Page 6 of Protected from Torment

Does that mean that something’s going to happen with the handsome, bossy, good samaritan? No. Of course not. But it’s okay to be attracted to him. It’s okay to admire his muscles and remember the way my arm felt when he touched it.

I’m halfway back to my car when a familiar voice calls out to me again. “Miss!”

Like before, I turn, this time biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at him calling me Miss when I’m nearly forty.

He doesn’t know your name, that little voice pipes up. And he’s being polite. What’s he supposed to say? Hey, you?

The man picks up his pace as he heads towards me. He’s still a good twenty feet away, but his relieved smile is evident. His gait is more uneven now, and I wonder if he hurt his leg in the water. The thought of it bothers me more than expected.

“Hey,” I call back. Then I return his smile with one of my own. “Are you okay?”

His mouth opens to answer my question.

But before he does, the squeal of tires interrupts him.

Like before, when the police arrived, everything seems to speed up.

Headlights careen towards us.

Flashing emergency lights reflect off the car approaching.

Like before, a horn blares. But this time, it’s a warning.

Someone shouts, “Stop!”

Out of the corner of my eye, a police officer does an abrupt one-eighty and starts sprinting in my direction. His expression is one of horror.

And here I am, frozen in place as the out-of-control car speeds towards me.

A car that ignored the orange safety cones and the obvious signs of an accident.

A car coming straight at me.

In the back of my head, an achingly familiar voice commands, Melly, move. Now.

So I do.

But I’m not fast enough.

The car is coming too quickly.

I’m sorry, I tell Vince’s voice silently. I don’t think I’ll make it.

Then strong arms come around me, pulling me against a hard chest and yanking me off my feet.

With a great leap, the good samaritan jerks me out of the path of the oncoming car. We both hit the ground, but he turns so he takes the brunt of it, with his body cushioning me. One hand palms the back of my head, protecting it. His arms are like a vice, holding me close.

We roll a couple of times across the wet asphalt before coming to a stop. I’m on top of him, too stunned to move, or even speak. Rather than letting me go, he just holds me. I can feel his heart pounding just as hard as mine.

“Shit,” he murmurs. “Ah, shit. Are you okay?”

To our side, one of the police officers barks at the driver of the out-of-control car, “Are you fucking crazy! You could have killed her! Didn’t you see the damn cones? The flares?”

“Miss?” It’s the good samaritan, who I think just got promoted to incredible.

I lift my head just enough to meet his worried gaze.

His eyes are hazel, I note distractedly. Green and gold, like a forest at sunset.