30 Seconds (5 page)

“For fainting.” Her eyes fluttered, her knees dissolved under her, and darkness descended over her vision.

Chapter Four

Slowly, Dani opened her eyes. For a moment, all she could see was white but as she looked around, the room became clearer. She fully remembered running faster than she had run in her whole life. Her legs still carried the aching memory. She also remembered becoming light-headed after she found out the Mob was after her.

I’ve been in a coma, but I’ve never fainted once.
Her hand lifted to her face and she massaged her nose. “It’s not broken,” she said aloud, surprised.

Blake turned away from the window. “Why would it be?”

“When you blackout you generally fall forward or backward with gravity,” she explained as she eased herself into a sitting position. “I remember the sensation of falling face first.”

“You didn’t fall,” Blake told her. “I caught you.”

Her gaze flew to his. “Oh.”
A man tells you he caught you when you fainted and you say “oh”? What a moron.

She cleared her throat. “Well, thanks for making sure I didn’t break my nose.”

Blake bent over her and ran a finger down the brim of her nose. Then he tilted her chin with his thumb, raising her face a bit before kissing the tip of her nose. “You have a cute nose,” he said.

She watched his eyes lower to her lips. She knew he wanted to kiss her by the way he dipped his head, and even though she was aware this was not the time, she wanted to kiss him too. She could also tell, by the way her heart raced in anticipation, that she wouldn’t be able to restrain her own urges if he did.

Startling her and pulling her back to the here and now, the door swung open, killing the moment. It was Chief Witten.

“Ms. Hart, I see you’re awake. Herro, get her a cup of coffee and take her home.” He looked at Dani. “Not many women can go through what you did today. I admire your strength.”

Blake handed her a cup of coffee. She took a sip. “Wow! Not as strong as this coffee,” she said and downed the hot medicine in one gulp.

“No woman I know can drink the coffee from a police station that fast either. Herro, make sure you give her something for her muscles. After a run like that, you are susceptible to cramps and we sure don’t want you to be in pain. We’ll get these men, Ms. Hart, I promise.” Blake and Chief Witten exchanged nods, confirming the promise.

“Come on.” Blake took her hand and helped her up. “Let’s go get some grub. Do you like Mickey Dee’s?”

“I would be un-American if I didn’t.” She ate two double cheeseburgers, a large fry, and an apple pie before clonking out in the passenger’s seat of his car.

****

Dani relived the horrible events of the last twenty-four hours in reverse. She was running backward. Out of the alley. Up the street. Back into the hospital. She undid stitches, unwrapped bandages. She dashed out of the O.R. with Tara on the stretcher all the way to the ambulance where the paramedics loaded her back on, shut the doors, and sped off.

Now Blake was pinning her on the ground. They flew into the air, twisting until they were on their feet, and ran backward to the car where she had leapt out of the passenger’s seat. The car reversed all the way back to the heart of Cleveland.

In rewind, they slunk through the alley. The fire escape flew back up with her on it and she slipped back inside the open window. Then she found herself lying in the chest with Blake on top of her. And time went forward.

“The owner will be back,” she could hear Red telling his men. “So we’ll be back, too.”

“What if the doctor doesn’t come home?” came the same reply.

“We’ll come for—”

Silence…

Dani swallowed. What was happening?

All of a sudden, the lid of the chest flew open, revealing Blake and Dani. Red sneered at them as he pointed his gun inside the chest. The sound of the bullet was deafening and the blood that splattered on her face was warm.

Blake’s body became dead weight. Blood poured from his head, soaking her. Dani screamed. Then Red pointed the gun at her and pulled the trigger.

****

Dani thrashed violently in Blake’s bed. She was kicking, flailing her arms, and screaming on the top of her lungs.

Blake grabbed her. “Dani, wake up.” He shook her to pull her out of the nightmare. “You’re dreaming.”

“Blake?” Tears muffled her voice.

