He positioned me against the hood. “Lean against it while I get some water.” The warmth of the hood was welcome. Blinking my bad eye a few times only made it worse.
He raced inside and was back with a bottle of water. “Lean your head back.”
I did as he asked, but couldn’t open the bad eye against the water.
“Don’t fight me.” He poured more cold water on my face and pulled my eyelid open. “Blink.”
A few seconds later, the grit came out. I was soaked and even colder than I’d been before, but I could finally open and shut that eye without my eyelid feeling like it was made of sandpaper.
“Better?”
I blinked another half dozen times and nodded. Nodding seemed to be the simplest and least painful way to communicate. “Thanks,” I managed to get out with only moderate discomfort. I shivered again and wrapped my arms around myself, but only loosely. My ribs hurt too much for more.
“Are you dizzy?”
“No.”
“Sensitive to light?”
I shook my head. Blood trickled down my forehead, and I wiped it away.
“What day is this?”
“Saturday.”
“How many fingers am I holding up.”
“Two, why?”
“Do you know where you are?”
I nodded. “Stupid gas station next to the interstate.”
“Do you remember what happened to you?”
The pain in my side reminded me more than I needed. I tried a laugh and failed. “Do I look like I fell down?”
“Do you remember?”
“Fuck, yes. Why?”
“Concussion questions. Now, you’re coming with me to get checked out,” he announced.
He pulled me to the white work van on the other side of the pumps from my car. I caught the bumper sticker.
Gas, Grass, or Ass, Nobody rides for free
Great. Maybe he was borrowing it.
He opened the door and helped me up before pulling a white cotton cloth from a packet. “Hold this on your head. We have to stop the bleeding.”
I pointed at my car. “What about…?”
“I’ll park it here until later.”
He shut the door, located my car key in my purse, and moved my car to one of the parking spaces.
It hurt to breathe, but at least the sun coming in through the windshield warmed the interior of the van as I kept my arms wrapped around myself.
He climbed into the driver’s seat and tossed my purse on the floor in front of me. “I’m Luke, by the way. Luke Carver,” he said with a smile.
“I remember. You come into the Minimart.” I looked over at my savior and liked what I saw—a stunning jawline with a few days of stubble and piercing blue eyes to go with the sloppy blond hair. All he was missing was a suit of shining armor and a white horse, or maybe a gun belt with a six-shooter and a white cowboy hat instead.
He smiled back. “Yeah. Once in a while for jerky.”
He started the engine and pulled out onto the road back toward town. “Kaiser is closest. Are you a member?”
I shook my head and leaned back in the seat, searching in vain for a more comfortable position.
“Then it’s the ER at Mercy. It’s only a little farther.”
“No,” I croaked. “No hospital.”
“You got beat up. It’s the ER and then a police report,” he insisted.
It hurt, but I turned toward him. “Stop and let me out. I can’t…” I didn’t have the right words to explain more.
He didn’t slow the van to let me out.
“I can’t. No police,” I repeated.
He glanced over at me with narrowed eyes. “You sure?”
I nodded.
He sucked in a breath. “Okay. You can clean up at my place. You’ll be safe there until I take you home.”
Something in the way he assured me I’d be safe struck me as understanding my plight, like maybe he’d been on the run before too. I couldn’t go home, but that conversation could wait.
I relaxed into the seat and closed my eyes. Concentrating on not moving kept some of the pain at bay. I’d wanted to meet Luke in a way that wasn’t across the counter at the Minimart. I’d even imagined him asking me to go back to his place, but this wasn’t what I’d had in mind. All I’d ever said to him was “Would you like anything else?” We’d never had a real conversation. I’d even chickened out when he showed up at the diner.
When I reopened my eyes, we were in an area I didn’t recognize. Before long, he turned into a drive and stopped in front of a small house tucked away from the road.
I pulled my purse from the floor and unzipped it.
My wallet?
My wallet was gone. It had all my money in it, every single penny.
My world came crashing down. I had no money. No money meant no escape.
I screamed loud enough to wake the dead.
Chapter 13
Luke
Debbie’s scream rocked the van.
My head almost broke the window as I recoiled from her. Now we both needed a heavy dose of Tylenol.
She clawed through her purse like mad, still shrieking like a banshee. “It’s gone.” The sobs began as she came apart.
I unbuckled. “What’s gone?”
Tears streaked her face. “My wallet. My money. All my money,” she choked out between sobs.
I opened my door. “Let’s get you cleaned up and figure this out.”
As I saw it, there wasn’t much to figure out. She’d been mugged and hadn’t wanted to get the police involved—not that that usually did any good anyway, in a case like hers.
I went around, helped her down from the seat, and braced her against the side of the van. I pulled another clean rag from the pack behind the seat. “Let’s change that.”
I gave her the fresh one. She’d bled a lot. It had almost stopped, but continued pressure would still be needed. Head wounds were a bitch.
Her eyes widened at the sight of the blood-soaked rag I removed from the top of her head, and she slumped.
Dropping the rag on the ground, I grabbed her before she fell. Great, a fainter.
I carried her to the door and had to put her over my shoulder when I couldn’t reach my keys. The over-the-shoulder carry wasn’t the most comfortable, but the unconscious ones didn’t complain. Once inside, I punched up the temperature as we passed the thermostat.
I laid her on the couch and went to retrieve the rag to stop her head from bleeding. I didn’t have enough hands for all this.
Debbie had clearly been through a lot. Her eyes blinked open as I held the cloth on her head.
“What happened?” she asked.
“You fainted.”
“Huh?”
“The blood. You experienced a vasovagal syncope.”
“Huh?” she repeated.
“It’s the term for fainting at the sight of blood. Can you sit up?”
She nodded, and I helped her.
“You need to hold this in place for me.” I guided her hand to the top of her head again.
After she seemed settled, I left to get my things.
“Don’t leave,” she pleaded softly.
I turned at the door. “I’ll be right back.” I returned with a bowl of warm water, a washcloth, bottled water, and my EMS shoulder bag. I unzipped the bag, located the packets, and tore open a dose of Tylenol along with three tabs from my Vitamin C baggie. I offered her the tablets and the bottle of water. “Start with these.”