23. Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Warlock
My face, knuckles, and ribs are throbbing from the impact they sustained. But I ignore my own pain, rushing to Tallahassee’s side and dropping to my knees next to her.
Her eyes are closed. She’s so still.
I carefully cradle her battered face in my hands and release a sigh of relief when her tormented eyes flutter open and find mine.
“Tallahassee. Just breathe, baby. I’ve got you.”
She lifts her hand, gently touching my jaw where one of the assholes’ fists connected. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”
Her shirt’s ripped open, she’s sprawled on the asphalt, beat to shit, barely conscious, and this brave, amazing woman is more concerned with my injuries than her own.
“I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”
“You were hurt because of me.”
“No.” The response is sharp, my tone no-nonsense. “This is because of those animals who attacked you.
“Pony, call 911,” I bark when he reaches us. “We need the police and an ambulance.”
He pulls out his phone. “On it.”
Tallahassee’s unfocused eyes meet mine. “No. No police.” Groaning, she struggles to sit up. “I’m okay.”
I don’t want her to move until the EMTs check her out, but she’s determined, and holding her down could hurt her more. Her pain is so debilitating she can’t get upright without my help.
“No ambulance. It’s okay. I’m alright,” she mutters, as if repeating it enough times will somehow make it true.
I gingerly lift her off the ground and into my lap, wrapping my arms around her to keep her steady. She grabs fistfuls of my shirt, bunching the fabric in her hands like it’s the only thing anchoring her.
Her face is already swelling, dark bruises developing under her skin.
“You’re not alright,” I snap the words. I’m so angry.
Not at her. Never at her. At seeing the condition she’s in and knowing how close she came to being violated because I wasn’t there in time to keep her safe.
It makes me regret not killing those men.
“Please, Darren, don’t call them,” she begs in a hollow voice. “The police and hospital will take my name. Someone will leak it to the press, and my life will be turned upside down again.”
I know she’s terrified of being exposed, and now I know why. She’s afraid and freaked out. After what she’s been through, both with Vincent and tonight, her reaction is understandable. But it still breaks my heart watching tears spill down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, honey, but I have to. You’re hurt and need to be checked out by a doctor.”
All emotion vanishes from her face. She releases her grip on me, her shoulders slumping as she wraps her arms protectively around herself. Her gaze shifts away from me, going distant. A shadowy foreboding filling her eyes.
I watch her shut down, disconnecting from me; slamming down those barriers I worked so hard to break through back into place. As much as I hate seeing her withdraw from me, I can’t give her what she wants. She’s injured and needs medical attention.
I claim her hand in both of mine. “You understand, don’t you?”
She won’t look at me. “Yes.” She may be agreeing, but sadness, resignation, and defeat fill her voice.
Minutes later, sirens wail as several police cars come racing into the parking lot with ambulances on their bumpers. The commotion is drawing a crowd. In a minute, it’ll be chaos, phones will come out and start recording this shitshow.
Knowing she doesn’t want to be seen, I shield Tallahassee from the gawking spectators.
I signal my teammates. Doc, Pony, and Ricochet move into position, forming a solid, impenetrable wall in front of us while Hawk and Nitro continue standing guard over the four assailants.
I’m relieved when the police quickly push the crowd back to the front of the building.
Nitro and Hawk join us after the officers and EMTs take control of the scene and the four bastards.
The men who attacked Tallahassee are already on gurneys. A bloodthirsty rush of pleasure hits me remembering the satisfying sound of their bones and cartilage shattering under my fists. Still, it feels like they’re rushing to get them loaded into ambulances and rushed out of sight.
Two paramedics move toward Tallahassee and me. The last thing I want to do is leave her, but I need to speak with the cops. “Ricochet will sit with you while the EMTs check you out and I go talk to the police.”
She doesn’t respond. Her silence increases my worry.
Leaving Tallahassee in Ricochet’s capable hands, I approach the cop barking orders, assuming he’s the one in charge.
He introduces himself as Sergeant Metzger.
I explain the situation cautiously, keeping details about Tallahassee’s background vague.
I’ll do whatever I have to in order to protect her identity.
Metzger studies Tallahassee. After assessing her, his expression changes, and his attitude shifts. I’m surprised, but grateful, when he recommends identifying her as a Jane Doe. I’m even more surprised when he offers to drive us to the hospital himself to limit her exposure.
“I appreciate that. Thank you,” I tell him.
After updating my team, I help Tallahassee into the police cruiser. Once we’re settled in the back seat, I reassure her that Metzger is going to be discreet and list her as Jane Doe on his paperwork to protect her identity.
During the ride, I think about how these same four men were harassing her a couple of weeks ago. They must’ve realized who she is. Or perhaps this was their revenge for that night.
Between this attack and Vincent’s latest threats, I’m afraid she’s going to run again.
Despite her vow to stand and fight, the odds of her sticking around are getting slimmer and slimmer. My grip on her tightens, as if I can keep her from disappearing by holding onto her. I can’t lose her.
Sergeant Metzger drives us around to the back door of the hospital where we’re met by a doctor and a nurse with a wheelchair. Once we get put in an exam room, they ask me to step out while they assess her injuries.
Before I can argue, Tallahassee grabs my hand and holds tight. “No. I want him to stay with me.”
She’s asking for my help. I’m not going to let her down. If they want me to leave, they’ll have to drag me out of here. I gently brush the backs of my fingers along her bruised cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”
A deep, angry growl comes out of me when the remnants of her shirt are removed.
It’s hard not to stare at the damage. Bruises, abrasions, and road rash mar her pale skin.
While the doctor examines her, I stay close, cradling her face and talking to her while she’s examined, photographed, and x-rayed.
Sergeant Metzger takes some basic details of the attack and assures us he’ll reach out if he needs additional information. I’m glad he’s quick, I want to get her out of here.
While Tallahassee changes into hospital scrubs, Sergeant Metzger and I move into the hall where my teammates are waiting for us. Metzger tells me not to worry, he’ll make sure to handle the case personally to keep Tallahassee’s identity confidential.
He leaves after I thank him and shake his hand.
Hawk lets me know they brought my car and grabbed Tallahassee’s keys and purse.
“How is she?” Ricochet asks.
I cross my arms, unable to mask the fury in my voice. “Nothing’s broken, but she’s beat up and bruised. She’s going to be sore as hell for a while.”
“Two of her tires were damaged,” Pony says. “The assholes must have slashed them before they attacked her to keep her from escaping.”
“This feels planned,” Nitro theorizes. “None of it seems like the actions of amateurs. I’d bet this isn’t the first time they’ve done this.”
“The way you bolted out of McQueen’s, we knew something was wrong, but we never expected this,” Pony says with a shake of his head.
“Are they keeping her overnight?” Doc wants to know.
“No. She’s getting dressed, and I’m taking her home.”
Fear like I’ve never known exploded through me when I heard Tallahassee screaming. As I rounded the corner and saw that animal on top of her—witnessed her struggling, clawing, and fighting for her life while his friends held her down—a savage rage took over.
I may never get the horror of those images out of my head.