Imminent Danger (Adrenaline Highs) (9 page)

Abbey turned and saw the car as other pedestrians scrambled out of the way. She dove at her friend and they both went flying into the natural cover of the building’s inset doorway.

Breathing hard, Blake stopped short as the car whistled past where Abbey had been seconds before. It showed no signs of slowing down. The car bounced off the curb, made no effort to turn. Sunlight glinted off the dark windshield. Too late.

“Aw, fuck,” Blake whispered. The motherfucker planned to run him down too.

Blake took a millisecond to notice the stucco building on his left. He dove toward the road and sailed over the hood of a compact car. Horns blared, tires screeched and Blake had a quick vision of his family standing over his casket as he caught sight of the yellow Hummer coming right at him. He was about to be road kill on this crowded street. A female scream added to the noise buzzing in his brain.

He landed on the unforgiving asphalt and rolled, his momentum taking him directly into traffic. The deafening squeal of tires pierced the air and the overpowering smell of burning rubber filled his nostrils. The whole side of his body slammed into something hot and hard, stopping him like a brick wall. Pain ripped through him and took his air with it.

Just like that, the lights went out on the sunny day.

Chapter Six

“Blake!” Abbey sprinted toward Blake, trying to get the license number of the black Mercedes that had shot like a bullet down the sidewalk, but the plate had been removed. Her heart thundered as the car sped down the street and she scrambled to get to Blake. The dark-haired driver of the Hummer that almost hit him emerged from the car yelling in a foreign language.

“Someone call 911!” she screamed through her parched mouth, looking around for help. The driver was already on the phone. On the street, Blake lay still. Abbey’s chest tightened. “Blake.” She barely got his name out as she crouched next to him. The tire of the giant Hummer had stopped his momentum. If he’d landed a couple seconds earlier the tire would’ve rolled right over him instead of stopping him. A crowd gathered near her as she scanned his face for any sign that he heard her. She’d left her bag containing her phone back at the dance studio when she’d tackled Courtney to the ground.

Abbey gently touched Blake’s head. “Blake? Can you hear me?” His arm had terrible road rash and a rip in his shirt showed a bloody slice on his shoulder. Sirens wailed closer. “Blake. I’m here. It’s Abbey, I’m right here. I swear I won’t leave you.”

His eyes fluttered open and he squinted into the blazing sun. “Ab?” he choked out.

Her relief gusted out in a massive breath. He tried to get up and Abbey kept his shoulders down. “Don’t move.” She blinked back the sting in her eyes and shifted to shade his face. “Ambulance is coming. You’re going to be fine.”
Please, God, let him be fine.

He shut his eyes and shook his head. “Fuck, that hurt.” He tried to get up again. “I’m okay.”

“Would you just wait a frickin’ minute until the ambulance gets here?” she argued, with maybe too much voice, but now she was pissed. Pissed at whoever did this, pissed that Blake wouldn’t take a second to chill.

Blake’s amazing blue eyes locked onto hers. “Abbey Washington, are you
mad
at me?” The wonder in his voice irked her more.

“No! Yes! No! Just stay here until the paramedics check you out. Please. Here, lay on this.” She slid her sweatshirt under his head.

His brows quirked and he got the strangest expression on his face. As the seconds ticked by, her anger faded. He’d nearly been killed. “You have a streak of grease on your cheek,” he said quietly. His gaze roamed from her mouth to her eyes and a slight grin lifted the corner of his lips.

Just that devastating half smile sent a second massive wave of relief washing through her and her own, albeit small, smile creased her lips. “Yeah, maybe so, but you’ve got tire tread on yours.”

His grin got wider. “Is that why my face hurts?”

“Honey, it may hurt you, but it’s killing me.” Abbey used the old one liner she’d heard her boss use in the past. As each second ticked by, her panic edged farther away. The sun continued to beat down on them and a drop of sweat trickled between Abbey’s breasts.

“Stop the fucking presses. Was that a joke? Did I just hear you make a joke?” He angled his head back and looked around. “Anyone have a pen and paper. I need to document this for the record.”

