“What hurts?”
“Evrythn.”
“I need to get you out of the truck. It’s not good for you to be hanging like this. What if there’s a gas leak or it explodes or…” Enough with the worst-case scenarios. “Can you move your arms?”
He flopped his hands through the air like they were rags instead of flesh and bone. She almost laughed. At least he was trying to cooperate.
“Now, find the steering wheel.” She guided his right hand to the wheel and waited until his left one found it. “Hold on tight. I’m going to release your seat belt, and I don’t want you falling out of the truck and injuring yourself. Ready?”
“Mmm…”
She braced her arm across his chest to help hold him. “Hold tight. I’m releasing it now.” She jammed her finger into the seat belt release. His body, with her arm underneath, slammed into the steering wheel. Pain burst through her arm and shoulder. She cried out. Bad decision—thinking she could help brace over two hundred pounds of male with only her arm.
“Srrree.”
He pulled back enough for her to slide her arm out from underneath him. It flopped down at her side, useless. She tried to raise it, but it refused to move. Was it broken? Odd that it didn’t hurt. “Kent, look at me.”
His body was draped over the steering wheel, head half hanging out the front window. He didn’t look at her so much as turn his head in her direction.
“I need you to slide your legs toward me, get them up and over the dashboard, and then we can get you out of here.” With her only useable hand, she reached down to his leg and guided it in the right direction. He followed her instruction, twisting and turning his torso and hips until his legs hung out the windshield.
“Okay. Hold on. I’ll get out and help you down. Just stay here.”
She positioned herself next to him in the same manner and slid down the hood, landing on her feet, then falling back on her ass. “Oomph.” The landing jarred her arm, sending stabbing pain racing up and down the limb. Numbness had definitely been favorable to the throbbing ache.
She got to her feet. Fell. Didn’t even know why she fell. She just blinked and was back on the ground. Slower this time, she stood and walked to Kent’s bottom half dangling from the front window. “Okay, now slide down slowly. You only have a few feet and you’ll hit the ground.”
No movement.
“Kent?” She reached out to shake him, but his entire backside was right there. What did it matter? She smacked him on the butt. “Kent. Wake up.”
Nothing. She tugged at his belt, tugged harder. His body began to slide. Yes. And then it was sliding too fast, and she had two options. Let him fall on the ground and possibly injure himself worse, or try to catch him, a.k.a., be his cushion. Her hesitancy made the decision for her. He fell back into her, and she fell back—into arms.
Strong, sure arms caught her from behind before she landed on the ground. Kent slid harmlessly off her. Not a graceful fall, but not one that would injure him.
“He’s hurt. He needs a doctor.”
The grip on her tightened. The pain in her arm ignited again. “Ouch. My arm.” The way Xander held her didn’t feel right—too firm, almost painful. “I think it’s broken. But Kent needs…” Xander’s touch had always brought her comfort, but now she felt the opposite of comfort.
A terrible truth pressed into her mind. It wasn’t Xander behind her, holding her.
“The Dragon would put another’s needs before its own?”
Her blood froze into a thick sludge. Her heart rammed against her chest, trying to force the congealed liquid through her body. That voice belonged to the man who killed Gran. To the man who killed Xander in her dream. To a man connected to her and Gran’s torture inside that trailer. No one had ever called her the Dragon, except for Queen.
She thought about struggling out of his grip. She thought about running. But she wouldn’t leave Kent defenseless against a murderer. “Who are you?” The question popped out before she had a chance to censor it.
“I am but a sorry soul sent to fulfill my duty to the Lord.” He spoke slowly, resignation and sorrow giving his tone a drowning sort of weight.
Resignation and sorrow? As if he needed sympathy. Anger flicked into flame inside her, but she smothered the blaze before it consumed her. She needed her sanity, sense, and shrewdness to deal with this man. She needed to find a way to keep Kent safe and keep this man from hurting Xander. She needed to figure out how to capture him. “Kent needs medical attention.”
“I carry a gun in my pocket. If you run when I release you, I will be forced to use it on the young man.”