“Aiden?”
I heard a masculine grunt coming from the bathroom. So that’s where he was. I had questions for that man. Bringing home bruised and battered women without telling me. What the hell had he done today?
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked it. There were no messages. He really hadn’t stopped to tell me. I slipped it back in my pocket before striding towards the bathroom. I shoved the door open.
“You better have a damn good explanation as to why—”
I stopped in my tracks. He was sitting bare-chested on the side of the bath. The first aid kit was on top of the sink counter. He had a black eye, split lip and a gash down the side of his forehead. He had bruised knuckles and another gash across his chest along with rapidly colouring bruises.
Oh my god.
“Aiden, what the hell happened?”