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A guy—huge, unfamiliar, dark-skinned—was kicking the shit out of an equally unfamiliar male who was sprawled on the ground.
I blinked hard, mentally scrambling to take in the scene. Logic eluded me. I couldn’t quite absorb the situation. It had all happened so fast. The asshole who’d grabbed me had come out of nowhere, and now I was struggling to get a mental foothold.
Sounds seemed muffled. My body began to feel numb. My vision became a little gray around the edges.
I distantly noted the gun lying a few feet away. My insides seized. I thought about grabbing it, but I couldn’t seem to move my legs.
Finally, the dark-skinned guy turned to me, panting slightly, his face a mask of anger. “You all right?”
No. No, I wasn’t. Someone had come at me from behind. Had tried to take me. Had put a gun to my head. And the trunk of the car beside me was not only wide open but had rope and duct tape inside it and … and …
Out of nowhere, an icy calm ever so slowly fell over me. My rioting thoughts soon stilled, taken over by pure apathy, and my bunched muscles lost their tension.
“I’m fine,” I replied, my voice quiet and flat.
I looked down at who had to be my attacker, distantly aware that my helper was now making a phone call—no doubt to the police. I did nothing. Said nothing. Felt nothing.
Seconds ticked by. Or maybe minutes. It could have even been hours. I lost all concept of time, feeling disconnected from the world.
I kept my eyes on my attacker, who occasionally tried crawling away only to receive a vicious kick from my savior. I didn’t care. I didn’t care that the asshole was clearly in pain. Nor did I care that his face was swollen and his blood stained the ground. None of it mattered. Nothing did.
I heard a car engine. Footsteps. A brief, quiet exchange of words.
Someone appeared in front of me, and a finger raised my chin. Two dark, whirling pools of fury stared into mine. “Hey baby,” said Danton, his voice low and soft, but the words … they just didn’t reach me. I only really registered his tone—soothing, calm, patient.
My helper flicked me a glance. “I tried getting her to talk, but she’s checked out.”
Danton’s eyes drifted over my face. “Yeah, I see that.”
Again, words meant nothing to me. But I latched onto Danton’s voice; heard the forced calm that laced it.
He gently pushed my hair away from my face. “I’m going to check you over. I need to know if you’re hurt.”
I stayed still as his eyes and hands roamed over me.
He closed his hand around my wrist, placing his thumb over my pulse. “Too fast,” he said so quietly I almost didn’t hear him.
“She all right?” asked my savior.
Sliding his hand from my wrist to my shoulder, Danton turned back to him. “She’s not hurt. I’m gonna get her away from here. You know where to take that piece of shit. I’ll deal with him later. Soften him up for me.”
“Gladly,” the other male all but growled. “Here’s her purse. Found it over there on the ground with her keys. I locked the car with the fob and then tossed the keys in the purse.”
Danton gave him a nod and then pushed something into my hands. “Hold onto this, baby.”
I looked down at what he gave me and blinked.My purse.I didn’t recall dropping it.
He moved closer, bent slightly, and lifted me into his arms. “You’re all right, I got you.”
Melting against him, I stayed still and quiet as he carried me to his car. He carefully placed me inside and then clicked on my seatbelt before heading around to the other side of the vehicle. I watched as he slipped into the driver’s seat and put on his own seatbelt.
Danton’s gaze snapped to mine, still alive with fury. He gently gripped my chin with his thumb and forefinger. His eyes searched mine, and his lips thinned.
“I’m going to need you to snap out of it soon, Cat.” He released my chin and faced forward. The engine started up mere moments later, and then we were moving.
His hand often rested on my thigh while he drove. He sometimes spoke to me, but I couldn’t take in his words. I focused on the movements of the car—so fast, so smooth—and how it purred almost like a panther.
No sooner had the car stopped than he was lifting me out of it. He didn’t set me on my feet. He shifted me so that my front was pressed to his, silently urging me to curl my legs around his hips. I did so, burying my face in his neck.
