keys a few inches away. “I’m not some prickly ingrate. I just got a little smooshed. You’re a big fella.”
Not so much as he used to be, but hey, he hated the self-pity gig. No use dwelling on that. Since there didn’t seem to be any further immediate threat, time to haul his sorry hide the rest of the way up.
He shifted. His knee hollered back at him.
Damn.
How was he going to get to his feet and keep her safely at his side until the cops arrived? He searched around him for options to brace himself… If he rolled right, he could grab a bench for leverage, pull himself up and sit. From there, he could retrieve a crutch and stand.
Easy. In theory.
Nola reached for her purse from under a park bench and jammed her keys inside. “Do you need help?”
Like hell. “No. I’ve got it.”
“Prideful guy, aren’t you?”
“When I fall on my ass you can help me.” He reached for the bench and kept his eyes open for surprise threats in spite of the seeming calm after the storm. Screw worrying about himself. Her safety had to be his first priority. “Until then, I’ve got it. How about that?”
“Fair enough, big guy.”
Deep breath. Thirteen teeth-gritting seconds later—yeah, he counted every one to keep his mind on something other than the grinding pain—he was on his feet again scanning the perimeter. And he damn well waved away the attendant coming toward him with a wheelchair. The smart young goon knew to back off and help somebody else who’d apparently twisted an ankle in the mayhem.
Meanwhile, Rick kept the lone crutch jammed under his arm, enough to hold his balance since the majority of the damage was to his left leg. In some portion of his brain, he heard the rustle behind him of Nola pushing to her feet, too. Good. That meant he truly hadn’t hurt her when he’d shoved her to the concrete.
Keeping the crutch tucked securely, he grabbed her wrist and urged her to the safety of the portico of the rehab center, into the anonymity of a cluster of nurses and orderlies in purple scrubs. That should serve as a decent safety net of anonymity for now in case someone was gunning for her and waiting around. Watching.
He continued to scan. Adrenaline surged. Damn, he’d forgotten the rush that compelled his body beyond normal endurance, but he welcomed it now.
Still, what kind of guardian did he make? Well, at least he was one more barrier between her and whoever was trying to blow her up. He had his brain and instincts.
And that brain and those instincts were telling him whatever threat there was to her had passed for the moment.
“Ohmigod, Rick!”
Her voice stalled him.
“What happened to your back?”
Hell. Now that she mentioned it… His back did sting almost as much as his knee.
Her hands skimmed over his shoulder blades. “Something hit you. It looks like you’ll need stitches.”
The glide of her touch almost made him forget the pain.
“Am I going to bleed to death until I get to the doc?”
She moved to his side, the loose blond curls of her bangs brushing along the top ridges of her furrowed brow. “I don’t think so.”
“Then it can wait.” He exhaled long and slow, his fingers itching to thread through that cap of whispery curls all around her face and pull her to his chest where nobody could hurt her. Except his chest wasn’t as invincible as he’d once thought. “Any chance your car was a rental?”
She shook her head, curls dancing. “I wish, but no. That was my car. My totally brand-new, just-off-the-lot SUV I’d bought because of my to-do list.”
To-do list? Whatever. Irrelevant really. And along the lines of irrelevant thoughts, he could have sworn her hair was straight before. But then women changed their hair. His ex-wife kept her hair permed on a regular basis. God, his mind was racing a million miles a minute.
“Damn. Sorry about the car being new.” He scratched his neck and resisted the urge to reach over to his throbbing back. “That sucks for you.”
Sirens whined in the background. The cops undoubtedly, a fire truck, too. With some luck they would have an easy answer, not to mention protection.
“Let’s just hope there’s some mobster who has a car that looks just like yours, who was supposed to be here today visiting his old infirm relative.”
Her nervous laugh didn’t reassure him in the least. She had a fatalistic look to her that said she accepted she was the target.
More of that adrenaline pumped, reminding him of missions past, the calling that had urged him to join the Air Force. Everything he’d been and done scrolled through his mind, nudging him, whispering at him to reclaim it all. He heard the cops’ siren drone closer and yet he couldn’t force himself to relinquish his post guarding her. There was no shaking the inevitable.
Uniformed or not, he was back on duty.
Apparently she had a new watchdog after all.
Rick hadn’t left her side except when the cops insisted on a solo interview. They’d acted as if they suspected him of being a stalker boyfriend or something worse.
His growl hadn’t done much to further his innocence.
She rolled her eyes. Men. She stopped by their uncomfy sofa—or at least that’s what she’d started to think of it as from their earlier chitchat in the rehab room. Given that most of the physical therapists had headed off for supper, the place was for the most part deserted except for the occasional health-care professional bustling by, past and away.
She was on her own to get her head together before she said goodbye to Rick once and for all, a more emotional event than she’d expected, what with them almost getting blown up. He could have so easily been injured worse if he’d been standing closer to her car. She could have died if she hadn’t bothered to warm up her car with the remote starter.
Her knees folded and she flopped to sit on the couch, her black leather boots thudding on the tile floor.
“Are you okay?” He joined her, the cops having stopped keeping them apart.
“I was just thinking how lucky we both are. What if I’d waited to start the car from inside and you’d been standing beside? God. We both could have died.” She swallowed hard.
“Two warriors taken down by a car bomb.” He shook his head. “Quite an ignominious end.”
“No kidding. Is your back okay?”
He shrugged his shoulders, only wincing a hint as the Air Force PT T-shirt tugged at the blood on his back. “Doc put butterfly bandages on while you were interviewed by the cops.”
“I’m so glad you weren’t hurt worse because of me.” She hated to think about causing him more pain.
