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Her vision began to focus. She was lying on a sidewalk and there was a cop leaning over her, police lights strobing around her. She tried moving again. This time the cop helped her to sit up, tightening his grip as she succumbed to a sudden wave of dizziness.
“I’ve got you, ma’am.”
“T-thank you. I—I’m okay now.” She stared at the man’s face as his hands fell away. It took a few seconds and her vision was still a bit fuzzed, but she was able to make out the rest of his features. Dark red hair. Eyes that matched the blue in his shirt and in those ruthless lights.
Young. A kid, really. In a way, he reminded her of—
She stiffened. “Oh my God, Brian. He’s—”
“Fine.” The cop patted her arms. “Your brother’s okay, I promise. Physically. I have to warn you though, he was pretty shook up. Wouldn’t let anyone but your neighbor near him.”
Neighbor?
“Dare?” Uncertain, she’d breathed his name. Was he really here? Had he saved her from that car?
Saved Brian?
The cop nodded. He held out his hand, caught her fingers when she missed his grip and squeezed gently. “Officer Ryder, ma’am—John Ryder. My partner and I were on Broadway when we heard the crash. Unfortunately, it was over by the time we got here. Do you remember what happened?”
Crash?
Jarring, dichotic images stabbed through Abby’s mind, assaulting her so deeply she’d swear Schoenberg himself had stitched them together, but none involved a crash. The limo, yes. That hulking thug. A bloodstained knife. Shattered glass.
Her brother’s head.
She closed her eyes. It didn’t help. “Brian…he tried to keep that man from—” She stopped, swallowed firmly. She dragged in a breath in an attempt to clear her head, but instead of fresh air, she ended up with the latent exhaust from the police cruiser six feet away. Her head throbbed harder. She raised her hand to try and stave off the latest wave of dizziness and discovered a lump at her temple. Something wet slicked the side of her face, too, soaking into the curls that’d been pulled free from her braid.
Sweat? Or blood?
Brian.
She didn’t care if the world was still spinning, she had to get to Brian. She had to see for herself he was okay. She tried to stand, but the cop held her down. “Please, I n-need to see my brother.”
“In a minute. But first—” Ryder withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against her throbbing temple for several moments, nodding as he pulled it away. “The paramedics are tied up at the moment. Don’t worry, though, a second ambulance should be here soon.” As if on cue, she caught the faint wail of a siren as he reached into another shirt pocket, this time retrieving a small notebook and a pen. The wailing grew louder as Ryder stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket and knelt beside her. “Ma’am, I know you’re shook up, but I need to ask you a few questions. It’s important if we hope to catch this guy. Mr. Sabura wasn’t able to get a clear look at the perp. We were hoping you could describe him. His face, clothes, coloring? Any distinguishing features?”
The dizziness increased as she shook her head. The nausea and throbbing followed close behind.
She closed her eyes and counted to five.
The latter eased.
She kept her hand cupped to her brow as she opened her eyes. It helped with the dizziness, at least. “No. I mean, I didn’t see him either. Not really. Dark hair, a dark suit, but I can’t be sure. He was in the shadows. The guy was huge, though. Like he lifted weights or something—” She broke off as the wailing turned to deafening shriek. The promised additional ambulance was almost on top of them now. Seconds later, it turned off Amsterdam, mercifully killing its siren as it came to a stop somewhere off her right.
Panic ripped in as she heard a cop immediately bellow for the new paramedics—and a gurney.
For Brian?
She couldn’t be sure. There was a police cruiser in the way. Those incessant, blinding lights. “I’m sorry. I wish I could give you more, but I didn’t see his face.” Truth was, she hadn’t even looked. She’d been focused on Brian.
Terrified.
“Did you get a look at the license plate, ma’am? Even a partial number would help narrow down the search.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see anything.” Just that hideous knife. The limo’s window.
Brian’s head.
If hers felt like it was about to split open, how must his feel? “Please, I—I need to see my brother. Now.”
She must have sounded as desperate as she felt because the cop finally tucked his notebook away and helped her stand. As she looked around, she realized which crash the officer had been referring to. There was a van with a mobile food cart in tow jackknifed halfway up onto the sidewalk beside the Newhouse Theatre. The van’s crushed front end was still married to the base of a steel streetlight.
God willing, the driver had fared as well as she.
Two uniformed cops ordered a group of gawkers back as a third officer unraveled a roll of yellow crime scene tape. He secured the tape to a pole as Ryder escorted her past the side of the van and down the street. Ten steps later, Abby felt glass crunching beneath her shoes. She assumed it was from the limo’s shattered window, but she couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t see her brother yet, either. The staccato of lights from both ambulances and a pair of cruisers blocking traffic at the far intersection were playing havoc with her precarious vision as she drew closer.
Several steps later, her vision cleared. She immediately wished it hadn’t.
