Convict (Sin City Salvation 2) - Page 65

Regardless, it wasn’t important right then. I was just content to keep her awake and talking. But when I pulled into the hospital lot, she perked up long enough to shake her head.

“I’m not going in there.”

“Yes, you are.” I tried to keep my cool. “Birdie, this is non-negotiable.”

“They’ll report it to the cops. They’ll run my name, and it will get back to the detective—”

“No, they won’t. We’ll use a fake name and pay with cash. It will be okay, I promise.”

She looked like she wasn’t sure about anything anymore as her body sank lower into the seat. But it was clear she needed medical attention, and I couldn’t let her leave here until she received it. I had to know everything was okay. I wouldn’t ever gamble with Birdie’s life.

Before she could argue further, I got out of the truck and walked around to her side, lifting her into my arms again to carry her inside.

“I can walk,” she protested, but even as she said it, her energy waned.

“No, you can’t.”

Once we passed through the doors, all further arguments from her ceased. It didn’t take long before a nurse was at my side, helping her into a chair and wheeling her down the hall. The first thing she did was look at me like I was the one who had done this to Birdie, and it rubbed me the wrong fucking way from the start. But I kept my cool, trying to focus on the reason we were here.

“Can I take you back alone?” the nurse asked.

Birdie shook her head frantically, her hand reaching out to cling to mine. “No. He’s coming with me.”

HOURS HAD PASSED AS I lay on the bed in the emergency department, watching nurses come and go. They checked my vitals. Cleaned my face. Asked me questions. Took me to other departments for scans and tests. The process dragged on and on. I was exhausted, but every time I started to drift off to sleep, I woke in a panic, thinking I was there alone. I expected to wake up and see Detective Taylor at the end of my bed, ready to handcuff me and haul me away.

In my fragile state of mind, I knew I couldn’t live this way anymore. Ace could see it too. My anxiety was a living, breathing animal in the room with us. I couldn’t bother to hide it anymore. Not when it was taking every ounce of energy I had just to exist.

The adrenaline had worn off, and now there was only pain. I felt it everywhere in my battered body but mostly my swollen face. The doctor and nurses kept looking at Ace, casting their quiet assumptions about him. Regardless of how many times I’d told them a stranger had attacked me, they didn’t want to believe it. I guess it was easier to believe the monster was right in front of them in a leather vest and biker boots.

He handled it like he did almost everything else. He was cool and collected, never trying to answer for me or direct the conversation. As I told a shortened version of the supposed mugging gone wrong, I knew Ace was absorbing every word I said, wondering if it was the truth. I also knew there would be more questions later. When they asked me if anything sexual had occurred, his face mottled with red when I hesitated. He looked like he was about to blow a gasket, and I could practically see him making plans to destroy whoever did this to me.

“All right.” The doctor scanned the notes on the computer mounted to the wall. “It looks like everything came back clear. No major head injuries, but you’ll be sore for a while with those bumps and bruises.”

“So I can go home?” I asked.

He glanced at me and then to Ace. “If that’s what you want, I can’t stop you. But I do need to ask you one more time if you’d like to file a police report?”

“No.” I shook my head as I started to peel away the covers. “I just want this day to be over with already.”

“Easy there.” Ace glowered at me as I attempted to get out of bed. “Slow down, turbo. I have some questions.”

“What questions could you possibly have?” I blinked up at him.

He turned to the doctor. “Does she need any special care? What about restrictions? I’m sure she shouldn’t be doing anything for a while, right?”

The doctor, who had previously seemed put off by Ace’s quiet demeanor, now showed surprise at his mounting concern for me. His eyebrows rose as Ace continued to rattle off question after question. It was as if he’d been rehearsing them in his mind the entire time, which I had no doubt was true.

“A few days of bed rest probably wouldn’t hurt,” the doctor answered when Ace finally took a breath. “But I’d say take it at your own pace. If you feel like an activity is too much, then it probably is.”

Tags: A. Zavarelli Sin City Salvation Romance
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