Mack answered the front door swiftly before the banging woke Lucy up. She’d been sleeping fitfully for over an hour since they got back to his place.

He was in the process of letting Sitnikov’s doctor in the door when he heard a muffled scream from the bedroom. He didn’t think twice. He left the old man standing in the doorway and hurtled down the hallway toward Lucy. He didn’t give two shits what the man thought, he wasn’t going to leave his woman alone when she needed him, though he suspected it was only a nightmare.

His heart wrenched wide open when he opened the bedroom door and found her curled on her side, arms wrapped around her head, tears streaming down her face, fingernails clawing at her face as she mumbled to herself. He dropped to his knees beside the bed and took her wrists in his hands and gently pried her fingers away from her face.

“Come on, baby, time to wake up,” he said, his voice breaking a little. He knew he’d spoken too softly when she didn’t respond. But fuck, her face was a bloody mess with scratch marks all down one side and her forehead creased in terror.

He dropped his head for a moment, swallowed hard and then looked up at her. He pressed her fragile wrist into the bedding and stood over her, giving her a shake. “Lucy, wake up,” he said firmly.

Her eyes flew open and she half lunged up in the bed toward him, a cry on her lips and terror etched across her face. He immediately let her wrists go and gathered her into his arms. She didn’t protest, instead wrapping her arms tight around his neck and sobbing against him. He held her until her tears abated.

“You okay, baby?” he asked softly, moving a section of hair that had gotten stuck to her face during her crying storm behind her ear.

She nodded, though she didn’t say anything and when he stood, she burrowed into the blanket and turned her back on him, shuddering against an imagined cold. Mack stifled the urge to reach for her and drag her back against his body, to insist she turn toward him, rather than away. She should be seeking solace with him. He swallowed a vicious curse and turned, leaving the room to find the doctor waiting patiently for him in the front entrance.

“Why are you here?” Mack asked the man bluntly, already knowing the answer, but refusing to make his job any easier.

He looked Mack over, the difference in their sizes a large one, since the doctor stood several inches shorter than Mack and probably a solid hundred pounds less.

“I’m Dr. Lincoln Cooper. I’m here at Mr. Sitnikov’s request,” the doctor told him formally. “He would like me to have a look at Miss Miller so he can be assured that there won’t be any permanent damage. Mrs. Sitnikov is uneasy on her sister’s behalf.” He held out his hand to Mack and Mack looked stonily down at it before snorting. The last thing he wanted was for some stranger to touch his woman when she was feeling vulnerable and frightened, but he could also see the logic in having her checked out. She had technically died while buried in that hole. She should probably have gone to the hospital instead of straight back to Mack’s place, but he couldn’t stand to let her out of his sight.

He grunted, narrowed his eyes at the medical professional, a man he didn’t trust and didn’t like, and waved his arm indicating the doctor should precede him down the hall toward the bedroom. Lucy was still curled on her side facing away from the door. Mack glared at the doctor and approached her, sitting on the edge of the bed and sliding a hand across her blanket-clad hip. She didn’t react.

“Baby, can you look at me?” he asked gently.

She didn’t move.

He sighed heavily and pushed her onto her back, took her chin in his hand and leaned in to check her eyes. She blinked up at him, a slight furrow between her brows as if annoyed that he was disturbing her. He was happy with that tiny bit of feistiness. He would take just about any amount of attitude from her right now.

“Lucy, this man is Sitnikov’s doctor. He’s here to examine you.” Mack finished on a growl, eyes directed towards the other man.

She didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge the presence of the doctor. Her eyes drifted slightly, losing focus. Finally, she nodded a little and slumped into the pillows behind her. Mack loosened his grip, guessing that was as much as he was going to get from her.

Lucy allowed herself to be maneuvered like a doll for the next twenty minutes while the doctor looked her over. She moved only when asked and was sluggish to answer questions. Mack suspected it was because she had zero interest in answering the questions, rather than because she couldn’t or was too traumatized. He caught the sharp flash in her eye and the quick disgusted curl of her lip when the doctor lifted her arm to press the stethoscope under her shirt and against her bare back. Mack had to cross his arms, clench his muscles and remind himself this was for her health to keep himself from tearing the man away from her. The doctor made short work of cleaning up her face and examining the wound on her forehead where she’d been thrown into the fridge. He told them that it was a shallow cut and wouldn’t need stitches.

After the examination finished the doctor gave Lucy a short, cool smile, helped her back under the covers and jerked his head toward Mack, indicating they should step outside the room. He wasn’t a kind man by any stretch, his bedside manners cold and efficient. Definitely on the mob payroll.

Mack was just glad he was finished with his exam. He stalked after the doctor, pleased when the man bee-lined for the front door. He wouldn’t have to actually toss the guy out on his ass. “Anything wrong with my girl?” he grunted in a tone that suggested if there was something wrong he’d be taking it out on the doctor’s hide, fairness be damned.

The doctor gave him a cool look and shrugged a little, his professional mask firmly in place. “It’s my understanding she lacked a pulse, wasn’t breathing for an indeterminate amount of time and had to be resuscitated, correct?” When Mack said nothing, but continued to stare, the doctor continued. “She should be in a hospital, monitored by medical personnel.”

Mack narrowed his eyes, flared his nostrils and clenched his fists making certain the other man understood his feelings on that statement.

The doctor took a step back. “Since that doesn’t appear to be an option then I can say she appears to be doing remarkably well, considering. Keep an eye on her. There could be physical consequences to the lack of oxygen to her brain, especially since we have no idea how long she was out for.”

Mack nodded, already aware of this possibility.

“She may also experience psychological trauma from her experience, including flashbacks and nightmares. Keep her hydrated and warm. Make sure someone stays close by at all times.”

“That all?” Mack growled, annoyed at the doctor’s cold delivery. This was Lucy they were talking about, yet the man looked as though he cared about her as much as he would care about a rock. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

The doctor didn’t need to be told twice. Mack closed the door after him, checking his urge to slam it, not wanting to startle Lucy. He locked the door, reset the alarm and traced his steps back to the bedroom. She was once more laying with her back to the door. The move was beginning to feel somehow significant, dismissive. Like she wanted to be alone. Fuck that.

Mack climbed into the bed behind her, shoving her over. She didn’t protest, and didn’t move on her own, allowing him to maneuver her. Like a doll, she lay limp as he arranged her, tucking his knees behind hers, wrapping his arm under her waist and holding her tight against his body with his other arm over top of her shoulders, his hand tucked under her face. After a time, he felt her tears begin to roll into his palm and the gentle heave of her body as she cried herself to sleep in his arms.