The body.
Her stomach lurched as she stared down at the man her brother had tried in vain to save. She shifted her gaze in a desperate attempt to avoid the limo driver’s distant, glassy stare only to spot his shredded shirt. It was saturated with blood. The excess had pooled beneath his jacket, spreading into the street…around a pair of glasses.
She’d recognize those thick lenses anywhere. They belonged to Brian.
Her legs buckled.
Evidently, Officer Ryder was more seasoned than he looked. He caught her before she could fall.
“Gotcha, ma’am.”
Abby closed her eyes as the dizzying fog swirled in. It didn’t help. Like the sight of her brother’s head shattering that limo window, those bloodstained lenses were already burned into her brain. Her heart. By the time she regained her equilibrium, she swore the surrounding air had dropped thirty degrees. She shivered.
“Are you okay now, ma’am?”
No. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be okay again.
She pulled herself together as best she could and nodded anyway. “W-where’s my brother?”
“This way.” Ryder snagged her elbow and nudged her toward the flashing lights. She followed automatically, only to stiffen several yards later as she spotted her brother’s mussed hair through the open doors of a police cruiser. He was lying down across the rear seat, the top of his dark brown head toward her. Her violin was on the floorboard beside him, its steel case open as if someone had checked the Stradivarius to make sure it’d survived. Funny, for all she’d gone through to earn the right to play the thing, she’d forgotten all about it. All she could think about was her brother. The need to make sure he was okay.
She vaulted forward, leaving the cop in her wake as she scrambled across the remaining asphalt. But as she reached the cruiser and knelt beside the door, shock stopped her cold.
Brian was sleeping?
It would explain the thin blanket someone had tucked about her brother’s body. Her surprise turned to apprehension as she smoothed the hair from his forehead. Her brother’s breathing might appear deep and steady, but his cheeks were beyond pale. Flaccid. Was Brian asleep…or unconscious?
“Hey, bro. Wake up.”
He didn’t even stir.
She swallowed her panic and tried again. “Brian?”
“He’s fine, ma’am. Just a bit dazed.”
Abby turned to find a lanky paramedic, his tightly braided dreadlocks bunched securely at the base of his neck, rounding the rear of the cruiser. Her panic snapped back as the ebony-skinned man murmured something she couldn’t quite make out to Ryder and shook his head.
Had Ryder downplayed her brother’s condition?
Before she could ask, the cop turned and headed back into the crime scene.
Reassurance filled the paramedic’s gaze as he lowered himself to her level. The man’s lilting Caribbean accent soothed her even more, “Your brother’s lucky Mr. Sabura arrived when he did, Ms. Pembroke. Brian has several cuts, along with swelling and bruising on his left shoulder. Fortunately none of those cuts require stitches.”
“His shoulder? But…I thought he hit his head.”
The paramedic shook his head. “It may have seemed so given the darkness and your angle of view, but I couldn’t find any evidence of head trauma. One of the detectives told me that from the amount of glass present, the window was probably half open or less. Without the car he can’t be sure—but that does mesh with your brother’s injuries. Given the level of bruising, his shoulder bore the brunt of the attack.”
Relief blistered in. With it, however, came more confusion as she studied the steady rise and fall of her brother’s chest. “I don’t understand. How can he sleep at a time like this?”
“Shock. His Down’s, too. The stabbing you two witnessed hit your brother especially hard. Brian was coherent when I arrived, but upset and extremely confused. Your brother appears to have blocked out the attack itself. Since he wasn’t even in pain, he didn’t understand why I wanted to examine him. Mr. Sabura managed to calm Brian down, but by the time I finished—” the paramedic shrugged “—his mind had simply shut down. His body followed. You’ll want your doctor to look at him, but I’m certain a good night’s sleep will help. Given a few days, he may be able to recall what happened.”
“Thank God.” Abby ran her fingers through her brother’s hair. No bumps. Still— “You said he wasn’t in any pain?” That didn’t make sense. Even if he had struck his shoulder and not his head. “That monster smashed him into the window so hard the glass shattered.”
He wasn’t even sore?
The paramedic tugged his stethoscope from his neck as he shrugged. “The human body is amazing, Ms. Pembroke. I’ve seen people walk away from much worse. I’ve also seen them done in by less. If I were you, I would count it for the blessing it is and move on.”
The man was right.
Abby stood, intent on doing just that. Unfortunately her own throbbing head chose that moment to combine with the returning dizziness. Her vision fuzzed as she swayed. For the second time that night her spine slammed into a wall of solid muscle behind her. But this time iron arms also banded about her chest before she could gasp, steadying her.
“Easy.”
Dare.
Though he’d spoken but a single word, it was enough. She’d know that dark, smoky voice anywhere. Her vision had cleared, too—instantly. The pounding in her skull ceased. Even the ache in her ribs had faded. Just like that.
