Bound Temptations: Stories of Temptation and Submission (14 page)

She was pale, shaking from
the strain and cradling her right hand.

But she wouldn't go to the
hospital. Not yet. Not until she saw that fuck into the police car.
Not until she saw them take him away.

And not until she told him.
Not until she let him know. He wouldn't control any part of her
life. Not through her memories, not through fear. Although her legs
shook under her with every step, she wasn't going to hide meekly
behind the cops. Even as they tried to pull her back, she evaded
them. Clayton tried to block her way and she stopped, looking up at
him.

"Relax...I'm not going to
try and kill him or anything."

Shifting her gaze, she
stared around her friend to look at Dwayne. "I want him to suffer
more than that."

Cautiously, Clayton lowered
his arm.

Rocki didn't try to get any
closer. "You think I won't press charges this time," she said
quietly. "Because I didn't last time. But that's where you're
wrong. I'll press charges...and if I can see your ass in jail, I'll
pat myself on the back for it."

He snarled. "You fucking
bitch."

She smiled.

"I'll fucking gut you—" One
of the cops stepped between them then and started muscling him into
the ambulance waiting to take him in for treatment... before he was
hauled to the police station. "Should have already done
it!"

Rocki ignored him, focusing
on the silent, somber-eyed man who waited by yet another ambulance.
This one was hers, she suspected. She needed to get her hand looked
at. And she was feeling more than a little...disconnected. Shock,
maybe?

She didn't know. Didn't
care. The only thing that mattered just then was getting to Cole
and wrapping her arms around his waist. Pain shrieked through her
as she hit her busted hand, though, chasing some of the fog away.
Whimpering, she shifted around, resting her side against Cole's
front.

As one of the paramedics
approached, she shot him a narrow look.

"My white
knight..."

He didn't say anything, just
curled an arm around her shoulders, his face pressed to her
hair.

He was shaking. Shaking
almost as badly as she was.

"Damn it,
Rocki..."

She closed her eyes at the
broken, hoarse sound of his voice. "I'm okay." Then she flinched as
the medic twisted her arm upward. "Okay, I'm hurt...but I'm
okay."

His mouth pressed to her
temple. "I don't think I want to let you out of my sight. Not for a
year, at least. We could go to the beach. Stay there for a year. I
can make sure you're safe. You can heal. We'd both be
happy."

"Hmmm. Don't tempt
me."

"Before you go taking off to
the beach, you need to hit the hospital," the paramedic said. He
had a sympathetic look on his face as he gently wrapped her wrist.
"You need x-rays."

Her belly cramped and fear
shot through her. X-rays. Those weren't bad. Right? She could do
that. Something had to be broken. She needed to get it set, she
knew that. Even though the medicine the paramedic had given had
taken the edge off the pain, it still hurt pretty bad. She could
handle going to the hospital, getting x-rays and letting them set
it. No reason to feel terrified.

But she could already feel
that terror creeping through her.

Focusing on the paramedic,
she tried not to let the panic show.

"Yeah, I figured as much."
The inside of her cheek was all but bloody from how many times
she'd bitten it to keep from crying out. Her fingers were fat and
swollen, discolored. "Damn, I did a number on them, didn't
I?"

"You did." A smile twitched
on the paramedic's lips as he glanced at her. "The man may have a
head like a rock, but maybe he'll think twice before he messes with
you again. I suspect you broke his nose."

"Not enough," Cole muttered
behind her. He pressed his lips to her neck and sighed. "It's not
enough."

The paramedic's gaze met
his—a look passed between them. No, a broken nose wasn't enough,
not nearly.

"What? No...oh, no..." Rocki
came up off the table, shrugging away Cole's hands, ignoring the
look on the doctor's face, ignoring just about everything except
for one thing.

The door. The door was all
that mattered. Because she had to get out of here. He'd just said
surgery. She'd been prepared for x-rays and maybe one shot while
they set the bones. Not surgery.

"Calm down, Rocki..." Cole
caught her around the waist, one gentle hand stroking her hair
back. Through the thin cotton of the T-shirt he'd rummaged up from
somewhere—she wasn't putting on those stupid gowns-she could feel
the warmth of his chest. And if she hadn't been so terrified, she
might have relaxed against him, just let him hold her for a while.
But the doctor had said surgery.

"Calm down?" She shook her
head. "No. I won't calm down, damn it!"

"Ms. Monroe, listen, if we
don't do the surgery, your hand isn't going to heal right. It's not
just a simple break and the bones in the hand are
delicate."

In the calm, logical part of
her brain that could still think past the pain, past the terror,
she knew he was making sense. And she needed her hands. But,
surgery. Rocki didn't have too many crippling fears, but surgery
was probably one of them. Alright, not probably. It was one of
them.

Feeling like a foolish
child, she turned around and pressed her face against Cole's chest.
"I can't do this," she whispered.

"Shhh. It's
okay."

As she curled against him,
Cole thought his heart was going to break.

She'd been clinging to
control by her fingertips all night, made it through the
questioning from Clayton, tolerated the exam, although he'd
suspected she had a fear of doctors even then.

Glancing up at the doctor,
he asked, "Can you give us a minute?"

He slipped out of the room
without another word, and as the door shut behind him, Cole cupped
his hand over the back of Rocki's neck.

"You're afraid of doctors,
huh?"

"Not doctors." Her voice was
muffled. She shuddered against him, but he heard her well enough as
she whispered, "Surgery. Needles. Those things. Doctors are just
fine as long as they don't use needles. And they can't do surgery
without needles."

