was gaining on the painters and their burden. They struggled to move faster, but it was clear to Griff that whatever they carried was heavy, and it was slowing them down. As he got closer, the person in the lead took one more look at him and said something to the other person. Then they dropped the rug and ran.
They jumped into a dark blue van that had no windows and no signs on the doors. Griff squinted to read the license number, but the van was too far away and the light was too dim. He was reluctant to leave the rug and its contents lying on the cold, damp ground.
The van tore out of the parking lot, its tires squealing, and disappeared into the night. He watched it leave with a flash of regret that he hadn’t been able to stop the two housepainters. Then he bent down to examine the rolled-up rug that was now lying in a puddle of water.
Although it was no longer moving, it was roughly the size and shape of a person, and Griff’s heart began to pound. What had he interrupted? As he unrolled the carpet, a throaty moan from inside the bundle made him freeze for a moment. Then his hands flew as he pulled the carpet apart.
“Willa!” He stared in shock at Ryan Fortune’s goddaughter. She lay still and unmoving, her face pale and her eyes closed. Her glasses dangled from her right ear, the frame bent and twisted. There was a nasty gash over her left ear, and a trickle of blood trailed down her cheek. A lump was already forming around the cut.
“Willa, can you hear me?” he asked, placing his hand on her neck. Her pulse felt strong and steady, and his own heart rate steadied a bit.
She moaned again, and her eyelashes began to flutter. “No!” she cried. He heard the terror in her voice, and damned the two people who had done this to her.
“It’s all right, Willa. Those two men are gone. I’m Griffin Fortune. Do you remember me?”
Her eyes slowly opened, and she stared at him, her blue-gray gaze unfocused. “Griff?” she whispered.
“Right. It’s Griff.” He subdued the ridiculous surge of pleasure that she had remembered him. “Can you sit up?”
She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. She winced immediately, and a murderous rage swept over him. “Let me help you.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, forbidding himself to think about how soft she felt, and how well she fit into his embrace. Willa had been injured, for God’s sake. “Easy does it, mate.”
She closed her eyes and clung to him, and he realized that her coat was soaking wet. The water from the puddle had seeped through the rug. He’d have to get her inside as quickly as possible. He didn’t want her to get chilled in the cold rain.
“Can you stand up?” he asked, glancing toward the parking lot. He half expected the blue van to reappear at any moment, and he wanted to be safely away from the apartment before that happened.
“I think so.”
She held on to him and pulled herself to her feet. Griff saw her grimace, reflecting a spasm of pain, and his admiration for Willa increased. She was apparently a lot tougher than she seemed to be.
“That’s the way, Blue.”
She gave him a quizzical look, then took a step toward her apartment. She stopped immediately, and Griff saw her swaying on her feet. “I seem to be a bit unsteady,” she said, her voice faint. “Could you help me into my apartment, Mr. Fortune?”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he said, watching for the blue van. “And what’s with the Mr. Fortune stuff? It was Griff just a few moments ago.”
A faint red color washed her cheeks. “You can hardly hold me responsible for what I said after I had fainted.”
“We’ll discuss that later,” he said, slipping his arm around her again. Once again, a sense of rightness swept over him. He told himself to ignore it. “And just for the record, you didn’t faint. Someone coshed you over the head.”
The red disappeared from her face, leaving her pale and puzzled looking. “Why would someone do that? And why am I out here, and all wet?”
“Let’s get in out of the rain,” he said, urging her toward his truck. He didn’t want to go back into her apartment. He had no idea what or who he might find waiting for them.
When she saw that he was leading her away from the apartment rather than toward it, she stopped. “Where are we going?”
“Let’s go sit in my truck for a few minutes. It’s warm there.”
“All right.” Without question, she turned and let him lead her toward the truck. Her complete trust shook him. Willa had better learn not to be so trusting, he thought harshly. Her enemies—and apparently she had some—would use that against her.
He helped her into the truck, then got in on the driver’s side and locked the door. Turning the heat on full blast, he began to unbutton her coat.
“What are you doing?” she asked, pushing his hands away.
“Your coat is wet. You need to take it off and put on something dry.”
He eased the wet wool off her shoulders, then shrugged out of his own worn leather jacket. He wrapped it around her shoulders, and she seemed to burrow into it. “Is that better?” he asked gruffly.
“Mmm.”
Gently he pushed the hair away from the cut on her head, and felt his mouth tightening again. The gash had stopped bleeding already, but the skin around it was swollen and bruised. “Do you remember what happened, Willa?”
She looked over at him, and he saw the confusion in her gorgeous blue-gray eyes. “I’m not sure.”
“You have your coat on. Were you going into your apartment, or leaving?”
She stared at him, and he saw her effort as she tried to remember. “I was coming home from the university,” she finally said. “I got my mail from my mailbox, and I was walking up the stairs.”
“Then what happened?”
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “There were painters in the hall. They were painting the wall, and they said something to me. That’s all I remember.”
“Do you remember what they said?”
“No.” She tried to shake her head, and winced with pain.
He reached out and took her hand, telling himself she needed someone to hold on to. He didn’t want to examine his need to touch her, to reassure himself. “Did you go into your apartment?” Was there someone in there still, waiting for her?
“I don’t know. All I remember is seeing the painters and hearing their voices. I don’t remember anything else until I heard your voice.”
She flushed pink again, and he wondered why. Then she turned to him. “What are you doing here, Mr. Fortune?”
“I like it better when you call me Griff,” he said, and he gave her a quick smile. “We’re not very formal down in Australia. And I’m here because your godfather asked me to check on your security