Abbey held back a laugh and gently smacked his steel bicep. “Don’t tease me. You scared the crap out of me.”

Blake nodded, the humor gone from his eyes. “Trust me. You are not alone. When I saw that asshole coming down the street, I got pretty scared myself.”

If he hadn’t yelled, she’d be dead. He’d saved her life and nearly been killed at the same time. No way would she turn her back on that. Abbey reached for his hand as police, fire truck and an ambulance pulled up to the scene. Thank God. With the help came a fresh sting behind her eyes.

“Hey.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m okay.” Gingerly he moved his arm and leg to prove nothing was broken. “I swear, Ab, if I thought I was really hurt, I’d say something, but—”

“Miss, I need you to move back.” Two EMTs crouched next to her with a giant, red tackle box of equipment and Abbey shoved over to give them room, but she didn’t—wouldn’t—leave Blake’s side. One name badge read F. Hodge. The other read, D. Hernandez. Hodge asked Blake questions.
What was today’s date? When was his birthday? Who was the President?
He took his pulse and checked his eyes with a penlight. “Your pulse is a little elevated, but that’s normal,” he said.

“Yeah, it’s not every day a guy gets to make out with a Hummer tire. That’ll get anybody’s pulse rockin’.”

The EMT lifted an amused eyebrow. Before either one of them said anything, Hernandez sliced Blake’s shirt with a pair of scissors and peeled it off him.

“Dude!” Blake grimaced and let out a frustrated sigh. “No worries. It wasn’t like it was my favorite T-shirt or anything.” He pegged Abbey with a flat stare. He loved his Black Eyed Peas concert T.

Oops. She lifted her brows and shrugged her shoulders. They were just doing their job.

Hodge checked Blake’s arm and shoulder. The cut on his shoulder didn’t seem as bad as Abbey originally thought. It didn’t require stitches. It was the rest of the picture that had Abbey stunned in silence. She knew Blake was ripped, because of their encounter in the elevator so long ago, but she had no clue just
how ripped
. A flush rose from her chest to her face as she stared at his unbelievable six-pack. “No contusions or lacerations,” Hodge said, still inspecting Blake, “but I think we should take you in to be safe.”

Blake groaned. “I
really
don’t want to do that.” He struggled to sit up and Abbey helped. He leaned against the tire that had nearly flattened him. “See?” He spread his arms wide. “All good. No hospital required.” His shoulders looked even bigger as he sat there. Abbey forced herself to watch the growing crowd because it was too hard to look at a shirtless Blake. He was simply too beautiful.

Hodge held up a few fingers. “How many you see?”

“Three.” Blake looked between them. “See. Good as new.” He pushed to get to his feet and wobbled a little, but Abbey wrapped an arm around his waist and got her shoulder under his armpit to steady him.
Ohgodohgod.
Holding him like this was suicide not to mention setting precedent. It gave him the opportunity to touch her back. To get up close and personal, when she rarely allowed anyone into her personal space.

The crowd had grown to several dozen people and the driver of the Hummer was talking with an officer, gesturing wildly as if the whole thing was Blake’s fault.

“Look, I can’t make you go to the hospital,” Hodge said. “But I recommend you do. You don’t want to mess around with head injuries.”

“I don’t have a head injury,” Blake insisted. A bead of sweat eased down his cheek and Abbey wanted to get him out of the sun.

“You lost consciousness,” she said, her anger making an encore appearance.

“I landed hard and got the wind knocked out of me,” Blake argued. “I’m sore, but I’ll be fine. If I think I need to, I’ll go to the emergency room later.”

“Chances are you’ll wait a long time,” Hernandez said, his warning clear. “You know that right?”

“I’ll take the risk.” Blake nodded. “Thank you, though.”

Hernandez gestured to the ambulance. “Why don’t you sit down for a minute and let me clean up your road rash.”

“Deal.” Blake let her and Hodge help him to the ambulance. He sat on the edge of the interior as Hernandez rifled in his box. Abbey took a step for a little distance, but Blake snagged her hand in his. “Where do you think you’re going?” His hand was warm and strong and Abbey felt a flush heat her cheeks.