He rubbed her back. He'd
followed the ambulance in his own car and he'd snagged his gym bag,
figuring she might want to get out of the bloodstained clothes
she'd worn. The pretty, pale pink vest-like corset she'd had on
over a long-sleeved peasant blouse was ruined. Now she was wearing
his faded Star Wars tee over a pair of scrub pants and she was
trembling.

"Sweetheart, you can't let
your hand stay broken, and if you don't let them fix it, you'll
probably lose some use of that hand."

Rocki sniffed.

"You don't want that,
right?"

"I'm debating," she
mumbled.

At the sulking, pouting
sound of her voice, he couldn't help but laugh. "Rocki...you need
your hands, right?"

"I guess." She sighed and
lifted her head, staring at him. Those bitter-chocolate eyes were a
little too bright and her face was flushed pink. The pulse at the
base of her neck was racing. "You probably think I'm some sort of
basket case."

"No." He stroked a hand
through her hair and tugged her close, resting his brow against
hers. "I think you've had one hell of a bad night and now you have
to do the one thing you hate. Who wouldn't be pissed?"

"Pissed. Terrified...yeah,
pissed sounds better." She sighed and rested her head against his
shoulder. "Today really kind of sucked, you know that?"

"Yeah." He closed his eyes.
"Although I can think of one really good thing."

"What's that?"

"You're here." He squeezed
his eyes shut, wishing he could get that image out of his head,
wishing he could do something to wipe away the sound of her scream.
"Damn it, Rocki."

"Hey..." She eased away,
peering up at him. "I'm fine. Well. Mostly."

She gave her hand a look of
acute dislike and then looked back at him. "I'm fine. But now that
you mention it...I can think of a good thing, too. You were there.
And you're here now. So that's two good things."

There was a knock at the
door.

"It's probably the doctor."
Good thing, because he needed a minute to get his balance again, to
calm down before he broke. He kept thinking about how easily he
could have lost her. And he'd just found her ...

Rocki went white. Then she
closed her eyes. "Come in." Without turning to look at the doctor,
she blurted out, "I'm about to have a panic attack, even thinking
about surgery...can you do something about that?
Please?"

Hours later, gritty-eyed
with fatigue, Cole sat in the chair next to Rocki, watching as she
slowly came out of the drugged haze. He had to admit, he hadn't
exactly expected this sort of thing to happen—here he was sitting
with a woman he'd dated exactly twice. She'd need somebody with her
for twenty-four hours after surgery, and he had every intention of
it being him...although he hadn't been sure how to approach
that.

She'd solved the dilemma by
giving him a sidelong look while he was filling out the paperwork
for her. "Is it going to be, like, really awkward if I ask you to
just put yourself down as the contact for now? You're here, and I
don't think you plan on going anywhere..."

She'd been right. She'd come
through the surgery fine, and the doctor had given Cole the
standard spiel...with a mistake Cole hadn't bothered to correct.
"Your wife will need to follow up with us in a couple of weeks. The
nurse will go over all of that when she wakes up, but make sure she
calls us if there's any trouble."

She's not
my wife
. Cole could have corrected him
easily enough. But he hadn't seen the point. She wasn't his wife,
but she already meant something. He suspected she could come to
mean everything...and he was just fine with that.

"Okay...any questions, Ms.
Monroe?"

Rocki smiled tiredly. "No."
She just wanted to go home, to her bed, and sleep. For a
week.

"Well, then. If you can just
bring the car up..." The nurse looked at Cole, her brows
arched.

“
Sure thing." He bent over
and pressed his lips to Rocki's head. As he slipped out of the
room, she closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the
chair. Sleep was calling her name once more, but she wasn't going
to sleep any more, not until she was at home. In her
bed.

Out in the hall, there was a
harsh, loud bang. Startled, she jumped.

Her right hand smacked
against the bedside table. Pain streaked through her.

"Oh, shit," she
whispered.

"Oh, dear..." The nurse
rushed over to her side. "Are you okay?"

Rocki nodded, swallowing the
tears. "Sorry. I'm just a little jumpy."

From the corner of her eye,
she saw the look on the nurse's face. Knowledge. "I understand.
Would you...well, you might want to consider speaking with somebody
about what happened. After you've rested a bit, of
course."

Rocki grimaced. She'd done
that bit before. Although this time, she hadn't cowered. Hadn't
hidden. Staring at her broken hand, she said, "Yes. After I've
rested."

She didn't know if she'd do
it or not. It was a problem that would have to wait until another
day. She wasn't dealing with anything more complicated today than
how to tell Cole where she lived...without drooling. That was
problematic enough.

So pale and exhausted. The
look on her face only made him that much more furious. Cole had
used the few minutes it had taken to drive his car up to call
Clayton, although there was little he could be told yet. Except she
had broken Dwayne Carpenter's nose and given him a concussion when
she drove that bottle into his head.

Not enough, though...still
not enough.

He stroked a hand down her
hair as he opened the door for her. The nurse smiled at him. "She's
going to want to sleep a lot today...that's probably not a bad
thing. Make sure she takes the pain medicine."

"I will." He nodded as he
held a hand out for Rocki, letting her steady herself as she stood
up. She swayed a little and he waited as she rested her head on his
shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Stupid drugs make me
loopy." She eased away and slid into the car, pausing there and
heaving out a breath.

"I think you're entitled to
a little loopiness, baby." He caught her uninjured left hand in his
and glanced at the nurse. "We're good here."

She smiled at him and turned
away, pushing the wheelchair toward the hospital. He focused once
more on Rocki, waiting for her to swing her legs into the
car.