I groped for the tote bag, and another jab of pain shot through my wrist. I could hardly move it without gritting my teeth. Fucking hell. The crash had hurt that too.
I twisted at the waist to reach for my bag with my other hand and winced at the ache that spread through my side. My ribs had gotten in on the game as well. From the feel of them, they were only bruised, but I’d broken enough of them in the past that they were way too sensitive to getting bumped around.
Hazards of the job.
Clenching my jaw against the various pains, I snatched the handle of the tote bag and shoved open the driver’s side door. The world outside swam before my still-blurry eyes, but I had to keep going. I took a deep breath and pushed my way out of the car, trying to do most of the work with my left arm.
It didn’t work as well as I’d hoped, and I staggered out of the car, my legs wobbling and a fresh rush of pain penetrating my chest. The rain drenched me in an instant. It also flushed my eyes, alleviating a bit of the sting but not clearing my vision particularly well. I couldn’t tell how much of the blurring was because of the water and how much from the airbag’s chemicals now.
“Hey,” a deep voice said from behind me. “Are you all right?”
I whirled, and my legs swayed again, still shaky from the crash. I stumbled right into the chest of a large, muscle-bound man. He caught my elbows, and I jerked away instinctively.
Who the hell was he? What did he want with me?
“Hold on,” he said. My hazy vision made out a broad-shouldered form nearly a foot taller than me, the square-jawed face topped with dark hair. It was hard to make out what expression he was even making or anything else beyond that.
He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m just trying to help you. That was a hell of a crash.”
Oh. That did kind of make sense, didn’t it? Good Samaritans or whatever. Probably just looking for the ego boost of saying he’d come to someone’s rescue, but nothing necessarily nefarious.
It wasn’t just him, though. Three more figures gathered around us, all male, all with at least half a foot and fifty pounds on my well-toned but trim frame. Where had they all come from?
Where was the car I’d thought was tailing me? Had these guys come out of it? If they had, what were they planning on doing to me?
I tugged the tote bag’s strap over my shoulder instinctively so I’d have my hands free to fight, not that one of those hands felt up to engaging in combat at the moment. At the same time, a slimmer figure with a face framed by light red hair leaned toward me. “Is she okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lied automatically, taking a step back and dodging another man who’d come up beside me. “Really, thank you for your concern, but—”
I turned, and banged my hip on a newspaper box I hadn’t seen between the darkness and my blurred eyes. My right hand shot out automatically to help me catch my balance, and agony lanced through my wrist. I couldn’t stop myself from hissing at the pain.
“You don’t seem okay,” the first guy said, swiping rain from his face. “That wrist might be broken. We should call an ambulance.”
Another of the men who’d approached us jerked around as if to stare at the one who’d spoken. All I could make out of this one was a sharp chin and blond hair plastered to his skull. “Julius,” he said in a voice that had an edge to it.
Julius. The name seemed to fit the imposing masculinity that radiated off of every inch of the first man’s frame.
I didn’t want to stay here with him and whoever these other guys were, and I didn’t want to be taken to any hospital. If the people who’d slaughtered the household were looking for me, I couldn’t afford to leave any kind of paper trail.
That was one of Noelle’s first rules. Never, ever let anyone make a permanent record of your presence.
“I’m fine,” I said again, taking another step back. My legs were getting steadier, at least. I blinked, unsuccessfully willing my vision to clear more, and restrained a shiver at the chill of my soaked clothes and hair. “No need for an ambulance. I was almost home anyway. I can make it there on my own.”
No need to follow me. Just let me leave.
“I can’t let you go walking around when you could be battered up more than you realize,” the man named Julius said. “Here, if you don’t want an ambulance, I’ve got some basic medical training. Let me look you over quickly, and if I don’t see any reason to worry, then you can be on your way.”
He made the suggestion sound perfectly reasonable. His firm baritone was the kind of voice used to making commands and having them followed. But that only made me balk even more.
I didn’t take orders from him or any other random guy. I didn’t want him or his friends getting any closer to me than they already had.
He’d accepted my refusal of proper medical attention awfully easily, hadn’t he? Was that normal, or did it mean he hadn’t really wanted to bring anyone else onto the scene either?
“You really don’t need to go to that much trouble,” I said. That sounded decently normal, right? “If I start feeling worse, I have my own doctor I can call. I’d be more comfortable with that than a stranger, obviously.”
The men shifted on their feet around me. I had trouble keeping track of them all in the hazy darkness. I started to swivel to keep all of them in view, and the blond guy grabbed my elbow, more gently than I’d have expected given the tone of his voice earlier. “You’ve obviously hurt your wrist,” he said with a new air of concern. “And it looks like you’ve got blood on your shirt. Did something happen before the accident?”
My gaze jerked down and made out a blotch of red on the blue T-shirt now plastered to my body. It had to be Anna’s blood, from when I’d caught her in the doorway. My pulse stuttered. “I—I must have gotten scratched up a bit in the crash. It’s nothing serious. Really, I’d rather just go home. On my own.”