Dace nodded then led the man away. Jolie and Lindsay returned to where Jack was waiting with Sheila and Ava. Quickly Jolie introduced Lindsay to Ava, who was another member of their SWAT squad.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Sheila said shakily to Lindsay when the introductions were over. “If you hadn’t been there he would have raped me. I never wanted…I told him no.…”
“And I heard you. This isn’t your fault.”
“Jack, see Lindsay home, will you?” Jolie’s next words halted both their protests. “Sheila will be more comfortable with Ava and me right now than you. And I don’t want Lindsay to be alone.”
Sliding a glance to Lindsay, Jack nodded. “All right. We’ll be downtown as soon as she gets changed.”
The adrenaline had faded, leaving Lindsay feeling sapped and spent. She hugged her arms tight around her body and willed her knees to remain locked to support her increasingly wobbly legs. She was only half-aware that Jolie, Ava and Sheila had gone when Jack approached her again.
She strove to straighten when he surveyed her critically.
“You must have gotten a few good swings in.”
Her entire body began shaking. “I can’t take credit for that. You’re the one who stopped him.”
“You’re in shock.” He hauled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her.
“I’m not.” She wasn’t weak. She despised weakness. But she couldn’t will away the shudders racing up and down her body.
“Okay, maybe you’re cold.” Knowing that he was merely humoring her didn’t make her feel any better. “And me without a shirt to offer you.”
For a moment, just a moment, Lindsay allowed herself to lean against him. His skin was hot despite the chilly air. She could feel his heart thudding beneath her ear, the steady sound comforting. For the briefest of moments, she felt completely, totally safe.
The sensation was foreign enough to have her stepping out of his arms. If she’d learned anything in the last three years, it was that she couldn’t depend on anyone else to protect her.
She liked her chances better on her own.
Avoiding his gaze, she folded the remains of her shirt around herself and held it in place by crossing her arms over her chest. “Since I’m not feeling particularly festive anymore, I’ll think I’ll head home.”
“Good idea. I know that lowlife’s name. Rick Fallon. He’s a dispatcher from the Eighth Precinct, I think. We’ll get you cleaned up, then we’ll join Dace downtown. Your statement will help support Sheila’s. Fallon will try to claim that what was going on out here was consensual.”
“No!” The strength of her protest surprised them both. Working to keep the panic from her voice, she forced an even tone. “I wouldn’t be much help. I didn’t see a lot.” Making statements would require ID, wouldn’t it? ID that couldn’t stand up to close scrutiny.
He frowned, studying her carefully. But rather than pushing harder, he just said mildly, “Let’s just worry about you right now. Maybe we should have a doctor check you out.”
“I just need to go home.” Bending down, she tried to pick up the contents of her purse, which had spilled out sometime during the altercation. It was slow going, since she couldn’t let go of her shirt.
Jack crouched down and scooped everything up and returned it to her purse, holding up the rolls of quarters with a cocked brow. “Hope you nailed him with these.”
“I did.” Not, she recalled, that it had slowed him down much. When he handed her back her purse, she pulled out her cell phone. “I’m going to call a taxi. Thanks for riding to the rescue.”
“Don’t bother calling for a cab.” He plucked the cell out of her hand, and, placing a palm on the small of her back, guided her down the alley. “You’re in luck. Like I said, I’ve got my sleigh and eight bored reindeer parked right out front.”
Chapter Two
Jack Langley was a hard man to say no to. Impossible, actually.
Within moments he had Lindsay herded into the front seat of a sporty, low-slung car and had elicited directions to her place. He’d turned on the heater, but the blast of warm air wasn’t having much effect on the shivers still skating over her skin.
Her teeth were chattering. She gripped her arms more tightly across her chest, vaguely disquieted that she had so little control over her body’s reaction.
With a clutch in her stomach, she realized her response had less to do with the attack and everything to do with the memory the stranger had unwittingly summoned.
You even think about betraying me and I’ll kill you. Are you hearing me?
She slipped farther down in the seat, battling nausea. Every time she started to believe she’d begun to put the past behind her, something happened to show her just how solid a grip it still wielded. She’d run over two thousand miles but nothing had really changed at all. Lindsay could still hear the menace in Niko Rassi’s voice, still feel the grip of his fingers around her neck.
And she still had no doubt it was only a matter of time before he caught up with her. Until she was resting at the bottom of a riverbed, just like her friends.
Her cheek throbbed and she raised a hand to it, wincing when she touched it.
“What’s wrong?” Jack’s voice was sharp with concern. And his vision must be equally sharp to have seen her expression of pain in the darkened front seat.
“I’m fine. I just need some ice. Guys like him know how to hit a woman just hard enough to avoid serious damage.” Niko had mastered the art of the backhanded slap, too. That was only the beginning of the many unpleasant discoveries she’d made about him.
“If you have that much experience with guys who hit women, you’re hanging around the wrong kind of men.”
“Tell me about it,” she muttered. There was something in his voice she couldn’t identify, but his words struck a chord. They didn’t get any more wrong than Niko Rassi. They didn’t get any deadlier.
A wave of fatalism swamped her, a sensation she usually fended off during long, sleepless nights spent staring at the ceiling. Niko might not have found her yet, but in a manner of speaking he’d already won. He’d robbed her of any sort of real life. Robbed her of any chance of family. Had her constantly watching over her shoulder. She knew him well enough to realize how much he’d enjoy that.
To distract herself from that line of thought, she asked, “What does Ava do on the squad?”
“She’s a marksman. Her nickname’s Cold Shot.” A tinge of humor entered Jack’s voice. “You’re only slightly less dangerous than she is. Fallon had a lucky escape.”
Moments later Jack slowed the car to a stop. “Looks like a nice house.”
“The house is nice. I live over the garage.” Releasing her seat belt, Lindsay opened the door. “I appreciate the ride—” she began.
But Jack was already out of the car. Slowly, Lindsay rounded the hood, mentally rehearsing a way to get rid of him. All she really wanted right now was a hot bath and a cold pack for her face. Given the contents of her apartment, she’d be making due with a tepid shower in the minuscule stall and a package of frozen peas held to her cheek.
“Like I said, thanks for everything…” Her second attempt was no more successful than the first.
“You’re not getting rid of me until I see your injuries in the light and make sure you don’t need to go to the ER. So save your breath and get your key out.” Openmouthed, Lindsay