifted to my face.“I didn’t, not exactly.I knew the general area your club controls.I’ve been watching, asking questions, putting things together.Women talk, especially when they or someone they know has been saved from being attacked or worse.”

“And you met some of those women?”I asked.

“Yeah.I made it to your town but wasn’t entirely sure where you’d be once I got here.That alley tonight -- pure coincidence.Bad luck turning good.”

“Those men could have killed you,” I pointed out, as Doc tied off the second stitch.

“They could have tried,” she replied with a hardness that made me reassess her.This woman had more to her than I’d initially thought.

Doc finished the stitches -- five in total -- then dressed the wound with antiseptic ointment and a clean bandage.Zara flexed her arm experimentally, testing the pull of the sutures.She’d said she’d gotten them before.Looked like it was true.

“Thanks,” she said, inspecting his work.“Clean stitches.”

“Lots of practice.”Doc packed away the supplies, then stood.“I’ll leave you in Azrael’s hands, but if you need me, I’m a phone call away.”

“What about antibiotics or pain meds?Can she shower?I’m sure she’d like to clean up,” I said.

“She’ll be fine without meds.Tylenol if the pain is too much.I put a waterproof bandage over the stitches.If you want to make doubly sure, cover it with plastic wrap or a trash bag.She’ll be fine for now.”

Doc let himself out and I went over to the coffeemaker and started some coffee.Zara remained at the table.There was still a lot I didn’t know about her or the situation, but I doubted I would resolve anything tonight.She’d been through hell and probably needed some sleep.The coffee was more for me than her, but maybe a few sips would warm her up at least.It finished brewing, and I pulled down two mugs, filling hers halfway and mine to the top.

I slid her mug over to her.“It’s not some fancy flavor, and I don’t have creamer, but it’s hot.”

She took it gratefully, wrapping both hands around the mug.I hadn’t thought about the fact she might have a bag or car somewhere.I’d just focused on getting her out of the alley and away from those men.Now I had time to sit and think.

She looked so innocent under the bright kitchen lights.Wasn’t likely she was underage, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.“How old are you?”I asked.

“Twenty-two,” she replied.“Old enough to know what I’m doing, if that’s your concern.”

I raised an eyebrow.“And what exactly are you doing, Zara Colton?Besides getting yourself attacked in alleys and stitched up by strangers?”

Her gaze never leaving mine, she said, “Looking for my mother.She disappeared about five days ago.The police say she probably ran off, but they don’t know her.She wouldn’t leave without telling me, not voluntarily.”

“And you think she was taken by… whom?Human traffickers?”Probably not a leap most people would make, but if she’d been looking for me, that had to be the case.

Zara nodded.“I’ve been doing my own research.Following leads.There’ve been a lot of missing women, and they fit a certain profile -- exotic-looking, between thirty and forty-five, most with some connection to the Middle East or North Africa.”

“Like your mother,” I said, seeing where this was going.

“Like my mother,” she confirmed.“She’s Egyptian.Or rather, that’s where she was born.Apparently, her family is actually from Israel.I’m not sure where exactly.I’ve never met them.Mom met my father when she was only seventeen.The two fell in love and were inseparable.He died a few years ago.In case you were wondering about my eye color, he was an American.Blond-haired and blue-eyed.Everything else I inherited from my mother.”

“My mom was also born in the Middle East,” I said.“No clue who the fuck my father is, but if I ever find out, I’ll be sure to send him straight to hell.”

Her eyes widened slightly.I’d said more than I should have.Just the same, I’d meant every word.I leaned back in my chair, studying her.

“Daddy issues?”she asked, probably trying to lighten the moment.

“Mom was gang-raped by three men.I’m the result.”I saw her pale, and figured I should have found a better way to tell her.Or kept it to myself.

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