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Mark gives my shoulder another squeeze. His presence in all this is a comfort of its own.
“She has two sisters, right?”
“Yes, I have their information in her file.”
“Did you call them yet?”
“I don’t know how much they know about any of this.” Waving my hand across the room, I let out a sigh. “They could call the police. What am I going to say then? How would I explain any of this?”
Mark paces near the end of the bed. His shoulders slump. We both understand the importance of sibling bonds. If the bond she shares with her sisters is even a fraction of the strength of the one I share with Mark, her sisters would be here in an instant. Hellbent on revenge and baying for blood.
“I know you’ve looked through it, but I’m going to check the footage again.”
Letting out a sigh, I nod. A few moments later, he’s sitting at my desk across the room. The ticking of his fingers across the keyboard seems shockingly loud in what is normally my private space. I don’t often regret my spacious open floor plan, but I do right now. Dropping the strand of hair I still have in my hand, I watch her brows furrow. Leaning over, I gently kiss away the wrinkled ridge that’s formed. The dew from her skin sticks to my lips. Fear creeps in at the edges of my thoughts. If anything else were to happen and her sisters weren’t here for her, she’d never forgive me. Shit, I’d never forgive myself.
“Mark?”
The ticking of the keyboard stops.
“Yeah?”
“Watch her, please.” I run my thumb across her battered knuckles.
One side of my lips tugs up as I see the bruises and scratches from the blows she landed. My little fury. Pressing a gentle kiss across her knuckles, I lay her hand down by her side and rise to my feet. Stepping away from the bed, my stomach sinks, but it’s necessary.
“Where are you going?”
“To call her sisters.”
His body visibly relaxes. Apparently, even he thinks her injuries are worth the risk it poses.
32
Ethan paces in his office with his phone to his ear. My eyes trail back to the poor woman lying in the bed. The sight is reminiscent of our mother near the end of her life when my father no longer cared about societal pressure. Ethan enters the room, ripping me from the tangle of thoughts weaving through my mind.
“How did it go?”
He grumbles something as he walks back to the bed.
He runs his fingers through his hair and pulls at the ends. I’m quite surprised his follicles are standing up so well against the assault. There are few times in Ethan’s life where I’ve seen him being visibly shaken. A stoic and steady man brought to his knees. The sight of it hurts my heart. Deciding not to press him for more information, I pull up more feed from the camera Ethan placed outside her house.
An hour later, my eyes begin to blur as I look through the footage taken yesterday. The doorbell rings, sending my heart racing. Ethan walks toward the hallway.
“Hey, wait!”
He stops and looks at Patience.
“Keep your voice down.” He looks over at the bed, searching for any sign that Patience is waking up.
“I’m sorry, but what are you going to tell her?”
His eyes never leave the bed as he lets out a drawn-out sigh.
“I’m going to tell her we found Patience injured. Patience told us to call her sister, then passed out before she arrived.”
Nodding slowly, I keep my suggestions to myself. It’s a terrible lie, but I’m unable to create one any better. He heads downstairs, and a few moments later, raised voices start to ascend the stairs.
As the steps grow near, I rise to my feet and step around the desk. Ethan walks in first, with his eyes cast down and a tortured grimace across his face. A petite woman trailing him steps through the doorway. Jet-black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. Her golden eyes take in the room. Each and every lean curve of her screams ethereal beauty. Her deep-set eyes are framed by thick perfectly sharpened brows. My gaze snags on the gloss shimmering across her pillowy plum lips. Stunning.
