Eye of the Falcon (Psychic Visions #12)(6)
And it had worked. But even now she didn’t remember exactly what she’d done. Except she swore she’d heard voices in her head. Voices telling her to run. But it was all confused with the men’s voices, fighting. Something about her guard cheating at poker.
One had stormed off, and the other had gone to the door, screaming at him. The words a blur but the heat unmistakable. And she knew he’d probably come at her as an outlet for his anger. Instead he’d gone outside, slamming the door, but he’d slammed it so hard that it had bounced open again. She’d gotten up off the pallet on the floor. And raced to the open door. She looked through a crack to see where they’d gone. And, sure enough, they both headed off in the same direction, the fight continuing even outside the cabin. She stepped out to find one man had stayed behind. He chased her back into her room, a baseball bat in his hand. But he’d been so looking forward to beating her that he tripped and fell, the bat falling from his grasp. She was on him in seconds. She didn’t remember how many times she hit him, or how hard, but she’d thrown the bat to the ground afterward, climbed through the window, and kept going. She never looked back.
And now here she was, another meadow, another fence, somebody else’s property. And that was the last thing she remembered.
Until now. The man shifted her in his arms, and a wave of pain rose up so sharp, so achingly clear, her stomach—already empty—strove to escape her mouth. She shuddered.
“Easy, take it easy. You’ll be fine now. I won’t let them hurt you again.”
She didn’t know why, she didn’t know how—and maybe it was just because of that strong heartbeat under her ear—but she believed him. She sank back, back into the unconscious world she’d been in, grateful that, maybe this time, somebody would help her.
Chapter 3
Eagle went straight to the spare bedroom, wishing he had more hands available as he struggled to pull back the blanket so he could lay the broken woman on the mattress. She moaned softly as he pulled his arms free from underneath her. He raced to the bathroom, grabbed towels, and returned. With a warm wet washcloth, he quickly dabbed her forehead, checking to see how severe her head wound was. His military experience let him know she likely had a concussion and would possibly need stitches.
He was loathe to call a doctor. And even more so to call the sheriff. He did a complete second check over her body, noting the ankle continued to swell, and the injury was recent. The scratches he assumed were from running. Her feet would need to be soaked to see the extent of that damage. Her ribs were bruised, her arms lacerated, the soft skin on her breasts reddened with angry burn marks. Grimly, he realized she’d likely been held captive somewhere, somehow. And for a long time.
Until she found an opportunity to escape. The shoulder wound was the one that worried him the most. How long had she been tortured? She could have any number of internal injuries he couldn’t see. There was an odd green tinge to the right side of her back near her waistline. That also worried him as did the multiple layers of bruising all over.
The bullet had to come out of her shoulder.
He could handle the rest, but he didn’t want to make a call on that one if he didn’t have to. He didn’t want her to suffer permanent shoulder injury if he could help it.
He gently covered her up, feeling the clammy coolness to her skin. As he pulled the blankets over her, a screech sounded beside him. He turned to find Rikker walking up and down the bed.
“I brought her inside. Now give me a chance to fix her up.”
The falcon tilted his head and stared at Eagle. An intelligence both unnerving and bizarre stared at him.
“I don’t know who and what you are, my friend. Just know I’m not here to hurt her.”
An odd rumble sounded from the falcon’s throat. It fascinated Eagle as he stepped back and pulled the phone from his pocket. He dialed a number he knew by heart. When a grumpy older man answered the phone, Eagle said, “I need you.”
Gray snorted. “That’s nice. Always nice to be wanted by someone.”
“Come here now, as fast as you can. Bring your medical bag.” Eagle hung up the phone and pocketed it. Gray would come. If nothing else, curiosity would force him.
Eagle returned to the bathroom, grabbed several more washcloths, and made a quick trip to the kitchen for warm water and a bowl, then headed back to the bedroom, and sat beside her. Once again, he pulled the covers down, hearing the woman protest as the chill settled in.
“I’m sorry. I’m trying to clean up the scratches as much as I can.” With a washcloth, he gave her a thorough, and, as fast as possible, bed bath, paying attention to the scratches that needed further cleaning. He knew he was hurting her, but she never made a sound.
Then she was likely unconscious yet again. When he made his way to her feet, he knew a simple wash wouldn’t do it. He should have shifted her the other way on the bed, hanging her knees over the edge to get her feet set in the water.
Deciding that would still be the best way to do it, he quickly realigned the bedding, slipped his arms underneath her, and shifted her position. He covered her body again, leaving her lower legs bare, feet dangling just above the floor. Then, with clean water in the larger basin, he lifted her feet and carefully put them in.
As soon as her feet came in contact, he realized she wasn’t unconscious at all. She cried out in pain, her body jerking up only to murmur in joy as the heat soaked in. He needed her body temperature to warm up fast. He should have just placed her in a bathtub.