A Matter Of Justice (Grey Justice #4)(89)

“Liam? I need you. Please help me.”

He’d recognized her voice in an instant and that she was in dire trouble. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m at a phone kiosk. I can’t run. He’ll find me. Please, Liam. I’m so very sorry, but you’re the only one I trust.”

He hadn’t realized until later exactly what that meant. He knew only that he had to get to her. Were the people who killed his parents after her, too? It didn’t matter that none of it made sense. He knew only that he had to act.

“Can you hide till I get there?”

“Yes. There’s a church a couple of blocks away. I’ll hide there.”

The address she’d given him was about four hundred kilometers away. He didn’t bother to ask why she was that far away. She needed him, and he would get to her. Four hours later, he had arrived at the church. His body was so tense with worry, his grief still so fresh and painful, he was surprised he was able to arrive so soon.

He parked in front of the church. It was going on three thirty in the morning, and no one was about. Thinking she would be inside the church, he had his foot on the first step when he heard her low voice cry out to him.

“Irelyn? Where are you?”

“To the right of you, in the bushes.”

He ran toward her voice. He would never forget what he found. She was sitting with her back pressed against the cool brick of the building. She’d obviously been crying—her eyes were almost swollen shut. Her hair was matted, and she had a small bruise on her cheekbone and some bruising on her neck. Other than that, she looked amazingly healthy.

Asking questions would come later. They needed to get off the streets. He remembered holding out his hand to her and hearing her let out this tiny, little sob, as if she was doing all she could to hold back the pain. And she didn’t move.

“Come on, let’s go,” he urged. “We need to get someplace safe.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I can’t walk.”

And that’s when he realized that he’d shone his flashlight only on her face. When he moved the light lower, his heart almost stopped. Her knees were a bloody mess, almost like raw meat.

He knelt down to touch her, and she gasped. “No, please don’t. They don’t hurt that badly. Not really. It’s just—”

He followed her gaze lower, and then he saw the real problem. If he thought her knees were bad, they were nothing compared to her feet. Bloody, swollen, most likely with several broken bones.

“Who did this to you?”

“Can we talk later? We need to get out of here before he finds us.”

She was right. Questions would have to wait. He lifted her in his arms and quickly carried her to his car. He had expected her to cry out in pain, but that had been his first real inkling of just how strong Irelyn Raine really was.

The next few hours were again a blur. Since he didn’t know who was after her or what was going on, he relied on his contacts. The Justice Seekers network penetrated every level of society. He got Irelyn into a small private hospital where a doctor examined her without questions. What Grey learned would haunt him till he died.

“Her feet have been beaten severely. I don’t know what the monster used. Perhaps several instruments together. She’s got three broken bones in her right foot, two in her left, including her middle toe. She has severe lacerations on both soles, which required stitches. It’ll be weeks before she’ll be able to walk without severe pain.”

“What about her knees?”

“They were a mess, but once we washed away the blood and removed the broken glass and rocks embedded in her skin, they weren’t as bad as we’d feared. No ligaments or tendons were damaged. She didn’t say, but from what I can surmise, she crawled to escape. I don’t know how far, but it had to have been some distance. She also has bruises on her arms and a few on her face. Looks like she was choked at some point, too.” The doctor shook his head. “I cannot fathom the bastard who did this to her, nor can I fathom the agony that poor child has gone through. I hope, when you find him, you make him pay.”

His mind was whirling with all that had happened. First, his parents and now Irelyn. What the hell was going on? He hadn’t realized at the time that his nightmare had just begun.

The days following were some of the most difficult of his life. Burying his parents and taking care of Irelyn. She was in and out of consciousness for days. The doctor believed sedation was best for her, and he wouldn’t argue. As long as she was safe, he told himself the questions could wait. He often wondered later if things would have been different if she had told him the truth immediately. Would he have saved lives or simply lost his own? He would never know.

More than a week passed before Irelyn could speak with any kind of clarity or coherence. He walked into her hospital room one day, and she was sitting up in bed. Her hair had been brushed, and there was the faintest glow of color in her pale cheeks. Her eyes, though, were dark with agony, but not because of physical pain this time.

“We have to talk,” she said.

“Yes, we do. I want to know who did this to you. I’m going to—”

“No, not about that. About your parents.”

“You know?” He hadn’t planned on telling her until much later. She was fond of his parents, and they had loved her. He knew she would be devastated, but from the sound of her words, she already knew they were dead.