They all turned to stare at me again.
Laney bristled. “My father is a police officer! He’s the most honest man I know! How dare you . . .”
I interrupted angrily. “I can’t trust the police here! I can’t trust anyone!” Then I walked to the door, fixing Laney with a hard stare. “He’s seen you. You have to get out. Go to your policeman father. Don’t stay here tonight!”
I was going to run. I’d take my chances on the road, not stuck here like a rat in a trap.
“Wait!”
Frustrated, I turned to Laney again.
“You’re hurt,” she said, her voice softening. “We can help you.”
“Laney, we can’t get mixed up in this,” the brunette protested.
Laney stared at her friend.
“You weren’t there. You didn’t see what they were doing . . . what they were going to do. We have to help him.” She paused, swallowing down her fear. “Besides, I’m already mixed up in this. I saw them—like he said. And they saw me.”
The blonde frowned as she looked at me. “You’ve got blood on you,” she said, standing up and approaching. “Your clothes are soaked with blood!”
“I have to go,” I grit out. “I have to get away!”
The blonde ignored me and tugged apart the ripped shirt. All three of them gasped when they saw the bloody welts on my body.
“You’re not going anywhere like that,” the blonde said flatly. “Vanessa, get my first aid kit from our room and . . .”
“If he finds me, he’ll kill me!” I growled, pushing her hands away. “I have to go now.”
Laney shook her head.
“No one knows you’re here. You’ll be safe . . .”
“He saw you!” I shouted, frustrated that she didn’t understand the danger she was in. “He saw a girl in a wheelchair! How long do you think it will take before he finds you?”
Her eyes were wide with fear, but she shook her head.
“We have a few minutes. He doesn’t know I’m in this hotel.”
A wave of nausea made me dizzy and I had to grab the door handle to stop from falling over.
The blonde snapped her fingers.
“Vanessa, go pack up our room. Bring the bags here and hurry! Laney, do as much as you can here. And you,” she said, pointing at me, “take off the rest of your clothes.”
My face flushed with anger, but when I hesitated, she reached for the button on my pants.
I leapt back as if I’d been burned, the horrific images of Sergei doing exactly the same thing assaulting my mind.
I saw the sudden pity in the blonde’s eyes and knew that she understood. Humiliation flooded through me and I had to close my eyes.
“I’ll take care of you,” she said calmly. “I’m a registered nurse. You can use the bathroom.”
I nodded, knowing that I needed her help. I slipped inside the bathroom, blinking at the bright lights.
Laney
Jo disappeared into the bathroom with Ash, and I could hear the shower running. My stomach lurched as I imagined the water turning red with Ash’s blood, lazily swirling down the drain.
I sat in my stupid chair, useless and terrified, unable to help.
Four minutes later, Vanessa tapped on the door. When I opened it, she was already wearing jeans and flat shoes; two wheeled cases bulging with badly packed clothes trailed behind her.
Vanessa whirled around the room, heaping all my things onto the bed.
“Ash needs something to wear,” I said suddenly, realizing that his own clothes were past saving.
“Is that his name, Ash? He doesn’t sound American,” Vanessa said distractedly, as she shoved clothes into my suitcase.
“I don’t know where he’s from. Ness, you’re the tallest—have you got some sweatpants, a t-shirt, something he could wear.”
Vanessa frowned then dug out a wrinkled oversized t-shirt and gray sweatpants from her suitcase.
“I don’t know—he’s pretty tall.”
“I don’t think he’ll care,” I grimaced.
“No, probably not.”
She placed the clothes for Ash outside the bathroom door so Jo could grab them.
“Who are these guys?” she asked. “What did they do to him?”
I didn’t know who the men were—but I knew what they were.
“I think they used a belt on him,” I said in a hushed voice.
Vanessa sucked in a shocked breath and I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the rest. And I didn’t know how Ash would feel—it wasn’t my story to tell. He must be traumatized by what had happened. I blanched at the scene playing over and over in my mind—had the thugs continued what they’d started before he escaped?
Jo appeared from the bathroom, snapping off a pair of bloody latex gloves.
“I’ve done the best I can,” she said, her professional voice edged with anger, “but he’s taken quite a beating, and the belt buckle . . . it caused some damage. He needs proper treatment and rest.”
“He needs to get out of here,” I said adamantly.