Finally, Dr. Asgood smiles at Violet.
“I don’t think your ribs are broken. I’ll leave some pain reliever here. Your best friend is going to be time, I’m afraid. Ice for anything swollen or bruised. Get plenty of rest and drink a lot of fluids.”
Violet nods, and Diego escorts the doctor out, leaving with her to get his own arm tended to.
“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and comfortable.”
“Mateo—”
“I’m going to explain all of the reasons why I’m not in the flesh trade, but first I need to take care of you, Savage. Unless you want to go home.”
She’s not going home. I’m keeping her here, but I’ll give her the choice.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she admits, and the fact that she didn’t come back with a smart-ass remark tells me that she’s absolutelynotokay.
Lifting her once more, I carry her up the stairs to the primary suite and right into the bathroom.
“Shower or bath?” I ask her.
“How bloody is my hair?” she asks.
“Only a little,” I reply.
“Shower.” She sighs. “I guess I have to wash it again.”
I nod and get to work starting the water and gathering towels for the warming rack. I strip down and then help her take the rest of her clothes off and lead her carefully into the shower.
She wrenched her ankle when she kicked one of the assholes who attacked her, so she’s unsteady on her feet.
My badass girl.
“I’ve got this.” I get to work cleaning her, letting the blood wash down the drain, and then I unravel her braid and wash her hair as well. It’s thick and takes a while to rinse, and then I use conditioner on it, but when I start to massage her scalp, she winces.
“They yanked on the braid. My scalp’s sore.”
The anger that’s been simmering beneath the surface flares at that statement. Not only did they touch what’s mine, but they also fucking pulled herhair. And that asshole in the cell is going to pay for that.
When she’s clean, I quickly wash myself off, and then I get her dry using one of the warm towels.
“I hate washing my hair right before bed,” she whispers as I pull one of my old T-shirts over her head.
“Come on, let’s go sit and let it dry for a bit while I talk to you.”
She nods, but when I go to lift her, she shakes her head. “I’ll walk. If I don’t, it’ll get stiff.”
Reluctantly, I agree and stay right next to her to make sure she doesn’t fall. I get her settled in the corner of the couch with a blanket, and then I put some water on to boil for tea.
“You’re good at the whole taking care of me thing,” she says.
“Not good enough. You were hurt tonight, and I have to live with that.”
I sit on the coffee table, facing her, and rub my hand up and down her thigh, needing to soothe us both.
“I grew up here in Vegas,” I begin, and her eyes climb to mine. “I met Rome and Julian in high school, and we became fast friends. Julian’s dad was the head of the Greek Mafia, and now that he’s gone, Julian has the title. But when we were kids, the three of us worked for Julian’s dad. We got into all kinds of shit. I knew how to steal a car by the time I was sixteen.”
I smirk at that, and she keeps listening.
“My mother’s family was from Mexico, and her brother was the head of the cartel in her city. He pissed someone off when I was fourteen, and one day, some bad fucking dudes showed up at our house here, tied me up so I couldn’t do a damn thing, and raped and terrorized my mom until they killed her.”
