She gasped.Get up. Get up. Get up.
He didn’t move. Facedown in the wet grass, pine needles already falling on his bare back, he remained still. Too still.
She swallowed, her heart beating so fast it was hard to breathe as she finished unlocking the door. Was this the heart attack she’d been waiting for? She had to put all her weight into moving the heavy door, but she got it open.
The rain and wind attacked her instantly.
What if he was dead? A hit to the temple could kill somebody. Everyone knew that.
She blinked and looked in the direction the branch had come from. The tree had cracked and was swaying crazily. She’d been meaning to have somebody cut it down. It was definitely going to fall.
Right on the downed ex-cop.
This was her fault. She hadn’t called a forester because she hadn’t wanted to talk to anybody on the phone. Her weakness had created danger.
There was no choice. She had to help him.
Her breath came out in a rush, and she launched into motion, ignoring fear. She ran across her brick patio and onto the grass, the wild wind competing with the ringing between her ears. The rain smashed against her pink tank top and shorts, molding the soft material to her body. Her hair whipped around in the wind, getting soaked, and she shoved tendrils out of her eyes, having to squint.
He struggled to his hands and knees just as she reached him, her bare feet covered in wet grass.
She paused, fear nearly swallowing her. Was he okay? She could return to the house.
His head hung down, his wet hair obscuring his face. This close, the violence done to his body was even more evident. A large surgical scar wound around his left thigh, and another healed knife wound showed on his left hip.
“Malcolm?” she whispered, her voice stolen by the storm. She reached out and touched his shoulder.
He jumped up so quickly, she screamed. Pivoting, he turned to face her, his legs braced and his fists clenched. Fire lanced in his green eyes. Terror and fury sharpened the rugged angles of his hard face. Blood mingled with rain on his right temple.
Her feet froze. Her legs shook. She couldn’t move. He was so much taller, so much bigger, than anybody she’d ever met. If he attacked her, she didn’t have a chance.
But she still couldn’t run.
Recognition slowly filled his eyes, making him look more human than animal. “Pippa.” His chest heaved. He dropped to one knee, and water splashed up.
She grasped his arm, his skin slippery from the rain but still heated. “Don’t pass out again. I can’t get you inside by myself.” Going on instinct, swallowing her fear, she shoved her body beneath his arm. “Muscle weighs more than fat.” Babbling now, she lifted up and helped him stumble to his feet. “You don’t have any fat.” Not an ounce. Even his abdomen, now that she could see it, was ripped. “So you’re heavy. I can’t drag you inside.” He outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds. Probably more.
“I’m okay,” he slurred, staggering by her side toward the patio.
“Right.” She kept going until they reached the sliding glass door, feeling small and defenseless so close to him.
With his free hand, he carelessly slid the heavy door the rest of the way open. His easy strength rippled tension through her abdomen. Awareness and something else. Something heated and needy that she’d worry about later.
Then they were inside her cheery yellow-patterned kitchen. She helped him sit at the quaint round table, and the antique wooden chair groaned under his weight.
She took a step back.
He overwhelmed the chair. His wet hair and the blood on his face gave him a primitive, dangerous look.
And she’d brought him into her safe haven.
* * *
Mal’s chest ached, probably because his heart had rammed against his rib cage in a way that had to be unhealthy. Certainly unnecessary. He often awoke in the dead middle of a panic attack, and fresh air always seemed to help, so he usually ran outside like a wild animal.
He hadn’t considered he’d get beaned in the head this time.
Everything hurt. His head, his face, his hip, his damn leg. But warmth and the smell of freshly baked cookies wafted around, somehow calming him.
