Safe at Last (Slow Burn #3)

“How bad is it?” Zack asked in a low voice.

The doctor grimaced. “She has a few broken ribs but fortunately she didn’t puncture a lung or another vital organ. As odd as this may sound, the beating appeared to be calculated. As though her attacker intended to do as much damage as possible without her sustaining any mortal injuries. Because as I said she sustained bruising to ninety percent of her body and yet apart from the cracked ribs she has no other broken bones. But some of the bruises are deep and will require careful attention while she’s recovering. She needs to be on strict bed rest for a few days and I can’t stress this enough. She needs to limit her movement to only what is necessary. Someone needs to be with her when she showers or bathes. And she has to take her recovery slowly. There’s no rushing this and no shortcuts. Her body needs time to heal. Period.”

“She won’t lift a finger,” Zack vowed.

The doctor cleared his throat. “I assume the authorities have been contacted? By law we have to report any crime, suspected or real.”

“They’re on their way,” Zack said. “My first priority was getting her to the hospital.”

The doctor nodded. “You did the right thing.”

“Can I see her now?” Zack asked anxiously.

The doctor nodded again. But as Zack started to pass him he stopped him momentarily.

“She must take her recuperation seriously. This isn’t something that will go away overnight. She’s going to hurt very badly for the first several days. It’s imperative that she not suffer any emotional or physical upset during this time. And if I were you, I’d seek out professional counseling for her. After an attack, a common reaction is denial or the victim just wanting to forget about it and make it go away. That’s not healthy and it won’t work. You may have to push her and she likely won’t thank you for it at first, but she needs to accept and work her way through what happened to her.”

“I understand,” Zack said quietly. “I appreciate your efforts, Doctor. And rest assured, she will not have to do anything other than rest and get to feeling better.”

“I’m glad to hear that. And I dearly hope whoever did this to her is arrested immediately.”

The doctor’s expression grew fierce as he said the last and anger blazed in his eyes.

“I’ve been a doctor for twenty years and no matter how many times you think you’ve seen it all and can’t possibly be shocked by what comes through the ER, there’s always another case that leaves me shaking my head and wondering what kind of scum gets his rocks off by beating an innocent woman. Especially in the manner that Miss Hill was. I have no doubt this was a well-measured attack meant to do as much harm as possible without killing her.”

“We know,” Beau said in a savage tone. “And the bastards who did this to her will pay. You can take that to the bank.”

“Good,” the doctor said emphatically. “Now I’ll let you see Miss Hill. I’d like to admit her for observation and keep her at least forty-eight hours before I release her. She’ll be moved up to the floor when her room is ready and she’s admitted. Do you happen to have her insurance information? The admitting nurse will need that and her other personal information as well.”

Zack hesitated because he didn’t know anything about Gracie. He knew everything and nothing, or at least what used to be. Who was Gracie now? The last forty-eight hours had shattered any illusions he’d had.

“It will be taken care of,” Beau interjected.

The doctor nodded and then stepped away from the door to let Zack pass.

Zack sucked in a deep breath, squared his shoulders and braced himself before walking into the room.

He let out a strangled cry when he saw Gracie lying on the bed, eyes closed but her forehead marred with pain, her features tight and her lips firm in a thin white line. Even at rest, she looked as though she were in horrible pain.

How scared she must have been. If the doctor was right—and Zack had no doubt that he was—she had endured a cold, methodical beating. It hadn’t been done in a rage. No, it had been administered impersonally. She’d been a job to someone. Nothing more.

But she hadn’t known that. How long had she endured the pain? Had she been scared to death they’d eventually get bored and then kill her? Had she prayed for death? God, he hoped not.