Now I started to get scared. Legs and feet were all around me, someone instantly stepping on my hand. I couldn’t get enough room to get back up and another person tripped over me, falling and landing half-sprawled on top.
People were screaming and yelling over the music which, for some reason, was still playing. I could hear the sounds of men shouting and glass breaking somewhere close.
A knee connected with the back of my head, and I cried out in pain, frantically trying to get leverage to at least get to my knees or something, but I kept being knocked down as more people surged around me and another body fell.
Panic gripped me. Now I knew what it was like to be close to being trampled to death. If I didn’t find a way to get up on my feet, people were going to start stepping on me rather than over or around me.
Sirens sounded in the distance, growing closer, but I was terrified it would be too late by the time they got to me. Someone’s booted foot hit hard into my side, knocking the breath out of me with a sharp pain. For a few precious seconds, I couldn’t move. Something caught in my hair, yanking it. I yelled, grasping for whatever it was and freeing my hair. But I didn’t have enough hands or space or time to get up.
There was a sudden clearing of space around me and I tried to stand, my limbs shaking, but before I could, I was lifted off the floor and into a man’s arms.
Ryker.
It was hard to see his face clearly in the bad lighting, but there was no mistaking it was him.
I clung to his neck as he fought his way through the crowd, yelling “CPD!” It was amazing how people paused just long enough at the sound of those letters for us to pass by. In mere moments we were out on the street.
I didn’t know where he was carrying me; I only knew I felt safe now. After a few moments, he stopped and let me slide down to my feet.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his fingers beneath my chin lifting my face up.
I looked at him and gasped. In the light from the streetlamps, I could see a cut above his eye and one on his lip, and there was a bruise already darkening his cheek.
“You’re hurt!” But he caught my hand as I reached for his face.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Tell me where you’re hurt.”
I took quick inventory, but nothing was broken. “Just some bumps and bruises, I think.”
“Sage!”
Turning, I saw Megan, Kelly, and Maggie rushing toward me. Relief surged. “Thank God you’re okay,” I said, hugging Megan.
“That was insane,” Maggie said. “I didn’t know if we were going to get out of there.”
“So everyone’s okay?” I asked. They all nodded. Sirens screamed as fire trucks and police cars pulled up. More people were streaming from the entrance to the building. We all turned to watch for a minute.
“I think it’s time to go,” Megan said. “Wanna share a cab?”
Maggie and Kelly were quick to agree, but Ryker stepped in. “I’m going to take Sage home, if that’s all right with you ladies?”
Megan grinned and grabbed Maggie’s arm. “You bet. Catch you later.” They hurried to pile into a waiting cab.
“Don’t you have to go with the cops or something?” I asked.
“There’s plenty of them to handle it,” he said. “You need me more.”
A true statement, and I was relieved he didn’t have to go. I was still shaky from the experience of nearly getting trampled to death. Ryker must have realized that, because he slid a supportive arm around my back and led me to where he’d parked his truck.
Forgoing the seatbelt, I scooted right up next to him as he drove and rested my head against his shoulder. He drove with one hand and put his arm around me, pulling me closer.
We didn’t say much on the way back and it wasn’t until we were back in my apartment that I finally relaxed. I grabbed us each a bottle of water from the fridge and then got some bandages and a clean cloth from the bathroom.
“Let me patch you up,” I said, coming back into the kitchen. I’d barely set down my supplies when Ryker spun me around.
“Patch me up?” he asked, looking horrified. “Have you looked in a mirror? You’re covered in bruises.”
Glancing down at myself, I saw with some surprise that he was right. My legs were bruised and my dress was a sad, stained, and torn shadow of its former self. My face fell.
“Dammit. I really liked this dress.”
“Screw the dress,” Ryker said. “You were nearly killed tonight. If I hadn’t been there—”
“Let’s not think about if you hadn’t been there,” I interrupted. Though the image of Ryker swooping me up in his arms to rescue me like Superman in the movies would live in my memory for a long time.
“How about I take care of you.” Drawing me toward the bathroom, he sat me down on the toilet lid, then crouched in front of me to slip off my heels.