Braving the Heat Page 12

  “Just sit here a second,” he said. “Breathe.” He took his own advice, struggling against the urge to go take another swipe at Murtagh.

  “I’m fine.” She stared at him, her blue eyes glassy.

  “I know,” he replied. “You’re doing great.”

  Someone from the kitchen hurried in with the first aid kit and clean towels.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Just put it all on the desk.”

  Kenzie’s hand was already starting to bruise. Stephen was pretty sure the jackass had broken a bone or two. Murtagh had at least a hundred pounds on Kenzie and though she was tough as nails, excessive force amplified by temper could do a great deal of damage. He swore.

  “Where’s your phone?” he asked her when they were alone.

  Without a word, she reached for her back left pocket and winced. Stephen carefully extracted the cell phone for her. He snapped pictures with her phone and his, getting close-ups of her hand, as well as the scratches and splinters of glass piercing her skin from her collarbone to her elbow.

  He did his best to keep his cool as a red haze pressed at the edges of his vision. If he ever saw Murtagh again, he wouldn’t stop punching. Later, he told himself. Anger from any source wouldn’t help Kenzie right now.

  “Did he drug me?” she asked.

  The idea alarmed him, but he kept his voice calm. “I doubt it.”

  “Then why am I so woozy?”

  The question simultaneously worried and amused him. “Probably shock.”

  She snorted, then hissed as he started cleaning the first wounds on the delicate skin at the base of her throat.

  “I can’t be in shock,” she said.

  He supposed she’d know better than he would. “Pain, maybe?”

  “No way. I’m tough.”

  He wished someone else with more experience was here. Some of these wounds looked deep. Surely someone on Sullivan’s staff had more experience with this kind of thing. “You are tough,” he agreed heartily. Would she stay tough when he started pulling out the shards of glass? Her arm looked like she’d gone a few rounds with a shattered window. “Maybe it was the sight of blood.”

  Her nose wrinkled as she peered at her arm. “I’m a firefighter. Blood happens.”

  “Uh-huh.” Stephen knew some people could tolerate the sight of blood as long as it wasn’t their own. Was she one of them? “Guess that leaves us with the logical conclusion that you’re just a weakling.”

  “Am not.” She tried to smack at him with her good hand and it bounced listlessly off his arm.

  “Almost done,” he said. “Then we’ll go get an X-ray for that.” And maybe stitches for the gash over her elbow, he thought, as he removed a chunk of glass and applied pressure to stem the bleeding. “Grant should call an ambulance.”

  “No.”

  He didn’t think she was in any condition to decide, but he had his hands full at the moment.

  Grant walked in and stopped short, the fierce expression softening as he looked at Kenzie. “How’s she doing?”

  “I’m fine,” Kenzie replied.

  “She’s dazed,” Grant said. “Sounds almost drunk.”

  “Won’t argue with that.” Stephen cleaned out the deepest of the wounds on her arm. “I think he might have broken her hand.”

  “I can hear you.” Her nose crinkled again. She shifted a bit, sitting up straight. “He caught me by surprise is all.”

  The last part sounded a little stronger to Stephen. Pride was a powerful thing and Kenzie had plenty of it. He hoped the improvement he heard was more than just wishful thinking on his part.

  “All of us,” Grant said. “I’m sorry, Kenzie. He’s in police custody right now and won’t bother you again. I assume you’ll want to press charges. We’ll sort out how he got inside later.”

  “That’s the best I can do for her.” Stephen followed the trail of scrapes and bandaged cuts from her neck to her wrist. “She needs an X-ray on that hand. I’ll take her over to the hospital.”

  Grant used his phone to take pictures of the glass fragments Stephen had removed. “This is my fault,” he muttered. “I should have kept you off the floor,” he said to Kenzie.

  “Stop.” She winced as she pushed herself out of the chair. “I’m here because the PFD benched me. What’s the point of having a life if no one will let me live it?”

  “Fair enough,” Grant allowed.

