Page 28 of Rescuer
Mia jerked her eyes back to the men. “What? I’ve never spoken to her.”
“Let me see your phone.”
She handed her phone to Jason. He swiped through it. “Ah, here it is. It seems that the calls were listed as possible spam.”
“I don’t answer those.”
“Smart move, but that’s why you missed these.” He handed the phone back to her. “I have to get back.” Jason nodded and walked off.
Jackson motioned for Mia to go ahead of him. She walked quietly at his side until they moved through the glass doors to the parking lot. Then she sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, frustrated. “I can’t get the idea out of my head that no one else in my family has a widow’s peak. Is that a fluke? Or am I adopted? Why did she try to call me? It doesn’t make sense, Jackson. None of it does.”
Jackson looped an arm around her shoulders. And she couldn’t help it—she tensed. Then his arm dropped away.
“Sorry. Just meant to comfort you. I wasn’t coming on to you. I know better than that.” His voice held a bitter note.
Great. Now she felt like she’d kicked a puppy. Not that he didn’t deserve it. “I know. I’m just feeling jumpy. This whole situation has me feeling off.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything. Mia suppressed the urge to stomp her foot. After everything they’d been through, all he’d put her through, she was feeling guilty. Could this get any more ironic?
“Okay.” She tossed her braid over her shoulder. She was done. And Gus needed her. “I’m heading home. I don’t know who Andrea is or why we look so similar, but I might have a conversation with my mom.”
The first real one they’d had in years. Was she really going to do that?
She stepped onto the street, then glanced up and down it. There were cars parked at the meters, but no one was coming.
“Mia!” Jackson screamed her name from behind her.
She spun to aim a scowl his way. The late afternoon sun blocked out his features. She squinted. An engine revved. She glanced to the side, but shock had her rooted in place as a blue sedan roared directly toward her. Her chest tightened in a wheeze, and she stumbled back a step. The car was coming too fast.
Six
Jackson shouted and dove for Mia. Grappling her around the waist, he threw both of them toward the sidewalk, tucking himself around her so he’d take the brunt of the force as they fell. They crashed to the pavement so hard he couldn’t breathe.
His ribs were going to be bruised, if not actually cracked, but he knocked that thought out of his mind. He’d been a paramedic long enough to put his own discomfort aside. Any pain he suffered was minor and unimportant. What mattered was Mia’s safety.
Ignoring the aches, Jackson rolled farther away from the street, keeping Mia close to his chest. He ended with his back to the street, so that any gunshots—or anything else—coming from that direction would have to go through him first.
The roar of the engine hit his ears. The car’s wheels spun, spitting gravel in their direction, then the vehicle tore off.
Jackson waited just a few seconds to make sure it was really gone.
“Mia?” he asked urgently, pulling himself away from her. Pain shrieked through him, and he had to catch his breath again. “Mia, talk to me. Are you hurt?”
“No,” she wheezed back.
That’s when he remembered—she was asthmatic.
“Where’s your inhaler?” he demanded.
“In my pocket,” she gasped out each word.
He gave her a little more space to reach down. Her fingers shook as she pulled out the small inhaler. Between the shock and her inability to breathe, she struggled to remove the cap.
“Here, let me.” Jackson cupped his hand around hers, holding the device, and then, with his other hand, he removed the cap. “Here.”
