Page 25 of Unexpected Complication

I climbed the ladder, getting ready for Sean’s instructions. Skylar was shaking, either from fright or cold—or perhaps some of both. “We’ll have you out in a minute. Stay still,” I instructed, my voice terse.

She looked up. “And then what are you going to do with me?”

The stark fear in her eyes made my anger evaporate. “Get you warm and cleaned up.”

“And then?”

“Then we’re going to talk.”

She frowned in disbelief, but before I could say anything else, Sean spoke. “Okay. Here we go.”

Skylar’s shoulders moved, and a few minutes later, the straps of her pack disappeared and her body sank slightly. “Okay, Cian. Try to slip your hands under her. Skylar, lift your arms around his neck. I’ll meet you in the middle, Cian, and we’ll see if she can pull herself out.”

She hesitated.

“Come on, Kitten. Work with us.”

Slowly, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around my neck. Cautiously, I slid my hands under her, grimacing when I felt the rough edges of the wood. When my hands met Sean’s, I spoke again, keeping my voice calm. “Pull yourself toward me, Skylar. Slow.”

Inch by inch, she moved, Sean supporting her lower half as her upper body became free. Once her hips cleared the window, I leaned back, pulling her totally clear, knowing the denim would protect her legs. Her entire body was pressed against me, tremors running through it constantly. I descended the few steps and hurried to the house, holding her tight and trying to ignore how right she felt nestled into my arms.

I held her arms as Sean picked out the splinters from the pale skin of her stomach, grateful her injuries weren’t worse. She’d been scraped badly, but the bruising would be worse than the cuts. Every time she flinched, I found myself flinching with her, hating the idea of her being in pain. She gasped when he poured rubbing alcohol on the cuts, frowning apologetically at her. “Sorry. I don’t have anything else to use. We can’t risk infection.” After wrapping some gauze around her small waist, he straightened, glancing out the window. “Can you look after her hands? The storm is coming, and I need to go stock up and grab a few things before it hits. I think we’re gonna be trapped for a few days. “

“Sure.”

“You better make contact again. The, ah, message has been received.”

“I will.”

He grabbed his coat and left, leaving Skylar and me alone. I could feel her tension mount as I cleaned the cuts on her fingers and hands. One was particularly deep, and she gasped as I probed it, looking for splinters. “No wood in there,” I murmured. “That’s good.”

“I didn’t cut it on the window.”

I glanced up. “What did you cut it on?”

Her cheeks flushed. “A piece of glass I had hidden. I was using it to cut the wood.”

MacGyver, indeed.

“Skylar. Stop this.”

“Let me go, then.”

I sat back, feeling exasperated. “Where are you going to go? Back to the streets? There’s a storm coming.” I swung my arm around. “Here, you’re warm. Clean. Fed. Safe.”

She shook her head.

Without thinking, I cupped her face, holding her cheeks tight. “You. Are. Safe,” I spat out. “Neither Sean nor I will hurt you.”

“I don’t believe you. I saw you murder someone. I know you won’t let me leave here alive.”

“You know nothing.” I sighed and tried a different tactic. “Skylar, if we were going to harm you, why would both of us be so worried about caring for you? Why did we bother to save you from hurting yourself further on the window?”

For the first time, uncertainly flickered across her face. Then she straightened her shoulders. “Maybe you want something from me.”

I dropped my hands. “No. I only want you safe.” I stood, closing the lid of the first aid kit. “You’re staying here. Give in and relax.”

“No. Stop telling me what to do.”