Vicious Carousel (Suncoast Society #25)(11)

There had been plenty of hours, alone in the apartment with nothing but basic cable and a few books, where she’d thought about her predicament and how to get out of it. Sure, before the chain, she could have simply packed all her stuff and walked away.

Except she hadn’t known who to call for help.

Despite that, she’d just about talked herself into getting away. Maybe there’d been a determination in her demeanor. Maybe the way she’d thrown herself into obeying his every order as quickly and perfectly as possible as a way to pull him off-guard and lull him into a false sense of complacency had backfired on her.

That was when he’d brought home the chain.

And then she was really stuck. She no longer had a cell phone. Jack had confiscated her laptop, changing the password and using it as his own. She remembered seeing it gone last night when they returned to the apartment with the detectives, so she guessed it’d been grabbed when everyone got her stuff.

Well, it was pink, so it was an easy thing to think. It was probably there in the room, somewhere, with her other things.

She’d have to ask Tony if he could hack the password for her.

Another noise from out in the kitchen, and she kicked her pride in the ovaries and took a deep breath.

“Hello?” She didn’t want to yell help and scare the poor guys to death.

At first, she wasn’t sure she’d called out loudly enough, but then she heard a soft knock on her door.

“Betsy?” It sounded like Nolan.

“Yes,” she said, trying not to break down and cry. “I need help, please.”

Nolan opened the door and poked his head through, a look of concern on his face. “What’s wrong?” He wore a dark green bathrobe.

Her tears finally broke free. “I can’t get up by myself. I’m sorry. I need help. It hurts too much.”

He swooped in, her knight in shining terry cloth, and helped her sit up as she bit down on the scream of pain that wanted explode from her.

“Pain?” he asked.

“And dizzy,” she said.

“That’s probably the concussion. You should have let them admit you last night.”

“I can’t afford it. Can you please help me into the bathroom?”

“Sure.”

He gently helped her swing her legs around and then once again held her, lifting her more than her actually standing under her own power. Slowly, he matched her pace as she shuffled toward the door.

Kenny appeared, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and looking half asleep, his hair tousled. “Are you all right?”

“No, she’s not,” Nolan said. “She can barely move. Help me.”

Kenny also swooped in, and together, the men got her across the hall and into the bathroom. Shoving modesty aside, she asked them to stay while she got herself onto the toilet with their help and did what she needed to do. At least she could wipe herself. Then they helped her stand, Kenny deftly pulling her pajama pants up before they got her over to the sink.

That was when she made the mistake of lifting her head and looking into the mirror. The sob she let out sounded forged in some deep, toxic swamp, even to her own ears.

Yes, her right eyelid and the surrounding flesh was a dark, purple, swollen mass.

Which explained why it wouldn’t open, duh. Over her left eye, a bruise surrounded the laceration where stitches held it closed. Her face looked unrecognizable, even to her. In the mirror she could see the bruises around her neck, along her arms.

“I look like shit,” she whispered.

Both men wore grim expressions as they silently nodded.

And her right ankle hurt like a f*cking son of a bitch.

She got her hands washed and carefully brushed her teeth, even though that was a horrible act of masochism in and of itself. Somehow, she miraculously still had all her teeth.

“Back to bed?” Nolan gently asked when she finished.

She shook her head. “No. Did I hear an attorney was coming by this morning?” Great, more money she didn’t have and couldn’t afford, but she wouldn’t refuse the help.

“Yeah, Ed Payne,” Nolan said. “He’s a member of the Suncoast Society group. He said he’s met you before at munches, but you might not remember him until you see him.”

“Okay. I guess I should have a shower.” The thought of trying to do that, though, filled her with dread. She really wanted to shave her legs, but that would be impossible. She needed to wash her hair. Hell, she needed to brush her hair and didn’t think she could even do that.

The men exchanged a dubious glance over her head, which she spotted in the mirror.

She drew in a pained breath. “Look, I’m beyond the bashful stage. I get it, I’m a wreck. I would really appreciate it if you would help me get a shower. I promise I won’t freak out over incidental contact.”

Nolan shucked his bathrobe. Under it, he wore silk boxers with smiley faces on them.

She couldn’t help it. She laughed, even though that f*cking hurt like hell. “I’m sorry,” she said. “They’re adorable.”

“I was going to give you my robe to cover up with after your shower,” he said.

“Sorry.” But she smiled, even though it hurt like unholy f*cking hell.

After getting her undressed, the men helped her step into the shower. Kenny found her hairbrush in her purse and brought it in. The men worked together, while she stood there with her left arm braced against the shower wall for balance, to brush out her hair without pulling on it too much.