Page 75 of Savior

“Penny?” the blonde asks.

She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even flinch.

“It’s okay. I’ve got her. We won’t be far behind you.” I turn my attention to Hunter. “I’m going to need to get her cleaned up. There’s too much blood.”

It’s all over her hands. Her legs, too. She can’t walk back through the Naxos port like this.

“Can you handle her on your own?”

“I’m good.” I glide my grip around Penny’s wrists and gently guide her away from Chloe. “There’s another woman left hiding in one of the bedrooms. I’ll get her to help. Just make sure you grab that fucker out of the trunk and put him into the backseat. If he’s not awake, there’s smelling salts in one of the duffels. And you’re also going to need to get him to swallow some of the liquid E I’ve got stashed in there, too. We need to make him look like he’s drunk, not a fucking prisoner, when we haul him to the boat.”

He grins. “My pleasure.” He turns for the door. “Come on, ladies. Let’s get you home.”

After a few moments of tear-stained contemplation, the women follow, leaving Penny behind with me.

I guess I should be thankful for their compliance. But I’m not. I’m fucking bitter they only spared a few seconds for Penny’s concern when left with a stranger, after she put everything on the line to save them.

She fought for those women. She begged and threatened.

And they’ve walked away from her.

“Come on, shorty.” I rub her wrists. “The worst is over.”

She’s still unmoving. Not even nudging out of her shock.

Fuck it.

I wrap an arm around her back and the other under her knees to lift her off the ground. She doesn’t fight, barely gives a muted whimper as I carry her through the dining room, into the hall to the darkened bedroom with the three bunks.

“Are you still in here?” I place Penny on her feet. “It’s safe to come out.”

There’s a rustle of movement as the woman crawls from under the bed. She’s another wide-eyed innocent, her pain trapped behind generous beauty. “Penny?”

“Help me get her cleaned up. Can you get me some fresh clothes and a wet cloth?”

She nods, the movement jerky, before she hustles to the closet.

“You’re going to be okay.” I brush Penny’s arms, trying to rub away the chill of shock as I lean in. Eye to eye. “You’re strong. You can get through this.”

She meets my gaze, sorrow thick in her dark irises.

“Here.” The other woman returns with a thick layer of white material in her hands. “It’s her favorite dress.”

“Thanks.” I take the offering, ignoring how inappropriate a frilly, feminine dress is at a moment like this, and fling the clothing over my shoulder.

“Let me help.” The other woman moves closer, protectively nudging me out of the way as she makes easy work of Penny’s oversized T-shirt, raising the hem from her thighs to expose pure nudity.

Holy. Shit.

Decker’s sister is entirely naked under that shirt. No panties. No bra. Only smooth, perfect skin marred with sinister bruises along her hips and inner thighs. My gaze latches on to those marks—the sickening implications, the fucking brutality—as the other woman scrambles to cover Penny again, lifting the dress over her head.

“Wait.” I halt her with a raise of my hand and quickly turn off the microphone around my neck. “Where’s her underwear?”

She shakes her head. “We’re not allowed.” She doesn’t pause as she helps guide Penny’s head through the material.

“Wait,” I repeat with barely leashed frustration.Fuck. I’m getting pummeled here. Visually. Verbally. The muttered conversation through my earpiece along with the approaching freight train of a migraine is making it hard to think. “She can’t put on a fucking white dress when her hands are covered in blood. I’m going to need that cloth.Now.”

The woman retreats at my anger, her hands trembling.

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