Page 18 of Legends: Easton (Legends of Fire Creek #3)

His eyes zeroed in on the car he was well familiar with since it had been parked in his neighbor’s driveway for days. He saw no outline of someone in the driver’s seat. She left the bar, but her car was still in the parking lot. Where the hell did she go?

He heard an unfamiliar noise, and he listened intently to figure out what and where it was. The next time he heard the sound coming from the alley by the bar, and the fine hairs on his neck stood on end.

The alley was where English was attacked and left for dead years ago, and the idea that something similar had happened to Bailee froze the blood in his veins. He sprinted around the building and sized the situation up quickly.

One guy. Tall. Solid. Beard. Bailee. Hair in disarray. Jeans torn. Sprawled on the ground. The guy loomed over her.

Bailee was scrambling to her feet, and Easton sprang into action. He sprinted down the alley and lowered his frame to blindside the man with a tackle that took them both down. He landed a punch to the guy’s jaw, but the guy used his considerable size to toss Easton off.

Easton rolled and jumped to his feet, but Bailee was ahead of him.

She slammed her heel into the man’s knee, and he uttered an umphh of pain.

She followed up with a knee to his stomach before he pushed her away.

Before Easton could react, the man whipped something out from behind him, and Easton detected the outline of a weapon.

“Don’t move,” the man growled, and Easton noted the hint of an accent.

Easton threw his hands up but edged closer to Bailee, ready to shield her from a bullet if the guy decided to shoot. Instead the guy turned and bolted from the alley. Easton was ready to sprint after him when Bailee placed a hand on his arm.

“Let him go.”

He whirled around to face her. “What? The guy attacked you. I’m not letting—”

“You have to. I think I need help.”

He moved closer. Though he couldn’t see her clearly, he sensed something was off.

“Bailee, what—”

Again, she didn’t let him finish, but instead of interrupting him, she swayed before falling forward into Easton’s arms. He caught her easily and lowered her to the ground.

He checked her pulse, finding it steady but weak.

He felt something wet and sticky against his palm, and a coppery smell assailing his nostrils.

He reached for his cell, almost dropping it in his haste. The number was saved at the top of his favorites, and he placed it on speaker as he gently felt around her head and limbs for injuries.

“Did she shoot you down, bro?”

“I need you. In the alley. Now!”

Easton ended the call without another word. He stopped his delicate search of Bailee’s body to place a call to 9-1-1. He rattled off the pertinent information to the dispatcher as Jackson and Luke came busting through the bar’s side door, guns drawn.

“Clear,” Easton shouted at them. “Shine a light over here. She’s hurt, but I can’t see what I’m up against.”

Luke used his phone’s flashlight to illuminate Easton’s hands as they searched for injuries. When he didn’t see anything obvious on her body, he tilted her gently and found blood matted in her hair.

“Head wound. Heavy bleeding.”

Easton whipped his T-shirt off and pressed it to the back of her head to staunch the bleeding.

“What the hell happened?” Luke demanded.

“A guy ambushed her. He had her knocked to the ground when I found them. I went for him. He pushed me off, and then Bailee got in a couple of good licks before he pulled a gun. I thought he was going to shoot, but he bolted. I was about to go after him when she went down.”

“So either he gave her the blow to the head, or she hit her head when he knocked her down.”

Jackson was on his phone, but Easton didn’t care who he was calling. His focus was solely on Bailee. The ambulance siren pierced the air.

“I’ll wave them down, get them back here.” Luke hurried to the parking lot.

Jackson was by his side, pocketing his phone as he stared into Bailee’s pale face. “Go with Bailee in the ambulance. I’ll send Ray and Mel to the hospital too. They’re holding everyone inside, so we don’t have a bunch of looky-loos. Luke and I will file a report with Tater.”

The brothers knew the police chief, Andy “Tater” Tatum, well enough to entrust him with the assault investigation while they concentrated on Bailee.

“Her grandmother,” Easton began.

“I’ll have English and Becky reach out to her.”

Easton started to thank his brother, but the paramedics appeared before he had a chance.

They quickly checked Bailee’s vitals while assessing her head wound.

Handing Easton his blood-soaked T-shirt, one paramedic wrapped her head in enough gauze to at least slow the bleeding down while the other one connected an IV of fluids to her arm.

At that point, her eyes fluttered open, and relief coursed through his body.

“Hey, beautiful. You’re safe. These guys are taking you to the hospital to get checked out, and I’m riding along for the hell of it.” He forced a smile as he studied her for signs of confusion.

“Gran. Don’t let him get to her.” Her voice was shaky, but her words didn’t slur thankfully.

“My brothers are taking care of it. Don’t worry. They’ll make sure she’s safe, and they’ll bring her to you. I promise.”

“Ma’am, can you tell me your name?” The paramedic flashed a small flashlight in her eyes, causing her to moan and wince.

“Bailee Anne Maxwell. I’m from Louisville, Kentucky. I’m in Fire Creek, Alabama. I’m pretty sure I have a concussion. My head hurts like hell.”

The paramedic smirked as he reported no confusion to his partner. “I’m guessing this is not your first rodeo, Ms. Maxwell.”

“I’m a detective with Louisville PD. So no, this isn’t my first concussion.”

“Then you know that we won’t give you any pain medication until a doctor has a chance to check you out. We’ve started an IV of fluids to keep you from going into shock from the blood loss. Head wounds bleed quite a bit.”

“Let’s get her on the stretcher,” his partner said.

They readied her for transport. Easton’s heart squeezed to see the pain etched on her face, but she didn’t lose consciousness again.

Easton hurried after them to the ambulance, and soon they were on their way to the hospital.

He expected the paramedics to give him grief for riding in the back since he wasn’t family, but they never said a word.

Bailee’s eyes found his, and she held her hand palm up until he grasped it lightly.

“I’m not falling asleep, but I’m going to close my eyes. It helps my head not to hurt so much,” she explained softly.

“Go ahead, beautiful. You’re in good hands.”

He tried not to worry over the unnatural paleness of her skin. He sat back, resting his head against the wall of the ambulance, finding his own comfort in holding her hand.