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didn’t know how to explain what had happened tonight without mentioning his father’s name. Police, justifiably so, were suspicious people. They might not believe Chase had just happened to show up. Their natural instincts would suspect he knew more than he was telling.
    But as he stared at Laura, nothing seemed more important than her welfare.
    “No hospital. I don’t want to go. I don’t need to go,” she repeated hurriedly.
    “I saw Lou slide a knife under your slip.”
    She lowered her eyes, and his gaze followed. Several red stains smeared the garment’s lap area.
    Chase sucked in a breath. “Laura, how did he use that knife?” he asked calmly, although his heart pounded in his chest. Any sign of his boiling rage toward her attackers would alarm her more.
    “Laura, what did Lou do with the knife?”
    She remained silent.
    “We can be at Atlantic City General in an hour,” he said. Magic Lake was too small a resort town for its own hospital. “You need to see a doctor.”
    “No!” Laura shuddered. She pulled herself upright on the bed, shrinking back against the headboard.
    “No, they’ll call the police.” Her words gushed. “I can’t go through the story. I don’t want anyone to know. No hospital. Please,” she pleaded. “I just want the whole thing to go away.”
    “Were you cut anywhere else?” he asked softly, but firmly.
    She hesitated before giving him an answer. “He cut my stomach.”
    “Laura, I need to see.”
    His eyes shifted to where her panties and hose had been thrown to the floor. She was bare beneath the slip.
    She shook her head vigorously. “It’s a little cut.”
    He understood her hesitation, her awkwardness. She might have still feared him, but her wound needed tending. “If you’re frightened, keep the knife in your hand.” He waited. “That cut may be deep, require stitches. If nothing else, it needs to be cleaned.”
    Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. Chase waited patiently until her sobs stopped, and she slid back down.
    “I need to lift your slip, to see. Okay?”
    He waited for her permission, not wanting to move too quickly. Not only was she frightened, but embarrassed, too.
    After a long silence, she nodded her consent.
    With gentle ease, he lifted the material, tucking it around her midsection. He caught his breath sharply, eyeing the gash that started at her navel and ran about two inches downward. Blood streaked along her pelvis and down her thigh. Chase’s eyes tried avoiding contact with that special part of her, the area those two monsters had planned to assault and abuse.
    He dabbed some antiseptic on a gauze pad. “Laura, I’m going to clean the cut.” He paused before receiving her muttered consent.
    While he patted the wounded area, Chase was quiet, tending to the task with light, tender strokes. He couldn’t help but stare at her flat stomach, admire the soft curve of her hips, feel the smoothness of her skin. He seethed. What they had intended wasn’t about sex, or desire, but power, terror, and humiliation. Chase wished he had shot the sick bastards.
    “Do I need stitches?” she asked shyly.
    Her small voice brought him out of his musings.
    “No. It’s superficial, like the cut on your chin.” He rearranged her slip. “Let me help you sit up.”
    He arranged the bed pillows against the headboard and assisted her into a sitting position.
    “Thank you.”
    He smiled. Finished with his first aid, he arranged the supplies in the kit and shut the lid.
    “What about you?” she asked, her voice timid. “Where I kicked you?”
    Instinct brought his index finger to his inflicted left eye. It was sore and thumped a bit, but he saw fine out of it.
    “I’ll live.” He made light of the damage, understanding the reason she had lashed out.
    “How about where I dug my nails?”
    He yanked his right sleeve up to his elbow. There were four red impressions on the inside of his wrist, two having drawn blood. He’d tend to them