The feel of his big, calloused hand wrapped loosely around her ankle shouldn’t have had her feeling this weird kind of nervousness. Adrianna couldn’t help but stare at the long, strong length of his fingers, at how her leg looked so small in his hold, and how she had never thought that part of her body—or any part for that matter—could be considered small. But this man made her feel that way, made this feminine part of her stand up straight and take notice in some kind of primal recognition. This was a man, and she was a woman, and that was what her body and mind were screaming at her.
“These cuts are only superficial, but they will be pretty painful,” the doctor looked up at her, “especially if you don’t keep your feet up and let them heal.” He looked back down at her feet and started cleaning them with various things he grabbed out of his bag.
The room stayed silent, and she glanced up. Not all the men that had been out in the hallway had come into the room, but there were still three standing by the door. They all had on the same identical hard expressions. She slid her gaze to the guy currently holding her ankle and was surprised to see he was staring right at her. His grey eyes watched her intently, as if he could read what was going through her mind. Good luck with that because I don’t even know what is going through my mind.
“I’d suggest staying off your feet as much as possible for the next day or so.” The doctor leaned back in his chair and stared at her. “But I know lying in bed for an extended amount of time will probably start to get a little uncomfortable, too.” He had put some bandages on the soles of her feet, and the man holding her legs gently lowered them to the ground. “Although most are superficial, there are a few lacerations that are a bit deeper. You don’t need stitches, but adding too much pressure on them will delay the healing process. So, just take it easy.” He smiled, and when he lifted his hand she flinched back. It had been an automatic reaction, but it was clear. The doctor stopped, knitted his brows, and then glanced at the guy beside her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled out. These men were trying to help her, for whatever reason, and she was letting her emotions take control. Tightening her hands in her lap she straightened and nodded. “Sorry,” she said again. “It’s just been a bad night.”
The doctor nodded and took hold of her chin in between his thumb and forefinger gently. He turned her head to the left, and then to the right. For several seconds he kept her head stationary as he clearly looked at her busted lip and bruise. Maybe she should have felt awkward having these strange men check her out like this, but the truth was she had never had people—much less strangers—help her. Adrianna knew that in time they would want to know what was going on, and of course she would tell them. There was no sense in lying, but maybe they could help her get to someplace else where Phillip could not reach her. Honestly, she didn’t know if he was even still alive, and if he was she there was a good chance he’d come after her for payback.
“Not much can be done for the bruising or split lip.” Preston let go of her and exhaled loudly. “Just some ice for the minimal swelling.” He stared at her for a few seconds, and she felt like he was waiting for her to say something. “Your boyfriend do this to you?” He phrased it like a question, but she could hear in his voice he already knew the answer. She didn’t know why she didn’t respond right away. “Maybe a husband?”
Adrianna swallowed, and the rawness in her throat from when Phillip had his hands around her seemed to intensify at that moment.
“Can you give us a minute alone?” Malice looked at the doctor. He then looked at her. “You okay with that?”
She looked at him and then at the doctor before finally nodding. “Yeah.”
Preston stood and left the room. The other three guys all looked at each other, and then they left, too, as if Malice had given them some kind of silent order. Once the door was shut and it was just the two of them alone in the room, she shifted on the bed and kept her gaze on him. He stood and took a step back, but kept his gaze on her as well.
“Now, how about you tell me what happened so we can see what to do next?” He grabbed the chair that the doctor had been sitting on and sat in it.
“I got hit.” The look he gave her was a “No shit” kind of one, and she looked down at her hands. Honestly, she was at a loss as to what to say. Sure, she wanted to go into every sordid little detail that made up her crummy existence, talk about how stupid she was for not seeing the signs right in front of her, but now that she was faced with doing just that a part of her was actually frightened to.