Page 38 of In the Dead of Night

“Damn straight I am.” Setting his hands beneath her arms, he lifted her onto it, trying not to notice how good she felt in his arms. He found a kitchen towel hanging by the sink and took it to her. For the first time he got a good look at her face.

“Damn it, Sara.”

Her eyes were dark and wide within her pale face. The cut on her forehead oozed blood. A bruise was beginning to form beneath it. Wetting the towel, he dabbed at the cut, hoping the wound wasn’t as bad as it looked.

“Were you unconscious at any time?” he asked.

She gave him a half-hearted smile. “I was too scared to pass out.”

Nick didn’t smile back. “You should go to the emergency room.”

“I’m okay.”

“What you did was unbelievably foolhardy.”

She met his gaze levelly. “Yes, what I did was dumb. I’ve already admitted that. But put yourself in my shoes.”

He was feeling far too hostile to concede to her, so he remained silent.

Her lips turned down into a frown. One glance and Nick found himself thinking of the kiss they’d shared the night before. Before he could stop himself, his gaze dipped lower. To the damp T-shirt and jeans that clung to her like skin. Considering the circumstances, she shouldn’t have looked sexy. He shouldn’t let himself notice. But he did.

“Don’t be angry,” she said.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he growled.

“I scared the hell out of myself.”

Steeling himself against the pull to her, he turned his attention to the wound. “It doesn’t look like you need stitches, but you’ve got one hell of a bump.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I’ve got a hard head.”

Nick couldn’t help it; he smiled. He knew that was what she wanted. To draw him out so he wouldn’t berate her for doing something stupid. Usually, he wasn’t so pliable, especially when it came to the safety of someone he cared about. But there was something about Sara that made him feel light inside, made him want to smile.

“If I didn’t like you so much, I’d give you a good dressing-down.”

“You’d probably be wasting your time.”

He dabbed at the wound and she winced. “Sorry.”

But her mind obviously wasn’t on the cut. “We need to find out who Blaine Stocker is.”

“We will. Give me a minute here, will you?”

She didn’t seem to hear him. “Who would do something like this? What could they possibly have to gain?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But we need to find out because I’m not going to let the son of a bitch get away with trying to kill you.”