Page 74 of Lesson In Forgiveness

One hard tug, a sharp stab of pain, and the offending canula ripped out of her vein. Her entire body shrieked with the sudden movement, her muscles stiff and so damn sore.

“Point in case,” her brother said dryly, breaking away from his standoff with Grit to cut off the flow from the bag before it drenched the bed. “Welcome back, hellion.”

A strange croaking noise tickled her throat.

Grit rounded the foot of the bed, immediately reaching for her hand—the one not swathed in bandages. “Don’t try to talk just yet, Tabby. The swelling around your throat is better, but there might be some damage. And don’t—”

She bolted upright when Jasper cupped her elbow, using his thumb to plump her vein again. A hoarse, horribly frail cry wrenched free as her stomach muscles twanged like discordant guitar strings in the hands of a toddler.

Fuck, that kicking had ruined her.

“—try to sit up,” Grit finished with a soft sigh. “You’ve got a couple cracked ribs, little tiger.” He plumped the stack of pillows behind her, easing her back into a semi-reclining position. Not sitting up, but not laying down flat either. “Let your brother put the IV back in.”

Not if it was the last thing on earth keeping her alive. Didn’t he know how easy it was to slip something into one of those bags, to inject a little addition into the canula? Hell, Rita had once hooked her up to three different kinds of shit—one canula, three separate ports.

That little experiment had almost killed her.

Batting Jasper away with her swaddled hand, Tabitha grimaced. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, and right now, it hurt to fucking blink. She lifted her uninjured hand slowly to her face, feathering her fingers over her tender cheekbone, relieved to discover it wasn’t as round and hard as an egg.

“The fluids are helping. We’ve had cold compresses on your cheek, throat, hip, and ribs. Recovery is going to be slow, Tabitha,” Jasper warned her. “That was one hell of a beating you took. The IV will give you a boost.”

A boost of what? She shifted uncomfortably, her legs moving restlessly. When something smooth brushed her inner thigh, she frowned and ran her palm down to the slight bump beneath the blankets.

“Shit,” Jasper murmured. “Hope you understand what you’ve done by not restraining her, Grit. We could’ve used them right about now.”

Belatedly she realized, yes, she wasn’t tied down. Not so much as a cuff around her ankle or mittens to stop her from clawing their eyes out. That one mercy, however, wasn’t nearly enough to negate the fact there was a tube up her… she swallowed down bile before she retched and yanked her cracked ribs.

Revulsion consumed her, chilling her down to the bones.

Someone, a fucking stranger, had been touching her while she was unconscious, helpless, fucking oblivious to hands violating her.

Warmth spread over her cold cheeks. Grit cupped her face, grounding her before she spiraled out of control and went on a rampage worthy of her reputation. “Tabitha, look at me. My eyes are up here; look at me.”

Pain stabbed down her side when she took a deep breath and met his calm, unshakable gaze. Part of her wanted to blacken those pretty eyes, gouge them from their sockets for allowing someone to do this to her.

“It was me, little tiger.” His thumbs stroked over her cheekbones, lighter than a feather. “No one touched you there but me. Not a nurse, not Jasper. Just me, okay? I put the catheter in and, when it’s time, I’ll be the one who takes it out.”

“N-Now,” she rasped, feeling her throat burn. “T-Take it out n-now.”

He shook his head. “No can do. Gonna need you to trust me here, Tabby. Trust that I’m going to do what’s best for you. You’ve got another day or two of boredom in this bed until you’re strong enough to walk to the bathroom. The catheter stays in, and the IV is going back in your arm.”

Anger began to thrum through her bones until her useless body ached down to the roots of her teeth. Snarling under her breath, she reached for the tube hidden beneath the blanket. “No.”

“Stop.” The command cracked like a whip, deep and powerful. “Leave it.”

God, if she felt even a fraction better, she’d knock his head off those big, strong shoulders. She saw it in her mind’s eye—a quick, stinging uppercut catching the underside of his chin, snapping his head back. “Not… a… dog.”

Grit’s expression didn’t alter by an inch. His face remained hard, stern, like some kind of avenging angel displeased with the pathetic, broken mortal in front of him. “Not a dog, no. A scared, stubborn bitch who vehemently refuses any attempt to help her? Hell yes.”

Being called a bitch didn’t faze her; she’d been called much, much worse. Even stubborn didn’t get a particular rise out of her—after all, she prided herself on her ability to hold her own against a team of donkeys.

But scared?

“Told you she’d be a terrible patient.” Jasper shrugged when she glared at him. “Sorry, Tabitha, but it’s true.”

“I think this time,” Grit said in a mildly insulting tone, “Tabitha is going to be a good little girl and do as she’s told. Because if she doesn’t, I’m going to have to be the bad guy here.”

Tabitha heard the threat, loud and clear. Despite her head beginning to feel fuzzy, she shifted slightly, ready to take the challenge. It was going to hurt, but she’d experienced worse pain than a cracked rib and some full-body bruising.

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