  Stephen was tempted to remind them both that she wasn’t going about the general matter of living life out there. She’d been attacked and nearly passed out. Kenzie glared at him as if she knew exactly what he wasn’t saying.

  “We can’t let a jerk like Murtagh think he can get away with that behavior,” she said.

  “He won’t get away with it,” Grant assured her. “Let me handle it from the business side. Go on and get X-rays of your hand and take tomorrow night off. The weekend if necessary.”

  “Tomorrow? But that’s Friday night,” she protested. “You need all hands on deck.”

  “Not yours, even if it isn’t broken.”

  She tried to hide her injured hand behind her back, bumped it on her hip and groaned with pain. “Grant, if I don’t work—”

  “We’ll keep you posted,” Stephen said to him.

  He could see the pain threatening to swamp her again and refused to waste another minute. Although he was nothing short of livid that Murtagh had orchestrated this assault and potentially caused a serious injury, he had to let Grant handle those details.

  “Come on, Kenzie. You need to have that examined.” He guided her out of the office and down the hall to the break room to pick up her backpack and keys. Outside at the loaner car, he helped her into the passenger side and buckled her seat belt.

  “You’re treating me like a porcelain doll,” she muttered, as he adjusted the driver’s seat and then backed out of the parking space.

  “Want me to promise it won’t last?” he asked.

  “Please,” she said with great feeling. “If word gets out that Murtagh made me pass out, I’ll never live it down at the station.”

  Stephen appreciated her assumption that she would eventually be back at work with the PFD. Her tenacity was one of her finest features. After this stunt he couldn’t imagine a judge bothering with Murtagh’s case.

  “You didn’t really pass out. Not completely,” he said. “You could always say I overreacted, too eager to do the hero thing. They’d all believe that.”

  She snorted. “I won’t throw you under the bus unless I have no other choice, deal?”

  “Deal.”

  Fortunately for Kenzie, the wait at the emergency room was remarkably brief. The pain had cast a gray pallor over her skin and she couldn’t seem to get comfortable in the chair. When the nurse called her name, Stephen had the irrational urge to go with her. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight.

  Instead, while Kenzie was back getting treatment, he paced the hallway near the waiting area, trying to make sense of the assault. He couldn’t figure out why Murtagh would make such a scene in a public place. It was absolutely illogical, especially since he’d put his hands on her. On the interview this morning the former firefighter had come off as an expert victimized by Kenzie’s natural limitations as a woman. It wasn’t an accurate opinion, though he’d looked good delivering it. Could Murtagh just be that angry to have been rescued by a woman?

  Stephen supposed it was possible. He considered calling his dad to get a better idea of the type of work Murtagh had done during his PFD career. Kenzie’s lawyer might not like Stephen asking around, but a conversation with family shouldn’t be a problem for her side of the lawsuit. He decided to check with Julia first, in the morning. His reputation as the family grump was bad enough already. He wouldn’t make it worse by treating his sister-in-law like a legal expert on call.

  W
hat he couldn’t resist was reviewing the images of Kenzie on his phone. He still had her cell phone, too, and he knew she’d want to see pictures. He didn’t think it was a good idea. Not tonight, anyway. She had enough to process with the attack, pain and potential damage to her hand. As both the brother and son of firefighters, Stephen knew an injury could put her off the job, possibly forever.

  Was that what Murtagh meant to accomplish with this stunt? Had he been trying to hurt Kenzie and end her career because he knew his lawsuit was weak? Stephen kicked around the theory and sent Grant a text message for a second opinion.

  At last Kenzie emerged from the treatment area, her color a little better and a wan smile on her face when she spotted him. She raised her splinted hand, and he held his breath until he heard what she had to say.

  “It’s not broken,” she said. “They gave me something for the pain and the swelling. The plan is anti-inflammatories, rest and some extra support for a few days and I should be good as new.”

