Tempt Me (14 page)

It cleared her brain just
a bit, though. Enough for her to flex her left hand, still laying
curled and free on the ground beside her. He thought she wouldn't
fight. Bastard. Brushing her hand along the ground, she searched for
something—
anything
. When her hand touched something
round, cold and smooth, she gripped it. A bottle—all the
bottles that littered the back parking lot. They usually pissed her
off.

Just then, she could have
kissed the litterbug.

Curling her hand around
it, she lifted it. “Dwayne...”

C
hapter
Nine

The sound of a scream
froze his blood.

Forgetting about Mara's
whining demand for answers, forgetting about everything, Cole took
off running up the narrow alley that ran between Rocki's store
and the building next door. As he ran, he called
9-1-1
.

He tore into the back
parking lot just in time to see her bringing something down on a
man's head.

She was pinned beneath
him—pale, struggling.

Cole exploded.

With a roar, he dove for
the other man, taking him down.

The next few seconds
passed in a blur, yet some parts were insanely clear. He could
remember shoving the bastard to the pavement, could remember driving
his fist into his face, once. Twice.

Then he remembered, clear
as day, a hand on his arm.

Rocki.

Then there were sirens.

“
You're
wasting you're fucking time,” Dwayne said, his voice
thick and nasally, distorted by his broken nose and a swollen lip.

Between the head injury
Rocki had dealt him with the broken bottle and the damage Cole had
done, the man was not in good shape. But he was still belligerent and
full of attitude as he fought against the cop who was slapping him
into cuffs.

“
Stupid bitch won't
do a damn thing,” he said, smirking at her. “Not a damn
thing.”

Rocki stared at him.
“That's where you're wrong.”

She was pale, shaking
from the strain and cradling her right hand. But she wouldn't
go to the hospital. Not yet. Not until she saw that fuck into the
police car. Not until she saw them take him away.

And not until she told
him. Not until she let him know. He wouldn't control any part
of her life. Not through her memories, not through fear.

Although her legs shook
under her with every step, she wasn't going to hide meekly
behind the cops. Even as they tried to pull her back, she evaded
them. Clayton tried to block her way and she stopped, looking up at
him. “Relax...I'm not going to try and kill him or
anything.” Shifting her gaze, she stared around her friend to
look at Dwayne. “I want him to suffer more than that.”

Cautiously, Clayton
lowered his arm.

Rocki didn't try to
get any closer. “You think I won't press charges this
time,” she said quietly. “Because I didn't last
time. But that's where you're wrong. I'll press
charges...and if I can see your ass in jail, I'll pat myself on
the back for it.”

He snarled. “You
fucking bitch.”

She smiled.

“
I'll fucking
gut you—” One of the cops stepped between them then and
started muscling him into the ambulance waiting to take him in for
treatment... before he was hauled to the police station. “Should
have already done it!”

Rocki ignored him,
focusing on the silent, somber-eyed man who waited by yet another
ambulance. This one was hers, she suspected. She needed to get her
hand looked at. And she was feeling more than a
little...disconnected. Shock, maybe?

She didn't know.
Didn't care. The only thing that mattered just then was getting
to Cole and wrapping her arms around his waist. Pain shrieked through
her as she hit her busted hand, though, chasing some of the fog away.
Whimpering, she shifted around, resting her side against Cole's
front.

As one of the paramedics
approached, she shot him a narrow look. “My white knight...”

He didn't say
anything, just curled an arm around her shoulders, his face pressed
to her hair.

He was shaking. Shaking
almost as badly as she was.

“
Damn it, Rocki...”

She closed her eyes at
the broken, hoarse sound of his voice. “I'm okay.”
Then she flinched as the medic twisted her arm upward. “Okay,
I'm hurt...but I'm okay.”

His mouth pressed to her
temple. “I don't think I want to let you out of my sight.
Not for a year, at least. We could go to the beach. Stay there for a
year. I can make sure you're safe. You can heal. We'd
both be happy.”

“
Hmmm. Don't
tempt me.”

“
Before you go
taking off to the beach, you need to hit the hospital,” the
paramedic said. He had a sympathetic look on his face as he gently
wrapped her wrist. “You need x-rays.”

Her belly cramped and
fear shot through her.
X-r
ays. Those weren't bad. Right?
She could do that. Something had to be broken. She needed to get it
set, she knew that. Even though the medicine the paramedic had given
had taken the edge off the pain, it still hurt pretty bad. She could
handle going to the hospital, getting x-rays and letting them set it.
No reason to feel terrified.

But she could already
feel that terror creeping through her.

Focusing on the
paramedic, she tried not to let the panic show. “Yeah, I
figured as much.” The inside of her cheek was all but bloody
from how many times she'd bitten it to keep from crying out.
Her fingers were fat and swollen, discolored. “Damn, I did a
number on them, didn't I?”

“
You did.” A
smile twitched on the paramedic's lips as he glanced at her.
“The man may have a head like a rock, but maybe he'll
think twice before he messes with you again. I suspect you broke his
nose.”

“
Not enough,”
Cole muttered behind her. He pressed his lips to her neck and sighed.
“It's not enough.”

The paramedic's
gaze met his—a look passed between them. No, a broken nose
wasn't enough, not nearly.

“
What? No...oh,
no...” Rocki came up off the table, shrugging away Cole's
hands, ignoring the look on the doctor's face, ignoring just
about
everything
except for one thing.

