27. Lily
27
LILY
T he drive to Slash’s house is made in silence. Bebe seems caught up in her own thoughts, and I’m not exactly in a rush to delve into my injuries or to discuss what led to them. So, instead of making awkward conversation about the weather with the woman I’ve only met two or three times, usually on her way in or out of Fret’s hospital room, I settle back in the comfortable seat of her very sexy sports SUV and let my eyelids droop closed.
For a little while, my mind avoids thinking about Alex.
Of course, the second the motion of the car makes me nod off, the memory of his violation decides to play in my head like a bad C-grade movie.
I jolt upright with a whimper.
“Hey.” Bebe rests her hand on my forearm. “We’re nearly there. I’ll get you something to help with the pain as soon as I can.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“No,” I tell her. “For all of this. Dressed like you are, it’s obvious Slash pulled you away from something important. I really appreciate you giving up your time to help me.”
Bebe dismisses me with a flick of her hand. “It was nothing… just dinner with my family and my… boss .”
I’m not sure I buy her excuse, considering she’s wearing a Prada dress and Jimmy Choo heels, but I let it pass without comment. Either her family is loaded and expects her to wear ten-thousand-dollar outfits to dinner, or Bebe is closer to her boss than she’s letting on.
Either way, it’s none of my business.
Slash isn’t owed my loyalty or Bebe’s… not after the pictures I saw tonight.
Before my anger can get the better of me and I say something I shouldn’t, a wave of pain ripples through my stomach. Until now, it’s been alternating between a cramping kind of nausea and an excruciating ache. Worse than a period, yet not as bad as I felt immediately post-surgery four years ago. With my face throbbing and the rest of my battered body competing for my attention, my inability to ignore the ache in my lower belly has me worried that he’s caused internal damage that’ll see me hospitalised.
The spectre of arrest hangs over me until Zeke and Slash can organise Cub and Hunter to work their magic on the safe house. I grind my teeth when another surge of agony burns through me. It strips my breath from my lungs and leaves me shaking. Gritting my teeth to the point where I’m scared that they’re going to snap; I do my best not to cry out. I need to keep myself together until any evidence that links me to Alex’s death is gone.
“Then I can break,” I mutter under my breath.
After flicking on her indicator to pull onto Slash’s street, Bebe turns to me to ask, “Did you say something?”
“No.” My sharp answer has her peering at me harder. Keeping one arm wrapped around my waist, I use the other to point to the upcoming driveway. “You’re about to miss Slash’s gates.”
When she stops her SUV in front of the garage, Bebe lets out a low whistle at the large, two-storey, monstrosity Slash calls home. “I guess being a dirty outlaw biker pays well.”
“That’s a really fucked-up thing to?—”
The pain morphs from an achy burn to stabbing. I double over and scream. I don’t hear the two Harleys as they pull up behind us. I’m barely conscious of Zeke ripping my door open and lifting me out of the car as I battle through the agony. With one hand clasped over my mouth and the other pressed to my lower belly where the searing throbbing seems to be centred, I try my hardest not to throw up all over Zeke. We make it into the house, all the way through the kitchen and into the guest bedroom on the ground floor before the urge gets too much to contain. I lean away from Zeke and retch. Nothing comes out. He freezes, mutters a curse, then changes direction. The tiles are cold at my back when he carries me inside the shower cubicle and lowers me to my feet.
When I try to push him away, he growls, “Just let it out. Don’t give a fuck if you throw up all over me. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
For the next few minutes, I gag and retch until I finally vomit. True to his word, Zeke stays with me through it all. He holds me upright, keeps my hair from getting in the way until I finally stop throwing up. I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth and attempt to stand straight.
The pain starts again.
My knees buckle.
Zeke catches me.
“Put her on the bed,” Bebe commands. She follows us out of the bathroom and climbs onto the California king-sized mattress next to me after Zeke lays me down. I curl into a ball on my side, hands clutched to my stomach. “Get out of the room. I need to examine her.”
A string of curse words that’s followed by the sound of a scuffle echoes off the walls as Slash manhandles Zeke out of the guest room. The door slams shut, leaving me alone with Bebe and the keening sound that I can’t stop making. My stomach feels like it’s being set on fire at the same time as a million little demons have decided to simultaneously stab me repeatedly with pitchforks.
“This’ll help with the nausea.” Bebe pushes the sleeve of Zeke’s shirt up and jabs me in the bicep with a needle. “Now, I’m going to give you something for the pain. It’ll take a minute to work… once you’re comfortable, I need to see what’s causing you so much discomfort.”
