“No, I’m telling you something’s wrong,” Tyler insisted. “If anything, she’d be early today, not late. She wouldn’t be late and not call, especially not today.” The sick feeling had grown to a fully enraged, gut-twisting scream. His instincts were never wrong, and a feeling like this meant something bad.
Eight-ten. “I’m calling.” Tyler grabbed his cell, called, then frowned. “It’s going straight to voice mail, not even ringing. Her phone’s off.”
Thomas looked out the front window. “I’ll admit this doesn’t look good. You said she’s close?”
“Only twenty minutes on a bad day. Not even three miles.”
Thomas disappeared to the bedroom. He returned, fully dressed, and tossed a pair of shoes to Tyler. “Let’s go find her.”
Tyler slipped on his shoes. He left a note in case she arrived while they were gone, and followed Thomas out the door.
“Which way?”
Tyler gave him directions and Thomas frowned. “That’s in SuitcaseCity.”
“It’s a dump. I hate the thought of our sweet girl living there.”
Thomas pulled the Ridgeline into a parking spot next to the Escort, his jaw set in a hard line. “If we’ve got to drag her out of here kicking and screaming, she’s coming with us.”
Tyler grimly nodded. “Agreed.” So much for finesse.
They climbed out of the truck. That’s when they heard a woman’s terrified cries.
Tyler sprinted across the commons toward her apartment, Thomas on his heels. Sure enough, the loud crashes and frantic cries came from apartment 111. Thomas tried the knob, found it locked, and pounded on the door. “Nevvie, open up! It’s Thomas!”
They heard another loud crash and a man’s enraged roar, followed by the sounds of someone being struck and Nevvie crying again.
Thomas pushed Tyler out of his way, took a step back, and kicked the door. It gave way on the third blow and the two rushed inside. They didn’t see her and raced through the spartan apartment to the bedroom, where Nevvie cowered on the floor in a corner. Alex towered over her, kicking her.
Thomas played defensive end for three years on his high school football team. The old skills came back as he dropped his shoulder and, with an enraged howl, charged Alex, driving him into the wall.
Tyler raced to Nevvie’s side. At first she shrank from him. Then, recognizing him, she sobbed with relief and threw her arms around his neck. He scooped her up and carried her to the living room.
“It’s all right, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” he soothed. “What do you need to take?”
She felt her chest. “My purse. By the door.”
“Anything else? Anything at all? You’re not coming back here—ever.” She looked horrible, at least one black eye, her lip split. “Pictures? Paperwork? Jewelry?” He heard Thomas’ enraged voice and assumed the caveman was getting a taste of his own medicine.
She shook her head and rested it on his shoulder, tightening her grip on him. He dipped to the side to grab her purse as he passed and exited the shattered door.
He turned, waiting for Thomas and murmuring soothing words to Nevvie. A moment later Thomas appeared in the doorway. Shaking and flexing his now bruised and scraped right hand, he took Nevvie’s purse from Tyler and walked ahead to unlock the truck. The men didn’t speak. Thomas helped Tyler ease her into the back seat. Tyler climbed in next to her—she refused to let go of him.
“Let’s get out of here,” Thomas growled, backing out.
“We should call the police,” Tyler said from the back. “Get her to hospital—”
“No,” she cried. “No police. Please, I want to get away. Before he follows us.”
The men exchanged looks in the rear view mirror. Tyler placed a calming hand on her cheek, trying to get her to look at him. “Nevvie, we have to report this, file charges, have a doctor check you out—”
She frantically shook her head. “No! Please, no…” She sobbed against him, hysterical.
“All right, sweetheart. It’s all right.” He protectively cradled her while Thomas drove them home.
She could barely walk. Thomas carried her into their bedroom where he carefully placed her on their bed. Her right eye had nearly swollen shut. They watched as she compulsively touched a spot on her chest through her shirt. At first Tyler thought she might have a bad bruise there until he spied the silver chain under her shirt collar.
The necklace.
Tyler sat on the bed next to her, pulled her into his lap, and let her sob against him.
“Tom,” he whispered, “I think I have some chamomile tea in the cupboard. Make her a mug, use lots of honey and a couple shots of bourbon, right? And a dishtowel and a bag of frozen peas for her eye.”
Thomas nodded and set to it.
“Nevvie, sweetheart, why won’t you let us call the police?” Tyler asked.
She shook her head, clutched him tighter, and trembled. “He didn’t follow us?”
“No, love. He most likely wasn’t conscious when we left, if I know our Thomas.”
“Good.”
Thomas returned with the makeshift ice pack. Tyler carefully placed it on her forehead, wishing he could take her pain away. The doctored hot tea soon had her calmed and she lay in his lap with a glazed, distant stare. She’d once mentioned that she didn’t drink because it hit her hard and fast.
Thank God.
Thomas sat on her other side, holding her hand. Eventually, she rolled over in sleep, facing him.
Tyler took the melting bag of veggies and carefully extricated himself so as not to wake her.
He walked around the bed to Thomas and kissed him. “I’ll make us breakfast,” he whispered in his ear.
“Thank you for listening to your instincts.”
Tyler looked heartsick. “I wish I’d listened sooner.”
Nevvie slept past lunch. One or both men stayed with her. When she awoke she was so sore she could barely move and needed help sitting up to get out of bed. Thomas brought her some Tylenol and both men helped her into the bathroom, standing outside the door and waiting for her. She’d been wearing jeans, but before she went in Tyler handed her a pair of his lounging shorts and one of Thomas’ T-shirts.
“These should fit you, sweetheart, you’ll be more comfortable. I’ll take your other clothes and wash them and we’ll pick you up some other things later.”
She nodded. When she finished, they helped her back to bed and she curled on her side, her hand over her chest where Tyler suspected the necklace lay. Her thighs were black and blue, her arms covered with ugly bruises. Alex’s work boots had left horrible marks.
Tyler left Thomas with her and went to his office, closing the door. He called and made an appointment for the next day with their doctor, a woman. Like it or not, Nevvie was going. He wouldn’t force her to do it today, but she would go.
When he returned he sat on her other side and took her hand. “Sweetheart, you’re going to let us take care of you for now. You’re not going to work, you’re going to heal.”
She started to protest and Thomas laid a gentle finger on her chin. “Sugar, hear us out, please.”
Tyler continued. “We meant it when we said you’re part of our family. We take care of our family. Once you’re feeling better, then we’ll sit down and discuss exactly what you want to do in regards to our arrangement, how many days you want to work here, how many with Thomas, pay, all of that. For now, until you’re feeling better, you are going to let us take care of you and what you need. You are not going to feel guilty about it. Understand?”
She closed her eyes and nodded.
He carefully patted her shoulder. “That’s my good girl.” His eyes traveled her face then brimmed with tears. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry we weren’t there for you when you needed us.”