Page 6 of Rescuing Macie

He started walking toward the spinning lights of the cop cars, where they’d no doubt find Truck.

She rested her head on his shoulder, and Colt felt as if he were ten feet tall. He loved the way Macie fit in his arms, how she felt. He didn’t care about her anxiety. Nobody was perfect. And if he could make her feel better about herself and about things going on in her life, he’d be satisfied.

Chapter Two

Macie sat sideways in a chair at her dining room table and watched with wary eyes as the police and detectives wandered through her apartment. Truck was standing off to her left with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. After draping a blanket around her shoulders, Colt sat in front of her, holding her hand. In fact, he hadn’t let go of it since he’d carried her away from her hiding spot.

“Why don’t you tell me everything that happened tonight,” the detective sitting across from her said in a no-nonsense tone.

“She needs to take her medicine first,” Colt insisted, then turned to Macie. “Are your pills in your bathroom?”

She nodded. “I can go and get them,” she told him quietly.

“I got it. What am I looking for?” Truck asked.

Macie looked down at her lap. This wasn’t the way she’d wanted Truck to find out how messed-up she was. He was strong and brave and amazing, and the last thing he’d want to deal with was a sister who was crazy. He’d—

“Macie,” Colt said firmly, making her raise her head to look at him. “Where are your pills?”

“In the cabinet to the left of the sinks. I need one of the Vistaril tablets,” she told him.

“Be right back,” Truck said.

“I know this is hard, but you’re doing great,” Colt said. “Just hang on a little longer and we’ll get you to a quiet place where you can relax, okay?”

Macie nodded. She had no idea where that would be, but she knew Colt wanted her to agree, so she did. Her head was pounding and she felt shaky from her anxiety attack. And the worst thing was that her nightmare wasn’t over. She was going to have to talk about what happened and what she’d heard. Then her brother, Colt, and the cops would leave, and she’d be alone again, and the men said that they’d be back and—

This time Colt simply threaded his fingers with hers and held on tightly. He always seemed to know when she was lost in her head, when she was over-worrying.

Truck was back within seconds, holding a small pill in his hand. He handed her a cup full of water and she swallowed the pill gratefully. If there ever was a time when she needed to be numb, it was now.

“Take your time,” Colt said gently. “When you’re ready, walk us through what happened tonight.”

Wanting to get it over with, Macie didn’t hesitate. “I couldn’t sleep so I was reading. I heard a weird noise, and then heard two men talking. They were being quiet, and if I had been asleep I wouldn’t have heard them, but because I was up, I did.” She knew she wasn’t being very articulate, but no one interrupted her, which she was grateful for.

“What were they saying?” the detective asked.

Macie’s hand tightened on Colt’s involuntarily. She didn’t want to repeat what they’d said. What if Colt decided she was somehow to blame for what had happened tonight? What if Ford decided she was too much trouble and wouldn’t want to keep talking to her?

“Breathe,” Colt said softly. “You’re safe. Your brother and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She looked up at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes. She had no idea what a man like Colt was doing here with her. She was fucked up. Seriously fucked up. But she was also weak enough to not give a damn right now. She needed him.

“At first, they were arguing about whether or not I could hear them. They knew about my safe room. They were going to see if I was in bed, and if not, the first place they were going to look was my room in my closet.”

“You have a safe room?” the detective asked, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Sort of. It’s not really a safe room. It’s just a place I like to go when I need complete darkness. I get migraines, and it helps to be somewhere with no light,” Macie explained. She could’ve gone on and told the police officer about how sometimes it was the only place she felt safe, how she liked to hide there when her anxiety overwhelmed her, but, ever aware of how people perceived her, she kept her mouth shut.

“How big is it?” the detective asked.

“Not big at all. Maybe around six feet long by three feet wide. I just had a false wall put in the back of my closet,” she explained.

“Okay. Go on. What happened next?”

Macie took a breath and continued. “The men were there to pick something up. They said if they got it tonight, they’d get a bonus from whoever hired them.”

She glanced at her brother and saw him run a hand through his hair in agitation. Just seeing him so stressed out made her own anxiety level climb.