The paramedic nodded, then looked at the guy sitting up in the driver’s seat. He immediately exited the vehicle, presumably to tell the officer waiting outside.
“Mommy hit me, too,” Emmy whispered. “Lots. She was very mad.”
“That won’t ever happen again,” he vowed. He didn’t care what he had to do. Steph would never lay a hand on Emmy again. She’d be lucky if she got to see their daughter again.
He held the ice pack to Emmy’s back while the paramedic listened to her heart and took her blood pressure. Exhausted, Emmy fell asleep in his arms. He took that as a good sign that she felt safe enough to let go.
The driver climbed back behind the wheel. “The cops found the guy. They’ve arrested him along with the woman.”
Jon sighed with relief, but it was short-lived. The second they drove out of the apartment complex, he took out his phone and made the call he dreaded.
“Jon. You ready to talk horses?” Tate sounded pleased to hear from him.
Jon hoped Trinity’s brothers didn’t kill him over this. “You need to get to the hospital. Trinity was just taken into the emergency room. I don’t know everything, but she’s got a head wound, possibly broken ribs, damage to her hands, and she suffered a very bad flashback after being locked in a closet after she was clocked with a beer bottle and beaten by my ex.” He waited for the cussing, accusations, and death threats.
“Anyone else hurt?” Tate’s voice was calm and controlled.
Jon choked up. “Em-Emmy. Though she’s f-far better than Tr-Trinity.”
“Okay. Hold on. We’ll meet you there.” Which meant Tate would call the rest of Trinity’s family. They’d take care of her.
He nuzzled Emmy closer. He’d take care of her, but he wished he could be with Trinity right now, too.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Trinity couldn’t put one thought together with the next to figure out what was happening. All she knew was overwhelming fear and a sense that she needed to get away. With her heart pounding and her lungs seized, she felt like she was suffocating.
She couldn’t move her hands. They were strapped down. Why? She didn’t know.
The people dressed in blues and whites around her kept assuring her she was okay, but she felt anything but.
She needed to find someone but she didn’t know who. Tate? Liz? Emmy? Images came and went, and she couldn’t make out now or then or reality versus nightmare.
Someone poked another needle in her arm.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s just a mild sedative to help you calm down. Breathe, Trinity.”
She wished she could, but something seemed very urgent and necessary. “Where is Jon? I need to . . . tell . . . him . . . about Emmy. Did they . . . find . . . Clint? Where . . . is . . . Tate?” She couldn’t get all the words out without gasping for every breath.
“We’ll find out. But first we need to take care of you.” The man with the white mask and plastic face shield had earnest brown eyes that made her believe he’d help.
“You have to . . . find them.”
“We will,” he assured her. “Let’s get a chest X-ray. Is CT ready for her?”
“Yes,” someone answered. “We’re ready to move her.”
Trinity’s head spun as the lights and ceiling tiles moved overhead, making her have to close her eyes to stop the queasy feeling in her stomach from getting worse.
“Trinity!” Jon’s deep and urgent voice made her turn her head.
“Jon.” Just his name hurt her throat to say. She didn’t know why she couldn’t make her voice louder than a whisper.
The masked man appeared over her again. “You need to stop talking so your throat can heal.”
Jon hovered over her, his face and eyes filled with anguish. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Trinity.”
She tried to raise her hand, but the restraint held it down, though she spotted the bloody bandages covering her fingers. “What happened?”
Jon turned to look at the masked man, who spoke to him. “She’s having trouble thinking clearly. The paramedic said something about a flashback from a previous event.”
“Did they get Clint?” she asked Jon, desperate to be sure he hadn’t hurt Tate and Liz.
Jon brushed his hand over her forehead. “Clint is dead. That was months ago, sweetheart. Steph did this. You were trying to help Emmy.”
She tried to get up, but the masked man . . . No, a doctor. And Jon. They gently held her down. “She hit Emmy.” She tried to see past them. “Where is she? You have to help her.”
“Emmy is safe. She’s right over there.”
The doctor put his hand on Jon’s chest and pushed him back. “We need to get her to CT.”
Jon elbowed his way back to her side and pressed his forehead to hers. “Let the doctor help you. I need to stay with Emmy, but I’ll come see you again as soon as they bring you back.” He kissed her head again. “Your family is on the way,” he assured her, then disappeared, making her turn to find him, but they were moving her again and the dizziness and lights made her close her eyes.
“We need to do some imaging,” the doctor said from beside her. “Then we’ll get you back to your family. But now you know your little girl is okay.”
Her heart calmed. Emmy. She was safe. Jon had her.
And oh, it sounded and felt good to think of Emmy as her little girl.
She’d like that. She’d try her very best to be a good mom to her.
Bits and pieces came back to her about what happened, how Steph attacked her. Unprovoked. Her deadly intent clear.
Trinity was done playing nice. She vowed Steph would pay for what she did, for hitting Emmy, and for trying to kill her.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jon hated leaving Trinity’s side. Seeing the blood drenching her hair, the thick pad on the back of her head, the bandages around her hands because she’d literally tried to claw her way out of the closet, and her wide eyes filled with desperation as she struggled to understand what was happening. They’d restrained her to keep her from hurting herself more. It was all too much to bear. But she needed him to hold on, take care of Emmy, and be there for her when they brought her back.
If he was going to do that, he needed help.
And it arrived just in time. He glanced up when the hospital-room door opened. His father stared at him, then Emmy, and back in the dim room they’d moved them to because the noise in the ER agitated Emmy and they wanted to keep her calm.
“Dad.” He’d never been so relieved to see his father.
“How is she?”
Emmy lay curled up on her side in the golden glow from the single light at the head of the bed. She twitched and made odd noises in her sleep, but she didn’t wake up. The pediatrician who examined her warned him about nightmares and Emmy being afraid and feeling unsafe for a while.
He’d managed to change her into a tiny hospital gown and held two ice packs on the bruises on her back and bottom. He couldn’t believe Steph had spanked her hard enough to leave such bruises.
His father stared at his hands on Emmy. “What happened?” he whispered.