Grayson
. . .
FORTY-ONE
Maisie’s hand goes limp. They gave her a sedative to help with the pain and let her body rest. I never let go of her hand. They can work around me. I’m not letting this woman out of my sight until I know she’s okay.
Okay? Who am I kidding? She’s far from okay. She got kidnapped and beaten within an inch of her life by the mafia, and still she never cried, never wavered. She never showed an ounce of hatred my way, though I deserve all her wrath.
“Fill me in,” I demand of the man who walks in with Maisie’s chart. He must be the connection Moretti was talking about. He looks me over with a quizzical gaze and then drops his eyes to her chart.
“Hello to you too,” he says with a chuckle. “My name is Dr. Reed, and I’ll be taking over Maisie’s case.”
“Is she okay?”
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
“Will she be okay?” I reiterate, my temper flaring. I don’t have time for games.
He taps the clipboard, reading over the last line. “She’ll be fine, but it’s going to take a bit before she’s back to normal.”
Good; that’s good news, right? “How many days?”
“Hard to tell. It depends on how her body responds to the medicine. I recommend keeping her calm and letting her sleep so her body can heal with the least amount of stress. The sedative we gave her won’t last too long.
She may panic when she wakes up and hurt herself further.
Her scans came back, and she only has badly bruised ribs, not broken.
She has a minor fracture to her wrist. It will need a splint.
There’s also a concussion from the blows to her head. She’s lucky she didn’t fare worse.”
Lucky? What a load of shit. I nod, cataloging everything so I know what to look for when she wakes. Dr. Reed looks at me wearily. I know whatever comes next, I won’t like.
“What is it?” I grunt.
His face turns grim. “We found traces of bodily fluid on Maisie.”
“Semen?” I’m not here to beat around the bush.
He nods. “Protocol would suggest we run a test. Obviously, this isn’t a typical case, and she’s not awake to consent, so I’m asking you how you want to proceed.”
“A test?” I connect the dots. “A rape kit, you mean?”
“Yes, sir. These things are time sensitive, which is why I’m asking you. Moretti said you were her husband. I’m not sure how long she will be out. Everyone responds differently to healing and trauma.”
Husband. Oh, the irony. I squeeze her hand. “No. Absolutely not. I will not have her violated while she’s unconscious.” I hesitate. “We found her pretty quick, and her pants looked untouched. I don’t think,” my voice cracks, “I don’t think it will be necessary.”
I squeeze my eyes, thinking back to how I found her, the vile things I heard them promise her on the video.
She was drugged, so God knows if she even knows everything that happened to her.
I won’t take this choice away from her, though, not when she’s already been through enough. She can decide when she wakes.
He nods. “I’ll tell them to hold off then.
I’ll have some meds ordered immediately for the pain so she’s comfortable.
If she for some reason wakes, click this button.
” He points to a screen with some numbers.
“This monitors her heart rate and vitals. These numbers mean she’s stable.
” He pats me on the shoulder before dipping out of the room.
Moretti strides in. “You know what you have to do, right?” he asks, his voice devoid of any emotion.
I nod, keeping my eyes on my strong girl.
I know what I need to do even if it’s the last thing I want.
I spend the next two days by her side while she sleeps away the pain, holding her hand the entire time while I come up with a plan.
My anger continues to grow. By the morning of day three, I know what has to be done.
The nurses inform me she’s in the clear and should be waking any moment. I drop the note on her bedside table and leave a kiss on her forehead, savoring it for a final time.
I would do anything for this woman, even if she doesn’t see it that way.
My heart is forever yours, honey.