Page 11 of One Kind Soul

Her gaze flicked to meet his, her brown eyes wide. “You . . . you saved us.” She shifted to the left a little to see over his shoulder again, her hand coming up between them and resting on his chest. “We could have . . . oh my God, we could have . . .”

Slowly, Christian lowered his arms that were still corralling her against the building. He tried to take a step back, but something hard kept him from being able to do so. He turned his head and was met with an eyeful of glossy black paint. His brain recognized the color and finish, but it couldn’t process why he was seeing the top of his pickup truck.

But there it was.

On its side.

The roof right up against him.

Nicole’s luggage was on the sidewalk a few feet away from them and shattered glass littered the area, making everything sparkly. Christian maneuvered his body in the tight space he and Nicole occupied between his truck and the brick wall behind her so he could turn around. He craned his neck to see around the upturned truck where that van’s hood was against his truck’s undercarriage.

Its engine revved as the van reversed, causing a horrendous shriek to nearly rip Christian’s eardrums apart. The van then shot forward, its front bumper dragging along the asphalt and sending a shower of sparks everywhere as it raced away.

Get the license plate! Christian’s brain screamed, but he didn’t have a shot at seeing it now. The van disappeared around a corner.

“You’re bleeding.” Nicole’s voice made him turn back to her. “Your leg.”

He followed her finger which pointed to his left calf where, sure enough, his jeans were stained red. A piece of broken glass about the size of a kitchen knife had pierced the denim and was stuck . . . stuck in his leg.

Why doesn’t that hurt? Shouldn’t that amount of blood come with some pain? He was . . . shit, he was impaled for Christ’s sake.

“We need to get you some help.” Nicole pushed gently on his chest, but there wasn’t much room to gain.

Ignoring his leg, Christian’s hands came to rest on her biceps. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

Nicole quickly surveyed herself. “I don’t think I’m hurt.” She rubbed the back of her head though, and Christian remembered it cracking against the brick when he’d pushed her.

He grabbed her hand and her fingers had some blood on them. “Shit.”

“I’m okay, Christian,” she said. “It’s barely bleeding.” She pointed down to his leg again. “You, however, are bleeding very much. C’mon.” She took his hand and tugged him toward the hood of the truck where there was enough room to squeeze free.

People who had gathered around the scene clapped at their emergence, but it didn’t sound quite right to Christian. Muffled, tinny, far away. And everything was a little . . . spotty.

“Shit.” Nicole wedged her body next to his, taking his arm and draping it over her shoulder. “Don’t pass out on me, Chrissy.”

A water bottle appeared in his hands from some guy who had approached them. “Here. Drink this.”

“Thanks.” Nicole touched the bottom of the bottle, lifting it toward his lips. “Go ahead.”

A chair appeared next and she pushed him to sit in it.

“I called 911,” a woman standing next to the water guy said.

“Did anyone get that license plate?” Christian asked after swigging some water.

Both the man and the woman shook their heads and a few other voices around him said they hadn’t caught the plate either.

“Well, that sucks.”

“But we’re not dead,” Nicole said. “Thanks to you. That definitely doesn’t suck.” She squeezed his shoulder. “You moved so fast.”

“Had to,” he said. “That van was moving fast too.”

“You . . . you protected me.” Nicole swallowed loudly, but her gaze never wavered from his. “With your own body.”

“Left my shield back on the farm.”

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” the water bottle guy said. “Your truck flipped right over.”