Page 29 of Veiled Vows

“Secure him,” I snarl, snapping my fingers at the stranger. “But the cops are coming so don’t take too long.”

Then Jasmine is my focus. She remains on the ground staring up at the starry sky while blinking slowly, and for a cold moment it looks like she’s not even breathing. For someone I barely know, the sight makes my heart stall painfully in my chest until I hear her take an audible breath.

“Jasmine?”

The ground is cold against my knee as I gently grasp her shoulder and take her hand. “Where are you hurt?”

She blinks owlishly, and then slowly her eyes drift to mine. “I’m fine. I think. I just bumped my head.”

“Are you sure?”

“You don’t believe me?” She smiles slowly, but it melts into a wince as I help her climb to her feet.

“Let me check you over.”

“What are you, a doctor?”

Jasmine lightly argues with me all the way back to the deli but falls silent by the time I get her inside behind closed doors and onto the deli counter.

“I’m really fine,” she insists. “I just hit my head, that’s all. I want to get back out there and see that fucker though.”

“You can’t. The convenience clerk already called the cops,” I reply, studying her face. “My guys will take care of it.”

“Stupid fucking—” Jasmine closes her eyes and frowns, then tenderly reaches for the back of her head.

“Let me see.”

“So you are a doctor?” She opens one eye and squints at me.

“I’ve seen my fair share.” I raise both hands. “Can I?”

Jasmine gives a dramatic sigh, then she turns herself around on the counter so I can reach the back of her head. Her golden brown hair hangs in messy waves down her back, with a few of them clumped together where her hairpins have come loose. After removing a few little stones from where she fell, I gently ease my fingers into her hair and massage her skull until she winces.

Sore spot found.

“Doesn’t feel like there’s a wound, and there’s no blood.”

“See?” Jasmine murmurs with a tinge of smugness. “Told you.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Did you know that guy?”

“I didn’t see his face.” Jasmine’s head falls back slightly into my hands.

A quick text to one of my men brings back a photo of the driver, and when Jasmine turns to look at it, her face quickly grows angry. “Thatfucker.”

“Who is he?”

“Bastard called Seth.”

“An ex?”

“Please,” she scoffs, rubbing at her knee. “My best friend’s ex. When I had to leave yesterday, it was because she texted me. Turns out the fucker beat her up. Like, really beat her up. I’venever seen a friend look so…” Her words catch in her throat, and a strange look of pain briefly flashes across her face.

“It’s different when it’s someone we know,” I say softly.

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