“It’s me. You’re okay.”

She turned in his arms and flung herself about his neck, holding on for dear life. “They found us,” she sobbed against his neck. “They opened the chest and killed us.”

“No, they didn’t. We’re both safe and alive.”

She held him tighter. “Please don’t leave me,” she begged. “I don’t want to wake up with another nightmare and be alone.”

He ran his hand over her hair. “I won’t leave you, I promise. I’ll stay with you tonight.” He fixed the blanket with one hand and pulled it over their legs. He lay down with Dani clutching him.

It was at that moment she started to cry. She could handle the Mob busting into her apartment. She could handle hiding in her grandmother’s chest. She could handle running a trillion miles, but that nightmare was too much for her to bear.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” Blake reminded her. Throughout the rest of the night, he lay beside her, holding and comforting her.

****

She woke in the morning and felt so cozy and warm she didn’t want to get out of bed. She cuddled against the pillow, wanting to savor the comfort until she realized the pillow was Blake’s chest.

She slowly eased away. She couldn’t believe she snuggled up to him all night long. She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.
And drooled on him too!

She sat up, crossed her legs beneath her, and stared at Blake. He was so handsome. She wanted to lie back down and drool on him some more, but he raised his arms over his head and stretched. She watched his muscles ripple and his shirt rise. She could see the sexy trail of soft hair peeking out from beneath his pants and the muscles of his torso. Her mouth watered.

I need coffee,
she thought as she rubbed her eyes. Coffee was her one hope to banish the ridiculous ideas in her head.

“Good morning.”

She uncovered her eyes. Blake was lying on his back, his hands behind his head. Looking at him, his curly hair unkept, she felt like pouncing on him. Who needs coffee when you can have him for breakfast?

“Back atcha,” she said. “And thank you for staying with me last night.”

“No problem. You were really scared.”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t get those men out of my head. Chief Witten told me they were the ones responsible for the deaths of those ten police officers last month. I remember that night vividly. The E.R. had been quiet, which is always a bad sign. I was the only resident on so I took the most critical. They had pumped eight bullets into his chest.” She shook her head solemnly, dropped her eyes. “I lost him. I massaged his heart. I did everything I could, but I lost him.”

Blake’s voice was empathetic but stern when he spoke. “That’s not your fault.”

“I’m a doctor,” she told him. “It was my job to save him. I lost a man who risked his life every single day to protect the people in this city. Ten cops, Blake. Ten! I fucking hate that.”

“So do I. I want to stop them if it’s the last thing I do. I just never thought you would get in the middle of it.”

She looked at him innocently. “Oops.”

“It’s my fault.” He looked down at his hand. “My fault,” he muttered.

She was about to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but his head snapped up and he asked, “How do you massage a heart?”

“Make a fist.” He curled his fingers into his palm and she linked her fingers around his fist. “The heart has to be between your hands to massage it.” She pumped his fist as she had pumped the officer’s heart that night. “You have to do it hard enough to pump the blood. However, a heart is a delicate muscle, so you want to be gentle at the same time.” She did five more compressions.

When she lifted her eyes, she found Blake’s eyes hot on hers. She cleared her throat uneasily, released his hand, and slipped hers between her knees. His gaze followed them, then rose up her legs to the string on her scrubs, and finally to her eyes.

She slid to the edge of the bed, away from his blazing stare. “I want to take a quick shower.” Before he could reply, she was stepping into the huge shower, the water on full blast. She lathered her hair with her peach shampoo until a white halo capped her head. Soapy water slid down her back and legs and pooled around her ankles. With conditioner in her hair, she scrubbed her whole body with Blake’s loofa and quickly ran a razor over her legs before stepping out. In a towel cocoon, she brushed her teeth and applied a bit of makeup to hide the fatigue etched under her eyes.

