Page 8 of Saved from Deception

How’s it going? Holding up OK? When do the B&A guys show up?

Heading back into the living room, I sink back onto the couch and text her back.

I’m OK. Sort of. They’re coming in a few minutes. I’m nervous.

The three dots blink for a second.

No need to be nervous. Conor says these guys are the real deal. They’ve helped dozens of people.

It’s not that I don’t believe her, I’m just afraid to get my hopes up and end up crushed again. And there’s that fear…

What if they don’t believe me? You’re the ONLY one who does.

There’s a longer delay before she responds this time.

If you did make those videos, I’d support you. But I know you. And I know you didn’t make them. It sucks that all these people are judging you, tearing you down, not even giving you a chance. Sometimes it’s easier for people to believe what’s right in front of them instead of trying to look deeper.

My throat gets tight, and I have to swallow hard before responding.

Thank you. I can’t tell you how much that means.

I’m taking measured breaths in through my mouth and out through my nose, trying to make sure I don’t start crying right before the Blade and Arrow guys get here. Before Erin’s next response can appear, a little notification pops up that I have visitors. I tap the screen and a voice comes through.

“Charlotte Laine? This is Leo Wilder—”

“And Rylan Jacobson,” another voice chimes in. “We’re from Blade and Arrow Security.”

My heart leaps into my throat, and I have to take a few steadying breaths before speaking. “Hi. I’ll buzz you up.”

The second voice, low with just a hint of rough, says kindly, “There’s no video for the intercom. Do you want to come down here to verify our identities?”

Oh. Zane emailed me photos of Leo and Rylan, but I hadn’t even thought about needing to check that these two men aren’t imposters. The chance of it seems highly unlikely.

“It’s fine,” I tell them, tapping the app to let them in. “Someone might be trying to ruin my reputation,” I say dryly, “but I seriously doubt anyone is trying to impersonate you so they can come in and kill me.”

There’s a sigh in the background that sounds slightly exasperated, then the snick of the door unlocking. “Alright, Charlotte,” says the second one—Rylan, I think—with a hint of amusement in his voice. “We’ll be right up.”

Less than two minutes later, there’s a knock at my door. I’ve been standing on the other side since I let them in the building, reminding myself over and over, they’re here to help me. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

If these men decide not to help me, I’m no worse off than I already was. Right?

There’s another knock, a bit louder. Then a gentle, “Charlotte? Have you changed your mind? Do you want to meet us outside? It’s okay if you do.”

Why am I so afraid? I can do this. Except.

I’m scared of being let down. Being judged.

Just do this already.

Forcing my trembling lips into something approximating a smile, I yank open the door. And look straight into two very broad chests.

Oh. They are tall. Muscular. And handsome.

The photos Zane sent definitely didn’t do them any justice.

The taller of them has a good foot on my five-foot-six height. Now that I’m making the connections to the photos, I realize this guy with the short blonde hair and hazel eyes is Leo. He has a friendly smile that belies his intimidating appearance—not only is he tall, but he’s huge all over, his chest easily twice as wide as mine.

The other man—Rylan—is a few inches shorter than Leo, and also very clearly in shape. His T-shirt stretches over broad shoulders and strong biceps, while his khaki shorts expose tanned, muscular legs. He has dark brown hair and a beard, which I don’t usually care for on men, but on him, it works.

---