Page 32 of The Cousins and the Brunette

“Shut up and put her in the trunk,” the other snapped.

“Dead or alive when we dump her?” There was almost a playful note in his cruelty.

“Doesn’t matter.” The other’s indifference was chilling.

Black spots dotted my vision as they dumped me into the trunk of a sleek black car, like tossing out garbage. The lid slammed shut and I was left in darkness. My body ached and every movement sent a fresh wave of pain that made me nauseous. The engine roared to life, and the car drove off, every bump and turn a new universe of soreness.

Despair crashed over me, pulling me under like a riptide. Fresh tears streaked down my face as the car sped off into the night, carrying me toward an unknown fate worse than the death I wished for.

Funny how life works. One minute you’re trying to strike a deal, the next you’re struck down and stuffed in a trunk. If this was karma, she had one hell of a twisted sense of humor.

Sometime later, the trunk popped open, and I was dragged out again. In and out of consciousness, I felt the hard ground against my bruised body. They must have thought I was dead because they left me there on the doorstep, discarded and broken. The car tires screeched as they pulled away, their vile laughter echoing in my ears as darkness claimed me.

I wasn’t sure where I was. Nothing looked familiar, which meant I must have still been in the rich part of town. On hands and knees, I crawled. It took hours to get anywhere.

The pain was so intense, I was slipping away.

“He…el…elp,” I called out, my voice barely a whisper.

The door opened.

Blood caked my vision. “I had no where else to go.” I cried.

“Shh, I’m here.” Strong arms scooped me up.

I tried to speak. The words gurgle in my throat. My head flopped into his chest.

“Who did this to you?” he growled.

I tried to answer. Tears streamed down my face, smearing against his chest. Who had me? I blinked, trying to focus on the face above me. Joel? No, it couldn’t be. Last I knew, he despised me. His expression was one of disgust, which meant my mind was just playing tricks on me again.

Each movement sent fresh waves of agony coursing through me, and I bit back a whimper. The world tilted and swayed as Joel carried me inside, the warmth of the house a stark contrast to the cold night air.

Soft sheets enveloped me as he laid me on a bed, but even that feather-light touch felt like sandpaper against my bruised skin. I could swear I sank into the soft mattress. Through half-lidded eyes, I watched Joel pace beside the bed, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Who?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I swear, Brynn, I’ll make this right. You’re going to be okay.”

“Shoemaker,” I whispered.

“I’m sorry.” His hand stroked my face.

The sincerity in his tone caught me off guard. This was Joel Porter, the man who’d sneered at me countless times before. Yet here he was, vowing vengeance on my behalf. My addled mind struggled to make sense of it all.

Joel’s fingers brushed against my hand, so softly I almost missed it. That tiny gesture spoke volumes. I wanted to ask why, to understand this sudden change of heart, but the words wouldn’t come.

As consciousness began to slip away, I heard Joel speaking urgently into his phone. “...yes, doctor, I need you here now. It’s an emergency...”

Of all the people to rescue me, it had to be Joel Porter. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding himself. I’d have laughed if my ribs weren’t screaming in protest.

The darkness pulled me under once more, Joel’s worried face the last thing I saw before pain and exhaustion claimed me completely. My mind drifted in and out of consciousness, the haze becoming my only solace from the pain.

I blinked, my eyes swollen and heavy. A middle-aged man with a kind face and glasses peered down at me, a medical kit in his hand. “You’re lucky, young lady. Joel called me just in time.”

That’s a stretch. If I were truly lucky, I’d be sipping mai tais on a beach somewhere, not playing human punching bag for Shoemaker’s goons. But I guess not being dead counts for something in this messed-up world.

I blinked again, my vision clearing enough to take in my surroundings. The room was a far cry from the dingy cell I’d been trapped in. Rich mahogany paneling adorned the walls, interspersed with ornate gold-framed paintings. Plush cream-colored carpet stretched across the floor, muffling any sound. The bed beneath me felt like a cloud, soft and yielding, with silken sheets that felt like utter softness against my skin.

“Where am I?” I croaked, my throat dry and raw.

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