Author's note-

Yay, I can type fairly well with stitches. :D Hopefully, I'll be able to keep the chapters coming for you. :D

Lou

Chapter Twenty Three

Hope stared at herself in the mirror, studying the lines of her face. I've changed, she thought sadly. Even with the cuts and bruises, there was a stillness, a wariness that marked her as someone who had faced a nightmare and survived.

She touched the edge of one bruise with her fingertip, brushing across skin that changed from lurid purple to toxic green. The memory of getting that bruise trembled at the back of her mind, ready to spring forward if her control slipped even a tiny bit.

She let her hand drop, reaching for the cold tap to fill the sink with water. An icy chill ran through her as she dipped her hands in the water and splashed her face.

"Hope?" a nurse called from the main room.

Hope blinked water from her eyes and turned away from the mirror, thankful for the distraction.

"Yes?" she asked, leaving the bathroom and going back into her hospital room.

A dark haired nurse stood just inside of the door. "Hope, there's a Marshal here to see you."

Hope sucked in an excited breath. "Is it Raylan? Did they get him out? Are the other girls okay?"

Sudden tiredness swamped her. She settled back on the bed, pulling the blankets over her chilled body.

The nurse shook her head. "No. He's called Art Mullen."

Hope sagged against the pillows. "Oh," she whispered. "I see."

"You don't have to speak to him." The nurse smiled. "I can send him away if you'd like. I'll tell him you're sleeping."

"No!" Hope straightened. "Send him in, please."

The nurse nodded and opened the door. "Ten minutes, Marshal," she told Art.

"Ten minutes," he agreed and held the door as she slipped past into the hallway.

Hope watched as he took a seat, clasping his hands between his knees.

"What is going on?" she asked. "No-one will tell me anything. Did you find the girls? Are they okay? Did Raylan make it back?"

Art sighed. "We're still looking for the other girls. We're going to question Nick Oakley again in the morning."

Hope tilted her head, puzzled. "Nick Oakley?"

"The police Chief," Art explained. "We spoke with him tonight, but he's not being very co-operative." He paused. "Raylan is the reason I'm here, actually. He had a bad infection in his shoulder. They doctors are worried it might reach his heart."

Hope gasped. "Is he going to die?"

Art reached over and took her hand, holding her eyes. "He might. He's very sick."

A raw sob tore from her. She sank her teeth into her lip, trapping the sound inside. Tears coursed down her face. Irritably, she swiped a hand over her cheeks, smearing the tears on her skin. "He's a good man. It's not fair!"

Art rubbed her shoulder. "I know." He shrugged, sadly. "He's strong and pigheaded. He'll fight."

She sniffed hard. "Can I sit with him for a while? I know he's all alone right now."

Art looked at her sharply. "He told you that?"

She shook her head. "He didn't mean to, I think. They drugged him. It made him delirious. He didn't know what he was saying." She wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging herself tightly. "They made him do things..."

Art let out a oddly held breath. "To you?" He asked carefully. "Did he hurt you?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "No!" She shook her head wildly. "No! There was a fight... they made him fight with one of the Chief's men." Her face twisted as she remembered. "Raylan lost. They hurt him."

Sadness tinted relief bloomed in Art's chest. Raylan would never forgive himself if he'd hurt her, he thought. What did those bastards think they were playing at, though?

The thought of the wanton abuse made anger grow deep in his gut. He sucked in a harsh breath, struggling to keep his temper in check.

"Do you know what they gave him?" Art asked, anger staining his voice.

She stared at him uncertainly, fear creeping into her eyes. "I don't know. Is it important?" she bit her lip. "The coroner woman said it was something a friend had made up for her."

Art touched Hope's arm gently. "It's okay." He smiled, anger still simmering in his gut. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, reading the message. It made him smile again. "I've just got word that your family is on their way. They're driving down and should get her in the morning."

Hope blinked tears from her eyes. "Thank you." She sniffed. "It's starting to feel like it's all over. I think it's all starting to go away."

Art forced a smile, the aching sadness in her words robbing him of speech. He patted her hand gently again. "It soon will be, Hope. It soon will be."