Gently, she ran her fingers over his scalp and discovered a second injury, this one an enormous knot. He must have hit his head when he fell. But that didn’t explain the wound at his temple.
Why hadn’t she brought someone with her? This was the worst rescue attempt in the history of rescue attempts. She wished she remembered her first-aid training.
It seemed as if she held him forever, but in reality only five or ten minutes elapsed. She stroked his forehead carefully, speaking to him in a jumble of whispered words. Fear unlike any she had ever known paralyzed her. She couldn’t lose Hutch. Not again. Not forever.
Part of her wanted to run for help. The other part was desperately afraid to leave him here alone in the dark. So she stayed...and she prayed.
At last, Hutch regained consciousness. Slowly, he stirred. She felt him stiffen as he realized where he was. With her help, he sat all the way up, putting his head in his hands, groaning and cursing beneath his breath.
“Tell me how this happened,” she pleaded. “Who did this to you?”
“Would you believe I ran into a door?”
“That’s not funny. Let me help you up.”
He batted her hand away. “I can do it.”
It took him two tries, but he managed. His truculent independence was a good thing, because Simone had no idea how she would have managed to stand with a two-hundred-pound man draped across her shoulder.
When he swayed, she reached for him. Again, he eluded her touch. Instead, he leaned on the nearest tree.
“Are you able to walk?” she asked calmly. Something bad had happened. She knew it in her gut. Something beyond Hutch’s head wounds. His body language screamed at her to stay away.
He nodded. “I can do it.”
They were farther from the hotel than Simone first realized. Hutch made it a quarter of a mile or so before he had to sit down and rest.
“This is stupid,” she said. “You stay here. I’ll go get help.”
“No!” He shouted the word and then cursed again as his outburst clearly caused him agony.
“You might have a concussion.”
“I’m a doctor. I don’t need you to practice medicine.”
Now she was certain something was wrong. The disdain in his voice, edged with fury, was a far cry from the Hutch who had wanted to make love to her in a tucked-away corner.
Her heart sank. She waited in silence until he was able to stand again. This time she knew better than to offer help.
They made it only as far as the parking lot. Beneath a streetlight, she caught her first glimpse of the wound at his temple. It was an angry red knot, sliced clean through with a cut that oozed significant amounts of blood.
“Tell me what happened, Hutch. Who did this to you?”
He leaned against his own vehicle. She saw his chest rise and fall as he struggled to speak. “Does the name Maverick mean anything to you, Simone?”
Seventeen
Dread made her blood run cold. Her voice froze in her throat.
Hutch’s gaze was bitter. “I see that it does. Your face gives you away.”
Hot tears burned her
eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. “Maverick is the stranger who has been sending mysterious, threatening messages to people in Royal. I got two of his nasty notes, but so have others.”
“I don’t really care about anyone else but you, Simone. Why would an anonymous blackmailer have anything to hold over your head?” The words were icy and clipped. It appeared that Hutch was prepared to be judge and jury.
“How do you even know about this?”