Chapter Six #2
With a sigh, she opened her eyes and pushed one of the plates toward him, jarring him from his fantasy. “It’s chicken and Swiss cheese on multigrain. If you don’t like it, I won’t be offended.”
“It’s fine.” He took a huge bite and chewed, not tasting it at all. The wind blew gently in his direction, bringing with it a hint of sugar, vanilla, and pure essence of woman.
“I’m glad it’s finally September. Don’t get me wrong, I love summer, but autumn is my favorite season. What about you?”
Small talk. He could do this. “Each season has something to offer. The first time I saw snow, I couldn’t believe it was real. I remember putting my hands out and then my tongue, feeling the cold and wet on my skin.”
“I take it you grew up somewhere warm?”
He’d shared a real memory, a treasured one, and he’d done it without thinking.
That wasn’t like him at all. While outwardly friendly, he hoarded his personal memories like a miser.
Information was power, something that could be used against him.
Not that any human could harm him, but emotional wounds went as deep as physical ones.
And he had no outlet for retribution. He could only reap a human soul when directed. Taking a life was forbidden.
Any relationship with a human was fraught with difficulties. It involved sharing, something he couldn’t do. No one could know his true identity.
Tires screeched. The white sedan came out of nowhere, hopped the curb, and barreled straight toward them.
Kieran grabbed Georgia and jumped. They almost made it, but the bumper clipped him.
As he went down, he pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her, sheltering her as much as possible.
They hit the pavement hard, knocking the breath out of him.
Crash! The metallic crunch had him turning his head. The car had slammed into a truck parked in front of the business next door.
“We could have been killed.” Georgia’s voice shook, her body trembling.
A tall, dark, cloaked figure with a crow perched on one shoulder appeared beside the crumpled vehicles. Laying his head back on the ground, Kieran stared up at the blue sky.
What have I done?
…
Kieran had saved her life. Without his quick action, the car would have plowed into them.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Rita Simms, a hairdresser at the local Clip ‘n’ Curl salon, called out as she ran across the street. “I was on my way here when I saw what happened.”
“I think so.” She was almost afraid to move. More people were gathering, drawn by the noise and commotion. Sirens screamed in the distance. “The driver? Who was it?” It had all happened so fast.
“It’s Mr. Davis.”
Buzz Davis was eighty-five if he was a day and retired from the U.S Postal Service where he’d worked for more than fifty years.
“Is he hurt?” She pushed herself upright, wincing and assessing her injuries.
Kieran had taken the brunt of it, but her hip had taken a beating. Still, it could have been worse.
“Maybe you shouldn’t move.” Rita stood and waved as several police cars pulled in, followed by the paramedics. “Over here.”
Georgia was more concerned about Kieran. He hadn’t spoken a word. “Are you hurt?” There wasn’t any blood she could see, but he’d landed on his back.
“I don’t know.” He sat upright and flexed his arms, wincing slightly.
“Oh, Kieran.” Both arms had lacerations. His T-shirt was ripped and bloody where he’d skidded across the pavement.
“What happened?” Cal, in full uniform, crouched beside her, taking in both of them in a glance. Other officers and emergency personnel were gathered around the wreck.
“Driver of the white car came up on the curb,” Kieran told him. “We were having lunch at one of the tables outside.”
The table and both chairs were bent and mangled beyond repair, the remainder of their lunch scattered everywhere. She bit her lip to keep from crying. It wasn’t the furniture. That could be replaced. Reaction was setting in, the realization of what had almost happened.
They could have died.
The paramedics had gone straight to Mr. Davis and had moved him onto a gurney, then into the ambulance.
Chief Johnson watched as they shut the doors and left in a hurry with the siren blaring before starting toward them.
About six feet tall with a handlebar mustache, silver in his brown hair, and blue eyes that missed little, he’d been Chief of Police for as long as Georgia could remember.
“They had to take Buzz on to the hospital. They think he had a heart attack. Time is of the essence.”
“Oh no, will he be okay?” His wife had passed a few years back, but he had eight children, their spouses, more than a dozen grandchildren, and a couple of great-grandchildren who’d be devastated by his loss. A heart attack certainly explained why he’d lost control of the car.
“Time will tell. How are you both? Second ambulance should be here any minute. They got held up on another call.” One of the drawbacks of living in a small town was limited resources.
“Help me stand up.” She raised her hands to Cal.
“I’m not sure that’s wise, Georgia. You should wait.”
“I’m mostly shook up. Kieran got me out of the way and protected me on the way down.”
