Looking down, she felt her heart stutter briefly in her chest.

“Oh, Catherine,” she whispered, coming down to her knees and gently cradling the red-streaked head. Cat?s face was a mask of blood, most of it from a small cut above her left eye?an eye that was already beginning to swell and blacken. Her nose, and a split lower lip added their own hues to the mix.

Her polo shirt had been torn from the back, as if she?d attempted to flee and had been grabbed by the collar from behind. The knuckles of her left hand were scraped, bruised and swollen, and the way she lay in a fetal position, guarding her midsection even while unconscious, caused Dylan to believe she?d been beaten there as well.

Dylan blinked unaccustomed sting of tears away, turning her head in a savage gesture as she heard Mac?s belated arrival.

“Jesus Christ,” Mac breathed, clamping a hand over his mouth and paling. The sight of blood had never been his strong suit.

“Puke and I?ll kill you where you stand,” Dylan snarled.

“Wha?” Mac swallowed heavily. “What happened?”

“She got the shit beaten out of her. Where the fuck is security?!”

“I don?t?”

His voice was cut off by the sound of falling glass.

Dylan stiffened, then stood, quickly, after laying Hodge?s head gently back on the pavement.

“Stay with her,” Dylan ordered as she began to turn in the direction of the sound.

“What?”

“You heard me. Stay with her.”

With that, Dylan took off, her form immediately surrounded by the darkness of the Alabama night. With a shaky breath, Mac slowly lowered himself to the ground and cradled Cat?s bloody head on his lap. “Hang on kid,” he whispered as he listened to her steady, if rasping breaths. “You?re gonna be ok.”

Dylan padded quickly, softly, along the blacktop parking lot, keeping to the pooling shadows as she headed toward the sound she?d heard. The source of the sound soon became readily apparent as Hodge?s desecrated truck came into full view. Dylan?s fists clenched; the muscles in her jaw bunched and jumped in anger.

Cat?s old and much-beloved truck had been reduced to a forlorn and hulking wreck of metal sitting on four macerated tires. Shattered glass lay like glittering diamonds strewn across the lot, winking under the sputtering lamp illuminating the horrific scene. Spray painted in jagged neon letters across the passenger?s side, and shot through with gaping holes from a tire iron, were the slogans “GOD HATES QUEERS!!” and “KILL ALL DYKES!!”

Her blood boiling with rage, Dylan carefully stepped over the remains of the truck?s headlights as she circled the vehicle. Other slurs were painted and scored into the metal.

“Motherfucker,” Dylan growled, shaking her head as she continued to circle the truck. “Stupid fucking bastards!” Her fist came down on the truck?s tailgate. A shrieking of metal, and the ruined bumper finally gave up the ghost, clattering to the ground, barely missing Dylan?s feet. “Fuck!!”

Spinning quickly, she nearly flattened the face of an overweight security guard lumbering belatedly toward the scene. Dropping her arm slightly, she grabbed the collar of his shirt instead, and dragged him forward and up until their faces were less than inches apart. “How?d this happen, Tommy? Where the fuck were you, huh? Sleeping? Jerking off? What?!?”

“T?takin? a leak!” the security guard gasped against the choking hold.

“Awfully fortuitous time for you to be emptying your bladder, maggot,” Dylan snarled, baring her teeth at him and giving him a shake that rattled his bones.

“It?s the truth! I swear!”

Dylan looked hard into his rheumy eyes and saw only terror staring back at her. After a moment, she released her hold on his shirt and shoved him away. “Call the police.”

“But?”

“Now!”

Mumbling under his breath, the guard finally walked back toward his office. Dylan considered giving him a kick to the ass to aid him on his way, quickly discarded the thought as she ran back to Cat and Mac.

Dropping to her knees, she took hold of Hodge and pushed Mac out of the way. “Go inside and tell Kelly not to close up shop. She?s got a customer.”

