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Jillian pulls up her shirt, exposing a tattoo on her side that says, “Breathe.” “I have mine.”
Her brother has the word “Hustle” in the same spot.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Do you have any ink?” she asks.
“Not yet. Someday, though.”
From down the hall, we hear a deep voice say, “I want the security footage.”
“Pulling it up now,” another deep voice says.
“Can we see the damn footage?” Francesca yells, and several men laugh. “I will bury you in legal fees, motherfuckers.”
“Hush your lips and give me a couple of minutes,” the deep voice says.
“Uncle Cyrus, let us out of this freaking room!”
“Give me a minute. I wanna watch this again.”
“Ooo,” comes from several male voices.
“Oh, come on!” she yells.
“Who’s the redhead with the right hook?” another voice asks as the door opens.
“Took you long enough,” Francesca says to a big guy covered in tattoos.
He winks at her as he opens the door. “You good?”
“Is this even legal, Justice?” Dromida asks.
“Yep, perfectly,” the tatted giant, Justice, answers as he walks toward me and Jillian. “Looks like you two need a medic.”
“Your goons didn’t listen when we asked it.” Fawna pouts.
He looks at Dromida. “D, you wanna clean these two up, see if they need to head to Mercy West?”
“I asked for a first-aid kit.” She pushes her nose in the air.
He nods toward the door. “First-aid cart’s right down here.”
“We’re fine. We’d like to use a bathroom to clean off the blood, and then?—”
“You might be fine, but this one’s family since her brother’s a Jag. She needs to be checked out.”
“She’s a doctor.” Jillian grabs my hand and drags me behind her. “She’ll take care of me.”
“She’s a veterinarian,” Dromida corrects.
“And we’re all animals,” Jillian says.
“Hold up, little Hart,” one of the men in the hallway says.
“Nope, I’m good.” She holds my hand firmer and pushes open the door that reads, “Family Restroom.”
Once it’s closed behind her, she locks it. “I’m not going to the hospital.” She walks over to the mirror, turns on the water, cups it in her hand, and splashes it on her face while I grab some paper towels. “Even if my nose is broke, I’m not going.”
