Her Savior (Beauty and the Captor 2) - Page 35

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I pulled into the garage as it opened for me like I knew it would. The man treated bullet holes, broken bones, and torn flesh—not really the kind of patient roster one wanted waltzing up to the front door in an upscale neighborhood.

Once inside, I hurried around to her door, but instead of picking her up, I held out my hand. Would she take it? Reject it? Continue to stare unseeing at the grey cement walls?

She took it, and so I eased my other arm around her and helped her out. Then she just stood there, and since I wanted nothing more than to gather her in my arms and wipe away every vile minute since they’d taken her, I lifted her up and held her close. There wasn’t a fucking thing I could do for her memories though.

In the exam room, I sat her down on the examination table and held her hand while Dr. Vicente Fuentes started to probe gently at the wounds on her face.

“Derek, please tell me you’re not responsible for this.”

How could I tell him that? I was responsible for it. “It’s my fault, but no, I didn’t…do this.”

Scar didn’t resist. Vicente turned her head this way and that lifted her arms and inspected her calves and feet. When he started to remove the shirt I’d draped over her, I had to stop myself from tearing his hands right off. She didn’t move though. She barely even flinched when he pressed his gloved fingers against her flayed back. Her breasts were covered in finger-size bruises, and the bruising on her ribs spanned the width of my entire hand, at least.

“I think she may have cracked her ribs…”

“She didn’t fucking do this,” I shot back as if he’d been implying it was her fault.

“I’m not suggesting she did. I’ll take an x-ray before you leave, but it might be best to bind them up anyways.” His eyes shot to her back, and the problem was clear—a tight binding around her ribcage was not going to play nice with the lacerations on her back. He nodded to himself, seemingly determining it was still the better way to go.

Then he was laying her back on the table and she made no move to resist him. As he took hold of one of her feet though and started moving it toward the stirrup, tears began to leak from the corners of her eyes.



“I fucking said stop.”

He placed her foot back on the table.

It wasn’t a rational decision. She’d been injured, and no doubt those fuckers had injured her there, too. But I couldn’t do this to her. I’d figure out some other way. Some way that didn’t involve another strange man exposing her and putting his hands on her.

I just had to hope my own selfish need to stop her from suffering now didn’t lead to more complications later. Internal bleeding and lacerations…STD’s…pregnancy—the possibilities ran through my mind.

Fine. I’d been the one to do it then. Whatever was necessary to make sure she’d recover physically, I’d do it. And I’d hope that somewhere in the back of her mind she would remember what she’d felt for me and the way she saw me, and know I wasn’t doing it to torment her further.

“Tell me what to do.”

“You’re not serious, Derek. You’re not a doctor,” he explained as if I didn’t already know.

“And you’re not touching her. Understood?” I’d threaten him at gunpoint if I had to, but I didn’t want to have to resort to that.

He nodded his acquiescence after a moment of silent standoff and started laying out the instructions for me. It was one of the benefits of always being the scariest son of a bitch in the room—I won every standoff.

I murmured soothingly as I lifted her feet into the stirrups, but had to stop when I saw her. Raw, split, her delicate flesh mangled. I couldn’t speak. Fuck, I couldn’t breathe. If it weren’t for the silent tears that kept leaking from her eyes, there was no way I would have been able to do it. But she needed this, and she needed me to get it the fuck over with fast. I needed to pull my shit together and get through this. I had to. And then I was free to go insane in a darkened haze of rage and anguish.

Thirty minutes later, it was over. Stitched, bandaged, and sent on our way with enough prescription narcotics to start a small-time drug ring. He’d given her an injection of morphine and I’d watched the pain drain from her features within minutes. By the time I sat her down in the passenger seat, her eyes had grown heavy. She was fast asleep by the time I pulled out of the driveway.

I needed a destination. I couldn’t take her back to my home, though it was the place I longed to bring her. A hotel was the most reasonable choice but after the motel…

Tags: Nicole Casey Beauty and the Captor Erotic
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