  He smiled as an enormous weight of worry on her behalf lifted from his shoulders. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.” He bent his head to kiss her and caught himself just in time. They were a couple of friends, not a couple. “I’ll, ah, go get the car.”

  Were they friends? he wondered as he jogged across the parking lot. Had to be, he decided. Although he didn’t have many friends left since withdrawing into himself after his fiancée’s death, he remembered the general concept. Friends weren’t supposed to abuse the trust with inappropriate moves like kisses. Though the woman challenged him and tempted him in turns, he could control himself.

  Once he’d pulled into the patient pickup area and the nurse helped Kenzie into the car, she fumbled with the seat belt, eventually managing it on her own this time.

  “I’ll call Grant in the morning,” she said, as he drove away from the hospital. “I’m sure I can work tomorrow night.”

  His first instinct was to back up Grant and tell her that wasn’t an option, but he wasn’t her keeper. “Is it the money?” He could spot her some cash if she needed it.

  “A little,” she admitted. “It’s more because I’m on the schedule.”

  “Technically, Grant said you’re not,” he pointed out.

  To his surprise, she laughed. “You’re right. No one argues with Grant. Still, I’m going to try.” She raised her splinted hand again. “I have to do something. It’s not like I can do much around the garage.”

  She could keep him company and brighten his day with her stories and laughter, he thought. “You’ve got another perfectly good hand to answer phone calls,” he joked.

  “You’re lucky they gave me something for pain,” she said, chuckling. “Or I’d make you pay for slamming a glass ceiling over my head.”

  When they reached the garage, he helped her into the trailer and made sure she had what she needed for the night. He left her backpack on the table and hung on to her cell phone. Tomorrow was soon enough to send pictures to her lawyer.

  Alone in the garage office, Stephen paced off more restless energy. Although she was safe and as comfortable as modern medicine could make her, he couldn’t unwind. Murtagh’s mean, glowering expression as he overpowered Kenzie kept flashing through his mind. There was no doubt that Murtagh had had a specific intention when he’d grabbed Kenzie. Stephen just couldn’t be sure if it was to embarrass her or hurt her outright. He hoped by morning Grant would have a plan to make certain something like that didn’t happen again.

  The office was suddenly too small. Stephen needed to get out and do something that mattered. His first instinct was to go to the community center and see if he could make life difficult for another drug dealer. He’d grabbed the keys for the car he’d loaned Kenzie before he remembered he couldn’t leave her here alone. He trusted his security system, of course, but that was useless if she needed an extra hand.

  He walked into the shop. There wasn’t anything to do to keep his hands busy that wouldn’t make a racket. Kenzie’s car was mechanically sound now, despite still being an eyesore. Would she agree with his suggestion to have the little car repainted and the interior repaired for resale? He’d gone to the club on a whim and a bit of a completed-project high, hoping to ease the stress she hid so well behind that big smile. Of course, he hadn’t been able to give her the news on her car or have any kind of discussion, thanks to Murtagh’s nasty stunt.

  Kenzie had incredible reflexes and fortitude; he’d seen it on the racetrack and around the shop. Though it had surely been the right response, it had to have been a struggle for her to stand there and let him humiliate her and hurt her that way. She was a woman used to holding her own, paving her own way.

  Leaning back against the workbench, Stephen looked around his shop. He’d worked hard building this business and his reputation. He couldn’t imagine a stranger coming in and forcing him out of it the way Murtagh was attempting to force Kenzie away from her career as a firefighter.

  Stephen recognized it was more than a job to her. That kind of service and dedication was a calling. He’d seen the pride and commitment to community on his father’s face through the years. That same gleam shone in his brother’s eyes, too, as it had from day one. When Mitch had been on administrative leave, he’d been as miserable as Kenzie was now. And that was without the added pressure of a civil suit.

  Stephen switched off the lights in the shop and, returning to the office, pulled a bottle of whiskey from the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet. He poured a shot and tossed it back. With luck, it would dull this edgy feeling so he could catch a few hours of decent sleep.

