fight. Other people might be fooled by that empty-headed blonde act you put on but I know, at your core, you are pure steel. Now you fight, you hear me? Or I swear to god I’ll come after you in the afterlife and never give you a moment’s peace,” he said, his voice raw with emotion.
Something wet and warm plopped on her face. Surely Hank McHenry the quintessential tough guy wasn’t crying.
She called on the last reserves of her strength and lifted her hand toward his face. The distance was too great. It fell limply against his stomach. But it must have reassured him because he lifted it and kissed it.
“That’s my girl,” Hank whispered as he moved her head gently to the seat and got out of the truck.
She winced as the truck door slammed then rolled over facing the back of the seat and curled her knees up to her chest.
It seemed like only moment until the door opened. A sandpaper tongue licked her cheek and a purr rumbled like thunder in her ear. She smiled. Puss – Puss .
“Bella, can you sit up?”
The man took the time to get her cat, for the gods’ sakes, the least she could do was humor him. On arms like spaghetti she pushed up an inch then collapsed back down.
“Good girl.”
He lifted her. “I’m probably doing all the wrong things for a head injury but we’ve got to get you to Maureen. Whatever’s wrong, she’ll fix it.”
I know she will .Hadn’t she seen Maureen heal Jack Wolfe with her healing amulet when his muscles were barely more than a mass of quivering Jell-O?
Hank slid a silk pillow he must have taken from the couch onto his lap then lowered her. Taking her hand, he said, “Squeeze my hand once if you want the pillow. Squeeze it twice if it elevates you too much.”
She wouldn’t go so far as to call it a squeeze but she did manage a butterfly push with her fingers, her hand trembling.
“That’s my, girl.” He let go of her hand and turned the key. The engine rumbled to life. Hank eased out of the parking space in front of the building.
She pried her eyes open and watched from heavy lids as he leaned over, popped open the glove compartment and pulled out his cell phone. Driving with one hand, he punched in buttons then held it to his ear.
“Maureen, it’s Hank. Listen, honey, I need you and Jack to meet me. I’m on my way home. Bella’s been injured. I’m pretty sure she’s got a concussion and I’m afraid she’s trying to slide into a coma. I hope to god she doesn’t have a neck or back injury. I’ve been shuffling her around. Thank god you and your amulet can fix anything.” Emotion deepened his voice.
“I’ll probably hook up with you somewhere along I-24 in Kentucky. Ask that Wills kid who’s been hanging around to check on the horses. See you in about six hours.” He clicked shut the phone and threw it in the glove compartment.
Puss–Puss curled up between her knees and chest. Comforted, Bella managed to raise her hand and rest it in the cat’s silky fur. She slipped into sleep like a baby.
Periodically, the feel of Hank’s hand on her wrist checking her pulse would wake her. Time held no meaning. The drone of large semis on the highway slipped into her dreams.
She woke to excruciating pain hammering her body, in particular her head. “Coffee. Aspirin,” she whispered.
“What?” Hank said as he swerved the car into the right-hand lane.
She didn’t have the strength to repeat it. He’d just have to figure it out.
“Coffee? Aspirin? I’m sure that’s what you said,” he mumbled to himself. “I knew you were a survivor. I’ll take the next exit. I need gas anyway.”
“Here we go.” The truck slowed as he exited off the highway. “Right up ahead.”
He turned the wheel again and bright lights pushed against her closed eyelids. She bit back a moan.
“Let’s get you some fresh air.” He cracked the window. A cool breeze tinged with gas fumes floated into the cab.
Hank turned off the truck then lifted her gently from his lap.
Something wet and warm plopped on her face. Surely Hank McHenry the quintessential tough guy wasn’t crying.
She called on the last reserves of her strength and lifted her hand toward his face. The distance was too great. It fell limply against his stomach. But it must have reassured him because he lifted it and kissed it.
“That’s my girl,” Hank whispered as he moved her head gently to the seat and got out of the truck.
She winced as the truck door slammed then rolled over facing the back of the seat and curled her knees up to her chest.
It seemed like only moment until the door opened. A sandpaper tongue licked her cheek and a purr rumbled like thunder in her ear. She smiled. Puss – Puss .
“Bella, can you sit up?”
The man took the time to get her cat, for the gods’ sakes, the least she could do was humor him. On arms like spaghetti she pushed up an inch then collapsed back down.
“Good girl.”
He lifted her. “I’m probably doing all the wrong things for a head injury but we’ve got to get you to Maureen. Whatever’s wrong, she’ll fix it.”
I know she will .Hadn’t she seen Maureen heal Jack Wolfe with her healing amulet when his muscles were barely more than a mass of quivering Jell-O?
Hank slid a silk pillow he must have taken from the couch onto his lap then lowered her. Taking her hand, he said, “Squeeze my hand once if you want the pillow. Squeeze it twice if it elevates you too much.”
She wouldn’t go so far as to call it a squeeze but she did manage a butterfly push with her fingers, her hand trembling.
“That’s my, girl.” He let go of her hand and turned the key. The engine rumbled to life. Hank eased out of the parking space in front of the building.
She pried her eyes open and watched from heavy lids as he leaned over, popped open the glove compartment and pulled out his cell phone. Driving with one hand, he punched in buttons then held it to his ear.
“Maureen, it’s Hank. Listen, honey, I need you and Jack to meet me. I’m on my way home. Bella’s been injured. I’m pretty sure she’s got a concussion and I’m afraid she’s trying to slide into a coma. I hope to god she doesn’t have a neck or back injury. I’ve been shuffling her around. Thank god you and your amulet can fix anything.” Emotion deepened his voice.
“I’ll probably hook up with you somewhere along I-24 in Kentucky. Ask that Wills kid who’s been hanging around to check on the horses. See you in about six hours.” He clicked shut the phone and threw it in the glove compartment.
Puss–Puss curled up between her knees and chest. Comforted, Bella managed to raise her hand and rest it in the cat’s silky fur. She slipped into sleep like a baby.
Periodically, the feel of Hank’s hand on her wrist checking her pulse would wake her. Time held no meaning. The drone of large semis on the highway slipped into her dreams.
She woke to excruciating pain hammering her body, in particular her head. “Coffee. Aspirin,” she whispered.
“What?” Hank said as he swerved the car into the right-hand lane.
She didn’t have the strength to repeat it. He’d just have to figure it out.
“Coffee? Aspirin? I’m sure that’s what you said,” he mumbled to himself. “I knew you were a survivor. I’ll take the next exit. I need gas anyway.”
“Here we go.” The truck slowed as he exited off the highway. “Right up ahead.”
He turned the wheel again and bright lights pushed against her closed eyelids. She bit back a moan.
“Let’s get you some fresh air.” He cracked the window. A cool breeze tinged with gas fumes floated into the cab.
Hank turned off the truck then lifted her gently from his lap.
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