Mac stood slowly, looking down at Dylan, concerned. “Are you sure? Shouldn?t I call an ambulance?”

“Just do as I say, Mac,” Dylan replied, distracted as she gathered Cat close and slipped an arm under her knees. “G?wan. I?ll be right there.”

Chewing his bottom lip, Mac nodded. “She?ll be okay.”

“She better be, Mac. She?d just better be.”

As Mac walked away, Dylan gathered her strength and lifted Cat up in her arms. Her powerful legs surged and burned with the burden. Catherine carried more weight than her lithe and compact frame would indicate. The thick muscle overlaying her bones was dense and heavy. Dylan gritted her teeth and began her walk back to the arena.

Kelly Norton, MD, had two very important things going for her as the chief physician of the Birmingham Badgers. The first was that she was a former Olympian who sported a gold medal as part of the USA women?s basketball team. The second, undeniably more important, was that she was regarded as one of the best orthopaedic surgeons in the nation. She had a huge and thriving practice that she left, willingly, to her partners for four months out of the year while she followed the Badgers from state to state, tending to their injuries and attempting to prevent more.

The Johnson Arena?s medical facilities were first rate, combining a mini urgent care center, minor surgery suite and several pieces of expensive X-ray and diagnostic equipment, along with a full physical therapy department. Staffed by Norton, her Nurse Practitioner, two Registered Nurses, and one Physical Therapist, it was truly state-of-the-art.

Norton, short, spry, and pushing fifty, was just putting the finishing touches on her day when the doors burst open to admit a panting Mac. Straightening quickly, she walked to the other side of the examination table and laid a concerned hand on Mac?s thick wrist. “What?s wrong?”

“Cat?.” Mac paused to take a deep breath. “Catherine Hodges. She was badly beaten. Dylan is bringing her in now.”

“Beaten how?” Norton asked, springing into action and flipping on the overhead lights. “By whom?”

“Assholes,” Dylan snarled, entering with Cat in her arms and placing her tenderly on the table. “They beat the shit out of her.”

“Okay, okay, let me take a look at her. Move away, Dylan, you?re blocking my light.”

As Dylan stepped back, Mac touched her arm. “I?ll call the police,” he said in a voice heavy with guilt.

“They?re already on their way. I had Tommy call them.”

Mac lowered his gaze to the floor. “Dylan, I?.”

“Just?go outside and wait for them, Mac. Let us know when they?re here.”

After a moment, Mac nodded and, eyes still downcast, left the room.

“How is she?” Dylan asked, turning back to the table.

“Difficult to say yet,” Norton answered in a distracted tone as she gently probed Cat?s facial injuries. “Most of the bleeding?s stopped but I?m worried about a concussion. Doesn?t feel like anything?s fractured.” Piercing hazel eyes locked into Dylan?s. “How long has she been unconscious?”

Dylan shook her head. “I?m not sure. I found her like this?by my car. I don?t think it could have been any more than five minutes.”

Nodding, Norton removed a small penlight from her labcoat and gently pried Hodge?s eyelids open, one at a time. “Her pupils are responding equally. That makes me feel a lot better about things.” This time, when she looked up at Dylan, Norton smiled slightly. “I let my staff go for the evening, so I?ll need your help. You don?t faint at the sight of blood, do you?”

Dylan gave her a look.

Norton laughed softly. “Didn?t think so. In that bin in back of you there are some sterile dressings and saline. Get them down for me, will you?”

By the time Dylan returned with the requested items, Norton had stripped Cat of her shirt and bra and was gingerly palpating her abdomen and ribs.

Dylan felt a heat rise to her face at the sight of Cat?s body, and her eyes darted quickly away. Deal with this later, she told herself in a stern mental voice. Taking in a deep breath, she turned back to the examination table, holding up the gauze and saline.

Looking up from her exam, Norton nodded briskly. “Uncap the saline and pour it over the gauze. We?ll need to wipe the blood from her face so I can see how bad her cuts are.”

