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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