Page 66 of Elusive Promise

"That clearly didn't occur to you," he said.

"No," she muttered, sinking down on the ground beneath the ledge.

It was then he realized there was blood on her neck. "Were you hit?" He squatted next to her. "You're bleeding."

She put a hand to the side of her neck and winced. "I think it's glass from the window."

"Let me see." He gently lifted her hair out of the way and saw a sliver of glass sticking out of a bloody patch of skin on her neck. "I think I can get it," he said, pulling the glass out as gently as he could. "We need to get you to a doctor."

"Too risky."

"There could be more glass in there. It could get infected."

"We'll pick up some antibiotic ointment when we get the car."

She was tough—that was for sure. And why wouldn't she be? She was an FBI agent. That fact was still sinking into his brain.

"All right." He knew as well as she did that a hospital or urgent care visit would become public record, and Parisa needed to stay off the grid.

He stood up and took another look at the street below. There was no sign of the van, and no men moving through the crowded block of tourists and shoppers. "I don't see anyone."

"Is your car registered to you? Can they trace it? Because I gave your name to the FBI. They know we're together, and if the attacks are coming from the bureau, they could trace me through you."

"The car was rented by George Carmichael. He has a Brooklyn address."

She stared back at him, and he could see the questions in her eyes, but all she said was, "Okay."

"Let's go back to the garage," he said. "We need wheels, and I really don’t believe we were followed to the parking structure. If we had been, they would have taken us out there. The drive-by came after you called the bureau in."

"I can't believe that my own agency is trying to kill me."

"It's certainly not an ideal situation," he said dryly. "Come on." He got to his feet and extended his hand.

She reluctantly took it, even as she said, "I can stand up on my own."

"I know you're a badass, Parisa. I just had a front-row seat to your skills. But, just so you know, we're still not even. I saved your life twice. You only saved mine once. And I saw the gun the same time you did; you just yelled first."

"It still counts as my save. I just hope neither one of us has to do it again," she murmured, as they headed back down the fire escape.

It was a nice thought, but he didn't believe it for a second.

They took a circuitous route to the car, finding it exactly where they'd left it. There was absolutely no one around, with only two other cars on the parking level, and both appeared to be empty. After another minute of assessment, they approached the vehicle. By force of habit, he checked around the car, including the undercarriage, before opening the door and getting behind the wheel.

Parisa put on her seat belt, wincing as it hit her neck.

"We'll take care of that soon," he said, hitting the gas. "Right now, we need to get somewhere else." He drove out of the garage and away from the convention center, making his way onto Riverside Drive, then heading over the George Washington Bridge into New Jersey.

He made a quick stop at a drugstore for first-aid supplies, then drove past Fort Lee, and into the Palisades Interstate Park, where he found a parking spot near the Hudson River. From here, they had a great view of Manhattan, but he wasn't as interested in the cityscape as he was in taking care of Parisa.

He pulled antiseptic and bandages out of the bag as well as a pair of tweezers and a small flashlight.

"You're prepared," she said. "Quite the boy scout."

"I want to make sure all the glass is gone." He turned the light on her wound, happy to see that the bleeding had mostly stopped and that the cuts didn't appear to be big enough to need stitches. "Does it feel like anything is still in there?"

"Not really. It's much better since you got the glass out."

He leaned in close to her, trying not to be distracted by her sweet breath on his cheek, the curve of her neck, the silky texture of her hair as some of it brushed against his forehead. He saw one tiny little sliver of glass and he gently pulled it free with the tweezers. Everything else looked good. "This next part is going to sting."

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