The Healing Touch - Apryl Baker Page 0,78

you understand me?”

“Fuck you,” Charlene slurred, and Becca’s own anger reared up. She balled her fist up and smashed it against Charlene’s nose.

“Stay the fuck away from me.” She threw her down and scrambled backward, waiting to see if Charlene would get up, but the wound in her side coupled with the blow to her head kept her down. Fucking bitch.

She stood, very aware of the pain her body wanted to let her know it was in, and limped to the bathroom door, watching the wall of mirrors to make sure the stupid woman didn’t try to jump her again. When she reached the door, she found it locked. Charlene must have locked it when she was busy trying to calm her panic down and not paying attention. She thought she’d been alone. How the hell did she get past Henry? Or had she been in here waiting? Hoping Becca would come in? Something the police could get the answer to. Becca just wanted out of the damn bathroom.

Dimitri and Henry were both on the other side, along with security.

“What the fuck…”

“His crazy ex,” she told Henry before inching around him, the enormity of the situation rising to swallow her. Her panic reared up, and she shook her head, trying to squash it.

Count to ten, close your eyes, and count to ten.

Dimitri was there when she opened her eyes, the hallway spinning. “Do you have any more psychos I need to know about?”

Before Dimitri could answer, the room got dark and the voices faded as the panic and the pain finally got to be too much and she passed out.

~*~

The soft hum of the AC woke her. She spotted Dimitri looking out over the terrace. Her head hurt the minute she stirred. Charlene had gotten in several good blows, and she had a concussion. The doctors had wanted to keep her overnight for observation, but she’d refused. All she wanted was to go somewhere quiet and recoup. Dimitri hadn’t said a word since she came to at the hospital, in the middle of them stitching up the cuts on her face. The ride back to the hotel had been in complete silence. Not that she’d minded at the time; her head had been killing her.

Now, it worried her.

She sat up, closing her eyes against the pain.

“You’re not supposed to be up,” Dimitri fussed, coming over to the bed and pushing her back down.

“He speaks.”

“Don’t be smart.” He pushed her hair out of her face. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I shocked the hell out of myself.” Becca had no clue she had a switch inside that someone could flip to ever cause her to do them physical harm. It reminded her of her dad, and that scared her. She wanted to be nothing like him.

“What do you mean?”

“I hurt her, D. I didn’t think I could ever hurt anyone.”

“She would have killed you if you hadn’t.” He checked the bandage on her leg. “I should have been there. I sat on my ass and trusted someone else to protect you. I’m so sorry, Krasivaya.”

He was blaming himself for this? Granted, it was his ex, but no one knew she had this in her. She was a beauty queen, not the Karate Kid. Dimitri couldn’t have known.

“No one knew she was capable of this. Don’t blame yourself for her actions.”

“I’m not. I’m blaming myself for not being there to protect you because I couldn’t fucking walk!” The self-loathing that lashed out of him took her breath away.

“Stop it, Dimitri. If you want to blame someone, blame Christy.”

“Charlene.”

“Whatever.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “I couldn’t remember her name in the bathroom either, which pissed her off, but what I told her is still true. She’s not worth the time it would take me to learn her name. The only thing I care about is that I’m here, safe, and I’m glad you made me come on this trip.”

“You’re glad?” Dimitri stared down at her like she’d lost her mind. “You got attacked, nearly choked to death, you’ve had more panic attacks in two days than you’ve probably had in a month…”

“Not true. I usually have at least three or four a week.”

He shook his head. “You make it sound normal.”

“It is, at least for me. And, yeah, I am glad because I learned that when something or someone matters to me, really matters, I can control the panic instead of it controlling me. Doesn’t mean I’m cured—far