Reluctant Prince. Dani-Lyn Alexander
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moved up beside her. “Do you think he’s all right?”
“I don’t know.”
She struggled to see the rise and fall of his chest, or any movement. That thing shot fire from its fingers, hurled the flames into Jackson’s body, and threw him all the way across the courtyard and into the alley wall. For all she knew the fireball had killed him. Maybe he’d already been dead when his body had hit the wall. Was she supposed to risk their lives for someone she didn’t know, a stranger who was most likely dead…a man who’d saved her life and probably Mia’s as well?
Ugh. “Stay here.” She turned a glare on her sister and lifted a finger in warning. “I’m not kidding, Mia. You stay hidden. If anything happens, you wait until it’s safe and then run for help. Do you understand?”
Mia chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, Ryleigh. You don’t have to go.”
Exasperation and fear shortened her temper. “Make up your mind already, will you.”
Mia threw herself against Ryleigh and wept. “I’m scared. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“It’s okay, Mia. It’ll be all right.” She rubbed Mia’s back in an effort to soothe them both. “All right.” She inhaled, and the rich smell of dirt mixed with the smoke from Mia’s hair scratched her raw throat. She swallowed the urge to cough. “I have to go. You’re right. We can’t leave him. I have to check and see if he’s alive. If he’s unconscious, he’s too vulnerable lying there like that. I have to hurry, though, so we can get out of here. Promise me you’ll stay put.”
Mia nodded.
Ryleigh crawled deeper into the shadows beneath the bushes and positioned herself against the wall. Her heart raced erratically, pain throbbed through her body, and tears blocked her vision as she crawled quickly toward the alley. Stray branches grabbed her hair and clothing. Claustrophobia threatened to suffocate her. Until she reached the edge of the bushes and had to leave their protection then she wished fiercely to remain beneath their cover.
With a quick glance in each direction, Ryleigh launched herself from the illusion of a safe haven. Crouching low, she raced awkwardly toward the alley. Though her feet were bandaged, the local anesthetic had begun to wear off and each step sent a million shards of glass stabbing into her feet. When she reached the wall of the alley, she pressed her back against it, resisting the urge to slide down the wall and sit, to rest her feet for even the briefest moment, knowing she’d never get back up.
Squinting into the darkness, she strained to see if Jackson appeared to be breathing.
He lay curled in a ball on his side.
All right. She was going to have to get closer. With one last, anxious glance around, she headed for his lifeless form. She used the wall for support, tried to ease some of the pressure off her feet. Was he alive? She really, really didn’t want to find a corpse.
Images of his crooked smile and his mischievous eyes filled her mind.
Hesitation warred with impatience as she edged closer.
When she finally reached him, the coppery scent of blood assailed her. She knelt beside him, restraining a small sigh of relief at finally getting off her feet and alleviating the worst of the pain.
She held her breath and placed her hand against his chest. A heartbeat. A new flood of tears and a small sob escaped before she wrestled her emotions under control. He was alive. Now, how would she get him out of there?
She gingerly shook his shoulder. “Jackson.” The fierce whisper did nothing to elicit a response. She shook him again, a little harder this time. “Jackson. Wake up.” Still nothing. She thought of screaming for help but dismissed the idea just as quickly.
If his attacker realized he’d left Jackson alive, he might return.
Her blood ran cold, and a shiver coursed through her. All right, enough of this. She grabbed Jackson’s arm and shook him ruthlessly back and forth. When she called to him this time, it was no whisper. “Jackson, you have to wake up. Now.”
No response.
She hobbled to his head, turned him on his back, and grabbed him under both armpits. By the time she turned him around so his head faced the desired direction, she was soaked with sweat, breathing in short, harsh gasps that burned her throat, and bent at the waist with a stitch in her side. “I can’t do this, Jackson. You’re going to have to wake up. Please.” She bent to grab him again.
“Here, let me help.”
Mia. “I thought I told you to stay hidden.”
“You did, and later we can argue about it. Right now, let’s just get out of here.”
Ryleigh didn’t have the strength left to argue. Instead, she grabbed Jackson with both of her hands beneath one of his arms.
Mia did the same on his other side.
Together they dragged him to the bushes. They pulled, shoved, and pushed until they managed to conceal him beneath the cover.
They crawled in beside him. “We can’t pull him any farther. We’ll have to leave him hidden here and hope for the best until we can send help.” Ryleigh worked to slow her breathing. Tried to swallow, to soothe her parched throat, to no avail.
“Should we go back into the hospital for help?” Fear shone in Mia’s eyes.
“No. I won’t risk anyone asking questions about why we left in the first place.” She bent to examine Jackson’s head. “He bled a lot.” The memory of the blood pooled around his head sent a shiver rushing through her. “But it seems to have mostly stopped now.”
She ripped the tattered sleeves from her blouse folded one in a square, placed it against the wound at the back of his head, and used the other to tie it firmly in place. “There. I’ll make an anonymous 911 call as soon as we can and tell them I saw someone getting attacked and tossed in the bushes behind the hospital. Hopefully, he’ll be all right until then.”
She studied his face one last time, remembering the way his eyes had glimmered with humor, his smile had held a hint of mischief.
Something deep within her stirred, protective instincts clawed their way to the surface. She brushed his hair off his forehead and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I’ll send help. I promise.” One tear dripped onto his cheek, and she wiped it away with the back of her finger. Then she tore her gaze from him. “Come on, Mia. We have to go.”
They moved to the wall and headed toward the walkway.
Mia was a mess. Soot still covered her face and clothes. Her puffy, red eyes sunk into deep, black circles. Hair stuck out in every direction, and scratches and cuts crisscrossed every bit of exposed skin, thanks to the sticks and branches they’d had to battle their way through.
Ryleigh probably looked even worse.
Any form of public transportation was out of the question. Talk about drawing attention to themselves. They would have to stay to the shadows as much as possible and walk back to the building where she’d had her job interview, what seemed like a hundred years ago. Then they could retrieve the car and go home.
Her feet screamed in agony at the thought of walking all those miles. It would be worth it, though. Her breath hitched. Home.
When they reached the end of the row of bushes, she grabbed Mia’s arm and gestured for her to wait.
Chances were their attacker wouldn’t return after this amount of time, but who knew? She had no idea how much time had actually passed. It seemed like hours but was probably not more than fifteen minutes, give or take a few. Seeing no one in the immediate area, she left the cover of the bushes and stood. She scanned the walkway and the side of the building it led to then waved a hand for Mia to follow. She brushed at her clothing and hair, hoping to at least get some of the dirt off. Then she tried to clean Mia off.
A groan brought