pushed out of the alley and hit the concrete sidewalk.
Quick-quick. Quick-quick. Quick-quick.
She hit the corner, then continued straight onto the pavement.
Go-go. Go-go. Go—
The screech of tires was the only warning she had as she darted out, and her chanting brain didn’t have time to catch up. With her feet still moving, she raised her eyes in horror. A slick black car was sliding toward her, kicking up the scent of burning rubber as it skidded over the road at a wild angle.
But Reggie couldn’t stop herself.
Biting down on her lip so hard that she tasted blood, she flew straight into the driver’s-side headlight. Or maybe it hit her. The sudden, sharp pain all the way up her body made it impossible to say which was true. She crumpled to the ground.
No!
She couldn’t afford to stop here. She had to keep going. So she fought to get to her feet, her hands flailing to grab something—anything—to pull herself up. What she found was a warm hand. Two warm hands, in fact. One wrapped around her own, and another on her shoulder.
Wide. Tall. Strong.
A man.
And Reggie’s first instinct, spurred by the violence she’d just witnessed, was to fight him off. Tooth and nail if she had to.
But he was mouthing something at her. Words she couldn’t quite make out. And his eyes—light brown and as warm as his hands—were staring down at her, full of concern. A little familiar. And genuine. She was almost sure. But was it enough?
She swiveled her head in the direction she’d just run from, and the world spun. It would have to be.
“Help me,” she said, her voice not much more than a croak.
He replied, and it sounded like “I’m trying.”
“Please.”
His expression went from concerned to puzzled, to even more concerned. But thankfully, he didn’t argue. He just bent down, lifted her from the ground and tucked her against his broad chest. She closed her eyes and sank into him gratefully, praying he could keep her safe from the craziness she’d just witnessed.
* * *
Detective Brayden Maxwell inhaled as he shifted his hips to accommodate the added weight, and a lightly spiced scent hit him. Pleasant. Just like the feel of the girl—who he recognized from the quaint little restaurant a few blocks over—curled up in his arms.
Reggie, wasn’t it?
He glanced down. Yep, her name tag confirmed that he had it right.
Just two minutes earlier, he’d been on the phone with his brother, telling him that things were going smoothly. The plan didn’t have a hitch. Finally, after a decade and a half of searching, he was sure, all but 100 percent sure that they’d located their target. The man who’d walked away without a scratch, but left them with deep scars.
Now this.
What had spooked her so badly that she’d run out in front of his car like that? He hadn’t seen anything himself. Heck. He’d barely seen her. He was just glad he’d had enough time to swerve as much as he had. She’d smacked herself pretty hard against his bumper, but three seconds less notice...he shook his head at the thought, then inhaled again, and the sweet smell filled his nose a second time.
Cinnamon, maybe? Pie from the diner?
He studied her for another moment. She was always smiling while she served at the restaurant. One of those big smiles that lit up her whole face. It was almost too big for her very petite form. Perfect for her sparkling eyes, though, which were the greenest he’d ever seen. Which were all but closed now. Fluttering just a little. Her body was shaking a little, too.
Yeah, she was definitely more than shaken up. Maybe not in medical shock, but definitely under a great amount of emotional distress.
Not good.
Brayden frowned and brought his attention to the street. He scanned it carefully. Up. Then down. Then both ways again. He couldn’t see a shred of anything suspicious. Or anything much at all, for that matter. The sky was dim, but the streetlights—few as they were in this small town—hadn’t yet come on. The moment hovered right between dusk and true darkness, and his eyes hadn’t quite adjusted.
He gave himself one moment more to study the surrounding area. Nothing jumped out, but his instincts were definitely alight.
He decided not to waste any more time looking for—and thinking about—something that might not even be there. The girl was scared. Possibly hurt. Both those things necessitated his assistance, even if he didn’t factor in her specific request for help.
“All right,” he murmured. “Let’s get you somewhere you can feel safe.”
Where that was, he didn’t know yet. But his experience with trauma victims told him that getting her away from the scene would be a good start.
He stared at his car for a second, then decided it would be easiest to transport her in the back seat. She could lie down instead of trying to keep upright. As Brayden tugged open the door and laid her down, she started to shiver even more, and her teeth were chattering, too. The evening air was far too warm for that kind of chill.
Definitely something close to shock.
“Hey,” he said, careful to keep his voice low and gentle. “I’ve got a blanket in the trunk. Sit tight while I grab it, okay?”
She gave him just the barest hint of a nod. It would have to do. He strode to the rear of the car, popped open the lid, then retrieved a thick duvet from the pile of items he’d just washed at the Laundromat. It still had a hint of warmth, leftover from the dryer.
Perfect.
He slammed the trunk shut, then moved back to the side of the car, where he carefully tucked the blanket around Reggie’s tremor-riddled form. He made sure to cover her completely, shoulders to toes, noting that one of her shoes was missing. A quick glance in the direction she’d sprinted from told him the missing piece of footwear was nowhere close.
“Okay,” he said to her. “We’ll worry about that later. For now, I just want you to lie still. Can you do that?”
She gave another tiny nod, the duvet bouncing with her agreement.
“Good.” He put a hand on her covered shin, glad to see that her shivering had tapered off already. “You’re going to be fine. I promise.”
Then Brayden closed the door and made his way back to the driver’s seat. He turned the key and eased the car onto the empty street. He drove along slowly, mentally assessing what his destination ought to be.
The local doctor? He’d heard there was a man who ran a practice from his home, but it had to be after hours now.
Her place? He hadn’t a clue where it was.
The diner where she worked? Fine, unless she’d just run from there. It was only a few blocks over, after all.
Maybe Brayden’s own rented cabin? He paused to think about that possibility a little further. His temporary home was out of the way. But at least he knew where it was, and was familiar with its resources. Of course, having guests over wasn’t on his list of priorities. He had his mission—his one and only reason for taking up residence in the tiny town—and getting to know the pretty waitress wasn’t a part of it.
Because running over her with your car was?
Brayden stifled a sigh. Yeah, that hadn’t been on his to-do list, either. But adjusting to accommodate unexpected scenarios was a pretty key element in his work. So he’d just have to do it now.
As he put his foot to the gas, he let himself lift his eyes to the rearview mirror. Reggie had disappeared into the bulky blanket; her waiflike form was but invisible.