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“No,” he chuckles. “Like family or friends. Someone who might wonder where you are and if you’re all right.”
Man, I’d give any fucking thing to live in this guy’s life for just twenty-four hours. I laugh at the question. “Nobody is worrying about me, Doc. Trust me.”
“I’m worried,” he says.
For a brief moment, I wish I could believe him. Believe that someone might actually worry about a girl like me. But I know better.
Dr. Bishop flashes a sympathetic grin. “I’m sorry about what happened to you, Margaret.”
“Yeah, thanks.” My thoughts go to what happened to me as he begins to stitch up my face. I think Sophie is still in here, but I’m not sure. I don’t really care. I just want to stop hurting. My ribs are still on fire.
“I was jumped,” I finally admit. “A group of girls caught me out by myself.”
His touch is gentle, but so is his overall demeanor. “You’ll be okay, Margaret. No one will hurt you here.”
“I hope not. You got any painkillers? You have a really soft touch.” There’s something about the doc that I find intriguing. I’ve never met an actual nice guy in real life, and he seems so nice that the old version of me would have found him boring. But not today. I want to know why he’s working at a free clinic in this shitty neighborhood instead of a big, fancy hospital. “Why are you working here?”
“You’re full of questions today, Margaret. No one will hurt you. I do have something for the pain. Thank you, I try. Now, what was the last question? Oh, because I like helping people,” he answers. “And here is where help is needed most.”
Usually, I would have called bullshit on that answer, but I believe him. “You’re the first man I’ve ever met who cares about helping anyone but himself.”
He smells really good, and I’m glad I’m lying down because my legs are tingling at his voice. “Then you need to expand your circle. Doctor’s orders.”
I begin to laugh, but the pain in my side steals my breath. I don’t know if it’s from the beatdown or the knife wound.
“Slow down, Margaret.” Dr. Bishop breathes slowly until my breaths match his. “If you keep going like this, you’ll pass out.”
I nod, and though it takes a few minutes, I finally get myself under control. “Sorry about that. I’m not usually such a wimp about pain.”
“I doubt you’ve ever had these kinds of injuries before.” He slides his rolling stool back and looks at something on the computer.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. That bruising on your midsection and back looks pretty nasty. I’ll feel better about it if we do an X-ray now.”
I can’t get over the unease I feel being here. Do I know this man? Is he a friend or foe of BTD? “Are you sure that’s all it is?”
“Well, that’s what the X-ray will tell us. And I’ll need you to fill out the rest of the form, Margaret.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to prescribe something that might kill you,” he answers. “I’ll be back for your X-ray. Try to stay still until I return.”
I nod. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be at the moment. I use the time to focus and see if I can hear those bikers talking.
It can’t be good.
CHAPTEREIGHT
Nova
I rush down the hall to my office, Margaret’s file in my hand, past Stone and Diesel standing watch outside Banger’s room. I don’t stop to chat with my brothers, not when I think a gem has just fallen into my lap.
I shut the door and scan the file and then open my phone to Wild Man’s data. Margaret is a fairly common name, and I know Maggie is a nickname for Margaret. Maybe I’m just tilting at windmills because it’s eating me up to see Banger in such a sorry fucking state.
Wild Man provided details about Maggie at Church, so I want to see if they match the Margaret I just met. Maggie Leon’s date of birth matches my Margaret Rosalia Leon, and the photo on Maggie’s driver’s license is the same woman lying in one of my exam rooms with cuts, stabs, and bruises all over her body.
It’s got to be her.
