Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
But the touch made her cry out.
What the fuck had he done to her?
Reaching down, I yanked up her shirt, finding a nasty band of bruising around her midsection, mottling up over her ribs.
“Motherfucker,” I snapped, wanting to charge back upstairs and pound on him some more.
But this wasn’t about revenge now.
It was about Este.
About getting her out of this makeshift prison.
About getting her checked out.
“It’s okay,” I said, schooling my tone. “You’re alright now. Let’s get you out of here, okay?” I asked.
“Trix?” she sniffed hard.
“At the emergency vet. Colter will be updating me. She was okay. She was breathing when she got there.”
“She has to be okay.”
“She will be,” I assured her, reaching down to gently lift her into my arms. “We will check on her as soon as we get you out of here.”
With that, I carried her up the stairs, pausing only to let Slash cut the zip ties at her wrists, then carrying her out the back door, so she didn’t have to see the bastard who attacked her again.
“Where are we going?”
“To see Dr. Price,” I told her as I carried her out to the street to slip her into her own car.
“It’s late.”
“He makes exceptions.”
Este was clearly a little out of it. Shock was probably taking over, making her a little off, spacey, detached.
Maybe that was for the best.
Until we could get her all checked out. Then, when she was safe back at the clubhouse, she could let all the feelings out, purge not only her night of horrors, but the last decade of being made to flee every life she began to build, of jumping at shadows, of never fully being free.
I rushed up to the front porch of the local clinic, but before I could even knock, the door flew open, and there was Dr. Price in a pair of sleep pants and a wrinkled white tee.
“I got a call saying I might be needed,” he said, glancing past me to the car where Este was still staring blankly forward.
“I think she’s a little in shock.”
“Looks like maybe she has good reason to be. Bring her into the first exam room. I’ll be right there.”
With that, I lifted Este again when she made no move to walk herself. Then I deposited her on the exam table just before Dr. Price came in with a white coat over his pajamas.
“Este, good to see you again,” Dr. Price said. At this point, he was accustomed to these random drop-ins with either us or our women beaten all to hell. And he knew this town and its people well enough to know not to ask questions. “Wish it could be under better circumstances,” he added, slipping on gloves.
“I’m worried about her head and her ribs.”
“Okay,” Dr. Price said, giving Este a small smile. “We’ll get you all checked out. Do you want privacy for this?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah, I can step—”
Before I could finish, Este’s hand shot out, grabbing mine.
“Or I can stay,” I said, giving her hand a squeeze.
Dr. Price went through the motions: pulse, blood pressure, temperature, checking her pupils, then pressing around the bruises on her face.
“How hard did you hit your head, honey?” he asked.
“Hard. I couldn’t brace.”
“Did you lose consciousness?”
“I saw stars, but no.”
“Well, that’s good. Have you been queasy? Dizzy? Have any blurred vision? Light and noise sensitivity? Headache?”
“Yes.”
“To which?”
“All.”
Dr. Price clucked a little at that. “Sounds like you probably have a bit of a concussion. Which is just a fancy way to say that your brain knocked around or against your skull when you fell.”
“Should I be taking her somewhere for a scan?” At this rate, all of the organizations in Shady Valley probably needed to get together and crowdfund a CT machine for the good doctor.
“Not immediately. We usually just monitor unless there are signs of something more serious.”
“What are the signs?”
“If she loses consciousness, has seizures, the headache gets worse, repeated vomiting, slurred speech, or any kind of numbness or weakness in her arms or legs. That sort of thing. I can keep you here for observation if there is no one—”
“She has me.”
Dr. Price looked to Este for confirmation.
“I have him.”
“That’s good. Okay. What else can you tell me about what happened?”
Este sucked in a breath and slid off the table.
“I was kind of… squeezed from behind,” she said, rolling up her shirt to reveal the bruises that looked like they’d gotten worse by the minute. “And then I did pass out.”
“Lungs hurt a bit?” Dr. Price asked, gently prodding around her bruises.
“Yeah. Like I ran a marathon.”
“Alright. I’m not too worried about that. But, as with anything, if it starts feeling worse, if you have trouble breathing, anything like that, I want to know immediately.”
“I’ll be watching her like a hawk.”
“Glad to hear it. I think you’ll be feeling a lot better once the headache eases. Unfortunately, I can’t give you anything for that. You can take acetaminophen, but you need to avoid any NSAIDs or opioids because they might cloud your mental status, which would make it difficult for Saul here, or me, to assess you.