Page 107 of Bad Men

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked for the third time.

“Car accident,” I mumbled, not sure what the protocol was exactly, but knowing I didn’t trust this man enough not to call the cops. Plus, somewhere out there, a building was on fire with at least two bodies inside. I couldn’t let that get traced back to Nero.

It was unclear if he believed me. The fact that Nero stood on the other side of the bed, blood drying on his clothes probably didn’t help. Regardless, the doctor didn’t press me to elaborate.

Dr. Robert Rachiele, as he introduced himself, looked too young — in my opinion — to be a doctor. He had to be older, but he had the perfectly carved features of someone in their late twenties. His hands were quick, but gentle as they ease the ruined clothes from my body, cutting away my work top with a pair of kitchen scissors and tossing the ruined material to one side. My jeans went next, along with my sneakers and socks. I probably should have been mortified to be lying there in my underwear in front of a complete stranger, but Nero and Davien remained by my side, out of the way, but present on the other side of the bed.

“I’m going to clean some of this up first so I can see what we’re dealing with,” Dr. Rachiele explained, motioning to the dry, sticky blood smeared across half of my body. “I think at least two of those cuts are going to need stitches. Then, we’re going to have a look at those fingers.”

“Can’t we just take her to the hospital for that?” Davien interrupted.

“You can.” The doctor straightened and addressed the pair across my shivering body. “But you came here because I don’t ask questions.”

He wasn’t wrong. One look at me and no one would believe I was in a car accident, especially one where Davien got off untouched and Nero looked like he’d just finished filming a slasher flick. They would want answers. If they didn’t, the cops would.

“No, here’s fine,” I whispered.

Dr. Rachiele nodded and reached for the sheets bunched at the foot of the bed. He pulled them gently over me. Without another word, he left the room.

“Are we sure we can trust him?” Davien muttered, watching the guy disappear around the corner. “How do we know he’s not calling for backup right now?”

“We don’t.” Nero stooped until he was sitting next to my hip. His warm, hazel eyes searched mine. “How are you?”

“Tired,” I murmured honestly. “Sore.”

Nero started to reach for the hand closest to him but stopped himself before he could make contact. “I am so sorry, Mia.”

Despite the throbbing of my skull, I managed a weak shake of my head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, this is your father’s fault,” Davien blurted, arms folding. “Him and Alejandro, and Eduardo.”

I frowned. “My father? He didn’t do—”

“He sent you away,” Davien cut off with a hiss. “And you went. You just left Mia.”

“Davien.” Nero shot him a hard glower. “This isn’t the time.”

But he was right. I had just left. For all my talk of being an adult, I had let my parents make one of the biggest decisions of my life for me. They had shuttled me off like some dirty secret. I knew why they’d done it, and I knew why I had agreed, but lying there, seeing their faces, feeling just how much I had missed them, I knew I’d fucked up.

“No,” I whispered, tears blurring their features. “You’re right, but it wasn’t my dad. It was me. I ran because I was scared.”

Both men stiffened. Glances were exchanged.

“Of us?” Davien murmured in a harsh whisper of someone sucker punched.

I opened my mouth to explain when Dr. Rachiele returned with a bowl of steaming water and clean rags. Nero rose and moved away from the bed to join Davien along the back wall. If Dr. Rachiele sensed the tension he’d stepped into, he made no comment as he set to work washing the blood off me. I was thankful he didn’t attempt to make small talk or ask anymore questions. He worked in silence while I closed my eyes and tried to calm my still racing adrenaline. Part of me refused to accept I’d survived. The other part was still reeling that I had. It had been risky taunting Cortez close enough to knock over. I couldn’t see where the gun was aimed, but I knew if I knocked it out of his hand or distracted him, Nero and Davien would have a higher chance of stopping him. Getting shot myself hadn’t occurred to me until after the fact, after Davien was breaking the cuffs and pulling me into his arms.

I could have been shot.

I could have died.

“Did that hurt?”

My eyes snapped open to find Dr. Rachiele watching me closely, soiled rag pressed to my chest. I had no memory of making a sound, but I must have.

I shook my head.

I didn’t close my eyes again. I bottled up my rocky emotions and switched off the replay looping through my mind. I lay still as he worked.

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