Logan - Lane Hart Page 0,3
be carrying me off to one of those horrible sex trafficking rings, but right now, getting off that floor that smells like death is the best I can hope for.
The jacket of the man carrying me smells so dramatically different from what’s been under my nose for days, delicious like dry cleaning and an expensive cologne. I grab two handfuls and bury my face into the fabric to inhale deeply while he carries me. For the respite he’s provided, he can take me anywhere he wants.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs softly to me. “You’re safe now. I’m gonna take care of you.”
If there was any moisture left in my body, I’m sure my eyes would tear up at his reassuring words. They’re nice to hear, even if they’re probably lies.
“Thank you,” I whisper since that’s all my dry throat is capable of at the moment.
Chapter Three
Logan
The greedy fuckers tried to play hardball with me when I first came into the jail; but after I coughed up over a grand and they were still wishy-washy about letting Brayden out, I lost my cool.
And I never lose my cool.
There’s just something so goddamn wrong about a government that allows bribes and shit to happen without any constitutional rights for the accused. They don’t care if the people they arrest are guilty or innocent. When they spot an American tourist, all they see are dollar signs.
My brief moment of triumph that I was finally able to convince them to let me see Brayden was eradicated like an atomic blast as soon as I laid eyes on her. I had never truly been horrified in my life until that moment. There she was, all beautiful, feminine and delicate cowering on that repulsive floor in a space no bigger than a broom closet. Actually, I’m pretty sure my broom closet is twice that size.
Not giving a shit about the jailors or their shady negotiations, I scooped her up and strolled out of that filth with a glare at the two men, daring them to try and stop me.
While I didn’t expect for her to be living a life of luxury in jail, I had no idea how bad off she was.
I’m not sure how long she was there, but Brayden feels like nothing but skin and bones in my arms. She needs to eat and drink something soon, or our next stop will be the emergency room. And I would hate for her to have to endure any medical care in this country on top of everything else.
Outside in the warm night air, I march us out of sight of the jail until it can no longer be smelled, and then finally lower Brayden down to a bench under a streetlight to give her whatever snacks and water I have left in my shoulder bag.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I look down at her face that’s mostly hidden by her tangled brown hair. She shakes her head; and when she bites down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, my heart breaks right down the center. . The cramped, pain in the ass flight and my exhaustion is long forgotten after I see how bad off she is.
She looks weak and fragile like she hasn’t had a decent meal in several days, and her lips are chapped and peeling likely from dehydration.
It looks like the girl has been through hell and back while her father was more concerned about some goddamn golf fundraiser.
Not sure what else to do for her at this second, I hold her to me even closer because she just looks like she needs to be comforted by some damn body. Brayden grips my jacket tighter in her fists, and I hear her begin to sob into the material, causing my entire chest to ache.
“Hey, you’re gonna be fine now,” I assure her. “I’m gonna get you to the hotel to rest soon, I promise.”
I assume Brayden was staying somewhere around here with her friends before she was locked up, so I’ll need to figure out where that was later to try and get her luggage, if the hotel still has it. Right now, though, I just want to let her get a little something in her stomach, so I can get us off the streets that are crowded with college kids heading to the bars and clubs and get her cleaned up.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
“Y-yes,” she replies hoarsely with a nod. I don’t know how long she’s been