Anatoly turned in his seat to stare at her, surprised by the admission. Even though he had just met her, he couldn’t imagine what she might possibly have done to warrant being hassled at work. “I am priest, da? I know little bit about sin and penance, Detective. I can say whatever you have done, it is poor justification for harassment.”
Now he had her attention. Her head whipped around and her rich, dark eyes glowed with emotion. She opened her mouth, snapped it shut again, and then returned to glaring out the front window.
“Are you hungry?” she asked a few seconds later without looking at him.
“Nyet,” he replied, shaking his head no. It was a strange shift in the conversation, but he recognized it as Maggie wanting to change the topic and so he didn’t press the matter any further. “I am not big eater.”
Silence hung between them again, stale in the air. Anatoly searched for another way to break the stuffy quiet and was surprised when Maggie beat him to it.
“It’s closing time in ten minutes,” she said, indicating the clock. They had been here for hours already. “If our guy was gonna show up he’d have been here already. There’s a late night diner nearby and I’m starving. What do you say I buy you a coffee?”
Normally he would decline, but given the situation he was willing to tag along. Though he’d refuse the coffee entirely given the chance. “I will follow your lead, Detective Boone.”
She smiled faintly at him, the first time he had seen such an open gesture from her, and a strange twinge tingled through his chest.
“You may regret that later,” she told him wryly. Then she turned away again to start the vehicle, and Anatoly was left to ponder the woman next to him.
As they pulled away from the curb, he watched her from the corner of his eye. She was still alert, her wariness having returned once the car had rumbled to life. It made her a good driver, but he couldn’t help thinking that it must have been exhausting for her to be so vigilant all the time. Was this part of the job or part of her nature?
“What’s on your mind, Father?” Her voice startled him. Maggie hadn’t taken her eyes off the road and yet she was still aware of his attention. Exhausting.
He started to ask why she was so tense, but the next thing he knew the world was spinning, flipping over and over as the deafening crunch of metal and shattering of glass drowned out all other sound. It happened so fast he barely registered that they were no longer having a conversation.
The scent of blood drew his blurry gaze to the driver’s seat where Maggie was hanging upside down from the seat belt. She was unconscious and bleeding from a gash over her eye where her head had connected with something during the crash. The airbag had deployed successfully, protecting her from the dash and steering wheel, but she had still ended up injured.
Anatoly reached for her, fear and pain pounding through his veins, and gripped her shoulder. “Maggie?” he rasped. His throat felt like sand paper. He tried to rouse her with a firm shake, but all she did was groan.
“Pizdets…” Anatoly swore.
Chapter Six
As the world came back to Maggie, she was aware of two things. The first was the extreme pain in her head and the second was the assurance of a firm hand gripping her own. Then slowly everything else began to filter in and she recalled some of what had happened.
Consciousness had been elusive since hitting her head, but she dimly remembered Anatoly pulling her from the upside down car. His touch had been gentle and respectful, yet it had sent a jolt of warmth through her, even as she’d tried to function on her own. Her body hadn’t cooperated. Even now, her limbs felt uncoordinated and weak.
As she processed her surroundings, she found the person holding her hand was Anatoly. He was crouched beside her, a frown of concern straining his features. In the distance, she could hear sirens and deduced it had only been a few minutes since the wreck occurred. It seemed like a lifetime had passed.
“Easy, Maggie,” Anatoly urged, his voice soft. He squeezed her hand and she felt a modicum of strength return with the gesture. “You hit your head. Judging by loss of consciousness I suspect you have concussion.”
Maggie grunted, pulling her hand away and trying to rise up off the ground. He’d leaned her back against the totaled car and draped his black jacket over her torso. When she pushed the garment away, she realized she had thrown up at some point, too.
Anatoly’s firm hand on her shoulder kept her from rising. “I do not think you should move, Detective.” His rebuke was as gentle as his touch.
“The other driver…” she started to say, but stopped when he shook his head.
“I am afraid they are gone,” he explained.
Gone. The word echoed in Maggie’s head, making it throb worse than it already did. Her gaze searched what she could see from her lousy vantage point and sure enough, the other vehicle, a trash truck, looked abandoned.
“What the fuck?” She swore, not caring that she was in the presence of a priest. The situation more than called for a few curse words. If he was offended, he didn’t say anything, and for that, she was grateful.
Maggie swatted Anatoly’s hand off her shoulder and forced herself to her feet. Head swimming, the ache intensifying, she started limping toward the truck that from the look of the wreckage had struck the rear driver’s side fender.
She didn’t make it more than a step or two before dizziness overpowered her. Thankfully, Anatoly was there to steady her as she swayed dangerously.
“Please, Detective, sit and wait for ambulance to come,” he implored, keeping her steady with a strong arm wrapped around her waist.
Most men she would have pushed away for being so far in her bubble, but there was no discomfort in the priest’s proximity. She knew he was trying to help and that she’d likely be back on the ground if he hadn’t been there. She felt his coat go around her shoulders and wanted to allow him to care for her while they waited for the first responders to arrive, but she couldn’t.