She dressed, tied her wet hair into an impatient knot, and started to unpack. She hung up the gorgeous dress, figuring she would probably die before ever getting to wear it, stacked her favorite books on the nightstand, hid her photo album under the bed, and slipped her clothes into the drawer Blake had emptied for her.

Downstairs, she found Blake behind the stove. She smiled at the scene. No man had ever cooked for her, but here Blake was cooking a meal for her for the second time.

“Can I help?”

Blake didn’t turn. He pointed at a spatula and indicated the skillet where four pancakes were getting tan. She picked up the skillet, slipped the spatula beneath one of the cakes, and with a flick of her wrist sent it flipping into the air. She held the pan out and expertly caught the pancake.

“Show off,” he murmured.

She finished flipping the other pancakes while he scrambled eggs in a hot pan, rolled sausages, and flipped bacon. When the pancakes were done cooking, she put them on the table with a bottle of syrup. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Black.”

She poured the coffee and handed one to Blake as they sat at the table. “You know, you’ve cooked dinner and breakfast for me.”

He shrugged. “You have to eat.”

She sipped her coffee and examined Blake over the top of her mug. “I want to cook dinner for you tonight.” He looked at her, a forked sausage halfway to his mouth. Smiling to herself, she cut a triangle from her stack of pancakes.

“Why?”

“You have to eat.” She snapped a crispy piece of bacon in half and took a bite.

“It’s against the rules.”

“Eating?” She raised a brow at him. “I’m not asking for a date, nor am I going to poison you. I make awesome eggplant parmesan.”

“I don’t have eggplant,” he said, shoveling a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth as if that would end all further discussion.

“We can pick one up.”

“Excuse me?” He looked at her. “You aren’t going anywhere. Not with Red and his men after you.”

Thanks to you,
she thought.

“Correction. They’re after us. I highly doubt we’d see them while picking out eggplant, unless they get a craving for cucumbers.”

Blake looked at her as though she were nuts. “I’ll think about it.” He set his plate in the sink. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be down in five minutes. Don’t go anywhere!” She saluted him with her fork, two pancake triangles stuck on the end with a line of syrup dripping off it.

She listened to the shower turn on and the water trickle down the pipes as she ate her eggs. When she finished, she carried her dishes to the sink, snatched up a tall glass, filled it with orange juice, and chugged down every tangy drop. While licking the sweetness from her lips, she faced the small window above the sink.

The snow was sweating beneath the sun’s warmth and two birds were circling each other in a mad frenzy. Smiling, she filled the sink with water and scrubbed the syrup from their breakfast plates. She was humming to herself when she dunked her orange juice glass under the water and watched the birds. The male chased after the female, charming her with his feathers, trying to get her in his nest.
Typical male.
She glanced down at the glass as she washed it. When she looked back up, she let out a gasp and the glass fell from her hands.

A moment later, Blake hurried into the kitchen with a towel slipping lower on his hips. “What happened?”

She turned to him. “No, watch out!” But he kept coming. “There’s glass. Your feet!”

He walked over the glass. “Fuck my feet,” he said and grabbed her. “Are you okay?” She didn’t speak. She stared at him with wide eyes and her mouth open.

“Dani.” He shook her. “Talk to me! What happened?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.” She pointed over her shoulder at the little kitchen window. “Mailman. I got startled. Soapy hands. The glass fell.”

“So you’re okay?”

“Yes.”

She was better than okay. Her arms were against his bare chest. He was wet from his shower and his skin was dampening her clothes. She could feel his muscles and see every inch of them. Her eyes lowered to the towel hanging tantalizingly low on his hips. Part of her wanted to rip the towel away, jump on the counter, and pull him into her but Blake released her and readjusted the towel.

“I’m sorry for grabbing you.”

“Apology not accepted.” Her gaze roamed over his nearly naked body then met his. “I’m not sorry, not in the least.” In his eyes, she could tell he was having the same debate—should he take her on the counter now or walk away? She hoped his dangerous side was more persuasive than hers was.