Chapter 16
“Em.” Travis’s voice broke through my unconscious state. “You need some water. Come on, baby.” I felt the press of plastic to my lips and immediately opened my mouth, the cool water flowing past my lips offering relief from the thirst that had pained me since I’d woken up in the back of that godforsaken car.
I clutched the bottle, guzzling greedily as I sat in Travis’s lap in the back of his Jeep.
“Christ.” Theo’s angry voice sounded from somewhere to my right.
“She’s all right,” Declan assured him, though I was sure I looked anything but.
Finally, after I’d drained the bottle I pushed it back, collapsing limply against Travis’s chest once again. I had so many questions, but I couldn’t seem to push them past my lips. All I wanted was sleep as my head rolled listlessly to the side.
“Motherfucker.” Travis’s tone was so full of rage it nearly had me opening my eyes. Nearly. “There’s a puncture wound in her neck,” he seethed. I felt his chest rising and falling rapidly underneath me as his fury spiked.
“Fuck. Must be how he took her.” Declan’s voice was a low rumble. “We got to take her in, man, if she was drugged we need to have her screened. And, McAllister, man, I hate to say it, but if she was unconscious they should do a rape kit.”
The tension in the Jeep grew so thick it was suffocating as Travis’s body turned to stone beneath me.
“Get Sid on the phone. You tell him to get that motherfucker to talk. I want to know what he drugged her with, and so help him, if he touched her, I will fuckingendhim,” Travis snarled.
Sid was with Morales?
“Roger that,” Declan confirmed. “I’ll drive, you stay back there with her.”
The rumble of the engine soon sounded, doors slamming around us. We picked up speed, and Travis pulled me closer, kissing my temple. I lost the last bit of awareness I’d been clutching to, and slipped into a deep sleep.
When I came around again, I was in a hospital bed. Travis sat to my right, his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.
He looked so broken—I’d never seen my big, strong man look so wrecked. I’d do just about anything to ease him.
“Honey,” I croaked.
His head shot up immediately, his eyes bright with worry.
“Can I have some water?” I asked hoarsely, pushing myself up into a sitting position. I felt a bit better, less exhausted.
He picked up the cup at my bedside, putting the straw to my lips. I’d never known ice water could taste so damn good.
“Where are we? What time is it?” I asked when I’d drunk my fill.
“It’s 6:00 a.m. We’re at UCLA Medical. The doctor examined you while you were out of it. We’re waiting on the blood work now, but it doesn’t look like…. He didn’t touch you,” he ground out.
I reached out and took his hand, squeezing reassuringly. “I’m okay,” I murmured.
He pulled back, shoving away from his chair so abruptly that it startled me. He paced the small room, running his hand over his hair. “You’re not fucking okay. You were drugged. You could have been killed.” His furious gaze met mine. “I’ll tell you right now, if that motherfucker wasn’t a detective that the LAPD already had an eye on, I’d kill him. I’d make it slow, painful. I’d bury him where he’d never be found.”
Maybe his words should have scared me, but they didn’t. I knew he had to get these emotions out—he’d lose it otherwise.
A knock sounded at the door, followed by a doctor entering the room. Middle-aged, with brown hair and kind eyes, there was something about him that immediately put me at ease.
“Ms. Greer, it’s good to see you up and around. How are you feeling?”
“Better.” I nodded as Travis took his seat at my bedside, his large hands clasped over my thigh.
“We got your labs back. You were drugged with rohypnol.”
Travis bit back a curse.
The doctor glanced at him before his gaze returned to me. “I’d imagine you’re still feeling a bit foggy, probably thirsty. That may last over the next twenty-four hours. Other than that, everything else came back clean. With some rest, some hydration, and a bit of food, you should be feeling better very soon.”