Eye of the Falcon (Psychic Visions #12)(13)

When she woke the next time, she still didn’t feel better, but she needed to get up and empty her bladder. It refused to be silenced. She pulled off the covers first and stared down at the oversized T-shirt and massive sweatpants that she wore. Even her feet were covered. She should’ve been sweating in this getup. Instead it was a cozy nest she hated to leave. From where she lay on the bed, she could see a bathroom across the floor. And yet the distance appeared to be miles away.

She had to stand up. Slowly shifting to a sitting position, she only cried out once as her injured shoulder jerked. She had to sit straight because of her ribs, and so many other body parts screamed for attention, yet she couldn’t do anything for them. But what she really needed was to get up onto her feet and make it to the bathroom. She took a deep breath and gathered her strength.

“Let me help you.”

A huge man strode across the bedroom. She froze, her eyes dark as they watched him without an expression. She’d learned a long time ago to never let anybody know what was going on inside. But he didn’t appear to care one way or the other.

She was scooped up, her breath coming out in a harsh gasp as her ribs were dislodged.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sure all of you hurts. And I don’t quite know how to stop that but with the passage of time.”

She never said a word.

He stood in front of the toilet. “Do you want to risk standing on your feet?”

She contemplated the toilet and then said, “Yes.”

Her voice was so faint he leaned closer.

He nodded and gently lowered her until she had a hand on the vanity beside the toilet and a hand on him. Then she slowly dropped her feet to the floor. She blew her breath out and put weight on them. Waves of pain rolled up through her stomach, slamming into her ribs and her throat.

She shuddered, and he quickly dropped her pants, plunked her butt on the toilet, and pushed her head to her knees. He grabbed a large bowl out of the bathtub and held it near her mouth. She fought to hold back the acid in her stomach. When she finally managed it, she sat back and groaned. “That was worse than I thought it would be.”

He nodded. “We will have to do this for several days until your feet scab over.”

She opened her eyes and stared at him. “I don’t think I want to ask.”

“Don’t then,” he said reasonably. “When you’re better, we’ll discuss some of these injuries. Right now I need you to go the bathroom and then call me, so I can pick you up and carry you back to bed.” He stared down at her. “Got that?”

She nodded. She really wanted to protest that she could get there on her own, but she wasn’t so sure she could.

As if reading her mind, he said, “Do not do anything on your own right now. Your feet are in bad shape, and so is the rest of your body.”

The corner of her mouth turned down. “Got it.”

He walked out of the bathroom but didn’t shut the door. He was out of sight, but she had no idea where he was. And it didn’t matter.

Her bladder released as if it finally knew it was safe to do so. When she was done, she managed to pull up her pants without standing. He walked back in, scooped her up, and softly sat her on the vanity. “Can you reach the water?”

He turned on the faucets, and she washed her hands. It was the first time she’d really seen her hands. Lots of scratches were over her fingers; her nails were bloody and filled with dirt. She shook her head. “You saved my life. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now let’s make sure we get you back to health again.”

She lifted her gaze to him, seeing a hard-chiseled chin and a slight dimple in his cheek when his mouth twitched. “I didn’t mean to be such trouble,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head. “None of that. You’re in trouble. I can help.”

She gave him a ghost of a smile. “I don’t think anybody can help. And the longer you keep me here, the greater the chances are my kidnappers will come after me and kill both of us.”

He studied her face, his gaze intense as he searched deep into hers. She wasn’t lying. She was at the end of her rope. If she couldn’t even walk to the bathroom, no way could she run.

Finally he gave her a clipped nod. “Let them. I don’t die easy. And I’d be sure to take as many with me as I could.”

“There could be one less,” she whispered. “I think I killed one with a bat. But I don’t know for sure. The memories are all mixed up.”

His arms came around her. He picked her up and walked into the bedroom. As he sat her on the bed, he said, “Good. That’s one less for me.”

She lay back down, her face pale from the pain … everywhere.

He pulled the covers over her. “Now sleep. Your body needs to rest.” He turned out the light she hadn’t realized was on, and the room was instantly showered in darkness.

Then he turned and strode out, leaving her once again alone.

*

Back in the kitchen, Eagle set out fixing a simple chicken soup. His grandmother had been a diehard believer that chicken soup would fix anything broken in the body. He figured it couldn’t hurt. He didn’t consider his chicken soup to be on par with his grandma’s, but, over the years, he’d gotten darn good at it. He also figured he deserved a hell of a reward for not plying the injured woman with questions. A dozen or more were ready to spill out. At the very least he should’ve asked her name. She hadn’t been terribly forthcoming. Stoic—that was a good word to describe her. Fearful, she had been ready to run. Although he wasn’t sure she could. He figured the damage to her feet had been early, to stop her from that very thing.