“Keep yer eyes on the fuckin’ road,” I sigh, settling the girl against me. “That was off, far off. They weren’t just a couple of guttered bastards, trying to drag her off for a quick feel. They were taking her out of there.”
I must be mad, letting my supremely careless brother drive my Jaguar, but letting him touch this girl is unthinkable. My arms tighten around her again. I don’t know why I took her. Or why I didn’t drop her at the closest hospital. I never do anything on impulse, but when her eyes opened long enough to look into mine, I couldn’t leave her.
“You remember Doc Meyers’ address?”
He snorts inelegantly. “Please. I could find the man’s surgery in my sleep.”
Dr. Meyers is our local connection here in London for the kinds of injuries that can’t be taken to a hospital. Bullets lodged in flesh, knife wounds. And now, a swelling lump on the back of the head. I’m cupping her head just above the bump, feeling the silk strands of her hair slip through my fingers. She’s long and lean, with strong legs and toned arms, and the bikini top she’s wearing showcases some really spectacular breasts.
Groaning silently, I look at the window, willing my dick to go down. What kind of a sick fuck gets hard over an unconscious woman?
“Well, what a delightful surprise!”
Doc Meyers’ wife is an unnaturally sunny, happy person and the only human I’ve ever met who seemed genuinely pleased to see someone standing on her doorstep, bleeding on the tile. She pulls the door open, “What do we have here, Mr. MacTavish?”
“I don’t know who she is,” I said, striding over to the bed, “we found her fighting off a couple of drunken arseholes. She fell backward and hit her head on the concrete, and regained consciousness briefly when I picked her up. The only injury I can find is the swelling on the back of her head.”
“Very good,” she says approvingly, as if I’d just given her a bouquet of roses, “I’ll just get the doctor. Put her down there on the bed, please.”
Cameron is moving restlessly. “Are you going to be good here? I was planning on meeting up with the Barclay brothers tonight.” He makes a show of looking at his watch. “It’s getting late.”
“Aye,” I say, hiding my grin. “But you’ll need an Uber.”
He looks stricken. “You’re gonna be with this girl for hours! Let me take your Jag.”
“Not a fuckin’ chance. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
My brother attempts to spark some pity with his puppy dog eyes but it only makes me laugh. “Fine,” he sneers, “I’ll pick up two girls tonight to make up for the fact that you won’t be getting any.” His glance darts to the girl, “Unless your tastes have gotten even more exotic.”
“Your faith in me is inspiring,” I said dryly, “I don’t molest unconscious women.”
“That’s good to hear.” Doc Meyers enters the room, pulling on some sterile gloves. “MacTavish, a pleasure to see you. This isn’t your usual injury that darkens my doorstep.”
Cameron disappears with a little salute and a grin as Meyers gently probes the girl’s head. “She’s got a sizeable bump here. You said she fell?”
“Aye, the music festival at Southbank. Fight broke out in the crowd and she got knocked over. Two bastards were trying to drag her off. She head-butted the one from behind pretty hard. The blood in her mouth was from him, he tried to choke her out and he dropped her on her head as she bit him.”
“Feisty young lady,” he says approvingly. “I’ll run a couple of scans to check for a concussion, and make sure we’re not missing anything.”
The girl sits up abruptly, eyes wide and batting away Doc’s hands. “Stop! What are you- who are you-”
“Miss, you’re all right,” he says kindly, “my name is Dr. Malcolm Meyers, you’re in my clinic. Cormac here saw you being assaulted at the festival in Southbank and brought you here for immediate medical attention.”
Her gaze turns to me. “You- you helped me? You must have. I didn’t fight them off on my own.”
“Aye,” I smile warmly, trying to sound kind and not scary, “though you were doin’ a hell of a job on your own. You hit your head when that arsehole dropped you. You took a chunk out of his bicep.”
“Was it bad?” she asks hopefully.
I laugh, I can’t help it. “Oh, he’s going to need some serious stitching. The other one somehow went headfirst into a lamp pole, so he’ll be having a nice nap for a bit.” Leaning closer, I search her neck for bruises. “We can file a statement with the police if you like. I don’t want to scare you, but they intended to take you away, it’s certain.”
“That shouldn’t happen to anyone else,” she says fervently, “I didn’t see them at all though, they were behind me.”
“You make a statement about what happened and I’ll give a description,” I nod. “Doc can take a sample of the blood drawn by your savage little teeth.”
She laughed and flinched a little, putting her hand up to gingerly feel the bump on her head. “Wait. My phone, is my phonehere?” Her eyes are wide as she looks up at me. “I have to call my friends, they must be freaking out! We got separated in the fighting.”
Her eyes are beautiful, pale brown, a toffee color with a dark grey ring around the iris, very unusual.