The door. The door was
all that mattered. Because she had to get out of here. He'd
just said
surgery
. She'd been prepared for x-rays and
maybe
one
shot while they set the bones.
Not
surgery.

“
Calm down,
Rocki...” Cole caught her around the waist, one gentle hand
stroking her hair back. Through the thin cotton of the T-shirt he'd
rummaged up from somewhere—she wasn't putting on those
stupid gowns—she could feel the warmth of his back. And if she
hadn't been so
terrified
, she might have relaxed against
him, just let him hold her for a while. But the doctor had said
surgery
.

“
Calm down?”
She shook her head. “No. I won't calm down, damn it!”

“
Ms. Monroe,
listen, if we don't do the surgery, your hand isn't going
to heal right. It's not just a simple break and the bones in
the hand are delicate.”

In the calm, logical part
of her brain that could still think past the pain, past the terror,
she knew he was making sense. And damn it, she needed her hands. But,
surgery.
Rocki didn't have too many crippling fears, but
surgery was probably one of them. Alright, not probably. It
was
one of them.

Feeling like a foolish
child, she turned around and pressed her face against Cole's
chest. “I can't do this,” she whispered.

“
Shhh. It's
okay.”

As she curled against
him, Cole thought his heart was going to break. She'd been
clinging to control by her fingertips all night, made it through the
questioning from Clayton, tolerated the exam, although he'd
suspected she had a fear of doctors even then.

Glancing up at the
doctor, he asked, “Can you give us a minute?”

He slipped out of the
room without another word, and as the door shut behind him, Cole
cupped his hand over the back of Rocki's neck. “You're
afraid of doctors, huh?”

“
Not doctors.”
Her voice was muffled. She shuddered against him, but he heard her
well enough as she whispered, “Surgery. Needles. Those things.
Doctors are just fine as long as they don't use needles. And
they can't do surgery without needles.”

He rubbed her back. He'd
followed the ambulance in his own car and he'd snagged his gym
bag, figuring she might want to get out of the blood-stained clothes
she'd worn. The pretty, pale pink vest-like corset she'd
had on over a long-sleeved peasant blouse was ruined. Now she was
wearing his faded
Star Wars
tee over a pair of scrub pants and
she was trembling. “Sweetheart, you can't let your hand
stay broken, and if you don't let them fix it, you'll
probably lose some use of that hand.”

Rocki sniffed.

“
You don't
want that, right?”

“
I'm
debating,” she mumbled.

At the sulking, pouting
sound of her voice, he couldn't help but laugh. “Rocki...you
need your hands, right?”

“
I guess.”
She sighed and lifted her head, staring at him. Those
bitter-chocolate eyes were a little too bright and her face was
flushed pink. The pulse at the base of her neck was racing. “You
probably think I'm some sort of basket case.”

“
No.” He
stroked a hand through her hair and tugged her close, resting his
brow against hers. “I think you've had one hell of a bad
night and now you have to do the one thing you hate. Who wouldn't
be pissed?”

“
Pissed.
Terrified...yeah, pissed sounds better.” She sighed and rested
her head against his shoulder. “Today really kind of sucked,
you know that?”

“
Yeah.” He
closed his eyes. “Although I can think of one really good
thing.”

“
What's
that?”

“
You're
here
.” He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could get
that image out of his head, wishing he could do something to wipe
away the sound of her scream. “Damn it, Rocki.”

“
Hey...” She
eased away, peering up at him. “I'm fine. Well. Mostly.”
She gave her hand a look of acute dislike and then looked back at
him. “I'm fine. But now that you mention it...I can think
of a good thing, too. You were
there
. And you're here
now. So that's two good things.”

There was a knock at the
door.

“
It's
probably the doctor.” Good thing, because he needed a minute to
get his balance again, to calm down before he broke. He kept thinking
about how easily he could have lost her. And he'd just found
her ...

Rocki went white. Then
she closed her eyes. “Come in.” Without turning to look
at the doctor, she blurted out, “I'm about to have a
panic attack, even thinking about surgery...can you do something
about that?
Please
?”

Hours later, gritty-eyed
with fatigue, Cole sat in the chair next to Rocki, watching as she
slowly came out of the drugged haze. He had to admit, he hadn't
exactly expected this sort of thing to happen—here he was
sitting with a woman he'd dated exactly twice. She'd need
somebody with her for twenty-four hours after surgery, and he had
every intention of it being him...although he hadn't been sure
how to approach that.

She'd solved the
dilemma by giving him a sidelong look while he was filling out the
paperwork for her. “Is it going to be, like, really awkward if
I ask you to just put yourself down as the contact for now? You're
here, and I don't think you plan on going anywhere...”

She'd been right.

She'd come through
the surgery fine, and the doctor had given Cole the standard
spiel...with a mistake Cole hadn't bothered to correct. “Your
wife will need to follow up with us in a couple of weeks. The nurse
will go over all of that when she wakes up, but make sure she calls
us if there's any trouble.”

She's not my
wife
. Cole could have corrected him easily enough. But he hadn't
seen the point. She wasn't his wife, but she already meant
something. He suspected she could come to mean
everything
...and
he was just fine with that.

“
Okay...any
questions, Ms. Monroe?”

Rocki smiled tiredly.
“No.” She just wanted to go home, to her bed, and sleep.
For a week.

“
Well, then. If you
can just bring the car up...” The nurse looked at Cole, her
brows arched.