Page 117 of Saved By My Buyers

I do, but I shake my head as I rub my bare foot over the one sandal I have left. The presents I bought are on the floor next to me, and I’m sure I’m going to bruise pretty spectacularly.

“She had class, right? Make sure she’s okay, and then tell Sullivan to keep her in the school until you go pick her up,” I tell him, trying to get comfortable. “I really hope they don’t keep me for long.”

“Stay awake, and I can ensure they don’t,” Jack teases me, putting the car into reverse as he calls Dahlia.

Ugh, today really was such a great day up until this.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Dahlia

Today is my birthday, but it doesn’t feel right. Bronwyn is laying in bed with me, playing with my hair, her neck filled with bruises along her tender skin. I hate that it’s because Gareth thought he could find me by hurting her.

“Maybe I should go up to the house and see what he wants,” I whisper, blinking rapidly to try to force away the tears. He hurt me so much four years ago, I don’t know if I’ll survive another round.

“What?” Bronwyn asks sleepily, carefully looking down at me. She didn’t lose consciousness on Wednesday during the attack, despite how much the asshole who hurt her tried, nor did she puke.

My girl is a tough fucking cookie.

“Nothing,” I sigh, hoping she isn’t with it enough to process it. It’s a dumb idea, my going back to the mansion. I just want to keep the people I love safe.

“You can’t go back,” Bronwyn says, struggling to brush away the fog. “Jack.”

She didn’t yell, because her bruised vocal chords can’t handle that, but he appears just the same. The three of us called into work today. Jack insisted I go yesterday, despite the fact that Bronwyn was kept overnight and was discharged this morning.

The doctors were worried about her.

“What’s going on? Are you two okay?” Jack asks gruffly. He’s wearing a pair of joggers that show off all his ink and the vee in his abs.The spit dries up in my mouth as I stare.

“Other than the fact that you just made Dahlia stunned by your body... ya know what, come cuddle and be a gorgeous distraction,” Bronwyn says resolutely. “Maybe then she’ll stop talking about going to see Gareth.”

Her eyes droop, but her lips twitch in amusement anyway. She’s sleepy from the pain medication that she took last night. Bronwyn is a lightweight when it comes to meds that make her drowsy.

I can see her refusing to take anything after this. Jack frowns as he crawls into bed, wrapping his arm around my waist as he kisses my neck.

“Seeing that monster isn’t going to end this,” he whispers against the shell of my ear. “Killing him will, and that’s something I’m working on, okay? Greg is getting someone into the house to bug the shit out of it, but in the meantime, we can’t jump to conclusions. Gareth probably thought he could scare Bee into telling that jackass where you were.”

“I told him you were dead,” Bronwyn says. “‘You can’t torture and rape dead girls’ I believe is what I said. If he’s sending people for me, then he doesn’t know where you are.”

“He’s not supposed to know where you are either,” Jack sighs. “It just takes one goddamn photo. A local news rag wrote a paper about my eligibility as a bachelor with your photo, Bee. It was from the last event you attended with me. I’ve asked them to retract the article, but the damage has been done.”

“Assholes,” I mutter, continuing to use Bronwyn’s chest as my pillow.

“Mmhmm. Happy birthday, baby girl,” Jack says. “We aren’t letting this ruin your day.”

“I agree,” Bronwyn says. “Happy birthday, baby. I demand that we open gifts. They aren’t wrapped, but fuck it. Jack, I don’t want to move, and she’s too comfortable. Will you grab them?”

“Yes,” he says, getting up and kissing us both. My lips tip up into a wide smile as he leaves the room.

“He’s the best,” I murmur.

“You should have seen him,” Bronwyn says. “I don’t know why, but my first instinct was to video call him. I knew he was in a meeting, but?—”

“I don’t think he’ll ever turn his phone off, knowing one of us could need him,” I interject. “Witnesses were the last thing Gareth or the man working for him would want. I don’t know if I’d be able to think that clearly.”

There’s a ton of things in Jack’s arms as he comes back in.

“Speaking of that, I want to propose self defense lessons,” Jack says as I sit up. “I know you’re both busy, but I died a million deaths when Bee called me and all I could see was this beefy guy with only part of his mask still on.”

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