“Her?.” Dylan cleared her throat and gestured toward Cat?s torso.

Norton bit off a smile at Dylan?s uncharacteristic flustered state. “Her ribs are bruised, but I don?t think any are broken. X-rays will tell us for sure. I don?t think there are any internal injuries, but she?s gonna be sore as hell tomorrow.” The doctor lifted Cat?s left arm, displaying the young woman?s bruised, swollen, and cut knuckles. “And as for this, I?d say she gave as good as she got. Tough kid.”

“Yes,” Dylan replied softly. “She is.”

“Alright then. Let?s get to work. I?ll clean off her face, then we?ll take her into X-ray. Find out what we have to work with here.”

They worked in silence for the next several minutes, tenderly cleaning away the dried blood that had accumulated on Cat?s face and neck. With the application of a local anesthetic, Norton sunk three sutures into the cut above the young woman?s brow, then covered the area with a bandage.

“Ok, that?s all I can do for right now. She?s gonna have a nice shiner, but the eye itself isn?t injured, and her nose is going to be sore for a few days, but it should heal just fine on its own. I?ll wheel her into X-ray and get a look at those ribs.”

The police arrived just as Norton was wheeling Hodge into the X-ray suite. Dylan stepped out of the exam room to speak with the two uniformed officers. It only took minutes to tell them what little she knew, and to secure a promise that the media would not be informed of this attack at this time. She also told them she would take the responsibility of notifying Catherine?s family, which the men agreed to.

The officers were ones Dylan had met before, and she knew that if anyone could find out who committed the assault, it would be them. The taller one, Sergeant Tony Moore, was a deeply closeted gay man, and his partner was an outstanding, open-minded police officer.

After shaking hands with the officers, Dylan returned to the examination room in time to see a very groggy, but awake, Cat wheeled back in. Dylan smiled in relief and crossed the room to stand beside the stretcher. “How are you doing?” she asked, clasping her hands behind her back in order to resist the urge to reach out and stroke the young woman?s hair.

“Feel like I got run over by an elephant,” Cat replied, her voice slightly muffled from her swollen nose and upper lip.

Blue eyes darted up to the physician. “Is there anything you can give her for pain?”

Norton smiled. “Getting to that right now, Coach.” Crossing the room, the doctor retrieved a medication vial and a wrapped syringe. “Catherine, I?m going to give you some medicine to help with your pain. It?s going to make you pretty sleepy.”

“Sleepy is good,” Cat replied, wincing as she shifted in the bed. “Sleepy is real good.”

Norton returned with the filled syringe. “You?re going to need to be watched over for a couple of hours. Do you live with a roommate? Family?”

“No,” Cat whispered, eyes forlorn.

“It?s ok,” Dylan replied, stepping forward. “I?ll take her home and keep an eye on her.” She looked down at Hodge. “If that?s okay with you.”

“I don?t want to be a bother.”

Dylan didn?t miss the faint blush that suffused Cat?s face as the younger woman?s eyes darted away from her own.

“It?s settled then.” Picking up Cat?s housekeys where they lay on the table next to the stretcher, Dylan jiggled them in one fist. “Home it is.”

“Ok, let?s get this shot over with then, Cat, and you can be on your way. Nothing broken, just banged up. You should be as good as new in a week or so.”

“Hate shots,” Cat mumbled, but didn?t make a sound when the drug was injected into her hip. Her eyelids soon grew very heavy, and, allowing them to slip closed, she was soon deeply asleep.

“Are you sure she?s going to be okay?” Dylan asked, concerned.

“Yes. She?s a very lucky woman. Just keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn?t try to get up on her own in the middle of the night. The drug I just gave her is pretty potent stuff.” From the pocket of her lab coat, Norton retrieved a bottle of pills. “Give her one of these with water no sooner than every four hours if she complains of pain.”