Safe at Last (Slow Burn 3)

It was almost as if . . . She shook her head. No, that was even crazier. She had lost her ability to read minds twelve years ago and hadn’t missed that gift in the least. Clearly she was imagining it all.

All went quiet in her mind and she was convinced that she’d imagined the entire thing but then she was instantly flooded with images—horrifying images of Eliza lying on her back with some sort of cloth over her face and someone pouring water over it.

She couldn’t keep the revulsion from her face, and Dane immediately picked up on the change in her demeanor. He was sitting closest to her and leaned over, concern flaring in his eyes.

“What’s wrong, Gracie? Are you in pain?”

She shook her head, unable to formulate the words to explain her reaction. How could she? Instead she put up her hand to wave him off and carefully schooled her expression so that he’d know she was okay.

To her profound relief, the door opened and a cheerful-looking young nurse motioned for Anna-Grace to come back. She stood so quickly that she nearly fell over, and would have if Dane hadn’t lunged for her, wrapping one strong arm around her to steady her.

“Careful now,” he murmured. “Take it nice and slow.”

Eliza stepped to Anna-Grace’s other side. “Do you want me to go back with you?”

Unspoken was the question of whether she’d feel more comfortable with another female in the exam room with her instead of a man or men she didn’t even know.

She nodded because she was suddenly besieged by the desire to have Eliza close, not because she herself was scared, but because the terrifying images she’d had involving Eliza made her fear for Eliza.

Dane frowned. “Of course, we won’t go into the exam room with you, Gracie, and yes, I do think it’s a good idea for you to have Lizzie there with you, but someone will be posted outside the door as well as at any exit and entry points.”

“That’s fine,” Anna-Grace said faintly. “You can let go now, Dane. I’m all right. Truly. I just stood too quickly. I can make it on my own.”

Dane looked doubtful but he relinquished his hold on her and shot a look at Eliza that clearly said, “Help her.”

Eliza kindly curled her arm around Gracie’s waist and eased her to where the nurse stood in the open door. As soon as they were through, the nurse started to close the door but not before Dane and Wade pushed through the door too, startling the nurse.

Then Dane turned and secured the lock so no one could gain access.

The nurse started to open her mouth to protest but was silenced under Dane’s chilly stare. “She goes nowhere without us. We will take position outside the exam room. I trust there are no windows or alternative entries or exits from the room she’ll be in?”

The nurse vigorously shook her head and stammered out a no.

Dane nodded. “Good then. Show Gracie to her room so we can get this over with and get her back home so she can rest and recover.”

The doctor briskly and efficiently checked her over and proclaimed that she was fast on the mend with only bruises to show for her ordeal. He said it in a tone that suggested she was lucky. Forgive her, but she didn’t exactly feel lucky to have been beaten senseless by a bunch of thugs, regardless of whether they’d intended to kill her or not.

Fifteen minutes later, they were on their way and Gracie anxiously looked for the man who’d been in the waiting room with them. But he was nowhere to be seen. Had the nurse called him back to a room after she’d called Gracie?

She couldn’t shake her sense of unease, nor did the imprint of those voices—thoughts—leave. They were still strong in the waiting area, and she shivered involuntarily, which only made Dane frown harder.

“Did they even check her for a fever?” Dane demanded, though he directed his question to Eliza, not Gracie herself.

“They gave her the full physical,” Eliza responded, a hint of amusement in her voice.

She looked at Gracie with a sympathetic look only females shared when encountering a forceful, dominant man. Then she rolled her eyes, and Gracie had to choke back her laughter.

Dane scowled. “Then why the hell is she shivering? She looks like she’s freezing to death.”

“Well,” Eliza drawled out. “It could be the weather. It’s a might chilly today. Or it could be the fact that she was only recently brutally attacked, is not only still hurting from that attack but is scared shitless that she isn’t in a more secure place and not out in the open.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Or maybe she’s just afraid of you and your broody-ass expressions. Take your pick.”

Gracie bit into her bottom lip, wondering how she could possibly find humor in something as macabre as her situation. And leaning on the very last people she would have ever accepted help from. Zack’s friends. Acquaintances. Coworkers or whatever he considered them. That he had a connection at all with them should have sent her on the run after that very first encounter with Zack.

But Wade had talked her down, ever the reasonable, unflappable one. And coldly dangerous. However, she’d known that had she not seen the light and realized that Wade was right about her needing to stop running and to embrace the life she’d made for herself, he would have helped her if she’d truly wanted to relocate somewhere else. All she would have had to do was ask.

Perhaps it was the stubborn streak in her. And . . . well . . . recent events had her questioning every single thing she’d been made to believe for the last twelve years. Zack had been utterly devastated and so enraged that in that moment she truly did fear him. Not that he’d hurt her. And that was insane enough after what he purportedly did. No, she feared he would kill every last man who had a part in her rape. And that gave her no joy. No sense of justice. Because it meant that Zack would have to pay the price, just as she’d had to pay the price for more than a decade, and she wouldn’t wish that on her worst enemy. Whether he’d betrayed her or not.

She opened her mouth to ask a question and froze because she sounded too . . . eager. And she wanted to remain indifferent. As if none of this mattered. Particularly Zack. She knew enough about herself to know she’d never love another man as she’d loved Zack. Sixteen or not, she’d know—known—that he was it for her. Every time she looked at him, she saw forever in his eyes and when she read his thoughts. God, they were bursting with love. So much love and pride. And possession.