Cy drew the pistol from his pants, but only to place it on the polished countertop next to his keys and cell phone as he approached the shower doors. He opened both, and water began to rain out onto the velvety bathmat.
Cy's brow furrowed slightly as he beheld Lena's slashed and scraped, bruised and battered body from behind. Twenty-nine deep lacerations criss-crossed the backs of her legs, her buttocks, and her back, and the wounds looked as yet untreated. A large bruise purpled most of her left hip, and her right shoulder was a swollen mass of red, black and blue. He counted well over a dozen other minor abrasions, scratches and bruises before she turned around.
Cy noted the four slashes down her chest, the wretched, disjointed Vs carved down each breast, before looking up to behold her pitiful smile, her face battered and bruised. He smiled back, the crooked, awkward grin he reserved for her alone, his effort to make her feel better.
Several cuts and bruises marred the beautiful features of Dr. Lena Lang, including a deep gouge in her forehead that looked terrible. The rest looked rough—scratches on her cheeks, a bruise along her jaw, a shallow cut down the ridge of her nose; but Cy was confident he could take care of them. At the moment she looked bad, like her face had been slammed or ground repeatedly into the earth, but he would make it better.
As her hazel eyes met his, he saw a crack in the grim determination that had taken her through whatever misadventure she had endured tonight, and as her pitiable smile faltered, he saw her defences crumble. Her lips shivered into a frown as the tears spilled, and Cy stepped into the shower to catch her as she melted into his arms.
Without a word he held her, sheltering her soft sobs for a long time. Then slowly he made his way about gently washing and cleaning each of her wounds, taking special care not to cause her any more pain than she had already felt. The gouges down her chest were the worst of her injuries, but she had apparently already cleaned and treated them once, and they looked better already. The other wounds—those she couldn't reach—were cleaner for having been in the shower, but still contained bits of sand and dirt. He decided not to deduce her whereabouts the previous evening. For now.
When he had finished cleansing her injuries to his satisfaction, he helped her from the shower and gently patted her dry with several towels. She had an ample first-aid kit out and ready, and Cy carefully and methodically treated and dressed each of her wounds. It took some time, and when he was done, Lena was littered with swatches of gauze and bandages.
"I'm finished," he stated as he completed taping the nasty laceration down the bridge of her nose. He knew it wouldn't scar.
He stood back and beheld his work, smiling his crooked smile in what he feared would be another vain attempt to reassure her. He nodded once, and had to agree with her summation when she checked herself in the mirror.
"It looks like mummy lingerie."
She looked up at him, and her eyes were no longer weepy. When she smiled, it was no longer pitiful. She looked decidedly better already.
"Cleopatra herself never looked so good." He liked making her smile.
She stepped to him and wrapped her arms around his broad back, and Cy gently embraced her in return. He stood a full head taller than Lena, and she wearily rested her head on his chest. The scent of lavender rose from her long red locks, and Cy savoured her favoured allure.
"Thank you Cy."
He hesitated.
"May I ask?"
It seemed an eternity before he heard her soft reply.
"No. Not yet."
Gently he led her from the bathroom to her bedroom. He wanted to carry her, would have, except that her wounds denied that option, but even her severely bruised hip she favoured only lightly as she walked. She was a strong woman, he knew. He had seen that strength many times before, but rarely was it as shaken as it had been earlier. Something serious had occurred, but he would respect her wishes first, and would not inquire further.
He helped her to bed, then stripped off his wet clothes and lay down with her for a while, gently holding her, soothingly caressing. It was not long before she fell into a deep restorative sleep. He listened to her steady, easy breaths for a long time before rising from the bed. He returned to the bathroom, where he cleaned up quietly. When he re-entered the bedroom, Lena had rolled over but was still peacefully asleep.
Cy put his wet clothes in the hamper and then quietly opened the bottom drawer of her antique oak dresser, where he kept a few changes of clothes here for just such an occasion. He grabbed a new pair of jeans and a shirt, and then silently bent over Lena to leave her a soft kiss before exiting the room. He dressed in the main living room before returning to the bathroom for his effects.
There was a text message on his phone: PRE-OP TONITE 1730. There would be a similar message on his voice mail, both of which he had been expecting. It was 07:20 now. The Vance job would begin in less than twenty-four hours. The pre-operation meeting could be on no other day than today.
Cy sent his reply to Jack: MESSAGE RECEIVED + LENA.
He had barely slept after his own endeavours the previous night, but then sleep was not something Cy required a lot of. He preferred answers. He thought he'd wash Lena's truck for her. Maybe discover where it had been.
