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“I’m here, baby, it’s alright,” I muttered, keeping a low but steady stream of reassurances as I checked her over. I was no doctor, but I knew basic first aid and some field medicine. I could at least figure out if she was safe to move, and as far as I could tell, she was.
There was blood in her hair and on her cheek where she’d laid in the pool, and the laceration was starting to bruise, but when I gently opened her eyelids, her pupils both reacted to the overhead light. I’d need a flashlight to really check, but that was a positive start.
No stab wounds, no bullet holes. I felt along her arms and legs, no obvious breaks or dislocations. I wouldn’t be able to feel a fracture, even a really bad one, but it settled something in me anyway.
It didn’t look like they’d beaten her at all, just snuck up behind her and knocked her out, and she’d hit her forehead on the edge of the table on the way down; that was as unsettling as it was relieving.
They could have killed her right then and there, and they didn’t.
I didn’t have time to dwell on it, checking her breathing again quickly before jumping to my feet and running for the kitchen. I knew she kept her first aid items there; I’d seen them when I had got Advil for her the morning after our first night together. She was well stocked too, and it took all of a few seconds to pull out what I needed and get back to her side.
I cleaned the cut with an alcohol swab, disinfected it the best I could, and put a butterfly strip on it to keep it closed. It wasn’t long, but it was deeper than I’d been hoping.
She’d probably need a stitch or two, not to mention the goose egg that would form around it or the one already swelling on the back of her head. She needed a full TBI workup.
Once I was sure it wouldn’t hurt her to move her, I started to arrange to pick her up.
That was when I saw the note again, and now that I wasn’t frantically trying to convince myself Lauren wasn’t dead or about to be, my eyes caught on it. It had been in her hand, like she had picked it up right before getting knocked out or, worse, had it put in her hand after she was unconscious.
Either way, I knew in my gut it was meant to be seen. Otherwise, the attacker would have taken it with him. It was a message, and it was meant for me.
I flipped it over to read it. In messy, scratchy scrawl, it spelled out one chilling sentence: We know about you.
Fucking hell. Feeling watched and unwilling to stay here a second longer, I carefully lifted Lauren and booked it.
I wish I could say carrying her to the car was easy, but the unfortunate truth about a body built for speed was that it wasn’t built for sustained strength.
Huffing, puffing, and vowing to add more weightlifting to my workout regimen, I carefully lowered Lauren into the passenger seat of my still-running car. The instant I wrestled the door open, Jennifer’s voice busted through the speakers.
“Lauren?” she screeched. “Lauren?!”
“She’s unconscious,” I panted, securing her seatbelt. “They knocked her out, but she’s otherwise unharmed. I’m taking her to our doctor.”
“No, you’re taking her to a hospital!” Jennifer growled.
“That’s the same thing,” I grit out, trying to keep my cool. Tensions were high, but Jennifer and I weren’t actually enemies.
I had to chill out a little, or else I’d snap at her, and Lauren wouldn’t appreciate that when she woke up. Which it looked like she was starting to do.
“Whoah whoah whoah,” I said softly, watching her eyebrows pinch as she rolled her head side to side. “Hey, Lauren, baby, it’s me. It’s Rich. You’re safe, bunny, don’t move too fast. Gonna have a doctor look at you, okay?” Lauren pushed out a little groan, eyes still squeezed shut.
“Lauren?” Jennifer said. “Is she waking up? Are you waking up, Birdy Girl?” Lauren made a little noise.
“Hold on, hold on,” I said, putting my hand up like I was shushing someone who could see me. “Let’s give her a second. She knows we’re here now, she’ll talk when she can. Right, baby?”
“Mngfh,” Lauren grunted, scrunching her nose. It would have been so cute if there wasn’t still blood dried on her cheek. I held my breath, waiting tensely as Lauren smacked her lips. “Mm… Rich?”
All the pressure built up inside of me gusted out in that instant.
She was safe, she was alive, she was conscious and talking, she was going to be okay. I collapsed to my knees on the asphalt, slumping over her lap like a deflated balloon animal, thinking over and over again thank you, thank you, thank you.
The reality of what I had walked in on, and how much worse it could have been, slammed into me like a train. Tears streamed down my face, and I didn’t give a damn.
“I’m here too,” Jennifer said quickly. “We’re both here. Are you okay? Where does it hurt?”
“Jen? Um, my head, I guess, but what’s going on?”
“You got hurt,” I sniffed, turning my head to look up at her. Her eyes were open now, squinted and unfocused but open, and her brows furrowed in confusion when she saw my face. She clumsily wiped the tears off my cheek, and I let my eyes slide shut to soak in the feeling. I almost never got to feel her hands again. “The Irish Mob targeted you, but you’re okay. A doctor’s gonna confirm it, but I couldn’t find any serious injury.” Lauren’s face screwed to the left as she slowly processed that.
