Page 44 of Love Me Dangerous

My backpack is ripped from me as I go down, but I’m in so much pain, my cry of resistance sounds garbled. I stumble into a parked car, smashing my shoulder. Car doors slam, and the headlights recede. I grip the hood of the car like my life depends on it.God, the pain.

Tears sting my eyes and I’m shaking. Everything important to me is in that pack. My saved cash. My phone. My sketchbook. The Leatherman tool my dad gave me.

“Zach!”

Pain is everywhere, stealing my breath. My arms are shaking so bad. I need to let go of the car, but then what? Can I walk?

“Zach, oh my god.” Sofie’s panicked tone mixes with the rushed tap of her boots as she hurries to me. “What happened?”

I shake my head. “They took my pack.”

“One of them had a bat. You’re hurt.” She slides one arm under my shoulders and gently takes my weight.

I cry out as the shift in my position jostles whatever’s broken.

“I’ve got you. Zach, let go.”

The effort it takes me to let go of the hood and lean into her makes me huff and pant. My stomach lurches, and I’m helpless to stop the bile from rising into my throat.

I inhale a slow breath of the cold night air. “What… are you doing here?”

“Giving you a ride,” she replies.

“Stubborn,” I grit out. Walking and not hurling are taking a lot of focus.

She grunts from the strain. “So I’m told.”

We reach the passenger side of an ancient Jeep Wagoneer with faux wood paneling. There’s no sign of the two people who jumped me. Or their vehicle. I know it was black. And I think I might have broken a headlight.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.” Sofie reaches for the door.

“No,” I bark.

Sofie sucks in a shaky breath. “Fine, then I’m taking you home.”

Chapter Twelve

ZACH

Sofie’s engineis still running. Like she jumped out of her car to intervene. We get to the passenger side out of breath, but I manage to keep my dinner down.

Climbing into my seat sends a blowtorch of pain up the right side of my body. Panting, bracing off the sides to support my frame, I slowly adjust my legs and try to ease back into the seat. My knees have to stay bent, but I get settled enough to hopefully endure the drive.

Sofie gets behind the wheel and buckles, then reverses out of the parking lot. The bump from rolling over the curb makes me shout in pain.

Sofie winces. “Sorry.”

Concentrating on bracing myself while she drives drains the last of my energy. My head starts to throb. I close my eyes and will the pain to soften.

When the road turns to gravel, Sofie slows, but the route is rutted with washboards and pockmarked. Every rattle and dip of the squishy suspension makes me stiffen and grunt as renewed pain shoots through me. Finally, we turn up a narrow lane and park in front of a white, single-story house with a covered porch, framed on both sides by tall trees.

“I’m going to get help,” Sofie says and dashes from the car. She continues through a gate in the picket fence and into the house.

I open my door and start maneuvering my position. Each shift of my weight brings more pain.

The front door of the house flies open, sending a beam of light across the tidy yard. Sofie and a man in a flannel shirt and jeans race toward me. A spotted brown dog slips from the door after them.

They hurry through the gate, and the man comes to help me up. He’s barefoot, like he couldn’t be bothered to put on shoes.

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