Page 127 of Saving Her

Fuck.

I need to get out of this house. Hit the shooting range. Spar the fuck out of a worthy opponent.

But I won’t leave her or bring anyone over here she’s not comfortable with. I’m stuck in this tempting isolation. My blue balls are the size of gorilla nuts.

I turn on the movie and lie across the sofa, my attention on her from the corner of my eye—the long, dark hair splayed across the recliner as she rests her head back.

I don’t focus on the screen as the actors do their thing, blowing up buildings and shooting up shit. I stare at her, fast becoming entranced by how fucking gorgeous she is as those lashes flutter closed.

It’s such a sinking feeling of helplessness, watching someone battle an invisible enemy. If she had a physical wound, I could tend to it. I’d make sure any injuries were stitched to perfection. I’d be meticulous in applying new dressings. And when the site healed, I’d make sure she used the very best scar-lightening creams on her delicate skin.

I’d do anything.

Everything.

But she’s not struggling with a physical injury. There are no men to hunt down or kill. Her fight is internal. Entirely out of reach.

All I can do is be patient. I’ve always been good at that.

Until now.

Untilher.

The vibration of the cell in my back pocket breaks my trance.

I retrieve the device, the preview of a message from Sarah on the screen—Open your front door, I’ve just pulled…

Jesus.She’s here.

The bitch had been smart enough to keep her distance after I spoke to Torian. That gossip grapevine is effective in these parts. Too bad she didn’t have the smarts to stay away too.

I type back—Fuck off. Penny is asleep.

I don’t want her here. I’m done letting her report back to Decker. If he wants answers about his sister, he can ask during the daily phone calls I have to endure. I’m not opening the damn door. She can crawl back into the hole she came from.

Instead, I lower the sound on the television, then switch off the movie when my cell vibrates again—Turn on the news.

The hairs on my arms rise.

I change the channel, flicking to news station after news station, trying to find something to trigger familiarity, but there’s nothing. No reports of drama in the Greek islands or issues back home surrounding Torian’s questionable business dealings.

I’m clueless.

What am I searching for?—I send back.

Just open the goddamn door.

I push from the sofa, annoyed, tired, and so far over this shit with Sarah, Decker, and yes, Torian, that it takes a few seconds to recognize the woman’s face that flashes on the screen.

The heavy weight of dread takes over.

It’s one of Penny’s friends. One of the women I helped rescue from the same sex-slave hellhole in Greece. The words beneath her picture state—Up next:Missing woman dies by suicide.

Holy shit.

I stare. At the woman. At Penny peacefully sleeping. At the stillness surrounding me that will soon erupt into sorrow.

The cell vibrates again—Open the fucking door, Luca.

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