Page 5 of Healed By Doc
Except when the door opened, it was an angry old lady who looked like she’d been roused from sleep, judging by the lack of focus in her eyes. My inquiry into the girl who’d lived there was met with a blank stare and a shrug before the door was slammed in my face. I was ready to knock again and demand to know what happened to her but another nosy neighbor who’d heard my question said that Cara moved away years ago.
I took it as a good sign. Convinced myself that she was fine. Goddamnit, but I needed to believe that she was okay!
Is she?
My eyes cross back to her and to that beautiful face that has started to color. Those gorgeous green eyes that remind me of a sunny meadow. I allow myself a quick glance of her body, my cock hardening as my eyes linger on the perfect swell of her breasts before moving down the rest of her. I allow myself a sinful and lustful moment, taking her in and painting a picture in my head of how I’d use my skilled hands to bring her pleasure.
Has she experienced that before? The hungry touch of a selfless lover? One who would bring her desire, tip her into an orgasm again and again as those pretty eyes glazed over with every caress.
Christ, I can just see it: that perfect mouth parting in a gasp as I slide into her wetness, those legs wrapped around me as I take her slowly, or harder if it is what she wants. It wouldn’t be my given name on her lips or the one everybody calls me. No, that sexy mouth would part with a whimper, calling me Daddy as I take her over and over again, kissing her until she is sobbing and begging for more…
Fuuuck!
Pushing down my depraved thoughts, I force my gaze back to her face and question the kind of life she’s had since I waslocked up. Family? Boyfriends? Once again, I question if maybe I should have looked harder for her, put more effort into learning what’d become of her. God knows she wouldn’t be living in a women’s shelter if I had. I doubt she’d have accepted my help if I’d offered it to her, seeing the anxious looks she keeps tossing my way.
I’ll talk to her…but it’ll have to be later.
I turn back to work, packing away the ultrasound machine—which thankfully showed no signs of internal bleeding—before turning my attention to disinfecting Abby’s wounds and prepping the one that needs stitches. She flinches, but her attention is quickly pulled away. I have to give the poor girl credit; she’s a tough one. I know more than one grown man who’d be in tears in her condition. Cara keeps Abby’s mind occupied, and I block out the chatter as I silently work, forcing myself to focus only on the task in front of me.
“There,” I say, breaking into the conversation. I gently drape what’s left of Abby’s top over her to cover up her exposed skin before moving back to look at her. “Once you’re settled in bed, we’ll start an IV line to keep you hydrated. I also want to give you a mild sedative to help you sleep. You don’t show any signs of a concussion or shock, so I want you to get as much uninterrupted rest as possible. I’ll leave instructions with Ms. Dupree for your overnight care, but I will be here tomorrow morning to change the bandages and check on your progress.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Abby says, daring a small smile.
“If the pain becomes unbearable even after the pain meds, do not hesitate to have someone call me. Don’t be worried about being a nuisance,” I say, reading her perfectly. “That’s my job.”
Her eyes well up, but she nods. “Thank you.”
Before I can offer any words of comfort, Saint appears at the door flanked by Samantha. “We’ve prepared one of our rooms for you, Abby,” Sam says, approaching with what I can only describe as a maternal smile. “But first, do you think you can tell us what happened and who did this to you?”
Abby’s smile falters and she lets out a shaky breath. “Will he be arrested?”
I damn near smile at that. Oh, the man who did this will be begging for the police when we’re done with him. The Rebels don’t believe in putting such vile humans on trial and subjecting their victims to facing their abusers while they testify to their trauma. No, when we’re done with him, he’ll beg to go to the cops and confess. He’ll be lucky if we offer him such reprieve.
“It was my boyfriend,” she starts, reaching blindly for Cara’s hand as she speaks. “He gets mad sometimes…” She flushes, looking down at the hand holding hers, and her breathing starts to pick up.
“Abby, you don’t need to get into details,” Cara hurries to reassure her, running a soothing hand down her arm. “It’s okay. You can tell us whenever you’re ready.”
She nods as tears start to roll down her cheeks and puts her hand protectively over her side where the large bruise is still forming.
The room is quiet and tense. I can practically hear the murderous thoughts swirling in my MC brothers’ minds. Ransom is all but vibrating beside me, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles are white. He has a sister whom he is fiercely protective of, and the same can be said about Saint with his wife. Both women are close to Abby’s age. Heck, even I would risk going back to prison just to plant my fist in the face of a bastard that would dare hurt someone innocent and helpless.
“Abby,” Samantha says calmly. “You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to, and if and when you’re ready, we have trauma counselors on staff you can speak to. We will keep you safe. But to do that, it would help if you could give us the name of the man who did this to you. I promise you, he’ll never come anywhere near you again.” The girl nods and recites the man’s name, she even gives us his address, though that would have been easy enough for Ransom to track down. “Good, you did so well,” Samantha praises her when she’s done, before turning to us. I’ve known Sam for a long time, but she never fails to impress me with how she can be both gentle and strong simultaneously. She looks at Ransom as she says, “I don’t think she can walk. Could you please help us carry her to the room?”
The man nods, stepping up beside the bed and gently lifting the girl into his arms, careful not to disturb her injuries and carries her out, followed closely by Samantha wheeling the rack holding her IV bag. Cara lingers in the room for a moment, her eyes on the floor, refusing to meet mine. She looks defeated, almost as if she’s braced for a tongue-lashing from me.
I don’t hate her.
What happened that night and all those that followed were not her fault, so I step forward to tell her just that when Samantha calls from down the hall. “Cara, are you coming? Abby is asking for you.”
“Yeah,” Cara calls back, her gaze lifting to mine, but only for a second before she turns and leaves.
There are questions; I can see them in Saint’s eyes when I turn to look at him, and I expect him to voice them, but he must read my unwillingness to discuss the matter because he doesn’t ask. “We’re going after that bastard, Doc.”
“Ransom?”
Saint shakes his head. “Something about this girl has him at the edge of his control. He wants blood, but he doesn’t want to leave Abby’s side. I told him to stay here. You?”
“I’m in.”
