by Julie Miller
She just wasn’t awake.
He sifted his fingers through her wet brown hair, moving the heavy waves from side to side to check her scalp for any contusions that could explain her unresponsive state. Nothing but silky hair. Jake pulled his hand away, feeling a little guilty that his fingers had warmed and lingered, mistakenly thinking the first-aid check had felt like some kind of caress. He knew how to nip that sensation in the bud. Remember the scream. Forget the niceties. He gave her cheek a couple of gentle smacks. “Come on, lady. Open your eyes.”
He heard a moan behind him in the alley and Jake turned, springing to his feet. His gaze zeroed in on the loser with the mask who had the idiot idea he was coming back for round two. Jake almost felt sorry for the guy. The woman’s attacker had the skills of an amateur. He’d probably subdued the woman with an initial blitz attack. But he was out of his league going up against someone who could fight back. Even now, he was already advancing before he had his balance centered over his feet.
And then Mr. Amateur had the bright idea to pull a knife. The thin steel blade gleamed in the next flash of lightning. He choked out a breathy warning. “This isn’t about you.”
Jake glanced down at the woman behind him, lying still and vulnerable at his feet. Decision made. Without taking his eyes off the approaching threat, Jake pulled the hunting knife from his boot, flipping the weapon in his hand to warn the guy he knew how to use it. “It is now.”
That’s right. Mine’s bigger than yours, he taunted silently, watching the eyes go wide behind the stocking mask.
Just then a cat howled across the parking lot, and the attacker’s head jerked toward the interruption. Although the mewling was muted by the rain and thunder, Jake tuned his ears to the sound, as well, wondering if the guy was that easily distracted or if he needed to be on guard against some other threat. A quick glance revealed little except darkness, rain and the empty street beyond the parking lot.
Whatever had spooked the guy was evident in the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders as his breathing quickened. Or maybe he was finally wising up to the idea he wasn’t getting past Jake. With one last heave of breath, the shadowy figure cursed. “You should have minded your own business.”
And with that, he turned tail toward the opposite end of the alley.
The instinct to run after him jolted through Jake’s legs, but he stayed rooted to the spot. The woman was still down, out cold and completely unprotected. He needed to stay here. Besides, what the little creep lacked in skills, he made up for in speed, and Jake would have a hard time catching him.
What could he do when he caught the guy, anyway? It wasn’t like he could arrest the pervert. And though Jake had intimidation down to a science, outside of the bar where he sometimes had to show a rowdy customer the door, he preferred to keep his skills on the down-low. Calling attention to himself with the police or anyone else wasn’t something he could afford to do until he figured out whether he was the law, or running from it. Besides, the unconscious woman had to be his priority.
Once the figure in black had darted around the corner out of sight, Jake risked turning to the woman again. He tucked his knife back into its sheath and knelt down to test the chill on her wet cheeks. He could feel her warm breath, but she didn’t even flinch at his unfamiliar touch.
“Ma’am?” He hadn’t felt any bumps on her head. Did she have internal injuries? Was this shock? A blow to the carotid artery could interrupt blood flow to the brain, and that bruising welt was placed in about the right spot to make that happen.
Jake swore. How the hell did he know things like that?
He tapped her cheek again. “Come on, lady.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the squeal of tires on wet pavement in the distance. Was the little creep really that fast? Or did he have an accomplice waiting for him to make a quick getaway? What had they wanted with this woman? And how many men did they think it took to subdue a skinny slip of a thing like this, anyway?
Lightning flashed in the clouds overhead and a bad feeling crawled across Jake’s skin. The violence surrounding this woman didn’t feel random. An attacker and an accomplice sounded planned.
All the more reason to get her up and out of here.
He glanced down at the sleeping beauty. Despite the scrape along her jaw and the wet hair that clung to her forehead and cheeks, trailing sooty rivulets across her skin, she was stirring something more than concern and worry inside him. Being attracted to an unconscious woman couldn’t be a good thing. With his life in the state of flux it was, it wasn’t a good thing to be attracted to anyone. Angry at the damn hormones and feelings brewing inside him tonight, Jake swiped the water off his own stubbled face.
That’s when he got the idea to cup his hands to catch the rain. While he waited for his palms to fill, Jake thought about what had brought him to this spot in the first place, playing nursemaid to an injured woman.
He’d heard a scream on his late-night walk. He’d heard a lot of screams in his lifetime. He wasn’t sure how or why he knew that, but he knew the sounds of a woman in distress had always gotten under his skin and somehow gotten him into trouble.
For a few seconds, he’d considered ignoring it. Maybe he could report it anonymously when he got back to his apartment. He had too many problems of his own to get involved in somebody else’s trouble. But then he’d heard the whistle. Over and over. He’d heard the panic in that shrill sound piercing the rain and an alarm had gone off inside him.
Maybe he’d been itching for a fight, something to expel the frustrated energy that consumed him. Maybe it was the bar bouncer in him, trained to neutralize any ruckus before it got started. But when he’d cut through the alley behind the buildings to answer that alarm, he’d seen that loser dragging the woman out of sight behind the van—going after her with a baseball bat. Something inside Jake had snapped. The woman was in danger, and something in his DNA that he couldn’t remember had been compelled to save her.
