Page 18 of What They'll Say About Us

"Yes." I opened my bag and pulled out my wallet, my hand shaking as I slid the ID out of its pocket and handed it to him.

"New York," he commented. "You're a tourist?"

"I'm here for a conference. I'm staying at the Merriman." I tipped my head toward the hotel, which was across the street and halfway down the block.

"All right."

As he handed me back my ID, I gave him my card and said, "Can you let me know if you find the driver?"

"Will do." He turned to the couple. "Do you mind telling me what you saw?"

They gave their statements, and he made notes and took down their information. I wasn't sure what he was going to do with any of it, but hopefully something.

As he got back into his patrol car, I thanked the couple again and then very carefully made my way across the street on the next green light.

By the time I entered the hotel, my body was aching from my fall, and I could see blood dripping down my leg. Rachel was standing at the concierge desk and gave me a cheerful wave, her expression changing when she saw my condition.

"Tessa, what happened?" She came around from behind her counter, concern in her gaze.

"A car ran a red light. It almost hit me. I had to dive to the ground."

"Oh, my God! Do you need to go to the ER? Or I can call for a doctor to come here to see you?"

"Not necessary. I just have some scrapes."

"I'll grab a first aid kit and send it up to your room. What else do you need?"

All I needed was to get upstairs and away from curious eyes and more questions. It had been a grueling and emotional afternoon. "A first aid kit would be great," I said, forcing a smile onto my face. "Thanks."

"I'll get it right up to you."

I moved toward the bank of elevators, happy when the doors immediately opened. When I opened the door to the suite a moment later, I was surprised to find it empty. No sign of Cassidy or Morgan. But that was fine. The silence was actually soothing. I dropped my bag on the coffee table and kicked off my shoes, taking a better look at my scrapes. I had a pretty deep scratch on my left knee, which was still bleeding a little. I'd definitely taken off some skin. My right knee was bruised, but not in as bad of shape. I was about to head into the bathroom when I heard a knock at the door.

Expecting housekeeping, I was surprised to see Rachel in the hallway.

"It was faster for me to bring you this," she said, holding up the first aid kit.

"That's nice of you."

"Let me help you with it."

I didn't want her help, but it felt like it would raise more questions if I said no and tried to get rid of her. "Okay, thanks."

I walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. She put the bag on the couch next to me, then said, "Let me get a towel first and try to clean that cut up a bit." She grabbed a towel from the kitchen area and got it wet before bringing it back to the living room. Getting on her knees, she helped clean my worst scrape with a very gentle hand. "I don't think you need a stitch."

"I'll be fine."

"You will be," she said with a smile. "But first you need antiseptic to get rid of any street germs. I won't lie. It's going to sting."

"I know."

I winced as Rachel quickly applied the antiseptic and then a bandage.

"I think the other leg is okay. Are you hurt anywhere else?" she asked.

"No. Thanks for doing this. I didn't know nursing was part of your concierge duties."

"Only for friends. As you may remember, I was the oldest of five kids, three of whom were boys, so I patched up many of my siblings over the years."