Page 116 of Saved By My Buyers

“I was walking and a man grabbed me by the arm,” I begin. It’s not a long story, and I keep Dahlia and the knife completely out of it, which makes it even shorter of a story.

“You have blood on you, is that yours or his?” the officer asks, confused.

“His,” I say, preparing to lie. “My nails are sharp, and I attacked him back.”

“I shouldn’t say this, but good for you,” his partner says. “Are you feeling lightheaded? Why are you being carried?”

“There are two of you,” I mutter, sighing. “I feel like shit.”

“Do you need an ambulance? I need a statement, but I can meet you at the hospital,” the officer who was driving suggests.

Shifting me in his arms, Jack hands the man a business card. “She’s refusing an ambulance, but I’m taking her to Corewell University Hospital,” he says. “Bowen shouldn’t be seeing two of anything.”

The man in the business suit picks up my bags, ensuring I have everything. “Shopping spree?” he asks with a small smile.

“My girlfriend’s birthday is this week,” I explain with a smile. People have been calling their best friends who are girls ‘girlfriends’ since forever, so that’s how he takes it.

“Lucky girl. You sound like a wonderful friend,” he says. “Take care of yourself. That guy was fucking huge.”

Shivering, I nod. The police officers have my assailant’s full description, and I was told the skull happens to be a crew tattoo. That’s fucking wonderful. Maybe Gareth hired some muscle, but I don’t know how he found out where I am.

The police officers say they’ll be in touch, then leave, and Jack starts walking me through the streets back to his truck. I should tell him I can walk, right? I lost a fucking shoe though, and no one could find it, so I’m in no condition to convince Jack of anything.

Laying my head on his chest, I wince as I close my eyes against the bright sunlight.

“Uh-uh, baby. Stay awake, please,” he murmurs. “Your head hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I whimper. “I don’t mean to be a baby.”

“Fuck, you’re not at all. You were incredible,” Jack praises. “You remembered you had your knife, fought off someone who sounded as if he was a lot bigger than you, and called me as your witness, so he wouldn’t come back for more. You’re my goddamn hero.”

“Why?” I ask as he hits the button for the elevator. I’m holding onto the bags in my lap, blinking to stay awake.

“You stayed alive for us,” Jack says. “Every day you fight to stay, is a win.”

Maybe it’s my therapy appointment, or what happened yesterday compounded by the attack, but I burst into tears.

“There it is,” he murmurs. “You’re safe with me.”

Striding across the car garage as if it’s totally normal to be carrying a sobbing woman, he unlocks the truck and sits me in the seat. Wrapping his arms around me, he gives me a hug, and I inhale his sandalwood scent.

I shudder as I hold him tightly, my tears beginning to subside.

“I’m okay,” I rasp. “Well… no, I’m not, but I can talk to you now.”

Pulling back, he kisses my forehead. “I have a water bottle in here. Please be a good girl and drink,” he says, shutting the door.

Sighing, I turn to find the bottle, and take a sip from the straw. It’s ice cold, helping to soothe my throat. Jack comes around and climbs into the truck, taking a cleansing breath.

“Come on, Bee. Tell me,” he grunts, once the door is shut to the rest of the world.

“Gareth found me,” I tell him, my hands trembling. “That guy kept asking me about Dahlia, wanting to know where she was. I told him that he couldn’t bring the dead back to life to torment.”

“Goddamn it,” Jack sighs, punching the steering wheel.

“Jack,” I croak, the tone I use making me cough. “That won’t help.”

“I’m calling the school,” he mutters. “There’s no way to trace my call. Do you want Dolly to come to the hospital with us?”

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