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And his friend.
Dare she hope she could be more?
For the first time in years, she was attracted to someone romantically. It made no sense—he was absolutelynother type in the least, but maybe her type was changing. Evolving. Expanding.
The blow came without warning and pain exploded in the back of her head. Her vision whited out, her ankle twisted painfully, and she fell face-first onto asphalt.Smack. Her forehead hit the wet ground and she gasped. The quiet but weighted smack of shoes echoed around her. A shadow fell over her. She blinked rapidly to get her eyes to clear.
Her head swam and somewhere in the recesses of her mind she was screaming, but no sound came from her lips. All she could do was whimper.
In her peripheral vision, she saw the shadow snatch up her tote. When she’d fallen, she’d sent it skittering across the ground, right through another puddle of unknown contents.
Footsteps. Striding.
At least they were moving away.
Her ankle screamed along with the voice in her head, hot, stabbing agony radiating up her calf, even as a similar agony filled her head and neck.
“Help,” she managed to squeak.
The sirens had arrived and there was no one close enough to hear her over the noises of them nor the crowd. Her pulse beat in her ears and her phone dug into her ribcage.
Phone!Rory.
Fighting the nausea and vertigo when she shifted onto her side, she moaned. Her fingers felt around, grazing the cell’s case. Latching onto it like a lifeline, she eased it up to her face.
She dropped it twice before she gave up and left it on the ground, shifting her pounding head in order to read the screen. Everything was blurry and she sobbed trying to blink her vision into submission. With a trembling finger, she found Rory’s avatar and hit his number.
He answered on the first ring. “Hey. Did you make it? I’m all the way in the back, near the windows.”
“Ro…ry?” Spots danced at the edge of her vision. The alley had grown darker; all she could make out was the light from her phone. Exhaustion swamped her, her stomach somersaulting. “Help…me.”
His response sounded too far away as the complete and utter darkness tugged her under.
THREE
Rory shot straight to his feet, nearly upending the table. The beer the waiter had brought tipped over, spilling onto the white tablecloth and clanking against the wine glass opposite him. “Amelia,” he yelled into his phone.
When it had vibrated inside his jacket pocket, he’d assumed it was Montgomery calling to check on him, or perhaps Beatrice. He was on call twenty-four seven, and rarely left the compound. While he more than deserved a night off, being available to the paramilitary teams in the field was paramount.
His text conversation with Amelia had made him smile—rare these days. He’d been struck by the fact that shegothim. She wasn’t offended by his sarcasm and laughed at his jokes. Perhaps Vivi was right—was it possible? Amelialikedhim.Reallyliked him.
But it hadn’t been the SFI psychologist or the Queen Bee calling him. His face split with a big smile when he saw Amelia’s number, then he experienced a moment of panic. What if she’d changed her mind as he’d anticipated? What if shewasn’tcoming?
He…lp…me.Her voice—weak and tremulous—echoed in his ears.
Then silence.
He grabbed his cane, bumping the table again. The glass fell this time, breaking as it hit the fine China. The patrons around him were staring now has he hustled as quickly as he could to get past them to the exit.
“I’m coming,” he said into his phone, fumbling between it and shoving a waiter out of the way. The poor guy stumbled into the back of a chair, losing his grip on the tray of food he carried. It ended up in a woman’s lap and she screamed.
The maître d’ was calling after him, telling him to stop, that he had to pay for the bottle of wine. Rory blasted past, his cane catching the guy’s foot and tripping him.
He didn’t stop to help him up. “Amelia! Talk to me!”
There was nothing but background noise on the connection. A waiter rushed forward and tried to stop Rory from going through the front doors. He shoved the kid aside, nearly knocking down a couple entering the restaurant.
The man cursed him, but Rory kept going out into the night. He wasn’t up for driving yet, and had used a ride service, so he had no vehicle. He fumbled with his phone, going to the app that could track any of the SFI employees via their SIM card. With a shaking finger, he scrolled through the names until he found Amelia’s and hit the tracking button.
