“Told me what?”
With their help, I wiggled myself up into a sitting position. Nero stuffed pillows along my back to keep me propped. Davien tucked the sheets across my nearly naked chest. Upright, I was almost level with them and the hesitation rippling between them.
“You shouldn’t have left,” Davien said instead. “You shouldn’t have just…” He shot a glance at Nero as if willing him to offer the proper words, but before Nero could open his mouth, Davien was plunging on, “You should have answered my messages!”
I blinked. “You messaged me?”
It was his turn to recoil. “Every fucking day, woman!”
The guilt and warmth burned my throat. It drew hot tears to my eyes as I stared into the pain radiating in his. “Davien—”
He shook his head. “Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been? For all we knew, you were being kept locked up in some cupboard under the stairs. We didn’t know if we’d ever see you again or how long you’d be gone. Your message told us nothing! I mean…” he scrubbed furiously at the furrows in his brow with the tips of three fingers. “You can’t tell a guy you love him and then fucking vanish.”
“I’m sorry,” I breathed around the choking lump. “I never meant to hurt you, you have to know that.” I glanced at Nero and got a stony glance in return. “I was following the rules, your rules! I didn’t think you would care or worse, you’d tell me you didn’t. It would have killed me to hear that from you.” I drew in a breath to calm myself only it sounded more like a sob on the exhale when I rushed on. “I have been in love with you since I was sixteen. It’s literally all I’ve wanted or known for seven years. To be that certain of something so impossible and then finally have it, the thought of losing it is terrifying, but it’s worse to think I could be discarded and replaced. I thought if I walked away first, if I let you go first, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much, but it hurt. It hurt so much, and I promise I will never do that again.”
“Fucking right you won’t,” Davien growled before capturing my face between his warm hands and pulling me to him.
The kiss was much gentler than the hold he had on me; it was featherlight across my bruised mouth.
“And I didn’t get your messages,” I whispered when he pulled back. “My phone was … I didn’t have it.”
“That doesn’t explain what possessed you to face Cortez alone,” Nero interjected, looking less forgiving.
“I told you, I wasn’t going to let him—”
“That was not your choice to make,” Nero snapped. “You had no business—”
“What? Protecting you?” I shot back, matching his fury with my own. “If you had been in my place, would you have—?”
“This isn’t about me.”
I scoffed. “You can yell and be angry with me all you want, Nero, but I wouldn’t change what I did. I love you and Davien, and I will protect you—”
His kiss was not gentle, but I could feel the restraint in skim of his lips, the carefulness in the way he threaded his fingers through my hair. He pulled back almost immediately, but the fire and anger still radiated in his eyes.
“We will finish this at home.”
A subtle knock interrupted my response. Our attention redirected to the man in the doorway, a sheepish smile on his face.
“Sorry,” Dr. Rachiele stepped over the threshold and stood facing us. “Just wanted to check on the patient.” His attention pivoted to me. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” I admitted. “Thank you.”
He nodded slowly, a motion that held just a hint of hesitation. “Good. I’m glad.” He peered from Nero to Davien, features never losing its calm. “Would you gentlemen mind giving us a moment? I promise it won’t be long. I just want to give Mia a quick check.”
The two flagging either side of me eyed each other and I could almost feel the refusal brewing between them.
“It’s fine,” I said before they could open their mouths.
Dr. Rachiele shot me an appreciative smile and stepped aside for the two to leave. Both wavered but reluctantly pushed to their feet and shifted to the door. Davien slapped a hand on the barricade when the doctor started to close it behind them.
“It stays open,” Davien threatened.
“How about partially open?” Dr. Rachiele renegotiated.
“Davien, it’s fine,” I assured him.
His dark eyes went from me to the doctor, but he stepped back, allowing the door to close nearly all the way.
“Thank you,” Dr. Rachiele said moving to the chair Davien had vacated. “I don’t want to keep you waiting. I’m sure you would like to get home and cleaned up.”
“A little,” I admitted and earned a chuckle.
He sat and I was yet again struck by how young he appeared. “I have been at this a very long time,” he started slowly, quietly, barely loud enough to be heard even by me. “I got this job kind of by accident, but you must know it’s not all above board.” At my nodding shrug, he continued, “The people who come to see me are people who can’t — for one reason or other — go to a hospital. Majority of the time, it’s people on the opposite side of the law, people who dabble in things society deems … unsavory.”
I watched him, curious to see where he was going with this very cryptic speech.
“Some of those people,” he went on, “can be a bit … aggressive. They may not mean it, or it was an accident, but ultimately, things happen and people get hurt and some times the people getting hurt try to protect the other people involved in the situation by creating a—”
“Dr. Rachiele,” I cut in, “can you please just tell me what you’re trying to say?”
He sucked in a breath and sighed. “I want to make sure you’re all right. Sometimes, we get caught up in a situation and we think there’s no way out or we caused it, but the truth is that there are ways out and people who can help.”
It might have been the stress of the day or getting slapped around by a maniac, but it took my brain a minute too long to comprehend what he was asking me.
“Nero and Davien didn’t do this,” I said, not sure whether to be amused or insulted by the implication.
He nodded but looked less than assured. “Okay, but what I said remains true. Should you ever find yourself wanting to talk to someone, I know people who can help.” He pulled a card out of his back pocket and held it out to me between two fingers. “She’s a very good friend of mine and has an organization dedicated to women supporting other women. I know she would love to meet you if you ever just want to meet up for drinks.”
The sleek, black bit of cardboard felt heavy and creamy like butter. Clearly expensive, but the feminine, gold font scrawled across the glossy front was what caught my attention.
“Ava Tasarov,” I read out loud. It was followed by a series of numbers. I glanced up at Dr. Rachiele. “Who is she?”
The man smirked. “Someone I think you might really like.”
Chapter Twenty — Davien