Pity that beating down a man with his bare hands came to him a lot easier than waking a sleeping woman.
With the rainwater overflowing his palms, Jake pulled back and tossed it on her face.
Her eyes instantly shot open and she sputtered. Her hands fisted on the pavement and she shook her head, flinging more water onto his boots. She blinked, focused, caught sight of him and immediately shrank away with a choking huff of fear. Even as he held his hands up in surrender, showing he meant her no harm, she was cowering away from him, scrambling to sit up. He reached out one hand to help her and she scooted away on her bottom, until her back hit the wall of the loading dock.
“Get away from me!” she rasped, her voice tight with fear.
Could be an instinctive reaction to finding a man kneeling over her after fighting off that coward who’d assaulted her. Could be she’d just got a good look at his harsh, beat-up face.
The reaction in those suspicious gray-blue eyes was enough to sour any attraction he might feel.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
But she wasn’t buying it. No way. She pushed her hair out of her eyes to really size him up. If anything, the woman breathed harder, went even paler as she calculated his strength and the size of his fists. She was probably wondering how he’d gotten the scars and if he was as violent a man as he looked.
He knew the military cut of his prematurely gray hair didn’t leave any handsome possibilities to the imagination. The face and bulk and no-nonsense demeanor created an intimidating combination that made his job as a bouncer/bartender an easy gig. They got the job done, too, when it came to keeping his friends few and strangers who asked questions he didn’t want to answer even fewer. The ugly mug was who he was. It had probably served him well in his former life—kept people from messin’ with him.
Although it played hell when he was trying to convince a frightened woman he meant her no harm. “I’m not the man who hurt you.”
She surprised him completely when she jerked her head in
a nod. “I know. You’re bigger than he is. He was dressed in black from head to toe. You...startled me. That’s all.”
Startled was putting it kindly. But at least she was thinking rationally. Probably no injury to the head, then. Cautiously, Jake pushed to his feet. Big mistake. Now he was towering over her. She visibly cringed. But six feet two inches of muscle, scars and a broken face wasn’t something he could change. He held his arms out to either side and kicked the ball bat over to her, giving her the option of arming herself against him if it made her feel safer.
Not that he still couldn’t overpower her if he had to.
She knew it, too. Smart woman. With a determined tilt to her chin, she braced her hands on the wall behind her and staggered to her feet, ignoring the bat. “Please. I have a child. I need to get to her.”
Jake shook his head. They were alone in this alley now. “I didn’t see any kid.”
“You didn’t...? Emma?” She straightened against the concrete wall and looked beyond the van. “She’s over there. He pulled me from my car.”
Jake glanced behind him. Ah, hell. That explained the wailing he’d heard. It was the kid, crying, not a cat. “Is that your car?”
She nodded. “I need to get...” She took two steps before her right leg buckled and she fell back against the loading dock.
Jake darted forward, catching her by the arms to help her stay on her feet.
“Don’t touch me.” She instinctively reached out to push him away. But just as quickly, her fingers curled into the front of his shirt. He felt the unsteady tug on his skin all the way down to his bones. “Apparently, I need your help. So I’m deciding not to be afraid of you.” She actually pointed a warning finger at him. “Don’t make me regret that.”
At that brave statement, the corner of his mouth hitched up into an admiring grin and Jake adjusted his grip to firmly cup her elbow. “No, ma’am.”
“You know, you’re not as scary when you smile.” As scary. Interesting distinction. The woman was smart and honest. She brushed the water from her face and gifted him with a smile of her own. “Thank you for saving my life, Mr....?”
“Lonergan.”
“Thank you for saving me, Mr. Lonergan.” She tried to adjust the backpack on her shoulders, but winced in pain and nearly doubled over. “Ow—”
“Easy.”
She braced her hand against his chest and fell into him, hanging on as his arm snaked behind her waist to give her the balance she needed. “I do need your help, don’t I.”
The lightning overhead illuminated her face for a split second. Her lips pinched thin against whatever pain or dizziness she was fighting.
While he waited, Jake asked, “What’s your name, brave lady?”
“Robin.” She sucked in an easier breath, and then another. “Robin Carter.” She tilted her gaze to meet his. Her gray-blue eyes squinted against the fall of rain as she focused in on him. “My daughter?”
Jake loosened his grip, expecting her to recoil now that she was getting a close-up look at the violence of his face. Instead, her fingers curled into his wet T-shirt, grabbing some of the skin underneath. The unfamiliar burst of heat that raced to the muscles she clung to reminded him just how long it had been since he’d had a woman in any way, shape or form. All of a sudden, he wanted this one. Badly.
She was wrong not to be afraid of him.
“Let’s go,” he said roughly, squashing those urges and pulling her into step beside him. Jake released her only long enough to grab the baseball bat. Even though her attacker was long gone, there was no sense in giving anyone the opportunity to be armed out here except for him.
