Dylan took the pills and pocketed them. “Will do. Anything else?”

“No. You have my number in case anything comes up, but it shouldn?t. As I said, she?s very lucky.”

“I don?t know if I?d call what happened to her ?lucky?, my friend,” Dylan softly commented, looking down at Catherine?s bruised and swollen face. Rage once again flared through her, but she clamped down on it with savage intent.

Time enough for anger later, when it would do some good.

Dylan unlocked the door with one hand while holding Cat up with the other arm securely wrapped around the young woman?s waist. “You might be small, but you?re packed,” she grumbled as she attempted to move the heavily sedated woman inside.

Hodge roused a bit at the sound of Dylan?s voice, and giggled at what she thought?in her drugged stupor?she?d heard. “Stacked?” She giggled again. “I didn?t think you?d noticed.” She tried to get a peek down her own cleavage, but for some reason, her arms weren?t cooperating. Nor were her eyes, which seemed to be content right where they were, staring at Dylan?s beautiful face in profile.

“Oh believe me,” Dylan mumbled, half under her breath, “I noticed.” The words came out without her permission, but strangely, it didn?t feel as out of place as it should. She?d have to think about that later, too.

“I heard that,” Cat replied in a sing-song voice. “Pallas Dylan The Goddess Lambert thinks I?m stacked.” That came out a little louder than Dylan expected. A lot louder, actually, and she found herself looking up and down the hallway, praying she was the only one who?d overheard the declaration.

An empty hallway answered her prayers, and she looked down at the young woman again, finding her deeply asleep and all but lounging on Dylan?s tall, strong form. “Oh boy,” Dylan breathed, shifting her body and pulling the limp young woman into her arms once again.

Flipping a switch right next to the door, Dylan prayed for light and was rewarded. It was just an entry light but it was enough so she could see into the loft apartment. If the situation hadn?t been so serious Dylan probably would have been impressed with Cat?s taste and her level of organization. As it was, all she wanted to do was get the young woman to bed.

She took a better hold on Cat, who groaned at the stronger contact. “Sorry,” she whispered as they made their way into the large living room. Very gingerly she lowered her battered player to the sofa, taking care to arrange her position as gently as possible.

Reaching over to the end table she clicked on the lamp that sent more soft light into the well-kept living space. She noticed the bedroom on the second floor, seen easily through the loft railing, and trudged up the steps. Approaching the large bed, she stripped back the comforter and took the blanket underneath and grabbed a pillow before heading back down the stairs and into the living room.

Returning to Cat, she placed the items on the back of the couch and then took a deep breath as she prepared for what she knew she had to do next. First she removed the player?s sneakers and tossed them to the floor. Then she reached for the snap of her jeans. Slowly and very carefully she undressed the young woman, leaving her clad in her panties, sports bra and socks. Once Cat was covered with the blanket, Dylan released a breath she wasn?t aware she had been holding.

“I don?t think you?re gonna want these anymore,” she whispered, holding the ripped and bloodied clothes in her hands. Looking around, she spied a tall garbage can in the kitchen and disposed of the clothing promptly, shoving it down far so that it wouldn?t be the first thing Cat saw when she entered.

She leaned against the counter, wondering what she should do next. It had been a long time since she?d had to care for anyone but herself. The rustiness showed itself as indecision.

Long fingers taped repeatedly against the Formica counter top as she pondered. Calling Cat?s parents seemed to be the next logical step, but she had the feeling that Catherine wouldn?t appreciate that.

She?s an adult, Dylan. Let her make up her own mind about it. No sense butting in where you?re not needed. If she wants to call, she?ll call.

That settled, at least for the time being, Dylan opened the fridge door, pleased to find both water and various juices. She also grinned when she saw a bag of Oreo?s tucked lovingly in a zip lock bag. Apparently Cat had one or two bad habits and a few weaknesses for junk food. Dylan smiled at that as she grabbed a bottle of water and went back into the living room. She looked at the young woman, who appeared to be in pain even as she slept. “I?m so sorry Cat,” she whispered as she knelt near Cat?s head and gently brushed her hair from her forehead. “If I could make it go away, I would.”

The gentle touch felt nice; more soothing to her, she suspected, than to the pain-wracked woman lying so small and so fragile on the large couch. She smiled, then, as she noticed the tense muscles of Cat?s face relax just slightly under her gently stroking fingers. “I?m here,” she whispered, knowing it for the promise it was.

Tearing her gaze, and her fingers, away, she lowered herself to the floor beside the couch and picked up the remote to the television. The TV flickered to life, and she changed the channel from ESPN to the local news to see if the attack had been able to avoid publicity. She kept the volume low, took a drink of the water, and closed her eyes, allowing her head to rest back against the couch. She listened to the news with one ear and Cat with the other. A long groan made her sit up and turn quickly toward the couch.

“Coach. . . .”

“I?m right here.”

Green eyes opened slowly and she tried to smile, but it hurt too much. “This sucks.”

“I know. How do you feel?”

“Like every team in the league has run over my butt.” She licked her lips, grimacing at the action. “Twice.”

Dylan chuckled. The night?s stress had just about gotten to her and she was glad to see that Cat still managed to joke. “Bet the other guys don?t look too good either,” she commented, looking down at the swollen hand lying atop Cat?s abdomen.

Cat curled her fist reflexively, then winced. “Bastards.”

Dylan sat quietly for a moment, unsure what to say. Words of sorrow mixed with feelings of rage against the so-called “men” who did this, and she wasn?t sure how to express herself without it all boiling over and scaring her younger charge.

