The Alpha Bodyguards Books #4-6

Chapter Eight

B reath hitched in my lungs , and I sucked in air in a panic. Choking, I tried to sit up, but my head exploded into a nauseous sea of pain.

“Easy.” A hand landed on my arm. “You’re okay.”

Okay? I wasn’t okay. I couldn’t breathe, my neck felt crushed, air wouldn’t fill my lungs, and my head was pounding. I wanted to sit up, but I couldn’t move. Something covering my face, I couldn’t move . I sucked in a panicked breath, then another.

“Ma’am—”

“Genevieve, open your eyes,” a vaguely familiar male voice commanded.

How did I know that voice?

I blinked, but bright lights blinded me.

A hand grasped mine. “Look at me, Genevieve. Right now .”

I opened my eyes.

Stark blue eyes, almost white-blond hair, sharp angular face, five o’clock shadow…

Sawyer Savatier.

“What….” I tried to shake my head, but I couldn’t move.

“You’re okay.” He squeezed my hand. “You’re in an ambulance.”

What? I panicked. “I-I can’t move!”

His face swimming above me, his expression stern, he put a hand on my chest. “Breathe. You’re okay. You can move. You’re just strapped in. You hit your head. Take a breath.”

I didn’t take a breath. I took five. Short and panicked, I sucked in air like an addict.

“Slower,” he demanded.

Oh God. “Ambulance?”

He nodded once, succinct and efficient, like he practiced the gesture in the mirror to convey maximum acknowledgment with minimum movement. “You hit your head.”

“Did I fall?” Again?

He stared at me a moment. “No.”

I waited.

“You were pushed,” he admitted.

“Why was I pushed?” Did he push me? My head was killing me. I tried to lift my arm and couldn’t. “I can’t move.”

He glanced at the paramedic.

“Grade two concussion,” the paramedic explained, as if that answered anything. “You’re in an ambulance, strapped to a backboard on your way to the hospital. You’ll be able to move once we get you off the stretcher.”

Ambulance? Hospital? “My head hurts.” Bad. “Why was I pushed?”

Sawyer’s nostrils flared as he inhaled. “We were carjacked.”

Alarm spread. “My car is gone?” Oh my God, I needed my car. I couldn’t run my business without it.

“No, mine was.”

If I hadn’t been strapped down, I would’ve stepped back. “Why was I in your car?” I wasn’t in his car. I was at a client’s party. I had to break down the tables and clean up the outside bar, and…. “Oh God. I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?”

His stark, blue-eyed gaze, intense and serious, didn’t waver. “You hit your head.”

“I hit my head?” What was going on?

“Calm down. It’s going to be okay.”

Calm down? “I’m not going to calm down. I’m in an ambulance, and you won’t tell me what happened, and—”

The ambulance jerked to a stop, and the paramedic started to get up.

“Wait!” I screeched, panicked, trying to hold the hand that was holding mine. “Wait, wait, wait, you need to call him!”

Sawyer frowned. “Call who?”

“Brian,” I blurted.

The ambulance doors opened, and my body lurched forward as the paramedic pulled the gurney out.

“Who’s Brian?” Sawyer demanded, stepping out with me.

“My husband.”