'Do it now or I'll make you really sorry.'
She couldn't do it. She just couldn't. Without thought, without hesitation, she lurched up and rammed her head into his belly. At the same time, she flung out both fists against his forearms. She heard him cursing, heard the pain in his voice, and kept hitting him. Quickly she threw herself to the floor, rolling onto her back. He was heaving hard, over her now, the gun up, and she kicked with all her strength, her foot hitting his hand.
The gun went flying.
He threw himself down on her. His fist landed hard against her jaw, then he raised her head, grabbed fistfuls of damp hair, and slammed her head against the floor once, twice, three times. She heard a yell and a moan. The sounds were from her. She tried to bring her legs up to kick him but couldn't manage it. She felt numbness, then knifing pain shot through her head. She vaguely heard his curses from above her, and they grew more distant. She thought she heard the phone ring again. She thought she heard him breathing hard over her. Then she didn't know about anything. She fell into blackness.
He was scared spitless. The front door stood wide open. Savich forced himself to be careful, to go slowly, but what he wanted to do was roar in there. God, what had happened?
He drew his gun and eased inside the town house. Slowly, he reached for the light switch and flipped it on. He was in a crouch in the next instant, sweeping his SIG-Sauer around him in a wide arc.
No one.
'Sherlock?'
Nothing.
He didn't even pause now. He ran into the living room, switching on lights as he went. She wasn't there. Nor was she in the kitchen.
He was in the hallway when he heard a moan.
She was lying on the floor next to the bed, naked. Blood streaked down the side of her face.
He was on his knees beside her, his fingers pressed against the pulse in her neck. Slow and steady. He turned her over.
'Sherlock! Wake up!'
She moaned again, low and deep in her throat. She tried to bring up her hand to her head, but couldn't do it. Her hand fell. He caught it before it hit the floor. He laid her hand over her belly.
He leaned close over her, an inch from her face. 'Sherlock, wake the hell up. You're scaring the bejesus out of me. Wake up!'
She heard his voice. He sounded incredibly angry-no, not angry, but really worried. She had to open her eyes, but she knew any movement at all would hurt really badly.
'Talk to me. Come on, you can do it. Talk to me.'
She managed to open her eyes. He was blurry, but his voice was low and deep and eminently sane. She was so grateful, so relieved. She whispered over the pain, 'You came. I knew the multiple sirs would get to you.'
'They did. The first time you said it, I wanted to trim your sails but good, but then you said it again. I knew something was wrong. Where'd he hit you?'
'My head, with the butt of his gun.'
He didn't want to ask, but he had to. 'Did he rape you?'
'He would have tried, but I just couldn't let him do it. He wanted me to lie down on my stomach. When he moved in I attacked him. That's when he knocked me off the bed and started banging my head against the floor. It kind of hurts, Dillon.'
'Did he hit you anywhere else?'
'Just a fist in the jaw.'
'Let me get you up on the bed.'
'He's gone? You're sure he's gone? I don't want him to sneak back and hurt you.'
Hurt him? Blood was trickling down the side of her face and she was worried about him? 'I'll go lock the front door in just a minute.' While he spoke, he slid his hands beneath her and lifted her. She didn't weigh much. He laid her on the bed, then very quickly drew a blanket over her.
'Don't move,' he said, turned, and went back to the front door. He looked around outside, then came back into the house and locked the door.
When he was seated beside her again on the side of the bed, he said quietly, 'No one's about now. Now, I'm going to call the paramedics and get you to the hospital.'
Her hand shot up. 'No, no hospital. I'm all right. I've got a very hard head. Maybe a concussion, but there's nothing they can do for that, just time. I've got time here. Please, no hospital. I hate hospitals. They'll give me more shots in the butt. That's awful.'
He just looked down at her, then turned to the phone. He dialed a number, then said, 'It's Savich. Sorry to bother you, Ned, but could you come to this address and check out one of my agents for me? The guy who attacked her hit her pretty hard in the head. I don't know if she'll need stitches. No, no hospital. Yeah, thanks.'
When he hung up the phone, she said, 'A doctor who makes house calls? That's got to be rarer than the great auk.' 'Ned Breaker owes me. I got his kid away from kidnappers last year. He's a good guy. We became friends. Now, enough of that. It'll take him a good thirty minutes to get here. Do you feel well enough to tell me what happened?'
'After you left, I took a shower. When I got out, he was standing behind me when I wiped the fog off the bathroom mirror. He was wearing a black ski mask and carrying a cheap .22. He wanted me to leave town. Then I talked about Marlin Jones, and he seemed interested in that. I don't know whether or not the person who sent him meant for him to rape me. Maybe, like that almost hit-and-run, he was just trying to scare me, which he did.
''Really, though, the bottom line was that I should go home to my family. When I asked him if he was the one who tried to run me down, he didn't answer me. I think he could have been. He had a slight accent, from Alabama, maybe.'
'What did you tell him about Marlin Jones?'
'The truth. There was no reason not to. I think somehow Marlin Jones had to have sent him. He tried not to be too interested in Marlin, but he was. He wanted me to believe Marlin was innocent.'
'You sure about that?'
'Yes, but again, I think his mission was to scare me to death, scare me enough to make me run. Then he said business was over. He said he wanted to rape me.'
Her eyes were vague, her voice slowing down, her words slurring. He shook her shoulders. 'Sherlock, wake up. Come on, you can do it.' He lightly slapped her cheek, then cupped her jaw in the palm of his hand. 'Wake up.'
She blinked, trying hard. She wanted to tell him that his hand on her jaw hurt, but all she said was, 'Probably a concussion. I'll stay awake, I promise. He was going to tie my hands above my head, to the slats of the bed, but he knew I'd attack if he dropped the gun, so he told me to lie on my stomach. I couldn't do that, Dillon, I just couldn't. That's when-' Curtains, black curtains were swinging down over her eyes, over her mind. She couldn't see anything.
'Wake up, Sherlock!'
'I'm awake. Don't yell at me, it hurts. I won't konk out on you, I promise. But I can't see.'
'Your eyes are closed.'
'That's not it.'
In the next moment, she was unconscious, her head lolling to the side. He'd never dialed 911 so fast in his life.
21
THE HEAT BURNED STRAIGHT into her head. It was hotter than anything she could have imagined. Any second now she'd go up in flames. No, it was a light, a real light, not some monster that her brain had dredged up. It was too bright, too strong, too hot. It burned beneath her eyelids. She tried to turn away from the light, but it hurt too much to move her head.
'Sherlock? Can you hear me? Open your eyes.' Of course she could hear him. He was using that deep voice of his that made her nerve endings quiver, but she couldn't say anything, her mouth was too dry. She tried to form the words, but no sound came out.
A woman said, 'Give her some water.'
