Page 49
“You work for Zakhar.”
“Probably not for much longer.” He dropped to his haunches, holding out his hand. I didn’t take it. “I’m Kent. Kent Townsend.”
“How long have you been following me, Kent?”
“Um.”
“Nevermind. Forget it.” My teeth began to chatter even though it was seventy-five degrees outside. Black spots dotted my vision while my head pounded from both irritation and injury. I fought to stay conscious. Then I asked a question I already knew the answer to. “Does he know?”
“He’s on his way.”
That was the last thing I remember until I heard an unfamiliar female calling my name. When I opened my eyes, I was in the back of an ambulance with no idea how long I’d been there or how I’d gotten there. A young red-head was leaning over me with a sympathetic look on her face.
“Ms. Turner? I’m Lisa. I’m a paramedic with the Atlantic City Fire Department. You took a pretty good knock to your head. Can you answer a couple of questions for me?”
“Kent?”
“I’m here.” His voice sounded like he was behind me somewhere. My head hurt too badly to turn around.
“How long was I out?”
“Just a couple minutes,” he answered.
Lisa grew impatient, interrupting our conversation to ask me my name, the date, and who the president was. After I answered them all correctly, she shone a light in my eyes that felt as if she’d driven a butcher knife through my skull.
“Sorry,” she winced.
I was a wreck, physically and emotionally. My body shook so hard that she covered me with three warm blankets. It didn’t help. I wasn’t cold. I was in shock and petrified. The world I knew imploded at the sound of my tormentor’s voice again. My mind vacillated between the present and that god-forsaken warehouse. In both scenarios, I was bruised and bloodied. Muffled voices surrounded me, but I was stuck on a never-ending loop of torture. It wasn’t until I heard his voice that I was able to climb out of my nightmare.
“Sir, you can’t go in there.”
“Get the fuck out of my way. That’s my woman.”
“You’ll have to wait––”
“Move or you’ll be looking for your teeth along with a new job.”
The double doors of the emergency vehicle flew open a beat later. Zak looked worse than I felt. The tie I’d helped him pick out that morning was askew, his baby-blue dress shirt was half untucked, and his black hair was slick with sweat, like he’d run the three blocks to get to me. Knowing him, he probably had. Using the metal bar on the door, he pulled himself up into the back of the rig. His lethal gaze landed on Kent before softening when it slid to me. Tears gathered in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
“How is she? Does she need to go to the hospital? Why the fuck are you just standing around?”
His rapid-fire questions soothed my soul. I was safe. Finally.
“She is right here and quite capable of answering for herself, thank you very much.”
“Baby, cut me some slack.” He instantly knelt at my side. “I lost ten years off my life when Kent called.”
“Sorry.”
“You might have a concussion, Ms. Turner.” Lisa interrupted. “You should be seen out at the ER to get an official diagnosis, though.”
“No hospital.”
“Pru––”
“No, Zak.”
He blew out a breath. “Fine. Only if you agree to let my personal physician check you over when we get home.”
