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“Sable. I’m here.”
Her breaths were shallow, but she didn’t cry. After she loosened her hold on him, he felt safe to step away, having calmed down himself. Then he spotted the tear in her sweater along the low, scooped neck, her bra showing and blood dotting down the front.
“What the…” He cradled Isa’s face in his hands, and searched the rest of her for injury. No cuts. “Where are you bleeding? What the fuck did he do?” He ran his hands gingerly over her shoulders and down her arms.
“I’m not hurt.” Isa sniffed. “He grabbed me and I kneed him in the nuts and then elbowed him in the nose.” She showed him her elbow, where another blood spot stained her white sweater. Her arm shook like outdoor chimes on a windy day. “He was a bleeder.”
“You were in the process of kicking his ass?” Eli asked, stunned.
“He’s lucky you showed up.” One half of her mouth lifted into a weak smile. She started to bend over and pick up the items from her purse, but he held her elbow to keep her from it.
“I’ve got it.” He gathered everything that had spilled out, her intact wallet and spare change littering the ground, and put it back into her bag. Then he lifted the other strap onto her shoulder. “Didn’t look like he got anything.”
“He didn’t.”
He liked that she was able to get in a few good jabs as much as he hated that he wasn’t able to get in a few himself. “Let’s get you inside.”
He followed her upstairs, a niggling, sickening feeling that the guy attempting to take her purse could have done more than rob her. It heated the blood in Eli’s veins to boiling and made him that much more pissed about his inability to hunt down the bastard and smash his face in.
Eli’s ascent was slower than hers, which was good because he talked himself down as he walked up. She would benefit more from his calm presence than his unhinged anger. Isa unlocked her door and let herself in, holding it open for him. When he entered her apartment, she took out her phone and dropped her purse on the couch.
She stared at the screen, her fingers hovering before she looked up at him. “I don’t know the number for the police.”
Shock. He could see it. He had seen it a million times on hundreds of faces, and he had suffered from it personally.
“I’ll call. You sit.” He took her phone and tipped her chin. Her eyes were blank, her teeth worrying her lip. “Sable?”
Her lashes fluttered.
“You’re okay now.”
“I know.” She swallowed, her throat moving as her eyebrows bowed. She looked delicate with her torn shirt, that asshole’s blood on her clothes.
“They might want the DNA, so you can’t clean up yet. Do you want some water? Tea?”
Her mouth slid to the side. “Do you know how to make tea?”
“Not really.” He slipped his hand beneath her hair and around the back of her neck, massaging until she took a breath that lifted her shoulders and filled her lungs.
“Thank God you were here,” she told him.
But a sick realization took the place of the pride he didn’t deserve feeling. Because the fact of the matter is, this had happened because he was here. If he’d never asked her to come out with him tonight—or if he’d waited for her inside her apartment instead of heading down the stairs…
He wasn’t a hero. He was to blame.
***
Isa sat on the very edge of her couch, uncomfortable, mind whirring. Her knee and elbow throbbed from the physical hit, but her mind replayed it on a loop. Her attacker’s arms banded around her, his stale breath and craggy voice.
Don’t fight me, you bitch, or I’ll gut you.
A shudder streamed through her. Who knew the defense class she’d taken with her assistants last year would come in handy for her? Isa was lucky Eli had been here. Sure, she’d resisted, but her attacker was much stronger than she was. She wasn’t sure if he’d have given up if it’d been just her.
What would have happened if she’d been alone?
Another shudder had her reaching for the blanket on the back of her couch. She pulled it to her chin and stared blindly at the coffee table in front of her. At the fitness magazine promising Sexy abs in 3 easy moves!
The older police officer who had questioned her was at the door talking with Eli. He was a big guy with kind green eyes and a thick Chicago accent. He told Eli they’d “be in touch” and the door shut with a click. The next thing she knew, Eli was lowering himself onto the couch next to her, the solid, welcome weight of his arm wrapping around her shoulders.
