Discovering You. Brenda Novak

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      And it wasn’t just anyone’s blood...

      Shoving that memory from her mind, she focused on the gravel crunching beneath her high heels until they reached the inert form of the guy Rod had fought. There were no streetlights, but the moon was full. The man seemed to be about thirty-five and was dressed in a polo shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. A dark streak suggested the brawl had taken place in the middle of the road and someone—Rod, no doubt—had pulled him to the side when it was over so he wouldn’t be struck by a car.

      It was a point in her neighbor’s favor that he’d had the presence of mind to take that precaution. But, as he’d mentioned, his opponent wasn’t conscious. India guessed the blood on the road had come from the man’s head, since that was where he was bleeding the most.

      Was he even alive?

      Holding up her dress, she crouched to find his carotid artery. Then she backed slowly away. He had a pulse, thank goodness. She didn’t want to touch him beyond ascertaining that. She was already having flashbacks, could hear her own voice screaming Charlie’s name...

      Instinctively, she covered her ears—then lowered her hands when Rod gave her a funny look. “Do you know him?” he asked.

      She shook her head and was relieved when he didn’t press her.

      After throwing the man a disgruntled glance, he began to pace back and forth across the road.

      “Shouldn’t we search for your phone?” she asked. “I could call it, if you give me your number.”

      “I put it on silent. I hate it when you go out with someone whose phone is always ringing.”

      “It’d light up, at least,” she said.

      They gave it a try. They even used her flashlight app to comb both sides of the road—all to no avail.

      “I’ll come back in the morning, when it’s light,” he said and returned to pacing.

      India held three fingers to her forehead as she watched from the shoulder. “Can you please get out of the street?” she asked when he didn’t move to a safer place.

      His gaze swept over her as if he was wondering why she was so dressed up. But he didn’t ask. Neither did he comply with her request. He continued to prowl while she stared in the direction of Whiskey Creek, wishing the police and the ambulance would arrive.

      “Can you stop?” she finally muttered. “You’re making me nervous.”

      “Don’t worry about it,” he grumbled.

      Obviously, they were both agitated. She could feel the anxiety flowing through him. “I can’t help worrying,” she said. “Not everyone is as cautious as I am. I get that. But a car could come tearing around that bend any second and—”

      “Fine!” He cut her off and came over to the shoulder, as if arguing with her was more of a hassle than it was worth.

      She reined in her temper. “Thank you.”

      He didn’t acknowledge her thanks. “You don’t happen to have a smoke, do you?”

      She almost walked back to the Prius for her purse before it occurred to her that of course she wouldn’t have a smoke. She hadn’t bought a pack of cigarettes since she’d gotten pregnant with Cassia nearly six years ago. “No.”

      He touched his mouth and looked at his fingers, checking to see if his lip was bleeding again. “I never smoke unless I’m drinking,” he explained. “It’s been a year since I’ve done even that. But I’ll be damned if I couldn’t use a cigarette right now.”

      “I quit when I was twenty-four.” She hadn’t been the same person in those days...

      He raked his fingers through his light brown hair. It was a little too long, but she admired the way it fell loose and went curly at the ends. “Can I use your phone?” he asked.

      The moment she handed it to him, he turned away and kicked a pebble from foot to foot while waiting for the person he’d called to pick up.

      She knew someone had answered when he straightened and forgot about messing with that rock. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said. “It’s me...Our new neighbor’s...Yes, that neighbor...Stop. Listen, I need some help. Remember that guy who was bothering Natasha? The one we warned to stay away?...Yeah, him. He wrecked into the back of my bike.”

      Rod didn’t explain that he’d been driving it at the time, which seemed like a salient point to India. He could’ve been killed. But she wasn’t about to get involved in his conversation.

      “No, I’m not kidding,” he said. “Uh-huh...Don’t worry, I doubt he’ll ever mess with her again.” He slowly gravitated over to the man he’d knocked out and nudged him with one foot.

      No response.

      “I can’t leave yet,” he said, stalking off in the other direction. “I’m waiting for the ambulance...Yes, ambulance. The asshole’s out cold...What would you have done? He had no business hitting my bike. I’m lucky I can still walk...Of course I was riding it at the time! I was driving home.”

      There, the information had finally come out. India took a deep breath and told herself to relax.

      Usually, it cooled off at night when the Delta breeze swept in. That was what she loved about Northern California. But they’d been going through a terrible heat wave since she’d moved to Whiskey Creek. Part of her discomfort had to be due to the stress of the situation, but it felt like a hundred degrees outside, as it had been earlier in the day.

      “Right. So can you bring the trailer and get my bike?” she heard Rod say. “How would I know? Chief Bennett’s going to give me hell. He might even take me down to the station to get a statement or try to lock me up for the night...True...No, don’t call Dylan or Aaron. I can handle my own problems.”

      He disconnected and was about to return her phone when he saw he’d gotten blood on it. After wiping it on his jeans, he gave it back. “Sorry.”

      “No problem.” She held on to the phone, since she didn’t have a pocket and her purse was in the car. “That was...one of your brothers?”

      “Yeah.”

      Still no headlights coming from Whiskey Creek. What was taking emergency services so long? She and Rod—and the man who needed the ambulance—weren’t that far from town. “Which one?”

      “Grady. He’s driving over to get my bike.”

      “Is he older, or...”

      “Dylan and Aaron are older. Grady and Mack are younger.”

      “Would you mind if I asked how old you are?” They were both young enough that she couldn’t imagine it would be an offensive question.

      “Thirty-one. You?”

      She considered taking off her heels but was afraid she might cut her foot on a rock, nail or piece of glass. “Thirty.”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