Page 118 of Girl in the Water
The men weren’t happy withthat.
They got out of the car, looked up and down the abandoned sidewalk, then tried to drag her into the backseat.
Ian had trained her years ago for moments like this. She tossed the empty bottle and beat the men off, hurt them enough that they left, cursing her out and calling her a crazy bitch.
She swore after them in Portuguese. Ian had been right not to let her forget the language. The way the fiery words rolled off her tongue was immensely satisfying.
Then she fell over her own feet and scraped her hands on the pavement, banged her cheek. She pushed up, stayed on her ass, watched the blood run down her wrists. Her skin stung and burned.
A cab rolled down the street. She held up a bloody hand. The cabbie ignored her and kept on going.
She was completely drunk for the first time in her life, but she was still smart enough to know that sitting here, alone, in the middle of the night, was stupid. Crystal was in Boston, visiting her parents. Iris would have a heart attack. And she didn’t like to drive in the dark, at night. Her eyes were getting finicky. So Daniela swallowed her pride, pulled out her cell phone, and called Ian.
He answered on the second ring with “What’s wrong?”
“Why do you always assume that I can’t handle myself and need your help?” she mumbled.
“You’re calling me at past two in the morning.”
The blood trickled onto the phone from her hand. She stared at it with the rapt attention of a drunk. “I’m bleeding.”
“Where are you?” His voice turned sharp, full of tension.
“I’m on the street.” Right. That wasn’t helpful. She looked up, read the street signs, and gave him the intersection.
“I’ll be right there. Don’t move.”
“I don’t think I can.” A dull ache spread through her body.
She ended the call and slipped the phone into her back pocket…on the third try. It rang almost immediately, Ian calling her back. She ignored him. She was afraid if she picked up, she might tell him that she still loved him.
***
Ian
I’m bleeding. I’m on the street.
Ian had never been so scared in his life. Every muscle in his body was so tight, he thought he’d break. He could barely breathe.
He’d just gotten back from Moscow. He’d ended up having to stay an extra couple of days to tie up loose ends. He was loopy with jet lag. Then the call. What the hell happened?
I’m bleeding.
Had she been mugged? Shot? Raped?
I’m on the street.
He hadn’t seen her in six months, but she’d always sounded fine on the phone. Until just now. Now was the opposite of fine.
He drove twice the speed limit, through red lights. Thank God the streets were empty. For the first time in a long time, he was praying. He couldn’t imagine his life without Daniela in it.
Truth was, she’d saved him…
Before he could think more about that stun grenade, he was at the intersection, and he could see her. She was sitting on the sidewalk.
She raised her head and looked at him as he parked by the curb, then ran to her. She looked so lost, it shattered not just his heart but every organ he had. He felt liquefied inside.
He noted the blood and that she wasn’t too terribly hurt, nothing life threatening. He picked her up, carried her to the car, and put her in the passenger seat.
