Page 10 of Protected By Her Daddy

“Let the doc do his work. You’ll only get in the way,” he says firmly.

Clenching my fists, I quell the surge of protectiveness. Although why I’m so reluctant to let Wren out of my sight is a mystery.

Because she saved your life.

Yeah, that’s it. That’s why seeing Dr Sanderson wheel her away from me has me gritting my teeth. The city, ruthless as ever, nearly swallowed Wren whole tonight.

“See what you can find out,” I tell Ed.

He nods and heads back to the elevator while I settle in to wait.

Chapter 4

Gabriel

Two hours later, Dr. Sanderson reappears. I stand as he approaches, my gaze narrowing on his face for any sign of what he’s about to tell me. As usual, his expression is neutral.

The doc stops in front of me, meeting my eyes. “She was lucky. The wound was deep, but the knife missed the three major arteries running through the shoulder.”

Relief pours through me at his words. I’m not ready to examine why a woman I’ve just met instigates such a visceral reaction.

“She’s malnourished and dehydrated, so I’ve given her fluids,” Dr. Sanderson continues. “The CT scan shows no sign of brain swelling or clots, so we can exclude a concussion or worse, although I’ll continue to monitor her.” He pauses for a moment as if choosing his words carefully. “Her physical condition suggests she’s been struggling for a while. The X-rays showed recently healed rib fractures, and she has scars from older injuries. My guess is she’s escaped from an abusive situation.”

Fury ices the blood in my veins. Someone put their hands on her? Beat her? God help the fucker if I catch up with him.

“Will she make a full recovery?”

Dr. Sanderson considers this for a moment. “Physically, yes, with a few weeks of proper care and some physio. But my intuition tells me she’ll need more than physical healing. Psychological wounds”—he shrugs—“those take much longer to heal. She’ll need time and a safe place to recover.”

I understand the weight behind his words. I saw it in my SEAL days—bodies mending faster than minds, scars lingering long after the wounds closed.

Nodding, I resolve, “She’ll have it.” It's a vow, one I intend to keep. “Now that she’s stable, I’ll move her to my penthouse with whatever she needs.”

Dr. Sanderson frowns. “It may be better if she stays here?—”

“Will moving her endanger her recovery?”

“Well, no, but?—”

“Good. I’ll have whatever medical equipment she needs moved up to my penthouse. Choose two of your nurses to change her dressings and administer her drugs.”

“As you wish. I’ll check in with her regularly, of course, to ensure she doesn’t develop an infection. For now, I’ve given her antibiotics and something for the pain. The nurses have bathed her and washed her hair. She should sleep for the next twenty-four hours or so.”

I exhale deeply, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. “Thank you, Doc.”

“Just doing my job. I’ll be around if you need me.” Dr. Sanderson nods and scurries off.

“How’s she doing?”

I turn to see Ed striding toward me. “She’s stable. What did you find out?”

“Nothing on the guy who attacked her in the alley. I ran the bat logo you described on his hat through the database, but it came up blank. It must be a bespoke logo. I have Luther looking into it, but we have little to nothing to go on.”

I nod abruptly. “What about Wren?”

“Wren Roberts. Twenty-one years old. Last known address in Petwood.”

I grimace. While Petwood isn't as dangerous as some other neighborhoods in Washington, DC, it has some very undesirable areas. Petty theft, pick-pocketing, and muggings are constant problems despite an increased police presence.

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