  Chapter 6

  Kenzie didn’t miss her phone until the next day, when she woke up to sunlight streaming through the wide window over the bed. Normally an early riser, she couldn’t believe she’d slept so late.

  Sitting up, she noticed the brace on her hand. The small tugs of her bandaged cuts and scrapes along her left arm brought the night back in an unpleasant rush. Better not to dwell on it any more than necessary. Once she found her phone, she’d tell her lawyer what had happened and possibly file a police report, depending on how Grant chose to handle the incident. After that, she wouldn’t think about it anymore.

  She set a cup of coffee to brew as she grabbed a shower and dressed in a loose peasant top that hid most of the marks Murtagh had left behind. Feeling steadier with the jolt of caffeine, she took a couple ibuprofen tablets and searched her backpack and the trailer for her phone, coming up empty.

  Following the sounds of Stephen’s blaring music and power tools to the garage, she hoped he had her phone. If not, she’d ask if she could use the business line to make a few calls.

  The ringing phone in the office caught her attention and she picked it up before it went to voice mail. With luck it would be about the parts she needed for her car. Working on the vehicle would keep her mind off other things while she couldn’t go to the club or the firehouse.

  Instead the caller was asking about one of the cars Stephen had listed for sale. She handled the questions and checked the calendar she’d set up for him, arranging an appointment for the prospective buyer.

  When she went out to tell him about the call, she stopped short in the office doorway, just admiring the way he moved as he worked. He had another rebuild project up on the lift and moved around it with a confident, loose-limbed grace. Her pulse did a tap dance as she enjoyed every lean inch of him packed with that hard, capable strength. And compassion, she thought, recalling the tender way he’d taken care of her last night.

  He turned her way, his persistently stern expression softening with concern as his gaze swept over her.

  That look had her thinking about kissing him again and doing it right this time. She tightened her abs to give the sudden swirl of butterflies less space for maneuvers.

  He used a voice command to lower the volume on the music. “Did I wake you?”


  “No.” She smiled. “But you should have. All my alarms are on my phone. Do you have it?”

  “Yes. Sorry about that.” He crossed to the workbench that lined the back wall. “I kept it with me.”

  “Why?” she asked, joining him.

  “Hold it.” He held up a hand. “You’ll trash your clothes in here.”

  “I know how to keep myself out of the grease for the span of a conversation,” she replied. Though she supposed he wouldn’t accept a hug while he was wearing work clothes. She’d have to save that for later. Anticipating that gave her system more of a jolt than the coffee had.

  “Grant told me to take pictures,” Stephen said, regret weighing down his voice. “I used both your phone and mine.”

  “Thanks.” She was still embarrassed she’d gone woozy over a minor altercation. “Lawsuits aside, I wish I’d fought back,” she said. Playing it meek must have messed with her head and her confidence. “Grant tells us we can defend ourselves if necessary until a bouncer arrives.”

  “Not that simple for you,” Stephen replied.

  No, it wasn’t. Although his understanding helped, she wished she could hit Rewind and handle last night differently.

  “You did the right thing,” Stephen said. “Grant called this morning to check on you and to make sure you sent the pictures to your lawyer as soon as possible.” He wiped his hands clean and pulled her phone from his back pocket. “I almost did it for you. I’m not sure you should look at them.”

  She should feel annoyed that he’d considered taking over and yet she only appreciated this thoughtfulness more. She peeked up at him, tried to smile. “I’m feeling better, I promise.” It was only a small fib. “I’ll just select the right pictures and hit Send. I won’t obsess over them.”

  “Okay.” The rough pads of fingers brushed gently across her skin, leaving a trail of warmth behind as he returned her phone.

  With the brace on her hand it was clumsy work sending the text message and attaching the pictures. Based on the throbbing beating through her palm to her elbow from merely getting showered and dressed, her hand wouldn’t be much use for another day or two. As promised, she tucked the phone into her pocket, remembering too late to shift it to her right side rather than her left.