Page 8 of Breathless Recruiter

My foot touched down, and I skidded along the sidewalk, kicking up asphalt. I reached for the door, fingers digging into the metal. With a quick jerk, it screeched as it tore free. I ripped off his seatbelt and grabbed the man by the shirt.

“You’re safe.”

He leaned against a lamppost, his chest heaving from panic. Placing my hands on my hips, I pushed out my chest, trying to look the role. His eyes were focused on his feet, buckled over, catching his breath. I waited, wanting to make sure he got a good look at his protector.

The car rocked one last time before a groan filled the bridge, and it slid over the edge. The man leaned to the side, looking past me. His mouth gaped open, highlighting his pointy chin.

“You’re safe,” I repeated.

“I know,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job…” He pushed off the lamppost, eyeing the spot where his car had been moments before. “But couldn’t you have pulled my car to safety?”

I didn’t drop my fists from my waist as I shuffled in a circle. I had torn the door off to save the human, not thinking about the car. Cars didn’t need saving; humans did. Why did he care about a ton of metal? Icouldhave done it his way, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as gratifying.

“But… you’re safe.”

“I mean, thanks. I appreciate not dying. But it’d have been easier.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re strong.”

“I am.” I puffed my chest out more to emphasize his point.

“Pick up the car and put it on the road.”

“But the car didn’t need saving.”

“My insurance agent will disagree.”

“You have an agent ensuring your safety?”

“Insure, not ensure.”

I blinked, confused. He didn’t need to say it. I read the disappointment on his face as he peered over the ledge. My moment of victory deflated, and I wanted to kick myself for missing the obvious solution. It might go down in the newspapers as a rescue, but it didn’t give me warm fuzzy feelings.

He stepped back from the bent metal guardrail and gave me a pat on the chest. “I owe you my life.”

I feigned a smile. My heart jumped enough that I fought back a whimper. He’d get to go home to his family tonight and put his children to bed. It might not?—

“You’d be amazed at how often stuff like this happens to me.” My eyebrow shot up at the remark. “Last week, I crashed into one of those big trucks carrying oil. Surprised I survived.”

“How did?—”

“Before that, I got kidnapped by some goons in a van.”

“Sir—”

“That army of undead? That only happened cause I read this old book out loud. Who knew Latin was so dangerous?”

My jaw dropped. Drew and Orion talked about victimitis. I thought they made it up to tease me. These people, no matter where they went, found themselves in peril. At every turn, the universe tried to kill them, and yet, somehow, they walked away unscathed. Vanguardians were still picking up bones in the streets from the failed skeleton invasion.

“Good, Sir?—”

“Bob.”

“Good, Bob. Remain indoors.”

“But—”

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