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If she hadn’t recognized the experienced search for broken bones and internal bleeding, she would wonder if the other woman was copping a feel.
Lyrica focused on the woman’s face again, realizing she’d seen her before.
“You . . . you’re my neighbor.” She felt disoriented, her thoughts scattering easily.
“Yeah, I moved in about three months ago.” Sitting on her haunches, the other woman frowned back at her. “Are you certain you’re okay?” She held up fingers. “How many?”
Lyrica blinked back at her. “Really?”
“Give me a number, girlie,” she demanded with a quick grin and firm voice. “We don’t have all night here.”
“Two.” A tickle at the side of her head had her lifting her hand. She came away with a vivid swipe of scarlet against her fingers.
Blood.
Hell, she was bleeding.
“Is it bad?” she asked the woman. “If you called an ambulance, my family will probably beat them here. They don’t handle the sight of blood really well.”
At least, not the blood of those they cared for.
“It’s not bad,” she was assured.
The woman whisked her shirt off, revealing a minuscule white undershirt, the lace bra beneath it apparent as she took the black T-shirt and dabbed at the b
lood.
“You were lucky. Damned lucky, girlie. That van should have crumpled your Jeep instead of just throwing you into that ravine.”
Thankfully, Lyrica had been hit from the passenger side instead of the driver’s. Otherwise, the force of the blow would have probably killed her.
“His lights were off,” she whispered, her heart beating so fast it was hard to speak.
The gleam of the full moon against chrome had been her only warning, giving her a fraction of a second to lessen the impact. Still, she’d been unable to avoid it. That, along with the sharp twisting of the wheel, had unbalanced the Jeep and sent it careening into the ravine.
“I saw that.” Her rescuer nodded, watching her in concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? No double vision or anything?”
She felt her lips tremble.
“I’m alive, right?” For a moment, she couldn’t understand why she was alive.
“Amazingly.” Eyes somber, the aqua green of her gaze staring down at Lyrica in concern, the woman brushed back her dark bangs and nodded. “I was sure you weren’t for a few minutes there, though.”
The sound of a powerful motor accelerating toward them, tearing along the blacktop, had her sighing in resignation.
A Mackay hadn’t arrived first, it seemed.
The young woman crouched in front of her was suddenly on her feet, one hand reaching behind her back as she moved to the front of the car. Tires screamed behind the little sedan and Lyrica watched the woman’s gaze narrow for a moment before she seemed to relax.
Black as death, the top down, the Viper came to a rocking stop, seeming to shudder in the sedan’s headlights.
Graham jumped from the open car as the sound of another powerful motor came screaming around the curve. Just as the Viper had, the Corvette’s tires screeched in protest as the engine suddenly began powering down, finally coming to a stop just ahead of the Viper.
“Lyrica.” Graham was in front of her, kneeling in the dirt next to the sedan, his hands going over her much as the woman’s had done.
“It wasn’t mistaken identity,” she whispered, staring into the golden hue of his eyes. His eyes went gold only when he was pissed. Or when he was aroused. She rather doubted it was arousal at the moment.
“Are you hurt?” He didn’t answer her.
