Bad Swipe Bad Swipe (Billionaire's Club #12) - Elise Faber Page 0,61

get you to the hospital.”

The shorter officer with red hair nodded at her ankle. “Which should be right now.” He passed Ben a card. “Call me when she’s up to talking.”

Ben nodded, shook his hand. “Thank you.”

“Oh, my God!”

They all looked, saw Claire, her hair flowing behind her as she rushed into the room.

“Stef!” She dropped to her knees beside her. “Shit. Are you okay?”

Stef felt her eyes well. They hardly knew each other, and yet Claire was here, worry on her face, and her hand gripping Stef’s tightly. “I’m fine,” she said, but her voice broke, and a tear slipped out.

“Can you stay with Fred until Baine gets here?” Ben asked.

“Of course.”

“I—”

Claire squeezed her hand, wincing and glancing down. Stef followed her gaze, saw that dark bruises were already appearing on her wrists. “Let us do this for you, okay? I’ll text you updates for Fred every step of the way.”

“But . . . why?”

“Because you’re Ben’s.” A gentle smile. “And you’re you.”

Chapter Thirty

Ben

Claire was true to her word.

After Stef had called her vet, she and Baine, who’d arrived by then, got Fred to the vet, Sweetheart tagging along in her carrier.

Luckily for Fred, nothing was broken, and he would recover from his sprained foot and bruised ribs in another week or so.

Stef hadn’t been so lucky.

Jeremy had fractured one of the small bones in her foot, and because of her past injury, she’d needed surgery to reset it.

Stef had just made it back to her room, after the hour-long surgery and then two hours in the recovery suite, but she was still groggy and sleeping off the aftereffects of the anesthesia, though she had asked for a Fred update the moment she realized Ben was in the room.

He was able to give her one—a good one—showing her the picture Claire had sent of Sweetheart and Fred curled up on a bed in the living room of his place.

“Tomorrow, we’ll go back to my place,” he said, brushing back her hair. “Stay there until I can get an alarm system installed at yours. Then we can go to yours—”

Her eyes had closed. Her mouth gone slack.

But just before she’d drifted off again, she’d reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together, and he kept his vigil, his grip tight, as she slept through the night.

The detectives left on the same elevator that had brought Stef’s gaggle of friends up.

Stef’s face was drawn, but her eyes were happy.

Claire sat by her side, folded into the group whether because she was female or just had the right attitude or because that was the way they were, accepting whoever came into their periphery.

And they were all fussing, Heidi adjusting the pillow beneath Stef’s ankle. Tammy bringing her a cup of hot chocolate, Kels searching through the guide for something that Stef would want to watch. Cora was making everyone laugh, and Kate had been gently brushing her hair, was now braiding the silken locks into a crown across her head.

“You look like shit,” Baine said.

“I haven’t had a chance to thank you,” Ben said by way of answer.

Baine shook his head. “You know there’s no thanks needed, not between us.”

Ben hadn’t known it, not really. He still wasn’t used to reaching out for help. It had been easier to take care of everything for everyone else, rather than making himself vulnerable by asking for it.

But he wouldn’t forget it now. Wouldn’t ever forget it.

Red lips had shattered the wall around him, and he couldn’t stop himself from caring . . . about Stef, about Baine and Claire, about Stef’s friends. Because he’d watched her constantly finding herself unworthy of their affection, terrified they would take it away and leave her, and despite that, still finding the strength to give it, to care, to love.

He wasn’t going to let that go.

“Thank you anyway,” he said.

Baine rolled his eyes but nodded, turning for the elevator, just as cackling broke out in the living room, Claire no doubt telling more embarrassing stories about him. She and Baine had been staying at his place, managing the dogs and the business so that Ben could focus solely on Stef. Friends, not employees, and he was ashamed to think that it had taken him so long to realize that fact.

More cackling.

Baine winced as he stepped onto the elevator. “I’m going to rescue my ears from the noise.” A smirk. “Good luck with yours.”

“Fucker.” But it was said without heat, his gaze on Stef, on the fading bruises on