Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
I met his gaze. It was confused, curious, but not judgmental. “I can’t leave her, Aldo. I can’t explain it, but I still owe her. She needs my protection.”
His eyes widened. “Well, good thing you’re not catching feelings. God knows how erratic you’d be.” He lifted his eyebrows in jest, trying to defuse the tension between us.
I dropped my head, laughing. I shoved my gun behind my back and stuck out my hand. “My apologies, my friend. It was a moment of madness. It’s passed.”
“Passed,” he snorted. “Right. Apology accepted, though.” He shook my hand. “I have a feeling the next while is going to prove to be interesting.” Then he grinned. “Leave you alone for a while, and this is what happens. Vi is gonna piss herself laughing.”
I ignored him.
Dr. Sims came out, and I strode toward him. He held up his hand. “She is all right. She has a concussion, is bruised and frightened, but nothing permanent other than the mental trauma. She can go home as long as she has someone to look after her.”
I nodded. “She does. She’ll be with me.”
Behind me, Aldo started humming. I glanced over my shoulder, glaring. He was being annoying tonight. He stopped, but he kept smiling. Bastard.
“You can see her. She can leave once the IV is done. Make sure she eats and has fluids. If she gets a headache or anything looks off, call me, and we’ll get her back in.”
I nodded and headed for the room. Effie was in bed, the blankets drawn up around her. Her eyes were closed, her bruises ink stains on her pale skin, and she looked tiny. Alone. It did something to my chest to see her that way, and the odd sensation made me angry.
I walked to the bed, her eyes flying open at the sound of my heavy steps.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Hello.”
“The doctor said I can go home.” Her voice was rough and painful-sounding.
I barked a laugh. “The doctor said you could be discharged. There is a difference,” I said, my voice brusquer than I meant it to be.
“Um, I have nowhere else to go.”
“Unless you want to end up back in the same situation I pulled you from, you will not be going home.”
Her already-pale face turned ashen, and I cursed myself for being short with her.
“You’re going somewhere safe to recover.”
“My diner. My employees,” she protested.
“I will arrange it all.”
“But—”
I leaned close. “Do not argue with me, Effie. I will arrange it. That is what a fiancé does, is it not?”
“I’m sorry. I panicked.”
I sighed. Why was I being so curt with her? This was my fault, not hers. Calling me her fiancé had only helped me find her faster. I tempered my voice.
“We’ll talk about it later. Rest.”
“Where am I going to go?”
“Where you’ll be safe.”
“Which is where?”
“Where I am.”
Aldo kept humming some familiar tune, but I couldn’t place it. It was pissing me off to no end, though. When the doctor told me Effie could leave, I picked her up off the bed, wrapped in the blanket and hospital gown, and carried her out to the car. She was sedated and exhausted enough not to protest or try to get away. Instead, she rested her head on my shoulder, once again finding purchase with her fist clutched to the scrubs I wore.
I sat in the car, holding her, feeling oddly relieved at her closeness. I wasn’t much for touching people, but with her, it felt right.
“Do you want a room for her?” Aldo asked.
“No.”
“Where—”
I shot him a glare, and he shut up, although he started humming again.
At the hotel, Aldo followed us upstairs, and we headed to my private office and suite. I carried Effie to my bed, laying her down carefully. I noticed her grimace of pain at times, and I didn’t want to cause her any undue discomfort.
I pulled the scratchy hospital blanket off her, frowning when I saw the mottled bruises on her upper thighs. Without thinking, I pushed up the hospital gown, my anger growing again at the sight of more bruising on her hip.
She made a distressed sound, and I looked up, meeting her gaze. Clouded in pain, her eyes were a gray-violet, and she looked terrified.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I assured her, using the quietest voice I could. “I’m just looking. How did these bruises get here?”
“First Marianne, then one of them—the men,” she whispered. “I fought them in the basement, and one got mad and he kicked me.”
I shut my eyes, trying to calm my rage. I should have shot them both a few times and let them suffer instead of ending their lives so quickly. And Marianne no longer fell into the “do not touch” category. If I ever found her, she would suffer.
The feel of Effie’s hand on mine made my eyes fly open, and she shook her head. “You stopped them. Thank you.”