Page 30 of Broken Dreams

Roland cursed and scowled when Amber broke free. He lunged for her, but she anticipated his move and sidestepped him. His fist managed to catch the fabric of her scrubs just enough that he yanked her toward him with surprising force.

This time Amber fought with what seemed to be wild desperation. He pushed himself to move faster, but the scene continued to unfold before him in slow motion.

“Let me go!” Her face grew red as she struggled against Roland's grip. Knocked off balance, they both fell against the sports car, with Amber pinned beneath Roland's bulk.

Nick grabbed the back of Roland's shirt and hauled him upright, yanking him away from Amber. “Stop it! What is your problem?”

Nick caught the odor of alcohol and knew.

Drunk. Roland was drunk. Maybe not staggering, stupid drunk. But he was definitely under the influence.

Roland ignored Nick, his attention still focused on Amber, and he glared at her where she leaned against the car. “What do you have against me? What did I ever do to you?”

“You've crossed the line, Roland.” He didn’t let go of him, worried he'd lunge toward Amber again. “You stay away from her, do you hear me?”

“It's all her fault. Everything is all her fault.” Roland continued to babble, but Nick sensed the worst of the danger was over. “She's trying to ruin me.”

He shoved Roland aside with disgust. “As Amber said, you did that all by yourself.”

The man slumped against the car as Nick crossed over to Amber. He drew her upright, pressing her against his lean frame. The dazed, horrified expression in her eyes tore at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Her hands were shaking, and she reached down to massage her knee. She must have smacked it hard on the car when they'd fallen against it.

Nick barely glanced at Roland as he dug his cell phone out of his lab coat. “You'd better file formal assault charges this time. I’m sure this entire interaction was caught on the hospital security system. And if you don’t call 911, I will.”

Chapter Ten

“Don't be ridiculous”. Amber straightened then shocked him by snatching the phone from his hand, quickly disconnecting the call. “You can't call 911 for this. It's not an emergency.”

“You're hurt. That's enough of an emergency for me.” Furious at Roland for laying a hand on her, he rounded on him, wrapping a fist in the front of the older man’s shirt and pulling him close. “I’m telling you one last time. You had better stay away from her.”

“Nick.” She laid a hand on his arm. “I'm fine. Just let it go.”

“I can't.” Those endless moments before he could reach her would haunt him for a long time. “He threatened you.”

“Threatened her? That's bull. I just wanted to talk to her.” Rolland leaned backward, trying to break his hold. Apparently, Roland wasn't willing to pick on someone his own size. “I didn't mean to hurt her.”

“Oh yeah? Maybe you should have thought of that before you grabbed her and shook her like a rag doll.” She continued to pull on his arm, and with reluctance he let go of Roland's shirt. Taking a step back, he breathed deeply, struggling for control. “Get out of here, Roland. And don't even think about getting behind the wheel of your little blue convertible in your condition because I'll call the police. Did I mention Amber's brother is a cop? Something you should have thought about before manhandling her.” He took his cell phone back from Amber. “Go and call yourself a rideshare.”

Roland stumbled away, muttering obscenities under his breath. Letting him walk away wasn't easy—adrenaline raced through his system, making him yearn to blow off some steam by following Roland inside, maybe even escorting the guy all the way to Johnson’s office. He wrestled himself under control and turned toward Amber. “Let me see your knee.”

She lifted one leg of her scrub pants as high as it would go. Her right knee was swollen and already starting to bruise.

“We need ice. I'll help you back to the hospital. We can get an ice pack inside.”

“No.” Her voice was flat. “Roland headed that way.”

He understood her reluctance and glanced across the street to The Cozy Inn, where he had a room—at least until five o'clock. “We can get ice from the motel. Do you think you can make it that far?”

“Sure.” She sounded confident enough but when she put weight on her knee, she winced. “Maybe.”

“Here, lean on me, I’ll lean on my cane,” he joked, trying not to sound as frustrated as he felt. Why couldn't he have moved just a little faster, to prevent Roland from hurting her?

Why hadn't his muscles obeyed his commands? If he hadn't been hampered by his injuries, he could have stopped Roland and diffused the situation before things had gotten so far out of hand.

“Stop it.” Amber must have been able to read his mind, because she jabbed him lightly in the ribs with her index finger. “You've got to stop taking responsibility for other people's actions. For their decisions. Roland hurt my knee—you didn't. Besides, I was stupid enough to try talking to him in the first place.”

He raised a brow as they made their way across the street. “Did you smell the alcohol on his breath?”

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