He didn’t know.
Wait. There was one thing.
He pulled the burner phone out of his pocket. He fumbled the keys as he dialed Tremaine emergency services. They provided health and emergency services to Tremaine executives, investors, and a select clientele, and they would take her to the hospital where he and Portia had been treated after the bombing.
With his finger on send, he stopped. What it would mean for Dizzie? Was he delivering her to the people who were looking for her? Could he live with himself if he did?
She groaned again and the sound frayed his nerves. His heart. He’d have to find out, because he couldn’t live with himself if she died and he could have saved her. He’d never come back from that.
She’d been hit by a car. He had to assume she was badly injured. The Tremaine facility was her best bet.
Hoping he wasn’t making a mistake, he dialed the Tremaine emergency number. He’d find a way to protect her while she got the best care possible.
They picked up on the first ring. Killian gave his name and security number.
“Portia Tremaine was involved in a motorcycle accident,” he told the voice on the other end of the line. “We need an ambulance immediately.”
They would have tracked his position from the call, so he hung up. He didn’t want to answer any questions, especially since it wasn’t Portia he called about. They wouldn’t show up for a courier, but they would for the heir.
“Why are you getting her aid, Killian? Why are you with her in the first place?” Portia kicked him, snapping him out of the past.
She stood next to him, nearly vibrating with fury. White powder from the airbag covered her face and torso. He flashed back to when she was pinned under the rubble. Killian focused on controlling his breath until he was back in the present.
While she yelled at him, Portia frantically searched in her purse, looking no worse for having intentionally crashed her car into Dizzie.
Portia smiled and pulled out her phone. “No ambulance for her. She can die alone, like Tommy did.”
“Stop, Portia. You aren’t thinking clearly.” He rose to his feet and grabbed the phone. “You’ve done enough.”
“Why?” Portia screamed. “She killed Tommy! Why do you care so much?”
Telling her that he’d developed feelings for Dizzie might escalate the already tense situation. “She’s innocent, Portia. Just a pawn in a game someone else is playing.”
He knew it. He’d accepted it. Reconciling his anger at Dizzie’s involvement with Tommy’s death game would take time, but it was time he was willing to spend.
“Prove it!” Her demand carried anger and grief.
“I can’t, not yet. But I will,” he promised her. Promised Dizzie.
Portia swayed.
Killian felt a flicker of alarm. She was still fragile from the explosion and, airbag or not, the crash hadn’t helped. He stood and led her to his front steps. “Sit here until the ambulance arrives.” His tone was no-nonsense, but not cold. He was pissed at her, with what she’d done, but still cared about her.
She glared at him but nodded.
He hoped she would keep her word, but she hadn’t been herself these last few days. He needed to be with Dizzie. Once he knew she would be okay, he would figure out how to keep Portia from sinking so low she couldn’t recover.
Killian approached Dizzie, making sure he was in her line of sight. Despite her ragged breathing, her pain-filled eyes were wide open. With the bike awkwardly laying on top of her, she looked smaller than ever.
Killian grasped the handlebars, intending to lift it off her. He’d barely moved it when she gasped in pain. He eased it down, helplessness washing over him.
“Killian?”
“I’m right here,” he reassured her, dropping to his knees beside her. “Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere.” Her laugh morphed into a gasp.
The sound broke his heart and the urge to hit something nearly overwhelmed him. He ached to pull her into his arms, but wouldn’t risk hurting her. That he hadn’t been able to protect her made him physically ill.
