Page 163 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

My entire body is trembling, but what choice do I have? I nod. He stands as he reaches for the soft spots beneath my arms. I cry out when he hauls me up, the relief of the pressure on my sternum and stomach verging on pain. My leg drags clumsily over the sawhorse and I collapse into his arms.

When I try to look around, his large hand shields my eyes.

“Just look at me,” he reminds me.

My legs are weak, but I find just enough strength to walk from the room with his help. The stranger lowers me into a chair, the freezing metal shocking my system when it hits my bruised and battered body.

“I’m going to put your pants on.”

I hadn’t realized he was holding my leggings. I’m surprised Caleb and his brother didn’t cut them off.

Caleb.

Jesse.

I know Jesse’s fate, but when I turn to look and find out Caleb’s, the stranger places his hand on the side of my face again to keep me from turning. He shakes his head and then readies the first side of my leggings, scrunching it up and holding it out so I can put my foot inside. I’m reminded of when Miles helped me dress back in Miami. It feels like a lifetime ago.

When my second leg is in, he holds out a hand and helps me stand while he pulls the leggings up to my waist. He’s careful with me, his hands soft, his movements slow.

“We’re going to leave. Brody and Miles are waiting downstairs.”

Their names bring fresh tears.

They came for me.

44

Miles

Sophie appears in the stairwell, clutching Booker. Her jaw is beginning to bruise and there are red rings around her wrists and marks on her arms. The blood coming from a long cut on each arm seems to have stopped flowing. The only thing keeping me from going back upstairs and tearing the Davises limb from limb is the woman approaching me who looks like she’s been through hell and then some.

Brody and I rush forward and Booker gently lets her go when we reach them. She falls into our arms and the three of us sink to the ground. One of Brody’s arms is around Sophie’s back, the other around mine. I cradle Sophie’s head against my neck and chest, listening to her cry while my eyes find Booker’s.

“What did you do with them?” I sound a lot less dangerous than I feel right now, holding the woman I love while she weeps in pain and relief.

“They won’t hurt her again,” Booker assures us.

Brody nods, but I stare. I’m not sure Brody or I could’ve done what that man did. Another of many reasons to be thankful for Mel Ashcroft and her shady-as-fuck company. I’ve never liked her more than I do right now.

“Let’s get you home,” I whisper into Sophie’s hair.

Are there flowers that say thanks for saving the love of my life?

She lifts her head, her eyes shifting between Brody and me. They’re red from crying, her makeup all but gone by now, more than twenty-four hours after we started our cam session.

“I can’t be home alone,” she whispers and fuck if my heart doesn’t break all over again.

“No,” I agree.

“Home with us,” says Brody.

I want to take her to a hospital. Brody wants to take her to a hospital. Booker drives us home instead. He helps us get her into the house, into my bed, lying on her stomach, before beckoning us to follow him from the room.

“Miss Ashcroft is sending someone,” he grunts. “She doesn’t want messy questions.”

“Sending someone?” I repeat in confusion.

“To see to her.”

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