Savage Vandal (82 Street Vandals #1) - Heather Long Page 0,33

I might have to do it yet. Somehow, I didn’t think Doc would be on board.

He didn’t say anything for the length of time he scrubbed my hair, until, “Close your eyes and relax, I’ll dip you back and then up.”

It was surprisingly easy to do as he asked, I went slack like I would for a lift, focusing my center of gravity on where he held me, and he dipped my back until my hair was under the water but my knees and the rest of me weren’t. He rinsed it, and the water turned soapy around me, then sat me up again. He squeezed the hair.

“I can do conditioner, but it might not rinse out in the water.” I blinked past the droplets of water escaping down my face to stare at the water. It was nowhere near as clean as when we started. There wasn’t a shower curtain, but I cut a look up at the shower head.

“Maybe just put a little on the ends,” I said, and the weariness swimming through me made it not worth pushing this. “Not that anyone is going to care, but it will be easier to comb.” My hair was ridiculously thick.

“Okay.” He put a smear of it in big palms and then worked it through my hair, not just the ends but all of it. “I’ll help you comb it after we get you out.”

“Thank you.” The words came out a little quieter and with a lot more helplessness than I ever wanted to admit, but Doc had helped and I felt so much better, even if I could sleep for a week.

The bathroom door slammed open, and the impact of it crashing into the wall made me jump, the jerk sending a fresh throb of pain through my chest. The gray-eyed man glared down at us. Well, me really.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Taking the dog for a walk, asshole,” I snapped. “What does it look like?”

Shit, I’d almost gotten rid of my headache, but it was back full force with that jerk and jump. The dump of adrenaline chased away the fatigue like I’d just done espresso shooters.

“Cute. I wasn’t talking to you.” He cut a look at Doc. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Doc rose to his full height and rather than glare, just looked at the other man. “Dial it down, Jasper. She was miserable and needed a bath. And I wasn’t leaving her in here to do it by herself.”

“You had no fucking business doing this.”

“She is my business.”

“No,” Jasper snarled. “She’s not. She’s not your business or your concern. You do her meds, you check her injuries, you get out. You do not get her naked and molest her—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I demanded, and to hell with the audience, I grabbed the towel rack bar and dragged myself up.

“Dammit, little bit,” Doc said as he reached out to steady me. Probably not my finest hour, but I wasn’t just going to sit there while some asshole threw his weight around and was a total dick to Doc for helping me.

Who the fuck did he think he was?

“Don’t fucking touch her.” Jasper grabbed Doc’s arm and hauled him back. I nearly fell on my ass, but I locked my good hand around that towel bar and held myself up. Hopefully, it wouldn’t rip out of the wall.

Doc slammed his elbow into Jasper, and then they both crashed into the wall. “Are you trying to hurt her?”

“She’s all skin and bones and bruises,” Jasper snarled in that shitty tone of his. “I don’t want to do anything to her.”

Yeah well, the feeling was mutual. They grappled for a second, and in a move I didn’t quite catch, Doc twisted Jasper around and yanked his arm up behind him in what had to be a punishing hold. I flinched. My arm had been in a hold like that once.

That was the second time I broke it.

They vanished into the bedroom with a series of grunts and then came more punishing blows. Dammit. I clung to the wall and then took a deep breath and stepped out on the bad ankle with my good hand flat to the wall. It would hurt. But I could handle it.

I made it out without passing the fuck out and over to the doorway in time to see Doc slam Jasper into the ground and then Jasper had a gun tucked right up under