He saved me after all. “The guy who wanted me as his new wife was at the building I was held in earlier today. Before he left, he said he’d arrange transport for us to be reunited. But I managed to get my wrists free. My main thought was to crash the truck. To cause chaos and escape. I’m grateful I found a parking lot with two men on bikes.”
Saint smiles, but it’s a soft one of understanding. “Glad I could be of service.” He puts his head back down and focuses on treating my wounds.
“Who was your friend?” I ask.
Saint stops what he was doing and looks up at me. “That was Spark.”
“What day is it?”
“It’s Friday evening. Well, early hours of Saturday morning now.”
A silence falls between us again, but it’s not uncomfortable. The tight band around my chest, the one that has been there for forty-eight hours, releases a little.
I doubt anybody looked for me. Two days without contact is not unusual between me and my parents. Dad’s still sulking that I moved here against his wishes. But at twenty-eight, with a good degree from a good school and a strong work ethic, I can do as I please.
Even my clients won’t be too concerned. I’m usually pretty responsive, but they won’t worry if I don’t reply for a day or two. And now it’s the weekend. “I don’t know where my phone and my purse are.”
Saint applies the last Band-Aid and gathers all the debris before dumping it in the garbage. “One step at a time. Basic needs first. We’ve treated your injuries. We’ll find you some clean clothes to wear for now. I’ll give you some painkillers and antibiotics after we’ve got some food in your stomach.”
“They know where I live. They have my keys. I bet all my things are gone. They know how to find me again. They could be waiting for me.”
“Not going to happen, Briar. We can figure all that out in the morning.” He leads me out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. The bed has been made, a pair of jogging pants and a hoodie on it. “I figured you’d want something that covers you and keeps you warm but doesn’t rub against those cuts.”
I look at the soft cotton. He’s right. “Thank you.”
“There’s a lock on the bedroom door. Use it so you feel safe. I’ve grabbed some things already, so I won’t need to come in again tonight. I’m going to go make you something to eat.”
I look at the width of his biceps. “If you wanted to break the door down, you’d be more than capable, given how you smashed the bathroom door open.”
Saint smiles at this. “I’ll take the compliment, Briar. But I want you to feel safe. Slide the dresser in front of the door if it makes you feel better.”
Safe.
Such a suddenly foreign concept.
He leaves me standing in the sparsely furnished room, my mind reeling. I don’t know who I am right now or what I’m going to do. But my gut instinct tells me Saint will help me figure it all out.
5
SAINT
Something tickles my nose, and I bat it away.
Then there’s a flash of light as I turn my head.
I open one eye, and everything comes flooding back as the sunlight hits me.
Briar.
I rub a hand over my face and stretch out on the sofa the best I can. My back creaks, and my legs groan as I stretch them out after being bent like a pretzel all night. The cover house was meant to be simple: Small. Basic. No need for two bedrooms.
There had been no backup plan for finding a devasted young woman.
I’d done the best I could to help make her feel comfortable, but Briar had gone quiet on me as we’d eaten. And I rage silently as I relive treating her wounds. I’ve triaged in a war zone. But everyone knew why we were there, knew that injuries were a risk we took willingly. Looking at the large welts on her wrists and the score marks on her cheeks, I knew she’d been caught unawares by what had been done to her.
The way she’d shivered so badly on the back of the bike reassured me of that horrific fact.
I’d not had the balls to ask her whether she’d been raped. The thought makes me sick.
