Page 141 of Unseen Danger

He forced his eyes open again. He hefted his head slightly as he rotated it this time before gently lowering it again. The effort ricocheted spikes of pain throughout the front of his skull, though he’d probably only managed to lift it a quarter inch. “What happened?” His gaze finally found Bristol’s face, her grayish blue eyes filled with a blend of intensity and concern.

“We found you unconscious outside minutes after Nevaeh left.”

Nevaeh left? Why hadn’t he seen her leave? Or had he? He blinked. His brain felt so foggy.

Fog. He’d stepped outside the reception hall, the lobby. Walked into the fog. To get Nevaeh’s pickup.

Something had smashed into his head. “Someone knocked me out.”

“Yes.”

Adrenaline surged through his veins, and he tried to push to sitting.

Hands landed on his shoulders from behind, pressing him down with surprising strength. “Hang on. You’re not ready to go anywhere yet.” A masculine voice. Maybe Sofia’s husband, Michael?

Branson angled his eyes up, trying to see, but that only elicited more throbbing in his head.

“Were you able to clean the wound?” Cora’s voice? But she sounded different, as if on a recording or…

“Yes, I think so.” Bristol glanced to the side, drawing his gaze to a smartphone she had lying on the coffee table where she sat.

They’d apparently put Branson on a sofa by the table. A too-short sofa, judging from the way his feet and lower legs stuck out into the air past the end at an awkward angle.

“It’s not as deep as I initially thought.” Bristol lifted the phone and held it in front of her face. “Had a lot of blood, but that seems to have stopped.”

“Praise the Lord.” Cora’s words drifted over him as his eyelids grew heavy. “Try to have him lie still until the paramedics arrive.”

“Right.”

“What about Nevaeh? Have you found anything?”

The mention of her name shot Branson’s eyes open. “I thought you said she left. Went home.” Concern pinched his chest.

“Easy.” The male voice again. And the pressure on his shoulders, holding him down.

Bristol lowered the phone to the table and focused on him with an expression that looked too much like pity, or maybe caution, for his taste. As if she was afraid of how he was going to react to what she was about to say. “We don’t know where Nevaeh is.”

“What?” The word burst from his lungs, and he pushed his fists into the sofa, trying to push up.

Didn’t help that the guy kept trying to pull him down from behind.

“Let me up.” He barked the order as he pushed through the resistance.

Bristol nodded at the phantom captor behind his head, and the pressure released.

If only he could say the same for the explosive pressure in his head. His skull felt like it was collapsing inward from his forehead back. But he managed to reach a sitting position. He sagged against the cushions behind him as the room reeled. He closed his eyes, which didn’t seem much better.

“He’ll likely be dizzy and possibly nauseous. But it might pass as his body adjusts to being conscious again.” Cora’s voice listed his symptoms as if she were experiencing them herself. She’d better be right about this passing. Because he wasn’t going to just sit here if his foggy brain had correctly comprehended what Bristol said.

“What do you mean?” He pushed out the words through clenched teeth as he forced his eyes open and picked Bristol’s nose as the fixed point to focus on.

“The last we saw her, she was headed outside to meet you and go home. Did she meet you outside?”

He squinted, pushing through the slog of memory. Had he seen her? That’s right. He was going to find the valet and have him bring up her pickup. Had he seen the valet? “The fog was so thick. I couldn’t see the valet. I walked in the direction I figured he was. And then…”

Branson’s hand went to his forehead and pressed—a futile effort to reduce the burning pain. “I don’t remember anything after that.”

Bristol’s lips pressed together.

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