Because of him?
A fresh wave of chills swept through her at the thought, absurd though it was.
The paramedic took one look at the gooseflesh rippling down her arms and glanced above her head, toward Dare. “I need to get my bag. I’ll be back in a sec.”
She felt Dare’s nod.
And then they were alone. The chills, the traffic crawling, the flashing emergency lights, a pair of passing cops, the growing crowd at the intersection beyond, even her slumbering brother—everything faded as the very essence of the man behind her, holding her, seemed to seep into her bones. It was as if Dare’s body had somehow absorbed not only the physical pain of her injuries, but the terror in her heart as well. A soothing, mesmerizing warmth suffused her.
Lulling her.
It didn’t make sense. She didn’t care.
She was too busy relaxing into Dare’s chest, into him.
She felt his breath drag in, deep and steady. Felt the solid thudding of his heart beneath her blouse, his hypnotic heat envelop the rest of her flesh. If the man hadn’t chosen that moment to shift, to pull away ever so slightly, she wasn’t sure she’d have found the strength to move.
Dare dropped his arms as she turned. He didn’t step away from her as she’d expected, though. He hunkered down beside her instead, the sleeve of his tailored suit brushing her thighs as he reached into the car. She watched, stunned, as those callused fingers gently smoothed the hair from her brother’s brow as if he was a child who needed comforting.
“He’s doing great, Abby. He just needs time.” Dare straightened and captured her eyes with that enigmatic emerald stare of his as he turned to fold his arms and lean against the quarter panel of the police cruiser. “Brian will be fine in the morning, I promise.”
He meant it.
How could he be so sure? According to that article in Saucy, Darian Sabura had never even attended college, much less medical school. So why did she believe him?
Because she wanted to.
Somehow Abby managed to pull herself together, to shake off the bizarre spell this man had woven within her. This time she stepped away from him, putting two feet of desperately needed distance between them. To her surprise, the dizziness didn’t return with the sudden motion. Neither did the ache in her head or chest. Heck, she hadn’t even swayed.
But Dare had.
“Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer. It didn’t matter. The blood draining from his cheeks said it all. Dare closed his eyes as he ran his hands through his hair before dragging them down to knead his neck. Something was definitely off with the man. Had he taken a whack tonight himself? He didn’t appear bruised.
By the time he folded his hands back about his chest, the fatigue appeared to have eased from his gaze. But it was still in his weary nod. “I’m fine, thank you. So is your brother. He is tired, however. He was inconsolable at first, but the EMTs and I managed to calm him. Unfortunately—as the EMT said—his mind and body simply shut down following his exam.” Something she couldn’t quite place flitted through the man’s somber gaze. Bruised or not, it was not her imagination. She’d swear the man’s body was on the verge of shutting down, as well.
From calming Brian?
Saving her?
It didn’t make sense. Not given his hobbies. The man might not be bleeding from a cut on his temple as he had that night in her apartment, but he was definitely drained. But like that night, she’d lay odds he had no intention of discussing his health. She pushed the curiosity away and knelt to thread her fingers through her brother’s hair. “Thank you for looking out for Brian. I can take him now.” To be honest, though, she had no clue how she was going to manage. Brian might be two inches shorter than her, but he was twice as solid. She smoothed the hair from his forehead. “Hey, bro, time to wake up.”
“Don’t. Your brother needs rest.” She stiffened as Dare’s hand closed over hers. Not because of his touch, but because of the high-handedness of his order. Who did he think he was?
“I know what Brian needs. He’s my brother.” The moment the words lashed out, she regretted them.
Good Lord, she sounded like a spoiled brat arguing over a toy. This man had saved her life. Brian’s, too. Shame seared her cheeks as she stared at the dusky fingers still clapped about her wrist. The same fingers she’d first spotted clinging to her windowsill exactly one week ago. She lifted her chin and studied the man she’d spent the past five days vilifying, if only in her mind. She had no idea why Dare had tried to keep her out of Tristan Court. It no longer mattered. She just knew she should have accepted his word outside his penthouse that night. Dare didn’t give a damn about her brother’s Down’s.
Not the way Stuart and his scheming mother had.
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” She drew her breath in deep, her gratitude in deeper—and forced herself not to extend her hand, much less give in the sudden urge to outright hug the man. “Mr. Sabura, I can never repay you for what you did for me. You saved my life. More important, you saved my brother’s. I’ll never forget that, or you. Thank you.”
She understood then that Dare thrived on the challenges and the adrenaline inherent in his intense recreational pursuits because he did not get off on adulation and glory. Even with the emergency lights still glancing off his cheeks, she could make out the deep flush on his cheeks. He seemed as much at a loss for words as she.
But she had feeling he didn’t want to be. In fact, she could have sworn he had something he wanted to say. Desperately.
In the end, he simply cleared his throat. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I was near enough to help.”
