“Oh my god, you did not,” she says, swatting my chest as she moves her head to look up at me.
“Sure did. Come on, let’s go.” I lead her out of the changing room and pass her off to Dr. Crawford.
“We shouldn’t be too long,” Dr. Crawford reassures me. “Once the CT is done, I’ll be able to discern how badly her back injury is and we can get her on the mend.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
Taking advantage of being alone,I head up to the second floor where my living quarters are to grab a few things that I might need when I see Derek later. While I wait, I contemplate our current predicament. Part of me is dying to go pay a visit to where my men are holding Derek, but I know Dani needs me more. Derek isn’t going anywhere, so there’s plenty of time. Not only that, but it’ll build up his fear. I want him to feel as scared as he made Dani feel, if not even more.
A spike of fear stabs at my chest as I think back to the moment I saw Derek on the cameras outside her apartment. Franklin was able to install facial recognition software into the cameras after the diner events that would alert us both if he was recognized. And sure enough, it did. He took advantage of another tenant propping the entryway door open as they moved their belongings into the building. Knowing his intentions were anything but pure, I sped back to Dani’s as fast as I could. The fact that he even hurt her as much as he did eats away at my conscience, guilt flooding my system. I should have never left.
Satisfied with what I grabbed, I head back down to wait for Dani, slightly uncomfortable still being in my combat gear.
Some time later, she returns with a tentative smile on her face. Her face is still swollen, but her cheek is stitched up at least.
I immediately stand and go to her, tucking her under my arm.
“Are you sure you’re OK to be walking, Dani?”
“I’m fine. Stop worrying so much.”
Before I can respond, Dr. Crawford comes into the office and sits at his computer.
“Sit, sit, please. Dani should be resting as much as possible.”
My stomach drops.
“So not good then?” I ask, looking between Dani and Dr. Crawford.
“Well, it’s not as bad as it could have been, let’s put it that way,” he says. “Dani has the pain tolerance of a cage fighter, let me tell you. She sustained a grade two kidney laceration to her right kidney. Now this means the laceration is less than one centimeter and only a small amount of blood has leaked out around the kidney. With time and rest, this should resolve on its own and not require any surgery. She will have significant bruising and tenderness around the area for the next week, but all in all I think she will be just fine in a few weeks.”
I stand abruptly, pacing in the small office. I let this happen. I should have stayed, hell, even if it was just outside her building. I could have at least caught him before he went up to her door. My jaw ticks with my growing frustration.
“I’ll kill him. I swear to God, Dani. No one touches you, no one hurts you like that, without consequences.”
“I know you will. It’s OK. You do what you have to do, Kayden. I’m not going to stop you.”
I stop pacing, leveling her with a look. “It doesn’t bother you that I just said I’m going to kill a man. That I’m going to enjoy every second of it?”
“Kayden…” She hesitates before continuing. “I’m sick of men taking advantage of me. Quite frankly, he deserves it. Could I do it myself? Definitely not, but I know you’ll do what needs to bedone. Who knows how many other women he would do the same to. The world will be a safer place without him.”
This woman, in a roundabout way, just accepted the darkness within myself. A part of me wants to drop to my knees before her, the emotions I’m feeling overwhelming me. The acceptance is a relief—a weight off my shoulders. She’s not running for the hills but instead standing at my side in the dark.
“Then it’s settled. Let’s get you some food and then I’ll leave you here in the hands of Dr. Crawford while I tie up loose ends. You can get some rest in one of the suites while I’m gone.”
“OK.”
I pull her to her feet and gently guide her to the cafeteria. With the cooks gone for the night, I get to work whipping her up some eggs, bacon, fruit, and toast while she sits at the metal island in the kitchen.
“Breakfast for dinner? A man after my own heart,” she says as I turn over the bacon, the sizzle of the grease filling the silence.
I look at her over my shoulder with a smirk. “That’s true.”
She looks down at the metal counter, running a finger along the cool surface. I can tell I just made her nervous, but it’s the truth. I’m not about to sugar coat my intentions with her.
“How do you want your eggs cooked?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Scrambled, please.”
