Page 79 of Derek

Sonja was at Derek’s side immediately. “Don’t touch the knife!” she snapped as brought his hand to his wound.

“Relax, babygirl. I don’t think she hit me.”

“Um, Derek? There is a knife buried to the hilt in you!” Sonja attempted to pull her phone from her pocket and grimaced when she tried to move the fingers of her injured hand.

“Baby, you’re more hurt than I am! Sit down!” Derek reached for his cellphone in his back pocket. Sonja listened as Derek calmly called 911 and explained their situation and whereabouts.

“Could you please contact Detective Sergeant Paula Stone for me? She’s handling the case.” A pause as he listened to the emergency dispatcher. “Yes, ma’am, multiple knife wounds. No, the attacker is gone.” Another pause. “Thank you, ma’am.” He disconnected the call and addressed Sonja. “The paramedics should be here in less than fifteen minutes.”

Sonja started to shake as the reality of what had happened settled over her. Derek might have acted unbothered by his injury, but she was worried sick. God, please let it be a flesh wound. Nothing deep. Nothing life-threatening.

Her own injuries seemed minor in comparison, though her hand throbbed relentlessly, and the shallow slice on her back burned worse than the deeper cuts on her arms. The pain was strangely scattered, her body trying to process too much at once.

Derek reached toward the knife lodged in his abdomen, and she growled, “Don’t touch it.”

He shook his head and chuckled at her, like she was the one being unreasonable.

Her glare was sharp enough to make slacking busboys and gum-chewing waitresses snap to attention.

Derek held up both hands as if she had a gun trained on him. “All right, babygirl, I won’t touch it. But let me at least grab some clean towels so we can put pressure on your wounds.”

“Oh no you won’t.” Sonja snatched the nearest tea towel from the counter and wrapped it tightly around her bleeding hand, wincing as she applied pressure. “You are not moving around with a knife in your gut. I’m not having it.”

She reached for another towel, pressing it against one of the deeper cuts on her forearm. The pain made her vision swim for a second, but she forced herself to focus.

“We’re going to wait for the paramedics,” she said firmly. “I won’t bleed out in ten minutes, but you moving around? That’s a hell of a lot riskier.”

Derek exhaled through his nose, watching her with something between amusement and admiration. “You’re bossy when you’re hurt, you know that?”

“And you’re impossible,” she shot back, her jaw tight. “Now sit your stubborn ass down and wait a few minutes.”

The minutes proved to be exaggerated, because before Derek could react to her statement, voices sounded from the entrance.

“In here,” Derek called, and the next moment, her kitchen was filled with two efficient EMTs, one with a gray mustache and a tanned, creased face, the other much younger with umber skin and a shaved head.

Mustache attended to Derek while the younger one assessed her wounds. To Sonja’s relief and amazement, Derek had been right about his injury. The knife had penetrated his leather jacket but caught in his woolen sweater. The tip of the blade had grazed his side and left an angry red scratch, but it wasn’t deep enough to even need a bandage. Sonja’s cuts were deeper, and after applying bandages, the Black paramedic declared she needed to go to the hospital to get her hand X-rayed and the deeper slices stitched up.

Sonja opened her mouth to argue against them taking her in the ambulance as Jackson and Detective Will Tolbert burst into Sonja’s kitchen.

The younger paramedic scowled as their departure was further delayed, but he acceded to Jackson’s authority.

Jackson took charge right away and, with practiced efficiency, glanced around the kitchen and asked, “Angie?” At Derek’s affirmative, he put out an APB on Angie then turned to his babygirl. “Sonja, have you met Detective Will Tolbert?”

Sonja nodded and held up her bandaged arms in an apologetic gesture. “Sorry, I can’t shake hands, Detective.”

“Call me Will.” The tall man smiled kindly.

Derek felt a pang of jealousy. From the way that the other man looked at Sonja, the police detective was quite taken with her. Even with her tear-streaked face and bloodstained bandages, she was beautiful. Why on earth had he broken up with her? It hadn’t saved her from Angie. Derek shuddered at the thought of what could have happened to his babygirl if he hadn’t shown up.

A throaty sound and a raised eyebrow from Jackson pulled him back to the present. “Sorry, what did you ask me?”

Jackson gave him a knowing smirk. “I suggested that we take your statement and let the ambulance take Sonja to the hospital.” He trained his attention on the medical professionals, who were hovering over Sonja, anxious to get her out. “To which hospital are you taking her?”

“Truman,” was the clipped reply.

Derek kissed Sonja on the top of her head before letting the EMTs put her on a gurney. He watched them closely to makesure they were careful of her arms and hands. “I’ll be with you as soon as possible, babygirl.”

Sonja nodded, and his heart stuttered at the scared, pain-filled look in her eyes.

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