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Stan pulled his cell phone from his apron pocket, punched three numbers and pressed the phone to his ear. “I’d like to report an attack on one of my employees. The attackers got away.” He looked over at Breely. “What were they wearing?”
Breely pinched the bridge of her nose. “Black ski masks. I’m not exactly sure what else. Seems they were all in black.”
“All in black and black ski masks,” Stan relayed.
A siren wailed in the distance, moving closer.
“I hear the sirens now,” Stan said. “No blood or broken bones that I can see. Yes, thank you.” He ended the call and slipped his cell phone into his apron pocket. “The first responders and the sheriff are on their way.”
Out of the van, and with the attackers gone, reaction set in. Breely trembled. The trembling became full body shaking, and her teeth rattled. The cool night air wasn’t helping.
The flirt slipped an arm around her and pulled her against him. “Cold?” he asked.
She nodded, her teeth chattering. Clear Montana nights could be so very cold, even in the middle of summer. Her shaking was more than the chill in the air. She’d almost been kidnapped.
If not for this man holding her in the curve of his arm, she could be well on her way to wherever the two men had planned to take her.
Her rescuer rubbed his hands up and down her arm. “Is that better?” he asked, his tone low, soothing and making her shake for more reasons than the chill in the air and the shock of being jumped.
“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.
She shook her head, turned her face into his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist.
His arms wrapped around her and held her securely against his hard frame. They stood together until the sheriff and an ambulance arrived.
The first responders hurried to Breely and extricated her from her rescuer’s arms.
A surge of panic swept through her, and she brushed aside the first responder’s hands to melt against the man who’d rescued her.
He held her while the medical technician took her vitals and suggested she take a short ride to the hospital for observation. “She could have a concussion,” he suggested.
“I didn’t black out all the way,” Breely protested. “I’m fine. I just want to go home.”
“I’ll get you there,” Moe promised. “But a trip to the hospital is a better option.”
Breely looked to the sheriff. “Are we done here?” Her teeth were still clattering as she walked toward the position where she’d parked her Porche sports car. When she reached for the door handle, her rescuer pulled her back. “Wait.” He bent to inspect the tires. “They’ve been slashed.”
“Why?” Breely said with a sob. “Who would do this?”
“I can give you a ride to your home.” Her rescuer checked his cell phone. “I have to leave when I get a phone call from the hospital.”
“Why would you get a phone call from the hospital?” she asked. “Are you sick?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m scheduled to transport organs to Denver. I have to leave when they call. The sooner the cases are delivered, the better.”
“You don’t have to take me home,” Breely said. “I can call for a taxi, or Stan can take me.”
“I can take Breely to her apartment,” Stan said from behind Breely.
The flirt shook his head. “I’ll take her home,” he said.
Breely stood with her cheek to his chest, wondering if she’d lost her mind by allowing the man to drive her anywhere when she didn’t know much about him. Her fingers curled into his shirt. “Who are you?”
He chuckled. “That’s right. We haven’t been properly introduced. He leaned back and stared down into her eyes, his own eyes as black as the night around them. “I’m Morris Cleveland. Most people call me Moe.”
“Breely, I don’t mind taking you to your place,” Stan insisted. “What do you know about this guy, anyway?”
“He saved my life.” She shook her head. “But thank you, Stan. You need to get home to your wife and family. I want…Moe…to take me.”
