“What do you mean?” Reed asks.
I look Bentley right in the eye, knowing he'll understand how I'm feeling more than anyone. "She was practically naked when I found her. Her dress was cut up, and her underwear was missing."
Bentley blanches before falling into a chair. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
His eyes lift to mine. “Was she...”
I shake my head. "I don't know. She's only been awake a couple of times, and she was pretty out of it from the drugs they're giving her. The police are still waiting to interview her."
How did I go from having one of the best nights of my life to this? I planned on spending the evening christening my new boat, worshipping Jazz’s tight little body, but instead, I’m sitting in a goddamn hospital, waiting for the chance to see her again.
Ainsley returns with a cold pack. “I got this from the nurses’ station.”
I place the compress on my knuckles. “Thanks.”
The four of us sit silently, stewing on everything that's happened, until a throat clears, causing me to look up. Charles Callahan is standing in the doorway, taking in the scene. I'm sure we're quite the sight. We've been here for six hours now, and none of us have slept in over twenty-four hours. All of our clothes are rumpled—my jeans are muddy and stained with Jazz’s blood.
"Peyton called," he explains. "Said Jasmine was taken by ambulance to a hospital. This one was the closest to the lake house, so I took an educated guess." He frowns. "They said she's not accepting visitors. They won't tell me anything about her condition since she's legally an adult now. Have any of you seen her?"
Fuck. I am not in the mood to deal with this man. I don’t know if I can conceal my hatred for him right now. I sure as shit don’t trust him, especially with Jazz’s life. For all I know, he was responsible, and he's here, pretending to be a concerned father, simply to cover his ass.
“How did Peyton know?” I ask.
Charles lifts a shoulder. “You’d have to ask her.”
“I was still with her when you called from the ambulance,” Reed offers. “I called Bent as soon as I hung up. Peyton could’ve easily overheard our conversation.”
Callahan nods to Reed before turning back to me. “Well, there you go. Have you seen Jasmine yet? Do you know what happened?”
I stare the prick down, not willing to give him anything. I'm sure my protectiveness over his daughter will get back to my dad, but I don't really give a shit.
Ainsley, always trying to be the peacekeeper, speaks up. “Kingston’s been with her the whole time. He just came out here because she’s...resting.”
Charles raises an eyebrow, staring at me expectantly. “And her condition?”
Jesus. I suppose I can feed him enough information so he’ll get off my back.
I clear my throat. "Jazz was beaten and stabbed, but she's stable now. They did some emergency surgical procedure and found her injuries weren't as severe as they initially thought. The doctor told me earlier she should be ready for release in a week or so. She'll be sore for a while, but she should be okay."
"That's good to hear. When you see her next, please let her know I stopped by. When she's ready to come home, just have her contact Frank, and he'll pick her up."
His tone is utterly devoid of emotion like he's not the least bit affected his daughter could've died tonight. And it doesn't go unnoticed that he has zero questions about who beat the shit out of her. The worst part is that I'm not remotely surprised by his lack of concern.
I have to forcibly unclench my jaw. “You’re not staying?”
“I can’t. I have to catch a flight in a few hours.”
My lips thin. “Wait...weren’t you just on a trip?”
Charles’ jaw tics. “Not that I need to explain myself to you, but that was a quick overnight trip to meet with a client in San Diego. Madeline and I are now heading to Cabo for some R&R. Let Jasmine know we’ll be gone for a few weeks. If she needs any sort of medical care when she gets back to the house, Ms. Williams can make the necessary arrangements.”
Fuck bringing her back to that place. I’ve already decided she’ll be staying with me in the pool house. At least there, I have a full security system independent from the main house. Nobody gets in or out without my knowledge.
“I’ll let her know. Have a nice vacation while your daughter is stuck in a hospital.”
Charles’ arctic eyes flash with rage before he schools his expression. Without another word, he turns on his heels and walks away.
“Damn, and I thought Dad was cold,” Ainsley mutters. “I’m pretty sure he’d at least pretend to care if one of us got hurt.”
I scoff. "No, kidding. Those two can give each other a run for their money on shittiest father of the decade."
Bentley blows out a breath. “What are you going to do if she was...if someone did attack her in that way?”
Two years later, and he can’t even say the word. I’m sure this whole thing is dredging up some painful shit.
“I don’t know.” Well, besides hunting that motherfucker down and feeding him his dick. It’s probably not wise to mention that in public, so I keep that thought to myself.
Ainsley grabs my non-swollen hand. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
I resist the urge to laugh. I can’t remember the last time I ever felt hopeful about something, but I don’t want to take a dump on my sister’s sentiment.
“Yeah, let’s hope.”
CHAPTER THREE
JAZZ
"Jasmine, an officer is waiting to ask you some questions. Is it okay if I let her in?"
“Um...yeah.”
Marika, my assigned nurse for the day, sticks her head out the door and comes back with a brunette woman wearing a dark blue uniform.
The officer takes the seat next to my bed. “Hi, Jasmine. My name’s Isa Dominguez. Is it okay if I ask you some questions?”
“Sure.”
She gestures to Marika. “Would you like privacy during the interview? Or someone else to be present?”
“She can stay. No one else.”
Officer Dominguez nods. “Your injuries indicate you may have been the victim of an attack. Is that accurate?”
“Yeah.”
She smiles softly. “Do you remember any details?”
“It comes in flashes. There were two men. They were wearing masks—I don’t know who they were.”
Now that my head is clearer, I’ve been thinking about this nonstop. I can’t stop replaying the incident over and over, trying to identify something I may have missed. I didn't recognize their voices, but something seemed familiar about the men who assaulted me, especially the main guy. I keep having these phantom pains of what it felt like when he was crushing me with his weight, pawing at me, beating me. I can still smell the alcohol on his breath as he leered down at my naked body. Feel his erection pressing against my thigh, growing bigger and bigger the more I screamed.
The officer writes notes on the pad she’s carrying. “Take as much time as you need.”