Vivian frowned. “I’m safe here. Those men aren’t going to come into the hospital. Plus, they left my wallet, which had my driver’s license. They don’t know my name or where I live.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“You’re agitated. That could be from the medication. Do you want me to call someone?—”
“No,” I interrupted. I took her hand in my right one and gave it a squeeze. “No. I’m good, I’m going to nap, I think.”
I closed my eyes and tried to even out my breathing. But I didn’t sleep. I kept remembering the gang spokesman’s comments. Much as I wanted to frown, I didn’t—it hurt too much. He’d said he’d find Vivian and hurt her because she was mine.
But relief swept through me as I realized he didn’t know anything about her and had no way to find her. Me, though, I was easy to locate, just like he’d said. Which meant I had to keep my distance.
Even if the thought made me want to curl into a ball and stop getting better.
Chapter 6
Chapter
Vivian
* * *
Something was off with Lennon. He’d been so quiet when I told him the details of our attack. I’d expected him to rant, maybe even rage, but he didn’t. He’d simply absorbed the information with that same patient expression on his face.
Only later did I realize that Lennon had slipped on a mask in the hospital—and that armor concealed something that happened the night we were attacked. I wasn’t sure what had transpired between Lennon and those men, but those moments had left serious consequences.
Clearly, those long, long minutes when I’d run for help, my heart thumping, had been violent and painful for Lennon. Thankfully, as I’d turned the corner, I’d found a police cruiser easing down the street a couple of blocks away. I’d sprinted into the road, waving my arms and screaming. Well, I’d tried to scream, but I was breathless and unable to do so. Still, the patrol team had noticed me and flipped on their lights so they could get to me faster.
Breathing choppily, I’d told them of the attack, pointing to the road. The man and woman had wasted no time speeding toward the Lennon, siren blaring. I’d slammed my palms to my ears and ducked my head. But my need to get back to Lennon had outweighed the discomfort, and I’d followed the cruiser to the scene. When I arrived, the female officer had been bent over Lennon, assessing his injuries as she spoke into her shoulder microphone. The male officer had torn off down the road, probably after our attackers, though I couldn’t see them.
I’d fallen to my knees, cradling Lennon’s bloodied head in my lap. “Do you have anything I can use to compress the wounds?” I’d asked.
The officer had nodded and hurried back to her rig.
“Oh, Lennon,” I’d murmured. “Please be okay. I need you to be okay.”
I’d bitten back the sob working its way up from my chest and focused on doing my best to mitigate his injuries. I’d breathed a sigh when I realized the wound to his scalp wasn’t deep. The bruise to his temple worried me, and my anxiety had ratcheted up when he began to mumble about not letting the men hurt me.
“Not Vivi. She’s precious. Beautiful. Not Vivi. I won’t let you hurt Vivi.”
My heart had swelled. Even in this vulnerable state, Lennon had thought of me, wanted to protect me at great cost to himself.
“You’re safe now,” I’d told him. The officer had thrust a cloth toward me, and I’d applied pressure to the wound on his scalp, pulling the fabric around so I could also compress the deeper cut on his neck.
“Vivi,” Lennon had mumbled. “Too sweet to be caught up with me. Ruben was right. I always end up causing hurt.”
Clearly Lennon didn’t remember those frenetic moments between the police’s arrival and the trip in the ambulance. He’d passed out when they lifted him onto the gurney.
I’d insisted on riding in the ambulance, nodding my thanks for the antiseptic wipe the EMTs had given me to wipe my bloodied hands.
By the time we’d arrived at the hospital, I’d calmed down enough to realize Lennon wasn’t in imminent danger. I’d given the officers my statement and then gone to sit in the waiting room.
A little girl there had looked at me and my blood-covered dress and burst into tears. The charge nurse had come around the corner to see why the child was so freaked out and shook her head. “You, come with me.”
Linda, as I found her name to be, had offered me the staff’s bathroom facilities and a pair of her scrubs, which I was still wearing because I hadn’t wanted to leave the hospital until I was absolutely positive Lennon would be okay.
I looked over at him in the bed as he stirred. “What do you need?” I asked.
He peered up at me from half-mast lids. Whatever medication they’d given him was strong. Or his concussion symptoms were worse than I’d assumed. I bit my lip, wanting to ask him about his history with concussion, but I stopped.