He helped her around the van, noting that her balance grew stronger with each step, even though she was still favoring that right leg. She lost her footing once on the slick pavement and her hand flew to the middle of his chest again. Jake tried to concentrate on the accidental pinch of chest hair and not on the needy tugs on his skin that awakened something primal and male deeper inside him. He easily took her weight against his side until her wet tennis shoes found traction again.
“Emma?” She eased her death grip on his soggy T-shirt and kept moving forward, despite a hissing catch of breath.
The woman was a slender rail of shapeless raincoat and stubbornness, although the top of her flattened wet hair reached his chin. His blood boiled to think how much damage that jackass with the baseball bat might have done to her. “How bad are you hurt?” he asked, scanning back and forth as they crossed the empty parking lot for any signs of Mr. Amateur or his accomplice coming back for round three. “He didn’t, um...?”
“I’ll live. And no, he didn’t rape me. He... You stopped him.” So nothing major, although he was guessing a broken leg wouldn’t have slowed her march toward the abandoned car. The crying grew louder as they approached the blue sedan. Jake had to lengthen his stride to keep up with her quickening steps. “Emma? Mommy’s here.”
Another flash of lightning gave Jake a better view of the car. Both of the driver’s side doors were standing open and the high-pitched sobs were coming from the backseat. Robin was steady enough to break into a limping run. “Oh, my God. Emma!”
Jake let her rush ahead, sparing a few moments to make sure the lot and street and sidewalks were empty before he caught up to her. When he looked over her shoulder, he didn’t like what he saw. The car seat was sitting at a wonky angle in the car and the seat belt anchoring it into place had been cut, sawed through with something sharp. Like that amateur’s knife. A piece of pink material lay in a puddle on the ground outside the door. What the hell?
If the kid hadn’t been bawling her lungs out, Jake would have suspected the baby might be missing or had met an uglier fate than her mother. “Hold on.” He grabbed Robin’s arm before she could pick up the kid. “See if you can get her out without messing with things. This seat has been tampered with. The cops will want to see it.”
“The cops... Right. I need to call 911.” Through a miraculous bit of dexterity that Jake doubted his thick fingers could emulate, Robin unhooked the baby from the car seat and lifted her into her arms. “Shh, sweetie. Oh, you’re all wet. Shh. You’re okay now. Mommy didn’t mean to leave you. I’m back. I’m here.”
“The kid’s not hurt, is she?”
“I don’t think so. She’s just unhappy.” Robin tugged the soggy blanket up over the baby’s head and rocked her on her shoulder, despite the pain that tightened her face. But the kid kept wailing. Did little kids that age know to be afraid? Had she been startled by the half-assed attempt to remove the car seat? Did she just not like the rain? “I wonder how long she was by herself. How long was I out? What kind of mother am I?”
The right kind, he was guessing. She’d tuned in to the baby’s wailing before he had. “It’s only been a few minutes since I showed up.”
The blanket slipped off the infant’s head, revealing wisps of brown hair and blue eyes, just like her mama’s. Tears spilled over her chubby pink cheeks. Great. He’d been lusting after some baby’s mother. Jake glanced at the hand rubbing the baby’s back. No wedding ring. Didn’t mean there wasn’t a man in the picture.
Hell. What was he doing, thinking he was attracted to Robin Carter, anyway? Jake rolled the baseball bat in his grip down at his side. He didn’t need the complication of a woman in his messed-up life. And he sure as hell didn’t need a baby. Still, he had to admire the lungs on the kid. Seemed about as headstrong as her mother. “Is she okay? Can she hurt herself crying like that?”
“No. Eventually, she’ll cry herself back to sleep. But it breaks your heart to listen to it, doesn’t it?” Robin started pacing back and forth, trying to quiet the baby without success. From what little he knew about kids, mostly from the son of a former coworker who sometimes came to the bar to visit her uncle—the bar’s owner—Jake thought they picked up on the mood of the people around them. And right now, Mama here was in desperate panic mode. “Mommy was so scared, sweetie. Are you all right? The man didn�
�t hurt you, did he? I’m not leaving you again. It’s going to be okay. Mommy loves you.” If anything, the kid wailed louder. “I can’t seem to...” When Robin turned her pleading eyes to him, Jake realized just how tiny that baby was. Only a few months old. It didn’t even look big enough to crawl yet. “Will you stay with us until the police come, Mr. Lonergan?”
Not one damsel in distress, but two. He was toast. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”
“Thank you.” She extended her hand, expecting the civility of formal gratitude. Instead of shaking hands, though, she grabbed his wrist and bent his arm across his stomach. And then she was pushing the baby into his chest. “Do you mind? Make sure you support her neck.”
“Mind what...? Oh, whoa. Hey...”
“Keep her face covered. I don’t want her to get any wetter than she already is.”
With careful, slow-motion control, she shrugged out of her backpack while Jake stood there in shock, afraid to move. And his nightmares were the only thing that ever scared him. “Lady, I don’t think you want to—”
“Here’s a dry blanket. Relatively dry, anyway.” Robin draped the square of cotton flannel, dotted with pink animals, over his arm and the infant, tucking the ends securely around her. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s pink cheek before draping the last corner over the baby’s face. “Got her?”
Did he have a choice?