“Thank y-you,” I stammer as she injects a second substance into my thigh.
Instant warmth spreads through me. My head does a weird spin thing, then the edge of my sight blurs. As the pain lets up, I drag in the first proper breath I’ve been able to inhale for what feels like hours. My legs relax and I slowly loosen my grip on my knees.
Bebe smooths my hair back from my sweaty face. “Feeling better, sweetie?”
“Yes.”
A dark look crosses her face, although her tone is soft when she says, “You were raped tonight.”
She doesn’t pose it as a question, but I still nod to confirm her speculation.
“Right.” Bebe blows out a sharp breath that fluffs her fringe. “This is going to suck balls, but I need to have a look at you. Now, sexual assault isn’t my speciality… I’m a surgeon. But I’ve done more than one rotation in the ER. I know what I’m looking for.”
My voice is small as I say, “Okay.”
With quick, efficient movement, Bebe coaxes me onto my back with my legs open. Her touch is gentle. Her hands are warm. I keep my eyes screwed shut as she examines me. When she swabs my core, over and over, tears run down my face, and I bite down and roll my bruised lips between my teeth, working the sore flesh over until I taste blood.
Noticing how I’ve stiffened, she asks, “Want me to stop?”
“No… just… don’t … worry about taking his DNA. I’ve already made him pay. That’s why Slash called you in. I can’t go to the hospital.”
“I figured as much.” Bebe sighs. “Wasn’t swabbing you for evidence anyway, sweetie… you have a tear that’s bleeding heavily. It needs sutures. I was trying to clean you up to see how many you’ll require.”
“ Oh .”
She pats my leg. “It’ll be over before you know it. I only have morphine and a little Xylocaine with me. You’re going to be awake for it, might even feel some tugging. Do you want me to get Zeke? Slash? One of them can hold your hand if you want.”
“No!” I screech, jack-knifing upright, only to fall back to the mattress when my entire lower belly pulses with red-hot agony. “He doesn’t need to see this. Or Slash…”
“That’s entirely up to you,” Bebe replies calmly.
Once she’s injected the local anaesthetic and tested that it’s worked, I do my best to block out everything she’s doing down there . Yoga breathing. Counting backward from a thousand. Digging my nails into my palms. Picturing myself bringing Alex back from the dead so I can kill him again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Finally, the tugging and pulling stops.
“I’m done.”
“Thank you.”
She crawls up the bed and sits cross-legged next to me. The sadness in her eyes is too much to bear, so I stare up at the ceiling. We lapse into silence. Two strangers who’ve just shared something too real to put into words. As the tension in the room grows, Bebe’s hand touches mine. I leave my fingers lax, even as she gives them a squeeze. Eventually, without thinking it through too hard, I curl my fingers around hers.
“I know you’re still hurting, and it’s the last thing you need right now, but I want to check out the rest of your body. Going by your face, the chance of a concussion is huge. Your ribs might be broken… which could explain the pain you’re in.”
“Do you want me to stand?”
“ Nah .” Bebe gives my hand one last squeeze. “Just shuffle to the edge of the bed and hang your feet over the end. I’ll work around you.”
Once she’s helped me upright, Bebe steps back and allows me the space to reposition myself like she requested. I expected her to be oversolicitous, but she isn’t. She’s calm. Attentive without being overbearing. A solid presence in the midst of chaos. The gorgeous woman seems to see what I need before I do, and even though it takes longer than it should with my slow ginger movements, Bebe patiently waits for me to make my way to the edge of the mattress under my own steam.
“You’re a good doctor,” I tell her.
“Doubt you’ll be saying that once I’ve finished poking and prodding you.”
When I start to laugh, the cramping in my stomach returns. I clutch my middle and bend in half to alleviate the pain. Muttering her apologies, Bebe touches my shoulder like she’s going to commence her examination, then her hand drops away.
“Do you have your period?”
“No.”
“This amount of blood isn’t?—”
As I turn to look over my shoulder to see what she’s talking about, the stabbing ache becomes too much to handle. My adrenaline spikes. A wave of warmth washes over me, followed by an icy sweat. Goosebumps break out over my skin in the same instant as my vision snaps from technicolour to black. Light-headed and unable to see properly, the last thing I hear is Bebe shouting for Slash before the darkness becomes too dense to break through.