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Saving her before the darkness could take her.
Chapter Seventeen
At length, he and Mac helped her to her feet and got her seated on the hood of his car, a necessity because Natalie refused to let Marguerite go. Tyler had to restrain the urge to physically separate them. While it was obvious that the child might be miraculously unharmed except for a couple scratches, the same could not be said for his angel. Her left hand was tucked around Natalie’s waist, but two of the fingers were swelling, one at an odd angle, suggesting they were broken. Her struggle with her father had torn her shirt, allowing him to see that there was ugly bruising, blood and an alarming bump along the line of the shoulder where she’d taken the brunt of the impact against the building. They’d hit it at a speed that had managed to shatter the tempered glass and shards of it still clung to her side and back. Spots of blood clotted along her bare arm, staining her clothes. He was even more concerned about the matted area just above her left ear that had turned the blonde strands a pale crimson. She’d come down on the awning just as hard and he’d heard her involuntary grunt when she’d bounced over the metal frame. The stiff way she held herself suggested there might be rib damage involved.
He wanted to stay with her, but to keep her and Natalie from having to deal with anything else, he and Mac were drawn into the circle of cops to explain things. When the EMTs arrived, Tyler was relieved to see them immediately directed to Marguerite and her charge.
He kept his peripheral vision on them as he answered questions with brusque impatience. She made them look at Natalie first, of course. As he listened with half an ear to Mac and the other officers, he noted they had to examine her in the protection of Marguerite’s braced legs, because the little girl simply wouldn’t release her. She clung to Marguerite’s pants leg, standing between her knees, silent tears running down her face while Marguerite stroked her.
“Hardly a scratch on you,” the EMT confirmed, ruffling the child’s hair. “And you’re sure she didn’t experience any head trauma? Not the pavement or the building?” Marguerite shook her head. The EMT looked up. His gaze covered the torn awning, the bent frame, shifted upward to the shattered fourth-floor window and finally moved all the way to the top of the Bank of Florida building, tilting his head back to do so.
“Christ, that’s the closest thing to an act of God I’ve seen all year, I can tell you that. All right, then. She’ll need to go to the hospital to get a thorough looking-over, but I’m pretty sure all they’re going to find a few bruises. You’re going to be okay, honey. ” He gave Natalie a quick stroke as she buried her face back into Marguerite’s abdomen. As Marguerite’s arms closed around her, his gaze shifted to her. “Now you’re a different matter. Let’s take a closer look at your injuries. ”
She shook her head again. “I’ll take care of it later. We’re waiting for her mother. ”
“Ma’am,” he insisted. “I can see from here you’ve got broken bones. The fingers,” he nodded toward them, “and most likely the clavicle—the collarbone. That blood over your ear says you had a blow to the head, so you could have a concussion. You just jumped off a building. ”
“I was there. ” The blue eyes fired, lips curling back in a snarl. “I am not disoriented or confused. I said I’ll take care of it later. And I know what a fucking clavicle break is. ”
“Excuse me a sec,” Tyler said firmly, leaving Mac with the others to go to her side.
“Angel. ” He drew her attention away from the frustrated EMT. “They have to look you over, make sure you’re okay. ”
“Not yet. Not until it’s over. ”
“Ma’am. Internal bleeding—”
“I said, not until it’s over. ” She surged up from the fender of the car, her expression so savage the man leaped back, startled. Natalie, holding on like a burr to her midriff, began to cry again. Marguerite bent over her and amazingly managed to lift her. When Natalie’s arms and legs wrapped around her shoulders and hips, Tyler frowned at the sheen of perspiration that appeared on Marguerite’s forehead. He assumed the only thing keeping her from screaming from the pain was her extraordinary discipline and residual adrenaline. Possibly the numbing effect of shock.
She sank back down to the hood holding the child and pinned the EMT with a glacial expression. “I didn’t expect to live through today,” she said. “You think whatever miracle saved her life is going to take mine in the next thirty minutes? I refuse medical treatment. I’ll get it when I’m ready. Go. Away. ” As the EMT shifted his gaze to Tyler, he put a light hand on her shoulder. When she turned her venomous look on him, he returned it with a hard, direct one of his own.
“Think twice before using that tone on me,” he suggested mildly.
He could have overruled her, forced her, for he could sense the fragility in her. The giddiness that she’d had when she first landed in his arms was fast slipping away.
Something dangerous and dark was brewing just below the surface of those blue eyes, something unresolved, and he knew she had to be here to see whatever it was finished.
So despite the roiling in his gut he allowed it, though every lover’s instinct told him to simply dump her on a gurney, strap her in and send her out of harm’s way.
“She’ll be along to the hospital shortly,” he said to the EMT. “I’ll make certain of it.
But leave her be for now. ” He laid a reassuring hand on Natalie’s back, rubbing, feeling the tiny body shaking, knowing the only way they were going to separate them was with a pry bar anyway.
As if he’d reassured her with the same touch, Marguerite’s tension visibly eased.
The EMT gave him a short nod, not happy, but not much else he could do.
“I’ll be right back,” Tyler promised as Mac made an insistent gesture, calling him back to the huddle of cops.
When he reached them, a new police car arrived at the scene, lights going but siren off. Tina Moorefield exploded out of the backseat when the policewoman opened it. As her gaze darted around the crime scene, Marguerite straightened from the hood of the car, drawing her attention and just about everyone else’s as only a nearly six-foot-tall blonde could, particularly one whose hands were stained with blood and who held a young child as if she weighed no more than an infant. Tina cried out and ran to them, her arms already out. Marguerite murmured to the little girl, lowered her painfully to her feet. Natalie turned, the brown eyes seeking, confused. When she found her mother, her face crumpled. She stumbled forward, choking sobs becoming wails.
“Mommy…Mommy…Mommy…”
Tina went to her knees when Natalie got to her, clasped the child to her almost violently, weeping. Natalie clung to her mother, wails escalating into screams. The terror that had been frozen for survival now found voice, because her mother’s appearance said she was well and truly safe. She was okay.
Tyler saw Marguerite move stiffly toward them. She raised the right hand, whether to lay it on the woman or child, he didn’t know. Lifting her head, Tina stared at the blood on Marguerite’s fingers. Pulling Natalie’s legs up around her waist, she staggered to her feet, backed away, her expression one of revulsion. She turned her back and let the policewoman guide them back to the car, away from all of this.
Leaving Marguerite standing there alone. As she’d always been. It made him want to snarl at the men asking him questions that didn’t matter anymore. She was the only one that mattered. Mac’s hand moved to his shoulder, the light pressure steadying him, telling him the man understood and was trying to get what needed to be done finished as quickly as possible.
