Page 48 of Nightfire

The man’s eyes opened to a slit, pale blue and aware. His mouth moved, but nothing came out but red bubbles and drool.

“Talk!” Mike shouted.

In the distance, sirens sounded, louder with each passing second. Good news and bad news. Good news because Chloe would get the medical attention she needed. Bad news because the cops wouldn’t let him beat the shit out of the live one to shake some intel out of him.

The sirens grew to a wailing crescendo, then cut off. A couple of seconds later, boots pounded down hallways. “In here!” he shouted. Two EMTs came running into the room, followed by two cops in uniform.

The women at the door separated for them, then gathered again, wide-eyed, frightened, silent.

One of the EMTs approached him. Mike hated to do it, hated it, but he let go of Chloe.

“She blacked out for a minute or two.” His heart pounded as one of the medics shone a light in Chloe’s eyes. Had she sustained major trauma? Was she going to be all right? She’d been slammed across the room by a big, strong man. His heart had stopped as he watched her flying, bouncing off the wall.

Chloe’s eyes opened wide at the light and she coughed at the medic’s request. Her head turned to him, face paper white. “Mike?” Her voice was thready, weak.

“It’s okay, honey,” Mike said, but he knew it wasn’t.

She looked at him and shuddered. God only knew what his expression was. Deadly and enraged, probably, though there wasn’t anything he could do to contain or hide it, not with the two fuckers who’d attacked Chloe in the same room. She pointed at her mouth and he didn’t understand what she was trying to say until he caught on and wiped his own mouth. It came away bloody. “It’s okay,” he repeated helplessly.

“Okay, Ms—" the medic treating her said, pulling back a little after examining her pupils and taking her pulse and BP.

“Mason.” Second by second, Chloe was looking better.

“Okay, Ms. Mason. How many fingers?” He held up two fingers, palm out.

Chloe looked at the shocked, pale women gathered in the doorway and smiled at them. It was shaky and it broke Mike’s heart. She was trying to make light of what had happened, to reassure the women in the doorway.

“I’m all right, Carrie. Ann. It’s all okay.” She turned to the medic. “Turn your hand around, and in England it would mean up yours. Two fingers. To answer your question—you’re holding up two fingers.” A choked laugh came from the doorway.

Her voice was weak, but she was making a valiant attempt to defuse the situation. She knew that every woman in that doorway had been violently attacked. She knew how scared they were and that they all looked to her for strength. Chloe was rising above her own fear and pain to reassure them.

At that moment Mike was struck by a wave of love so strong it would have brought him to his knees if he hadn’t been already kneeling.

The other medic bent down to the dead guy, putting two gloved fingers to the side of his neck. “This one’s gone.” He crouched down beside the other one, who was breathing erratically, bubbles of blood coming out of his mouth.

“These fuckers were beating her up, one ready to rape her.” Mike barely recognized his voice, raspy and low and deadly.

The attempted rape was clear. The dead fuck’s pants were unzipped, dick lying limp on one thigh. Seeing that, knowing what the man had wanted to do to Chloe, knowing what he’d done to Chloe, made Mike shake with rage. Jesus, he wished he could kill the fuck all over again.

The medic stood up. “Ma’am? What are you feeling? Do you feel dizzy or faint?”

“No.” Chloe’s voice was stronger. She sat up straighter and winced. Mike put his hand on her back, providing support. Chloe held her slightly swollen arm out. “Except for this. I don’t know if the bone is broken. It might be just a sprain.”

“We’ll X-ray it when we get to the hospital.” The tech who’d shone the light in her eyes nodded. He had a badge with his name on his uniform. Steve. “Do you want the gurney, ma’am?”

Chloe waited a second. “No,” she said finally. “I’d rather walk.” She braced her good hand on the floor to try to get up. Mike scrambled up, took her by her good hand and lifted her up.

Was this a good idea? Maybe she was concussed. Maybe she’d do permanent damage to herself if she walked. Jesus, what the fuck did he know?

Mike turned to the medic, Steve, and was about to protest when Chloe put a finger across his lips. “I’m okay, Mike. Let me walk out under my own steam. It’s important.” She looked across at the women in the doorway then back at him. Expecting him to get it.

Damn.

He got it. He did.

But letting her walk out under her own steam, because it was important to her to be strong for the poor broken women of the shelter, clashed violently with his desire to either carry her out or have her taken out on a gurney, on the off chance that there might be some internal damage.

Chloe watched him as he worked it out, jaws gnashing. She trusted him to understand and he did, oh yeah.