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After yet another incline of the head, I answered, “In a minute, yeah. I’ll be right there.”
Concern filled his eyes but all he did was nod solemnly and murmur, “See you in a bit, then.” And he turned away to jog off.
I exhaled harshly and slid down until I was sitting on the rear bumper of my truck, thinking I’d finally been left alone.
But then my brother appeared so suddenly in front of me that I jerked back roughly.
Quiet, sneaky fucker.
“Jesus,” I breathed, closing my eyes briefly and shaking my head.
He waited until I reopened my lashes and looked up at him warily, then he said, “Come on,” in his typical, big-brother,I know what’s best for youtone. And taking my arm, he hauled me upright, toward the hospital.
But I resisted. “What? Where?” Because I just needed a damn minute to catch my breath here.
“Somewherequiet,” JB answered with a bit more force. “Where you can get cleaned up.”
And that didn’t sound half bad, so I decided to follow him into the hospital.
“Soyou’renot going to ask where my shirt is?” I practically sneered, figuring he would be one of the most likely people to demand an answer for that kind of thing.
Except all he said was, “I know where your shirt is. I saw her when she came in.”
And I shuddered, unable to stop thinking about the first moment I’d seen her too, trapped and scared and shivering.
“You have blood on you,” JB added softly, glancing over his shoulder at me as he steered me into a side hall.
I glanced down at my bare torso to spot smears on my abdomen. “It’s not mine. I’m fine. I swear.”
“I’m going to look you over, anyway,” he countered and opened a door before standing aside to let me go in first.
“You’re seriously a pain in the ass,” I muttered as I entered what looked like a locker room. “You know that?”
“A pain in the ass who probably has something for you to wear,” he countered and moved directly to one of the lockers before working on the combination to open it.
Okay, a shirt did sound nice right about now. And my jeans were still wet in places.
With a defeated exhale, I collapsed onto a bench between a row of lockers so I could grip my head and close my eyes for a moment of peace.
Until JB asked, “You want to shower before putting this on?”
I opened my eyes to find him holding a pair of scrubs out to me.
Snagging them, I pushed to my feet. “Yeah. A shower sounds good. Thanks.”
After he showed me the way, I was quick to strip and step under a scalding stream. I scrubbed myself clean in seconds, but then just stood there with steam clouding around me as water jetted against tense muscles. When I set my hand against the wall and bowed my head, closing my eyes, I felt my hand tremble.
Visions clumped in my brain, and for a moment I was plagued by flashes of images: Chloe’s bloodshot eye, the scrape on her lips, her manacled wrists, the blood on her ankles, the bruise on her hip, the cut on the side of her breast.
“Jesus,” I breathed, trying to erase it all but failing.
I just kept seeing body part after body part until her red face with tears streaming from her eyes as she wept blared to the forefront and stuck.
Feeling weak and drained, I slammed off the water and reached for a towel. But I’d barely dried my face and was wiping down my chest when my brother appeared.
“Dude!” I cried, covering my junk. “Do you mind?”
“I told you I wanted to check you over to make sure you’re okay,” he answered, not even apologizing for invading my privacy.