Cat seemed to understand, though, and smiled. “Thanks for being here. With me.”

Dylan returned the smile. “Anytime.”

Green eyes slid closed again, and within moments, Cat was asleep.

Sighing softly, Dylan turned back toward the television and pulled her cell phone from her pocket pressing the button that would connect her to Mac.

“Hey, D,” Mac?s soft, sleepy voice comes over the phone. “How?s Cat?”

“Sleeping. Listen we?re gonna have to take her off the roster for awhile. Put her on injured reserve. It probably won?t be any longer than a game.”

“No problem,” Mac replied. “What are we going tell the press when they ask why?”

“That?s your job, Mac.”

“I know that, D, but this is?.delicate, ya know?”

Dylan sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I haven?t thought that far ahead. I?ll let you know in the morning.”

“Where are you?”

“With Catherine. I?m staying until morning. She shouldn?t be alone. If you need me you can call the cell.”

“Right.”

“I?ll keep you posted, but let?s keep this as quiet as possible. The last thing I need is for Johnson to find out that his star player was gay bashed. He?d find a way to make it her fault.”

“Okay.” Silence, as Mac tried to think up something suitable to say. “Dylan, is she going to be all right?”

“I hope so. I?ll call later, Mac. Good night.”

“Night. Try and get some rest will ya??”

“I?ll think about it.”

“Just this one time, listen to old Mac. Don?t think, do.”

“Night Mac.” Dylan growled.

“Bye.”

She snapped the phone shut and her attention was drawn to the TV where a shot of two men being led away by police was on the screen. She turned the volume up a bit and listened.

“Police were called to the home of a local business woman this evening after she reported that there were several men in her back yard. Upon arrival the police found two of the men trying to make entry into the residence and the arrested them. Four other suspects fled the scene and have not been apprehended. Leslie Tyson is a well known lesbian business woman and the police are looking into the possibility that this was an attempted hate crime.”

Dylan smiled and opened her phone to call the officers who had responded to the assault.

Cat blinked in that drowsy state halfway between sleep and wakefulness. Groaning softly, she tried to move, but the bright spikes of pain shooting through her head arrested the attempt.

Her eyes opened enough to see daylight streaming in through the large windows. She tracked the rays to where they bathed the woman sleeping on the floor near the couch in a golden, almost heroic, glow.

Like a goddess, Cat thought, still groggy from the drugs she?d been given. A thrill went through her, centering in her abdomen and giving off an almost palpable warmth. The Goddess is sleeping in my living room!

If she didn?t hurt so badly, she would have laughed at the absurd irony of it all. As it was, she was tired, and aching, and needed to pee in the worst way.

“Coach?”

Startled, Dylan yawned and stretched, her muscles voicing great displeasure at a night spent on the floor.

“Coach?”

She opened her eyes and sat up slowly, running long fingers through her disheveled hair. “Morning.” Her voice was thick, and husky with sleep. “How do you feel?”

Cat groaned as she attempted to copy Dylan?s actions, stopping when her abused belly and ribs shrieked. “Kill me?”

“Sorry, I think we?ll keep you around for awhile.”

“Not even if I beg?”

“Not even then.”

Scowling, Cat slumped against the arm of the couch, her head spinning. “Help me sit up, will ya?”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Dylan quickly rose to her feet. “It?s probably best if you just stay here for now. I can bring you anything you need.”

“Alright, but the toilet?s gonna be a bitch to move.”

Dylan froze.

Cat smiled. “I think it?s probably better if you help me up.”

“I?think you?re right.” Moving in, Dylan slid one long arm around Cat?s shoulders and helped the young woman to a sitting position.

“Oh shit that hurts!” Cat grabbed her tender ribs and took a deep breath, which also hurt. She refrained from crying though she really wanted to. The only thing that kept her from it was the fact that she didn?t want to look weak in front of her coach.

“Easy. Would you like some pain pills?”

“A dozen please. The best you have.”

“You can have one.” Dylan fished the bottle from her pocket and uncapped it. “Juice?”

“Please.”

Cat didn?t move a muscle while Dylan went to the kitchen for juice. “Anything broken?” she asked, wincing as she awaited the verdict.

“No. Just a few bumps and bruises.” Returning to the living room, Dylan handed a glass of OJ and one pain pill to Cat, then gently took a seat next to her as the blonde quickly swallowed the medicine. “Do you want to call your folks?”

Cat?s eyes went wide. “Oh, God. You didn?t call them, did you?”

“No. I figured that?s your decision to make.”

Cat nodded fervently, relieved. “Thanks, Coach. My mother would freak and my father would be on the next plane. I don?t think I could deal with that right now.”

Dylan took in a deep breath, aware that she was treading in dangerous waters. “I know this is none of my business, but if I were you, I?d probably call.” At Cat?s look, Dylan rushed on. “You?re a public figure now, Catherine. And you?ve got a great family. Do you really want them to find out what happened to you on the evening news? Or while they?re watching you play?”

Cat blanched.

Dylan smiled, laying a hand on the younger woman?s shoulder. “Think about it, okay?”

“Okay, I will.”

“Atta girl.”

Upon entering her home, Dylan was greeted by two yellow-eyed dogs who scampered around her with rear legs just about crossed. Rolling her eyes, she led the pair toward the back door, chuckling as Siegfried elected to forgo his usual sniffing and headed for the first tree he could find, practically drowning the poor Dogwood he?d hiked his leg against.

“Idiots,” she said with great affection. “Why don?t you just use the pet door?”