“I don’t—”
The screech of tires makes me snap my head around. The roads are fairly quiet but you can’t go fast anywhere in London. I spy a car weaving between vehicles, way up the street, effectively pushing other cars aside. The car barrels down the road, close to where we’re stood.
It happens slowly, like in the movies. I can’t seem to move as the car swerves and takes the corner too hard. It’s going to hit me and I try to scream but no sound comes out. Totally frozen, the only movement my racing heart, I brace myself for the impact as the lights blind me. Pain bursts through my arm—it must have hit me—as I’m slammed to the pavement but weirdly I only feel a soft push from the car. The sound of the engine picking up speed tells me the driver hasn’t bothered to stop. I shove myself up and peer around, cradling my arm that seems to be in full working order but very painful.
Then I spot Hunter on the ground.
“Shit.” I scoot over to him and scrabble with his blood tinged T-shirt. He groans and tries to sit up but I press a palm to his shoulder. “Don’t move. You might have broken something.”
“I’m okay,” he protests.
“You just got hit by a car.” And saved me. He must have pushed me to the side and by the looks of it, the car swiped him.
Hunter’s determined to stand so I help him up and try not to wince as he grips my bruised and battered arm.
He lifts his T-shirt and prods his ribs.
“Careful!” I exclaim.
Eyeing me from under his brow, a smile flickers on his lips “It’s okay. Nothing’s broken.” He lowers his shirt and grimaces. “Just a little bruised.”
“Thank you,” I say softly. “I guess you just saved my life.”
A smirk sits on those tempting features. “You’re very welcome.”
“W—we should get you to the hospital.”
“I don’t think so.”
I consider the blood I saw on his firm stomach. “You’re hurt.”
“I don’t need a hospital,” he insists.
Christ, the man is almost as stubborn as me but I can’t very well send him on his way. I’ll be the one having a sleepless night if I don’t do something.”
“Will you let me at least bandage your side? You’re bleeding.”
Both brows rise and he glances at the blood on his shirt and then on his fingers. “Yeah, I guess you better had.”
“Right. Are you okay to drive?”
“Sure.”
I want to laugh at his macho behaviour but I’m still concerned. Hunter might look tough but he’s just been side swiped by a car. A thought occurs to me. “Should we call the police?”
“Jess, stop worrying.” He takes my elbow and leads me across the road. I hear his breath press through his teeth and realize he’s in more pain than he’s admitting. “They’ll be long gone by now.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Did you see a license plate?”
One dark brow rises as we stop outside his black BMW. “I was a little busy.”
“Of course, sorry.” Heat fills my face. Why does he disconcert me so much? You’d think after so two years playing a role, I’d have no problems dealing with him. It’s the idea he sees through me that puts me on edge I think. “The cameras will have seen it.” I wave a hand around.
He opens the door for me and motions me in. “Forget it. Trust me, I’ve dealt with enough people like that driver to know nothing will come of it.”
I climb in and scowl. Does his investigation business mean he deals with criminals a lot? I really don’t know much about him. Not that I want to find out more. I keep forgetting I don’t want to get close to Hunter. The door slams and he gets in on the other side. It’s as though a vacuum has formed inside the car. Each breath feels stifled and the air is hot. His leather clad arm brushes mine and even through the material of my jacket my skin tingles at the contact.
“Strap in,” he orders and I do as I’m told.
I’m not sure when I became so obedient. Probably the same time he glanced at me and turned my insides to mush. He flicks me a grin and starts the engine. We head out of Clapham and take a right at the park.
“We’re going to my place? Wouldn’t it be better to go to yours?”
“Yours is closer.”
For some reason, I was curious to see where he lives. A trendy apartment perhaps or a converted warehouse. Somewhere dark and mysterious. I smile to myself. Living in London in insanely expensive—which is why I live in a dump—and I know his mortgage payments aren’t huge so maybe not.