Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
CATALINA
A low voice broke through the haze of semi consciousness.
"Yes it's not…" They spoke so low I couldn't hear the next bit.
Another voice responded. "It's badly broken. The x-rays showed…"
"The surgeon said she'd need pins…"
I drifted off again.
The next time I woke, someone was holding both of my hands. No, there was tape around one, holding a needle in place. My eyes open long enough to see a tube leading to an IV bag hanging from a pole.
"Kitty Cat?"
I groaned softly. "Daddy?" I rolled my head the other way and blinked at his worried face. "You're here."
He smiled and brushed hair off my face. "Where else would I be? How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been run over by a truck." My face felt stiff and a little sore. The IV was probably keeping the worst of the pain at bay.
With a rush, I remembered what happened. The attack, the hammer. Panic started to worm its way through me.
"It's okay, try to relax.," Dad said quickly. "You remember what happened? Did you see who it was?"
I frowned. Stopped when it hurt my cheek. "No. They had something over their face. They were tall…strong. I tried to fight back. I tried." Tears prickled my eyes.
"Of course you did, Kitty Cat," he said gently. "We'll find who did this to you, I promise." He glanced over his shoulder.
I followed his line of sight and my whole body stiffened. "What is he doing here?"
"Shaw has been here the entire time. He refused to leave, even to get something to eat."
Shaw rose from the chair beside the door. "Hey." He didn't smile, but his expression wasn't his usual disdain. He looked exhausted. "When I found you next to your car, I thought—" He lowered his gaze to the floor.
The increased confusion hurt my head.
"He was the one who called the ambulance," Dad said. "He saw your attacker leave, but not who it was. If it wasn't for him…" He swallowed hard. "I'll leave you two to talk. I'll be back in a couple of minutes." He nodded to Shaw and slipped out the door.
Shaw lowered himself into the seat my father just vacated. He massaged the back of his neck with his hand. His clothes were wrinkled, chin covered in at least a couple of days’ growth of stubble.
I should have been wary, but for some reason I wasn't. That didn't stop me from speaking bluntly.
"He seems certain you didn't do this to me." What could he do that was worse than what was already done?
Shaw didn't seem surprised by the thinly veiled accusation. "Because I didn't. I'm going to find out who did and make them drown in their own blood." He winced and worked out a knot before lowering his hand.
"Why?" I asked. "You hate my guts more than the rest of them do."
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the side of the bed beside my shoulder. "I never hated your guts," he said in a whisper. "I hated the way those assholes treated you."
"You wanted me gone," I said evenly. As evenly as I could with him so close. He smelled faintly of sweat, and coffee, the scent warring with the sterile hospital smell.
"I wanted you away from them," he said. "I wanted their bullshit locker room talk about you to stop. I wanted you to be mine, but I was furious you gave any of them the time of day. I couldn't understand why you'd do that. It was easier to tell myself I hated you than to think about you with them."
"You had me convinced." I narrowed my eyes at him. I wasn't completely certain he wasn't about to grab a pillow and smother me with it. I was sure Dad was close if Shaw tried anything. "Why haven't you left?"
"Because we both know this wasn't random.
" He traced the line of my jaw with his fingertip, manoeuvring around bruises.
"I wasn't going to leave you vulnerable to them again.
" He exhaled out his nose. "I already did that too many times.
Last night in particular. I should have been there to stop him. "
I shook my head slightly. "I don't understand. Why do you give a shit?" Why should I trust him when the rest of his team treated me the way they did? What made him any different?
"I give a shit because I've been in love with you since the first moment I saw you," he said. "Cruz, Easton; they were already in the way. Them and their bet." He sounded bitter.
"Their bet?" I had one with Easton about me enjoying hockey and then going out on the first date together. I didn't think Shaw was referring to that.
He looked angry, but it wasn't aimed at me.
"The two of them made a bet on who would fuck you first. Which of them would get the cock into your pussy before the others.
Then Cruz and Easton bragged that they were toying with you, making you fall for them.
Dean seemed to be biding his time, waiting for them to piss you off.
He seems nice, but he's a sly son of a bitch.
For some reason, he seems to idolise those two.
The three of them are as bad as each other. "
Tears threatened again. "It was all just a bet?" I should have guessed. Why else would they show any interest in me? I could easily have fallen for them, and they would have ripped my heart out.
"I'm sorry," Shaw whispered. "I should have done something sooner. I could have told you but I wasn't sure if you'd believe me. They can be charming when they want to. Especially Easton."
"Yeah, he can." I got him so wrong. At least now my hate for Cruz was fully justified. Easton, who seemed to save me from Jason, was as much of an asshole as my ex. "Thank fuck none of them won the bet."
Shaw looked relieved at that, but it only lasted for a few moments. "Your leg, did you happen to see what he used?"
I didn't want to think about it, but I nodded. "It was a—" The breath left my body. "He had a hammer." I thought back, but the details still weren't clear in my mind. "You think it's possible Easton did this to me? My attacker said he wanted me to go away. That sounds more like Cruz."
