Page 69 of Drawn Together

Trying to ignore the pain in my arm, I limped around to Marfil’s window. She was blinking, half conscious.

“Marfil,” I said, trying to figure out how to get her out of there as quickly as possible without hurting her. “Marfil, can you hear me? Elephant, wake up.”

Her bright green eyes flew open, startling me. She blinked several times until she finally managed to focus on me.

“Se-Sebastian?” she asked, disoriented.

Gathering all my strength, I managed to slip into the car. “Grab on to my neck, okay? I’m going to unbuckle you and get you out of here.”

“It hurts…” she whimpered, and I could see a trail of blood trickling from her mouth.

No, fuck.

“Hold on, okay?” I said desperately, reaching for her seat belt as much as the car would allow. I heard the buckle click open, mentally thanking God that it wasn’t stuck. Marfil fell onto my back and, ignoring the searing pain in my arm, I pulled her out as best I could on all fours before carrying her far away from the car in case the engine exploded.

“Marfil,” I said, setting her down to better examine her.

Her breathing was normal, and I assumed that the blood around her mouth was caused by the cut on her lip, nothing internal. I hoped I was right. The airbag had bruised her cheek, and she had cuts on her arms and legs from the shattered glass. She seemed fine otherwise, but she was still only half conscious, meaning she might’ve suffered a concussion when she hit her head.

“Hey… talk to me, please,” I said, pushing her dark hair out of her face.

Marfil blinked again, and, when I helped her to a sitting position, her eyes shifted to the car. “My Barbie mobile…” she said, and I held out a hand to help her stand.

Fuck… Only Marfil Cortés would make a comment like that in a moment like this one.

She met my gaze, and then started crying. I pulled her to my chest in an automatic reflex.

“They tried to kill me…” she said, her face pressed into my shoulder, voice breaking.

I tensed as I heard her say it aloud, although I had reached the same conclusion when the brakes first failed. “Don’t think about that now,” I said as I retrieved my cell phone from my pocket, gripping it tightly. We were in the middle of nowhere… If whoever had planned this had followed us here to make sure it had been effective… “We need to get over there.” I pointed to the edge of the woods. “Can you walk?” I asked.

She nodded, lifting her hand to touch her injured lip and cheek.

“Let’s go,” I encouraged her, looking all around as I called Wilson. There didn’t seem to be anyone for miles.

“What is it, Moore?” was Wilson’s response on the third ring.

“Come pick us up, quick. We’ve had an accident. We’re still on the back road, close to where it meets the highway,” I rushed out before ending the call.

When we got to the edge of the trees, I took out the gun I had holstered to my waist and forced Marfil to get behind a tree big enough to shelter her.

“What are you doing,” she shouted, alarmed at the sight of the weapon in my hand.

“It’s just a precaution…”

Her eyes searched the woods and the road. “Do you think there’s someone here?” There was fear in her voice.

I had no idea. All I knew was that someone close to the family had to have been the one who cut her car’s brake line, and that made me furious.

Five minutes later, Wilson appeared with Logan in Cortés’s Mercedes. Logan’s eyes went wide with shock, and he threw me a look that said everything there was to say.

Wilson pulled out his gun, walking over to us. “Are you all right?” he asked immediately, staring at Marfil as he moved closer to her.

I held out a hand to stop him. “I’ll take care of Marfil. You know who to call,” I said, looking him in the eye.

Wilson nodded as he walked back toward the car, unable to take his eyes off the destroyed Beetle.

“What the hell happened?!” Logan asked, as livid as I was.