Page 115 of Saved By My Buyers

Gasping and coughing, I pull out my phone, as my bag is still crossed over my chest, so I didn’t lose it. Video calling Jack, I hold it up so he’ll see my assailant.

“Give me the phone!” the man roars, coming closer as Jack picks up the call. I know he’s in a meeting, but fuck it.

“Bee? Fuck. Get the fuck away from her!” Jack roars. I can tell he’s texting someone as I cough and attempt to get oxygen. He’s at a conference table, but his sole focus is on what’s happening with me.

“There’s a cop coming your way right now, dickhead. You’re dripping DNA and blood everywhere.”

The meat head looks down at his arms, grimacing at the mess I made of them and his face. His ski mask is now torn to shreds, and I can see his unshaven cheeks, pronounced chin, and thick lips.

I memorize all of it, including the fact that he’s Caucasian, and has bloody skull tattoos on his arms where I cut the black shirt he’s wearing.

Pushing myself off the ground, I wince, knowing I’m now wearing whatever dirt was in this alleyway.

“Or please, take your chances with the policemen who are coming,” I rasp, my voice sounding terrible from being strangled. The sounds of sirens get louder, and the man curses.

“Please tell my father ‘hello’ and that Dahlia is dead. He can’t rape people who are at peace and free of him.”

I’m screaming at him, and people are peering into the alley.

“Hey! What’s going on? Are you okay?” a man wearing a business suit asks, looking concerned. You always hear that people ignore things like this in a big city. It’s nice to see at least today, that’s not true.

“No, I’m not okay. He strangled me,” I gasp, holding tightly to my knife and phone, all my purchases scattered around me.

The man in the business suit lunges for the shithead who hurt me, which causes him to take off with a curse.

“Stop!” roars the man in the suit, but my father’s henchman leaps up and grabs the wall at the end of the alley, vaulting his large body up on sheer strength alone.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

“I need to see you. Come on, turn the fucking camera around, baby,” Jack urges, and I do as he asks, still sitting on the ground because I’m too lightheaded to do anything else. “Fuck, he hit you.”

“Yeah,” I say, coughing. “But I’m fine. We need to talk, Jack.”

In the time we’ve been speaking he’s already left the conference room, and he’s running.

“I can see where you are. I texted Elira to get the dispatchers on your location,” he grunts, his voice barely bothered by the running he’s doing.

“Can I help you up, Miss?” the man in the suit asks. “Please, it’s kind of pissing me off seeing you sitting on the ground.”

Sighing, I glance down at my knife, closing it and shoving it back into my pocket. I don’t have much blood on me, which will help with the police. I don’t really know if I’m allowed to have it on me.

“I never saw it,” the man says, holding out his hand. “It probably saved your life.”

Taking his hand, I let him haul me up, whimpering as the world spins on me.

“I’m here,” Jack gasps, coming around the corner, and barely catching me around the waist. “Thank you for helping her.”

“You’re the guy who was yelling on the phone?” he asks as Jack nods.

“She video called me so there would be a witness,” Jack says.

“I’m so sore,” I mutter.

“I think you’re taking a visit to the hospital, beautiful,” Jack mutters, picking me up into his arms.

“Ugh, hospitals suck,” I groan as a police car pulls into the alley. It’s barely large enough for it, and takes up most of the entrance.

“Okay, what’s going on here?” the cop on the passenger side asks as he gets out of the vehicle.

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