“I’m fine.” There was a distinct growl of impatience in Kieran’s voice. “Damn tired of sitting in the dirt.” He heaved himself upright and swayed. She caught him, but his weight almost toppled her over.
“Take it easy,” the chief cautioned. With him on one side and Cal on the other, they led Kieran into the shop. She went ahead and opened the door, hovering as they eased him down onto a chair.
“I’m not an invalid,” he insisted, but he was sweating, his mouth tightened with pain.
“No, but you took a hard tumble. That would take the starch out of anyone.” The chief took the chair across from him. “Chief Arthur Johnson.” He indicated the man beside him. “That’s Officer Calvin Jones.”
“We’ve met.” Kieran’s testy reply had the chief raising a brow in question and a tight grin crossing Cal’s face. “Kieran Blackwell.” He gave a nod in greeting.
“I have to say, you Blackwells manage to find yourselves in the thick of things. It’s a puzzle.”
Kieran shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a talent.”
Too jittery to sit, Georgia went behind the counter and brought out bottles of water for all of them. “Anyone want coffee?” After she’d set them on the table, Kieran snagged her hand and pulled her onto his lap. “What are you doing?”
“Making you sit down. You need to rest, not be running around.”
Her hackles immediately went up. “Don’t tell me what I need to do. And I can use a chair.” His thighs were hard beneath her behind, his chest warm and firm. Much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was shaken to the core, chilled in spite of the heat, her hands trembling.
“Someone needs to tell you. Damn it, woman, you were almost killed—and you’re serving drinks.” They glared at each other, his black eyes fathomless and shimmering with anger. At her or for her? It was impossible to tell. Then they softened slightly, and she leaned closer.
A throat cleared.
Her head jerked up. What had she almost done? God, she was losing it. The fall must have scrambled her brain. It didn’t help that the chief’s eyes twinkled with humor. What must he think of her? “I don’t mean to interrupt you two, but the paramedics are here.”
Cal was already letting them inside. He appeared anything but amused. “One of them can check you out while the other is seeing to Mr. Blackwell.”
Kieran’s fingers flexed, momentarily tightening, brushing against her bruised hip. When she winced, he immediately released her. “You’re hurt.” It sounded like an accusation.
“It’s nothing serious.” Her face was flushed from the heat combined with the intense scrutiny from all three men.
Kieran pinned the paramedics with his dark gaze. “Check her out.” The protest died on her lips when he feathered his fingers over her cheek. “Please.”
Sensing it was a word he didn’t use often and knowing he wouldn’t allow them to tend to him unless she was seen to, she allowed Cal to take her to the other side of the room, aware of Kieran watching her intently.
Taking a deep breath to help her settle, she answered all the medical questions and allowed the paramedic to look at her hip and arm.
It took no time to be diagnosed with a bad bruise and a few scrapes, but nothing serious.
Done, the medic packed up and went to help his partner, leaving her alone with Cal.
“You heard the professional. A few days, and I’ll be good as new.”
His smile was forced, his eyes grim. “Maybe I’m butting in where I don’t belong, but you’re a friend.
The Blackwell brothers all check out as legit, but there’s something about them…
” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
“What I’m saying is, be careful. Trouble seems to follow them. I’m only a call away, day or night.”
“I appreciate it. I truly do, but there’s nothing to be worried about. Kieran’s only in town for a few days.” Her hip was beginning to throb now that the adrenaline rush was subsiding. Her head pounded, and her stomach was unsteady.
“That’s what his brothers said, too, but they’re still here.” A call came over the radio hooked to his belt. Cal took it and gave her shoulder a pat. “I have to go. Remember what I said.”
The paramedics and police were finishing up. Knowing she was closing for the day, she boxed up most of the remaining cookies and cupcakes and handed them out to the first responders.
Chief Johnson was the last to leave. “I have your statements. I’ll get them written up.
You come in and sign them when you get a chance.
Unless they find drugs or alcohol in Mr. Davis’s system, which is unlikely, this is pretty straightforward.
Up to you if you want to pursue legal avenues to recoup damages. You need a ride home?”
“Thank you, but I have to finish shutting things down.” When the chief hesitated, she rushed to reassure him. “We’ll be fine.”
“If you need anything, we’re a call away.” He gave a nod and left.
With the door shut, she turned the lock and flipped the closed sign so it was facing out.
Kieran was still seated at the table, his chest bare where they’d cut away his shirt and cleaned his lacerations, his expression unreadable.
“Your friend Cal was talking to you for quite some time. Did he warn you off?”