Chapter Eighteen
The doctor in question turned out to be the same one who had given Verity her initial check up, though she looked significantly more harried this afternoon. Snapping on a pair of gloves she looked Verity up and down.
“Well you look better than–” she broke off.
Verity rolled her eyes and filled in the blanks. “Better than you expected, or better than the others?”
The woman shifted awkwardly and turned her attention on Cross who was lingering in the doorway. “You can leave now,” she said, making a shooing gesture with both hands.
Verity nearly laughed out loud. The idea of anyone being concerned about privacy in this place striking her as funny.
Cross nodded, but as he turned to leave he said, “Check her hearing. Mathieu mentioned she was favouring her right side.”
Verity felt her amusement fade. The watching eyes were everywhere, she could not forget that.
Once the door closed with Cross on the other side, the doctor gave her a quick but thorough examination. The knife scratch was redressed and a broad spectrum antibiotic administered before she turned her attention to Verity’s hearing.
Verity winced as the scope slid into her left ear, but said nothing. Catching the expression, the doctor withdrew the implement and gently pressed the skin beneath her earlobe.
“Is that tender?”
Verity shrugged. “A little, but not as bad as it was.”
“And are you experiencing a ringing in your ear? Finding loud sounds painful?”
“Yes and yes.”
“Not surprising. Your eardrum is badly bruised, but still intact. It’ll take a few days for the swelling to go down but your hearing should return to normal.”
Rebuttoning her shirt Verity nodded and turned to the door, one hand on the handle she asked, “Did you treat them also? The other girls.”
The doctors paused in her packing away. “I can’t discuss other patients.”
“I just want to know if they are going to be okay?”
The woman hesitated and then nodded. “Given enough time and the proper care. Yes.”
“And will they get the proper care?”
“I’m doing everything in my power to see that they do.”
It wasn’t much of an answer, but it was better than nothing and Verity murmured a quiet “Thank you,” as she left the room.
Cross was waiting for her as she emerged and Verity felt any hopes of swift getaway sink in response. Clearly, that feeling was expressed on her face because he immediately shook his head.
“I won’t keep you. I just wanted to give you this before you left.”
Reaching into his pocket he withdrew a phone. Verity raised her eyebrows and almost took a step back. The sleek device was all too familiar. She had seen it before, many times, either in his hands or in the hands of other members. The Eighth Circle had their own signature, untraceable phones used to set up deals and coordinate exchanges. A small, clamshell design in brushed steel.
Cross flipped it open and accessed a menu.
“Put your finger here,” he said, turning the device towards her. Without thinking, Verity did as instructed, and an image of her fingerprint appeared on the screen. Once the scan was complete, Cross snapped the phone closed and held it out to her.
“Keep it charged and on you at all times. The club will pick up the bill, but I would keep long distance calls to a minimum, if you wish to avoid a tedious conversation with our accountant.”
Verity stared at it for a moment, unwilling to take it from him. She couldn’t imagine when she’d use it all. The generous offer to pay for her calls meant the club would have a full breakdown of every number she dialled and everyone she spoke to. They’d probably be listening in, she thought with a shudder.
“I don’t need this,” she said.
“Have you replaced your old one? You said it was damaged.”
“No, but I don’t make a lot of calls.”
Cross overruled her objections. “Your work pattern means you travel late at night. You should have a phone for safety. Plus I require a means of getting in touch when I need you.”
The device hung between them.
Realising that he wasn’t about to take no for an answer, she sighed, accepting the phone and thrusting it into her pocket with a quiet, “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
Verity nodded. “Usual time?”
“Yes.” He paused, then reached out, gently taking hold of her chin to tilt her face to his and Verity felt her breath hitch as his gaze swept over her skin like a caress.
“Do I need to send a car?”
The implication was clear. Verity huffed out a breath as she shrugged one shoulder. “No. I’ll be here.”
“Good girl.”
The words settled over her like a caress and Verity frowned. The patronising endearment should prompt a wave of revulsion, not a warm glow. She turned quickly to hide the blush she could feel climbing her throat.
What was wrong with her?