“How are you doing?”
“I’ll live.” He chuckled. “I won’t be particularly happy about it, but I’ll live. Germans make their cars too small. You should have gotten a bigger model.”
“You get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit.” As rugged and good looking as Luc was, he made her feel old in some ways. It was like dealing with a teenager—or one of her ex-boyfriends. Ugh. Her exes had one thing in common. They were all assholes. She didn’t want Luc to be an asshole or a boyfriend. Win. Win. “Water?”
“Yes, please.”
She gave him the last bottle she’d tucked between the seats and he managed to open it without assistance. They followed baseball cap’s directions and when she dead ended into Old River Road, Luc released a long, almost relieved sigh.
“We’re close, aren’t we?”
“Yes.” Fresh eagerness infused his response. He sounded better than when they’d begun the drive. Maybe she hadn’t done irreparable harm after all. The rain continued to descend in sheets, not cutting them any breaks, and she white knuckled the drive all the way to the three houses at the end. The big white one sat on a hill beyond a gorgeous line of trees.
“We’re here,” she told Luc, more excited than she cared to admit. The drive was well-kept, and the gravel seemed to be embedded in the earth so at least it wasn’t slippery with mud. The mailbox close to the road declared the number correct, so she pulled all the way up to the house.
She’d kind of hoped for a town, but a house would do. “We’re here, Luc.” Putting the car in park, she glanced at her passenger. His eyes were closed and his head slumped. “Luc?”
No response.
Putting two fingers to his pulse, she found his heart still beating. He didn’t respond to the touch or to her repeating his name twice more. Dammit. Unbuckling her seat belt, she twisted to check the pulse in his leg. Right leg, she found it. Left leg proved harder with his cast in the way. She finally located the groin pulse, and one at the ankle. Finally, she checked his arm. Thready, but present. His skin was still hot to the touch, but he remained unresponsive. Great. Now she needed to find help.
“Stay here, Luc. I’ll be right back.”
Sliding out into the rain, she raced around the car and up the steps. Three knocks earned her no answer, nor did ringing the doorbell. He sent her all the way out here and no one was home? Frustration welled in her gut, and she tried the door handle.
It swung inward and she leaned in. “Hello?” The wide hall faced a long staircase heading up to a landing. A sitting room was to her left and a hallway heading deeper into the house to her right. Easing inside, she tried again. “Hello? I’m here with Luc Danes and he needs help.”
No answer.
Pressing her forehead to the door, she took three deep breaths. Okay, no one home. Luc out cold in the car. Those were the facts. She needed to find a hospital. Digging into her pocket, she pulled out her phone and scowled. It was dead.
“Son of a bitch.” Starting forward, she paused. The floors were wood and her shoes were wet. Toeing them off, she padded barefoot into the sitting room. No phone seemed readily visible. Great, the owner didn’t have a landline. The furniture was nice, masculine, with a few feminine touches in the decorative pillows and the throw blanket.
Rubbing her palms against her damp face, she pushed back tears. Kitchen. Most landlines were in kitchens. Pivoting, she strode through the house and down the hall. A faint scent of coffee lingered in the air and she followed like a dog on the hunt.
“Hallelujah!” The kitchen was a big, open room and was probably bright when sun filled the wide windows. Making a beeline for the phone hanging on the wall, she grabbed it and then froze with her fingers hovering over the keypad. Luc hadn’t wanted to go to a hospital, he’d wanted to get here. “Well, too bad. No one is here, so the hospital it is.” Nine-one-one was an easy number to dial and it worked in pretty much any locale. So why couldn’t she press the damn buttons?
“What am I doing here?” she asked aloud.
“That’s a very good question,” a masculine voice stated calmly, scaring the crap out of her. She whirled, then flung the phone before she could even think the action through. The man in question caught the phone, and stared at her with deep, dark eyes. The scars on his face added to his dangerous demeanor.
Colby froze. Power radiated off the man approaching her slowly. Instead of retreating, which seemed like a damn good idea, she remained rooted to the spot. It was like she couldn’t look away from him. In front of her, he studied her with enigmatic eyes. When he replaced the phone handle onto its cradle, she jumped at the clicking noise.