18
LUCRETIA
“—wakes up we’ll know more.” A man’s voice, one I don’t recognize, wakes me from a dark, stormy nightmare.
I open my eyes and find a white-haired man leaning over me. “There you are.”
“Wha—” I glance around, my vision clearing enough so I see Lito and Mateo standing beside the bed.
“You’re all right.” Lito lets out a relieved breath. “You hit your head, and it bled a lot, but it’s okay.”
“Minor concussion, I’d say.” The white-haired man with the stethoscope stands up. “Head wounds always bleed profusely, but yours only needed a couple of stitches.”
“Stitches?” I reach up.
Lito takes my hand. “Don’t.”
“Okay.” I glance at Mateo. He’s still soaked through, his dark hair windswept and wet, and his cheeks are covered with scruff. He looks like he’s been through hell, but that’s nothing compared to the tempest in his eyes.
“Thanks, Doc. Benny will drive you home.” Lito pats my hand.
“Anytime.” The doctor grabs his leather bag and shakes Mateo’s hand. “Keep a close eye on her. Keep her awake for a while. Maybe half an hour. After that, she can sleep, but if anything seems off or she has trouble waking, call me immediately. I gave her a slow release dose for the pain, so she may start to drift off.”
Mateo gives him a stark nod, and then the doctor leaves, closing the bedroom door behind him.
“Does it hurt?” Lito strokes my damp hair away from my face.
“A little.” I glance down and realize I’m naked under the covers.
“You were soaked,” Lito says quickly. “I stripped you—no real peeking of course, ew—and the doctor checked you over. You have some bruising on your back, too. But he said it would clear up.”
Mateo shifts from one foot to the other, his body language that of a caged lion.
“You’re back.” I say the obvious.
He walks to me, standing over me as Lito pats my hand.
“I’ll handle it.” Mateo’s voice is low, menace-laced.
“I’ll, um, go get you some water and snacks.” Lito stands and clears his throat, then hurries from the room.
Mateo stares down at me. It’s unnerving.
“Why aren’t you talking? Isn’t this the time where you chide me for trying to escape and threaten me with punishment?” I don’t know why I’m taunting him. He did just carry me all the way here and got me medical attention, but I’m still pissed off all the same. One of his men just tried to assault me, to hurt me in ways I don’t want to think about. I shiver at the memory of his hands on me.
“He touched you.” He reaches out and runs the backs of his fingers down my cheeks. It’s such a gentle movement, one I would never expect from him. “He hurt you.”
My eyes water, and I hate myself for feeling weak, for leaning into his touch. “Yes.”
“Tell me what happened.” He sits beside me and takes one of my hands in his.
It’s so sweet and unexpected that more tears well in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You can.” He rubs his thumb back and forth over my knuckles. “I need to know.”
I swallow hard, my mind going fuzzy at the edges. At least the pain isn’t so bad, not like it was when I was running.
“Princess.” God, the way he says it this time, the softness, the near reverence. “Please.”
I don’t know if it’s the drugs—it must be—but I could swear he just said ‘please’. But that’s not him. That’s never been him.
“I-I was downstairs. Then I was going to cut through the kitchen to get to the stairs …” My mind continues to drift as my mouth moves, as I retell what happened, but it’s almost as if I’m telling a story about something that happened to someone else. Not to me. I’m not the woman screaming and fighting. I’m just a witness. A bystander. A person who should’ve done more but stood paralyzed, instead.
When I finally stop talking, he’s still rubbing my knuckles, his touch so gentle. “You fought him.”
I nod, tears dripping from my jaw before he reaches out and swipes them away. “I tried, but he was so much bigger.”
“You scratched his face. That was good. You ran. That was good, too. You have fight in you, princess. I’ve always seen it.” He strokes a hand through my hair, though he’s careful not to go too far.
“What happened while you were gone?” I stare up at him, and even in the dim room I can tell he has dark circles under his eyes.
“Just some cat and mouse games with the feds. They simply haven’t realized I’m the cat in this scenario.”
“Did you rescue Red again?”
“Again?” He smirks. “I see Lito has been telling tales.”
“Lito is wonderful.” I’m getting fuzzier by the second.
“I hope you didn’t tell him that. I’ll never hear the end of it.”