They landed with a thud a few feet away in a grassy patch from where she was standing. The instant body-to-body contact jarred him more than the impact. Her softness to his firmness was a major contrast, and he found himself staring down at her instead of paying attention to the car for a moment longer than he should.
However, the screeching of tires drew him back into the moment as the driver quickly corrected and sped away before Grimm could get a good look at him or the license plate number. He cursed under his breath for losing his head for a moment, not sure what had come over him, before quickly checking to make sure Quinn was okay as she lay underneath him.
Her breathing was hard, and she looked up at him with a grimace.
“Do you mind getting off of me?” She ground out through clenched teeth.
“You sound angry.”
“I am. I lost the last of my ice cream cone when that idiot charged toward me. The nub of the waffle cone is the best part where all the melted ice cream collects. I savor that part to the very end. I also just got stuck with you for the duration. That was another attempt on my life.”
He burst out laughing and finally moved off her. Sobering, he got to his feet. “I’ll be happy to drive back to town and get you another cone if that will make you happy. Sorry, but not sorry that you got stuck with me.”
“That won’t be necessary. Just tell me you got the plate number?” Quinn said.
“I didn’t manage to get more than the make and model.”
She huffed, sitting up before he offered her his hand to help her to her feet. “Do you think it was random or intentional?”
“Gut tells me you were targeted, but it’s hard to say without more proof. And I’m sure the authorities will want proof before they do something about it.”
She nodded. “I’m going to call the police anyway and report it since my car was vandalized this morning.”
“Sure. I think that’s wise,” he agreed. “I’ll call Sheraton while you do that.”
She turned away from him to make the call and closed her eyes, fighting back the tears that welled up and threatened to fall as her emotions got the best of her. She had trouble breathing, and she gasped for breath. Someone had just tried to kill her on the street near where she lived. If Grimm had not been there, she’d be dead right now. So much for taking care of herself. She had let her guard down, but maybe that was his fault. Had she gotten too comfortable with him in their companionship tonight?
The next thing she knew, she felt two strong arms wrapping around her, pulling her back against a solid frame. She started to fight but realized it was just him consoling her. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here and nothing is going to happen to you. Not on my watch. Is that clear?”
She nodded, unable to speak. She covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath trying to regain her composure as his arms slipped away from her.
“I’d like to report an attempted homicide.”
She bristled for a moment. Irritated for a second, but then realized she was in no frame of mind to make the call. She couldn’t fault Grimm for calling the police for her instead of calling Sheraton. She half listened as he described what had happened and concentrated on getting her breathing under control. When he finished with the call, he called her editor and then they waited for a patrol car to arrive.
“Are you certain someone is going to come?” she asked.
“What makes you think they won’t?”
“It’s Altoona, and I have been reporting on the Barbie Martin case which they haven’t been doing anything about,” she reminded him.
“The two have connections but are separate cases. They still must do their jobs whether they are actively trying to find what happened to Ms. Martin or not.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“They came when you called about your car this morning, didn’t they?”
“Yes. And the officers this morning did assure me they were trying to find her, but there were no leads.”
“Then someone is coming now.”
It wasn’t long before a patrol car pulled up with their blue lights flashing. The two officers who got out were different from those who came that morning, but they were aware of her previous report. They took their statements and asked if she needed to go to the ER to be checked out, but she refused, and then they let them go on to her house.
Sheraton pulled into her drive as they were going inside. Her editor got out of the car and called to them, “Two attacks in one day. You really have pissed someone off good this time, Quinn.”
“It looks that way,” she replied.
When he reached them on the porch, he asked, “Do you still feel you don’t need a bodyguard?”
