Page 91 of Maddening Fixation

For one reckless second, anger overpowered my fear.

Who did this man think he was?

He had just invaded my car, covered it in blood, and was barking orders as though he owned it.

Then he spoke again.

“Move, woman.”

There it was.

A faint Irish lilt beneath the deep, commanding voice.

Something about it tugged painfully at the edge of memory.

It sounded...

Familiar.

I couldn’t place it.

Not yet.

“O-Okay.”

My fingers shook as I shifted into gear.

The damaged car lurched forward, pulling away from the curb.

Beside me, the stranger grunted in pain, one hand pressed tightly over a deep wound in his opposite arm. Blood seeped between his fingers, running down his wrist before dripping onto the center console.

I swallowed hard.

Everything about him screamed danger.

Not ordinary danger.

Mafia danger.

I forced myself to focus on the road.

His breathing became heavier with every passing minute.

“What direction?” I asked.

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he kept watching the mirrors.

I spotted the illuminated sign of the nearest hospital several blocks ahead.

Without thinking, I flicked on my indicator and steered toward it.

“Where the hell are you going?”

His voice cracked like a whip.

“The hospital.” I didn’t take my eyes off the road. “You’re losing too much blood.”