Shaw shrugged. "I wouldn't put it past either of them. They might have worked together on it. They're both driven to make sure the Ghouls succeed, at any cost. If that means doing something like this, they'd do it. When I figure out which one of them it is, I'll break their fucking legs."
I believed him, but then his words made my blood run cold. "That was the point of this, wasn't it? They were never going to kill me, they just wanted me out of their way. Off the ice."
"They could have killed you," he said tersely. "If I hadn't found you when I did…" His jaw worked, back and forth in agitation and frustration.
"One of them might have turned up to rescue me," I said bitterly. "They would have let me be grateful to them." I might have let them win the bet because of it.
"They might have," Shaw agreed. "I wouldn't put that past them either." He gritted his teeth. "For the record, you don't owe me any gratitude. You don't owe me anything. I'm just grateful I could tell you how I felt."
I wasn't sure what to say to that. I couldn't deny the physical attraction I felt the moment I first saw him. He saved my life and stayed with me when he could have left and got on with his life. He might not need gratitude, but he had mine.
"Thank you," I said softly. "You could have walked away and left me there."
"The other guys might have done that, but I wouldn't," he said, his tone gentler this time. "I'm just sorry I didn't get to you before I did."
"Unless you were in on this, then it wasn't your fault," I said. "I just don't understand why they'd do this. I was leaving at the end of the week."
"Did any of them know that?" he asked.
I frowned. "No. You were the first one I told. I guess that's proof you didn't do this. Unless you didn't want me to leave."
"I didn't, but I would have let you go, to get you away from them," he said.
"None of this should have happened, not like this.
It might not have if they knew you were leaving.
They would have tried harder to win the bet before you left town.
Then they would have bragged about it for the rest of the season. "
"So it's my fault," I whispered. "I should have made sure they knew."
His expression and voice were firm. "None of this is your fault. They were acting like entitled pricks from the start. Toddlers who couldn't share a toy. And now, here you are, in the hospital. Because of them."
I pushed myself up into my elbows and looked down at my sheet covered body. I wriggled my toes. Those on my right feet moved easily, but the left were a little stiff. My leg was encased in what felt like a bandage.
Tentatively, I lifted the edge of the sheet and looked down. I hadn't let myself think this far, not yet. In the back of my mind I knew I'd have to face it. I'd heard my father speaking when I was half asleep. Something about a bad break and pins.
"It's not good is it?" I lowered the sheet and sat back against the pillows Shaw placed behind me.
"You should wait for your father." He pulled the chair closer.
"If you care about me the way you say you do—" I started.
"I do and I'd only give you a vague, uneducated answer," he said. "But I'm a butcher by trade and I'd say it looked tenderised." He wasn't pulling any punches. "They did x-rays while you were asleep. For what it's worth, they said your face is bruised but not broken. Neither are your ribs."
I lightly touched my face with my fingertips. "It feels like a mess."
"You still look fucking gorgeous to me," he said.
I snorted. "Do you have a mirror?"
"I have a phone." He pulled his out of his pocket and turned the screen on. He turned around to face me. "See? Hot as hell."
The left side of my face was covered in bruises, black, blue and yellow. "It looks like my face was tenderised."
He turned off his phone and shoved it back into his pocket. He pushed himself up off the chair and sat down beside me on the edge of the bed.
"You're beautiful," he said softly. "I'm going to make you a promise right now. Nothing like this will happen to you ever again. I'll personally make sure of it. Even if I have to follow you around and never sleep again." He leaned in and lightly brushed his lips over mine.
"I may never sleep again if you're going to stalk me," I said. I liked the way his lips felt on mine, but I was wary. Of him. Of any other guy. Of myself.
"Not stalk," he said. "Think of it more as following you around like a bodyguard or a puppy."
"I never would have thought of you as being like a puppy," I said. "Bodyguard works better. Except that puts you in a bad position with the rest of your team, doesn't it? They all hate my guts."
"They don't all hate you," he said. "A couple of them are all right. Jagger, Mitch and the other guys. And Coach Foster. And me."
"You would say that," I said. "Why should I trust you?"
"I know I haven't given you any reason to, but I'll prove myself to you," he said.
"Whatever it takes. If I have to give up hockey, I'll do it.
I don't give a shit about that. I need to make it up to you, for not getting to you in time.
And letting those guys do all that shit to you.
This is their fault, but it's mine too."
He shook his head. "I fucked up bad, but I'm going to do what I can to fix it. I don't want you to keep doubting me forever."
"I want to believe you," I said. "My track record sucks. I can't just—"
He cut me off. "I know you can't. I don't expect you to. I have a shit load of work to do. I'll make you another promise. I'll never lie to you. If I do, I have a nice sharp cleaver at work. You can use it on me if you want to."
"I'd rather use it on whoever did this to me," I said.
"Me too," he said, his voice low and angry. "Me too.”