“Just giving these good men room to work,” she said, scrambling for the first available excuse.

The look Blake gave her, the honest concern she saw in his eyes nailed her straight in the stomach.
Stay.
He didn’t say it, but it was there in his eyes. So she squeezed his hand and stayed close.

If Blake had known that nearly getting run down would get Abbey to hold his hand or—holy hell—make a joke, he’d have considered standing in traffic months ago. He’d never felt happier than to have her soft hand snug in his. Soft was an understatement. He’d never touched smoother skin in his life. He’d been fascinated with the color and natural shine of her skin from the minute he’d laid eyes on her over a year ago. The woman practically glowed of health and natural beauty. As he looked at their clasped hands, the way her long, elegant fingers held tight, something dawned on him. The only time Abbey let him in, let him touch her, was in times of crisis. First when they were trapped in the elevator, second when she’d been running for her life at the Sports Center and now. As a budding PI he should be able to figure out what all that meant.

A couple of cops approached from the other side of the street and Blake got ready for the inevitable. The cops would separate them to take their statements. He’d have to let Abbey go. Damn cops.

“Abbey?” her friend called, walking toward them. “Are you okay?” She was the exact opposite of Abbey, with pale white skin and platinum blond hair. She had the same dancer’s body; narrow, long and toned.

Abbey squeezed his hand before pulling away. “Yeah. Thanks,” she said, reaching for her bag as Courtney—if he remembered right—held it out to her. “Sorry about the tackle.”

“Are you kidding me? You saved us.” She looked at Blake and gave him a very flirtatious smile. “Hi, I’m Courtney.” Her soft brown eyes ate him up like he was sugar in a room full of salt.

Abbey’s perfect brows bunched together just the slightest bit. Was she jealous? Couldn’t be. She’d made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with him…or any guy as far as he could tell. He even once considered that she might play for the other team, but he’d never seen her with another female either, so he doubted that was the case. Something had happened to her and he wanted more than anything to find out what that was.

“This is Blake,” Abbey said, completing the introductions. Probably because he’d gone mute.

“Uh, hi. Nice to meet you.” He didn’t shake her hand, because everyone would see him flinch and he was busting his ass to make sure no one knew how much he hurt. Nothing was broken, but he’d definitely bruised a couple of ribs, not to mention the whole right side of his body. The EMT had irrigated the slice on his shoulder and now cleaned the road rash on his arm. Every nerve ending burned like a bitch.

“Thanks for giving us the warning back there.” Courtney gestured over her shoulder and gave him another beautiful smile. He wouldn’t mind that look coming from Abbey, but this girl just didn’t do it for him. “That guy must be whacked out on something to drive down the sidewalk like that.”

Or he was out to kill, but that seemed out of left field, didn’t it?

The cops finally closed in on them, and Courtney and Abbey each went with a different officer while one stayed and talked to Blake.

It was another forty minutes, a signed form declining a trip to the hospital and a bandaged right arm later, before they slowly walked to Blake’s Explorer. He jingled the keys. “You okay to drive? I think I need to sit and close my eyes for a few minutes.”

Abbey opened the passenger door for him and he climbed aboard at the speed of a snail. “You should’ve gone to the hospital,” she said, helping him in.

“I don’t want to go to the hospital. Too much hassle. I just want to go home.”

“You can’t go home. Brendan’s out of town. I didn’t forget that. You aren’t supposed to sleep for more than a couple hours at a time. You need someone to be with you.” She closed his door and walked to the driver’s side as Blake leaned his head against the seat rest and closed his eyes. Was she offering for the job because, idiot that he was, he’d take her up on it. She adjusted the seat and rearview mirrors then started his old Explorer. Smart girl that
she
was, she programmed her phone into his Bluetooth car system.

Who did she want to talk to? “What are you doing now?” he asked.

“I’m calling Troy and letting him know he has another house guest for a couple of days.”

“Don’t—” His sudden attempt to face her sent a shock of pain sizzling through his chest and a sharp gasp—and f-bomb—from his mouth. Shit. He didn’t want to impose on his boss. He would stay with his folks except they were out of town on an anniversary cruise.