Page 14 of The Millionaire's Mechanic

You can’t afford to pass this up. “Let me talk to him again.”

Rainer beamed at her. That small, pathetic part of her that was greedy for his smiles panted like an eager puppy.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” She scowled, turning to the driveway at the sound of a car engine. “He’s pretty set on the car staying in the family.”

“Leave that to me,” Rainer promised, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Is that him? I can talk to him right now.”

But he didn’t get a chance. Georgia squinted at the drive. The engine she heard wasn’t Ephraim’s. She knew what his sedan sounded like it, and this wasn’t it.

She was about to check it out—the car was idling at the mouth of the drive—when there was a popping sound. The next thing she knew, she went flying through the air, a heavy weight crushing her to the ground.

Rainer had tackled her. His big hand had moved up to protect her head, but it didn’t work. The back of her skull rapped on the sealed concrete floor twice in quick succession. Pain, too much to process, bloomed. Her ears began to ring, the high pitch drowning everything else out.

Rainer leapt off her. His body was silhouetted against the dying evening light as everything closer to her darkened. Two other massive forms appeared in the threshold. They moved inside, going for Rainer.

Dazed, she blinked at the three men who seemed to struggle in slow motion. Her vision blinked in and out, catching one shadowy form trying to hold two off.

Two against one, Rainer should have had no chance.

My phone. She had to get her phone to call the police. Or Powell. Why the hell had Powell caved and let Rainer come out here on his own?

She tried to crawl to the table in an attempt to reach her phone. Before she could, Rainer stood over her. He held a bloody crowbar, which she numbly realized belonged to her.

His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear any words coming out. Rainer turned to look behind him. It appeared as if he were shouting at someone.

Then he picked her up, cradling her in his arms before hustling her out of the garage.

CHAPTEREIGHT

Rainer crossed his arms, tapping his foot impatiently as his private physician examined Georgia.

“I’m okay now,” Georgia protested, trying to get up from the exam table for the second time.

Finally losing it, he crossed the room to hover over her.

“Lay back down or I will physically restrain you,” he said sternly. “I don’t want you to move until the doctor says you can.”

Behind Georgia, Dr. Bennett did a double-take. His personal physician had never seen Rainer behave like this.Fuck it. Rainer had neverfeltlike this.

Georgia settled back in the bed, her fine features tightening, a hand over her stomach as if she felt nauseated.Because I broke her damn head.

Rainer hadn’t protected her well enough when he threw himself over her, removing her from the line of fire. Now her skull might be fractured.

Georgia hadn’t even been able to pick herself up off the floor, not answering his anxious inquiries about her health. She’d just blinked at him owlishly. It had taken more than seven minutes—a fucking eternity—for her to reply coherently, but still far too sluggishly.

Powell had tried to insist the doctor take a look at him first, but Rainer had shut that down with a single blistering glare.Hewas fine—a little bruised, and one of the bones in his hand might be cracked from throwing punches before he picked up the crowbar—but it was Georgia who needed immediate medical attention.

“Where are the X-rays you ordered?” he asked the doctor while watching Georgia like hawk.

“Let me check.” The physician stepped into the hall, returning with a large envelope. He slipped the X-rays out, then placed them on one of the illuminated boxes fixed to the wall. “Good news. There’s no fracture. A minor concussion at worst.”

“Minor?” He scowled. “Are you sure?”

“Would you rather I have a fractured skull?” Georgia asked.

The hint of amusement in her tone made the tight twist in his gut start to unravel. She was beginning to sound normal again.

Bennet clapped him on the shoulder. “I recommend close supervision and a little TLC—along with a course of painkillers to be taken as needed. Also, no sex for at least a week.”

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