Page 7 of Bones

The sound of approaching footsteps puts my thoughts to rest. I wonder if the other person is here to help me or my attacker. I pray it’s the former. Based on how my attacker strains to pull me harder, nearly dragging me away from the sound, I feel a small glimmer of hope. A large man quickly reaches us and lunges at my attacker.

I’m released suddenly. I fall to the ground, scrambling away. I should run, get in my car, and drive the hell away from here. But when I turn to get a look at my attacker, I see a man I recognize. James. He has the stranger pinned to the ground, and he’s punching him. A pool of blood gathers around the man’s head. I realize he must have hit his head when James tackled him. My stomach turns and I throw up right there in the bushes.

The sound distracts the two men. My attacker, taking advantage of the reprieve, scrambles away from James and runs to the back of the building, where he must have parked his car. James stares at me in concern. I see the wheels turning in his head. He’s deciding if he should go after the man. The sound of a car door slamming and an engine starting pulls his intense gaze away from me and we both turn toward the sound.

A pair of headlights comes on, then quickly cuts away. The sound of tires squealing against the pavement hurts my head. I wince. With nothing left to do, James approaches me carefully.

For the first time, I notice how scary he looks. I’ve always been too distracted by my attraction to notice. He’s tall, but he’s incredibly muscular. The look on his face while he beat up the man was furious, almost murderous. For the first time in the three months I’ve known him, I wonder if he’s murdered someone.

It’s such a random, ridiculous idea, but I know it’s true. Maybe he’s killed a lot of people. A chill runs through me. I back away, terrified. I don’t care if he is Meredith’s friend. He’s clearly dangerous. The other man’s blood seeps into the pavement, but it catches the security light and shimmers. I’m going to be sick again.

I stumble, but he’s there, holding me up. A look of concern is etched on his face, the one I’m familiar with. There’s the handsome man who’s been the object of my imagination since my first week here. I’m being silly, and I know it. I’m probably in shock, that’s all.

“Are you okay?”

I can’t begin to answer that question.

Am I okay? Let’s see, I was just grabbed and nearly kidnapped by a man who was almost certainly planning to murder me. The person who saved me is the man I’ve been crushing on for months, despite the fact he hasn’t indicated that he knows I exist. And, for a split second, I thought that man might be a serial killer.

In response, I laugh, earning another look of concern. James steadies me on my feet and we walk toward the parking lot. I’m surprised my legs work. They’re so shaky underneath me that I feel like I might collapse at any moment. But James has his arm around my waist, keeping me upright. His steps are steady and sure, and he’s able to keep us both moving forward. We reach my car in no time at all. As I fumble through my purse for my keys, I realize my hands are shaking.

“Should I call you a car?” he asks, noticing my hands at the same time. “It’s no problem, I can wait with you until they come.”

His voice is much deeper than I would’ve imagined. I hear a kindness to it. It’s smooth and comforting, though maybe that’s because I need that right now. Maybe I’m imagining the concern because I need to hear it. Maybe he’s cold and calculating, trying to figure out how long he has to put up with me before he can dump me off on my own.

No, the worry in his face is genuine. He runs a hand through his short-cropped hair and lets out a long breath. I haven’t responded, I realize, so he’s probably frustrated. I simply can’t make myself speak. Every ounce of brain power I possess was pushed out the second I was grabbed.

I shake my head slowly, indicating that no, I don’t need him to call me a car. I’m capable of driving. I think. I turn toward my car and unlock it, but I drop my keys when I try to open the door.

“Okay, look.” He picks up my keys and pockets them. “Meredith would kill me if I let you drive right now. You’ve been through a serious trauma. You shouldn’t be alone right now. Can I call someone for you?”

I stare at him blankly and slowly blink. Someone to call? My best friend is on a date with her new boyfriend. She’d drop everything to come take care of me, but she likes the guy. I can’t make her drop everything just to babysit me. My parents are out of the question. If my dad finds out about this, I’ll never be allowed to leave the house again. Definitely a bad idea.

“I could call the police,” he suggests, waiting for me to answer. “Hell, I probably should call the police even if those pigs are worthless,” he mutters.

That snaps me out of my reverie. Cops will tell my dad. I can’t let that happen.

“No cops,” I say firmly. “Really, I’m fine. I’ll go home and take a hot bath or something.”

I’m talking very quickly, sounding almost manic. He must think so too because he stares at me like I’m a lunatic.

“Then let me call Meredith. Her husband’s a doctor. He can check you out and he’ll keep it on the down low. At least you’ll have somewhere to go.”

I shake my head again, thinking of how mortifying it would be to crash at my boss’s house. I’ve never met her husband. I couldn’t impose like that.

“I’m fine,” I whisper half-heartedly, feeling tears gathering in my eyes. “Just let me go home.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Hesitation shows in his eyes. He grips my keys tightly, his knuckles turning white. It’s exactly like I’d imagine for three months. Despite his tough, cold exterior, he’s actually a nice guy. He doesn’t want to let a psychotic woman drive away and be on her own. My heart swells at the thought despite everything else that’s happened. My pulse picks up as I realize belatedly that this is the first real conversation we’ve ever had. And I’m royally screwing it up.

“Could you please hand me my keys?” I try to speak at a normal pace and volume. “I want to go home and be alone.”

“You know what?” he says, ignoring me. “I need a drink right now, and I have to imagine you do too. Why don’t I take you to get a drink? Then, if you’re feeling better, I’ll think about giving you your keys back.”

CHAPTERSIX

This has to be, by far, the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. The dance teacher fluctuates between mute and manic. The danger’s passed, but I can’t leave her alone. She’s in no state to drive. She needs to get something into her system. Alcohol, food, whatever. I meant what I said, Meredith will kill me if I let this girl get in a car and drive off. In her condition, she’ll probably drive right into a tree.

I grab the girl gently by the elbow and guide her over to the passenger side of her car. She doesn’t protest, further proof that she’s unable to drive. She slides into the seat numbly, quickly putting on her seatbelt. Satisfied, I walk over to the driver’s side and get in, then put the key in the ignition.