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“I don’t even like her.” I said a beat later as Connor kneeled to examine her.
Her head snapped up to mine. “But you want me to save her?”
I nodded, “Yeah. I do.”
“Well, I can’t do it here.” She answered, rising to her feet.
“I know,” I replied quietly, kneeling and lifting her into my arms, shocked at how light she was.
“Where did you park?” I asked, turning to face her.
She exhaled sharply, but her features softened as she took in the limp figure in my arms.
“This way.” She said, jerking her head to the side and turning to walk away.
It was a ten-minute walk to where she left her car and a little more than fifteen more before we reached my house.
She lay draped across my arms. Blood and debris kept me from seeing the true extent of her injuries—but I could feel cold seeping into my skin from her body where warmth should have been.
She whimpered softly, the sound barely louder than a sigh, but it was enough to shatter the heavy silence that hung over us. My fingerscurled around her instinctively, trying to hold her together until Connor could fix her.
Connor dropped her bag on my dining table, landing with a heavy thud. A sharp contrast to the gentle manner in which I laid Tierney on the dining table.
She sprang into action, cutting away her clothes, leaving her in only her undergarments.
“Grab my keys,” she said, jutting her chin toward them. “There is a bundle of towels in the trunk. Bring them to me.” She commanded as she lined her instruments up on the table.
I did as she said, reentering the dining room to find Connor straddling Tierney, pinning her arms to the table as she thrashed beneath her.
I dropped the towels on the table and grabbed her arms. Connor was no weakling, but I knew I had a better chance of subduing the frantic woman.
Her eyes went wide, wild with fear, her lips parted, quivering with terror; I could only imagine the confusion and horror she must be feeling to find me holding her down when she was so helpless.
Connor raised a syringe, presumably of some anesthetic, and Tierney went limp, resigning herself to her fate for the second time tonight.
“No.” she whispered weakly.
“It’ll be over soon.” I murmured in what I hoped was a soothing voice, but empathy wasn’t really my thing.
Her eyes got heavier the moment Connor pushed the medicine into her IV, and it was only moments before she succumbed completely.
“Thanks,” she said, dropping the syringe on the table and heaving a heavy sigh. “I just placed the IV when her eyes flew open, and she started struggling. That girl is a fighter.”
A smile slowly made its way across my lips.
“Yeah, that she is.”
“When you’re finished daydreaming, wipe that dopey smile off your face and come give me a hand, will ya?”
Connor had finally gotten Tierney stabilized. Massive internal bleeding and three broken ribs, she had said. It was intense. I didn’t get nervous often, but watching Connor’s practiced hands deftly work to save her life, I found myself running my hands through my own hair, pulling at their ends, a lot more often than normal.
She was exhausted. I knew that. She deserved another bonus, that was for sure. Still, I had asked her to stay and watch over Tierney while I took care of a few loose ends.
It was a brisk twenty-minute walk once I arrived at the grove, before I came upon the scene of the—well, ambush from the looks of it.
Three men, each my size or larger. My face heated, my fingers involuntarily curling into tight fists at the thought as my anger flared.
Fuck! I swore internally, the memory of her frail body in my arms still fresh in my mind.