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CHAPTER TEN
BINDI’S EARS WERE ringing. A loud buzz that overrode every other sound. Squeezing her eyes tighter shut, she tasted blood on her tongue. She was completely disoriented. Didn’t know which way was up, or which way was down. Her head screamed with pain, and she lifted a hand to touch her temple. But her arm was heavy and slow to respond.
Where was she?
What had happened?
The last thing she remembered, they were talking about Mack’s complete lack of sense at not wearing a helmet when he rode. She’d been so mad at him. So disillusioned by his seeming self-indulgence and dogmatic belief he was invincible. When he clearly wasn’t.
Then Mack had suddenly grabbed the steering wheel, grappling with it as if it were alive and trying to wrench itself free of his control.
They’d crashed. She could still hear the terrible sound of metal being torn apart like paper as the car left the road and collided with a tree.
Bindi gave a low moan.
“Bindi.” It was Mack’s voice, loud and urgent, but his words were muffled by the buzz filling her ears like cotton wool. “Bindi, are you okay? Answer me.”
She didn’t want to open her eyes. Her head hurt. Her chest hurt. Everything hurt.
“Bindi,” he said again. There was a sound and Bindi swayed slightly as the truck rocked back and forth, the motion making her feel ill.
Something touched her face, and she flinched. Opening her eyes, she found Mack’s tawny gaze boring into her. But he was at an odd angle. He was below her, and she dangled from her seat belt, gravity pulling her down.
The truck was resting on its side. Dirt and debris was spewed inside the cabin from the driver’s side window, which had been open when the truck crashed. Mack had undone his seat belt and climbed up through the cabin to reach her. Thank God for her seatbelt. She dare not think where she would’ve ended up without it. Steam hissed from the engine, but other than that, there was a deathly silence.
“Oh, thank Christ,” Mack said with an explosive gasp. “For a second there, I thought…” He didn’t finish his thought, merely cupped her cheek with his hand and tensed his strong jaw. There was blood streaming from his nose and his left eye was bruised and already starting to swell shut. He looked a mess. And by the way he was staring at her with such concern, she probably looked no better.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
Bindi didn’t know. She raised a hand to her temple again and felt something warm and wet.
“You have a cut on your head,” Mack told her. “But it looks superficial. Nothing much to worry about.”
He was one to make light of head injuries. She almost laughed, but he was talking to her urgently again.
“I meant do you have pain in your back, or neck? Can you move your legs?”
Oh, shit. He was asking if she had a spinal injury. She screwed her eyes shut and tried to block him out. She didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to be here. Her brain just wanted to switch off and pretend she wasn’t here. Like she used to do when Kai was tormenting her. Abusing her. Her mind had tried to block it all out. Shut her off from the inconceivable thoughts that her brother would want to hurt her. Do things to her that no brother should do to his sister. It was a coping mechanism her counsellor had explained later. It happened to a lot of people when they were faced with trauma too big for their consciousness to absorb.
But this wasn’t Kai, she reminded herself. This was Mack, and he was trying to help her.
“Bindi.” His voice was deep and commanding. “You need to answer me. Can you move your legs?”
Forcing her eyes open again, she concentrated on her legs, scrunching her toes inside her boots, then working her way up, rotating her ankle and bending her knees.
“I’m fine,” she replied at last.
“Good. That’s good.” The relief in Mack’s voice was palpable. “Let’s get you out of here.”
With surprisingly gentle hands, Mack prised open her seat belt as she held onto the window frame to stop herself from falling sideways. He helped her clamber slowly out of her open widow, and then she sat on what had once been the side door panel of the truck as Mack followed her. He jumped down and then reached up to help swing her down, holding her tight underneath her armpits, then clamping her to his side as they stood back and surveyed the wreckage.
His truck was a complete write-off.
The rear half of the truck was almost unrecognizable. It was wrapped around the tree trunk, almost melded into the rough bark in a tangled mess of metal and wood.
Bindi shuddered and her knees went weak. “I need to sit down,” she said. That could’ve been them, smashed to smithereens. If the truck hadn’t spun around at the last second, the cabin would’ve taken the full brunt of the impact. Mack led her to a spot in the shade beneath a stand of tall ironbarks and she sat heavily, leaning against a sturdy trunk for support. Mack sank down beside her and they both stared at the wrecked vehicle.
Bindi suddenly realized she hadn’t asked Mack if he was hurt. “Oh, Mack.” She turned to face him, reaching up to touch his face. The blood had stopped trickling and was beginning to dry now. “You’re hurt, too.”
