Page 63 of Power
“Humor me.” Jace stood along the wall. Still wearing his three-piece suit, though his tie hung loose and his shirt was painted with a light splattering of blood. Whether it was his or my father’s, I couldn’t tell.
“You said that no less than ten times since I got in the car with you.”
A distant code announcement echoed over the PA system, followed by the squeak of rubber-soled shoes rushing past our door.
“Evidently, you take a lot of convincing.” The corner of his mouth twitched upward, despite the angry red swelling around his eye.
“The only reason I agreed to this is because you agreed to get looked at too. Your face looks far worse than mine.” My attentionflitted down to his knuckles, which were raw, split, and beginning to bruise. “So does your hand. God, I hope it’s not broken.”
“Even the police agreed with me,” Jace reminded me, the overhead light catching on his cufflinks as he gestured.
The police interview hadn’t taken as long as you’d think.Ex abuser strikes again. That kind of thing probably had pre-populated fields. I was grateful to the cops but worried no one could truly protect my mom from my father’s dark side.
“I shouldn’t have left my mother’s side.”
“There’s a security guard positioned with her right now.”
“What if my dad comes looking for her here? Makes it past him?” I ran my fingers along the edge of the bed.
“He’d have to get past hospital metal detectors, hospital security, and a security guard who, I assure you, is very good at his job.” His tone softened. “Your mother is safe. If you’d prefer, I can have my security guard take her home.”
“No,” I said, wincing as the movement pulled at my throbbing cheek. “I want to spend the night with her.” She’d be scared, and I wouldn’t be able to sleep, worrying about her. “How do you have security at your fingertips at any hour, by the way?”
One phone call, and a dude with a gun showed up with an earpiece. Nothing says abnormally protected like that.
“In business, you can make big enemies sometimes.”
Seriously? Did all CEOs have security on retainer like most people had DoorDash? But I had bigger things to worry about right now. Namely, the terror of replaying this night in my mind.
God, if I hadn’t walked Mom to her car, what would have happened to her?
“Thank you,” I said, the words feeling inadequate against the weight of what he’d done. “For what you did.”
Jace tilted his head slightly, studying me. “I have questions.”
“Figured you would.”
“May I ask them?”
“You certainly earned the right to. You literally took a beatingto protect me and my mom, so, yeah, ask away.” I gave him a weak smile that pulled painfully at my injury.
Suddenly, the door to our emergency room opened, and a familiar set of eyes locked on mine.
“Scarlett?” Blake’s eyebrows slammed together.
Dr. Blake Morrison was my best friend, Tessa’s, boyfriend. Wearing blue scrubs and a white lab coat, he had a stethoscope strung around his neck.
“Blake.” I knew it was a possibility to see him here tonight, of course, though the jury was out if that was good (comforting) or bad (he might tell Tessa about this before I could).
His eyes narrowed at the mark on my face, then shot to Jace.
“What the fuck happened?” he asked, accusatory. Very not doctorly, but as I said, this was my bestie’s boyfriend.
“You guys know each other?” Jace asked, his gaze darting between us.
Wait. “Youguys know each other?” I echoed.
But Blake was too busy examining my face to answer, his fingers gently probing the edges of what was surely becoming a spectacular bruise. After a few seconds of visually inspecting my father’s handiwork, Blake’s attention wandered over to Jace. Specifically, to his very swollen knuckles.
