Always You (Adair Family 3)
“I’m sorry. All the mixed signals. It … it wasn’t intentional.”
After what seemed like forever, she nodded slowly. “I know. I heard you yesterday, Mac, believe me. I’m just … I need time to figure out how I see our future, if we have one.” She looked away and pushed open the door to exit. I watched her walk ahead for a few seconds and experienced that familiar hard pull toward her that forced me to follow.
I’d just stepped out of the building when I heard the harsh squeal of tires and followed the sound to a black car with tinted windows racing through the car park—
Heading directly for Arro.
“ARRO!” I roared as I ran toward her, shoving her out of the way seconds before pain slammed into my side and I was up in the air, rolling across the car’s bonnet. Years of training kicked in a split second, and I tucked my head and rolled as I hit the ground.
“Mac!” Arro screamed, and I raised my gaze as tires squealed against tarmac and the car reversed in my direction. I lunged out of the way just in time.
Suddenly, the vehicle sped away again, and I took a mental snapshot of the license plate as it barreled out of the car park. Hurrying toward Arro, I grabbed her biceps and lifted her onto her feet. “Are you all right?” I asked as I hastened her into my vehicle.
“I’m fine. Are you okay?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Too focused on getting her out of there in case the perpetrator came back, I didn’t answer. Instead, I jumped into the driver’s side and instructed, “Seat belt on!”
“Mac, you just got hit by a bloody car!” Arro yelled. “Tell me you’re okay.”
I couldn’t feel a damn thing except urgency, but I gave my body a cursory once-over and determined, except for an ache in my right ankle, I was all right. “I’m fine,” I assured her.
Seconds later, I was flying out of the car park.
“What the hell just happened?” Arro whispered in shock.
“Call 999,” I barked at my car.
The next few minutes, I patiently explained to the police what had happened, despite the terror thrumming through my veins. Arro had almost been hit. I gave them the registration plate and explained I was driving to safety. The police dispatcher asked if we needed medical assistance, but I could deal with the aches and pains on my own.
Once we’d hung up, Arro opened her mouth to ask another question, but I said to the car, “Call Lisa.”
It rang five times before she picked up. “I’m assuming this is an emergency,” she answered wryly.
I then explained everything all over again and continued, “I need you to make sure the police are taking this seriously. We could catch this bastard, Lisa, right now.”
“First, are you both all right?”
“We’re fine, we’re fine.”
“Okay, then I’m getting off the phone and straight onto my colleagues at Inverness to make sure they’re on this.”
“Thank you, Lisa, I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem.” She hung up, and a tense silence filled the vehicle.
I looked briefly at Arro. “You sure you’re all right?”
“I’m not the one who just got hit by a car, Mackennon!” Arro cried in outrage.
“I told you, I’m fine. My ankle hurts a bit, that’s it.”
“Wait until the adrenaline wears off.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her shaking her head in exasperation. “It’s that Lee bloke, isn’t it?”
“I assume so. I’m sorry.” Feelings of failure and guilt threatened to overwhelm me.
“Hey.” Arro reached out and rested a hand on my knee. “Not your fault.”
Weeks before, her words wouldn’t have penetrated, but now I let them remind me of what Iona had asked me to do: flip the negative on its head, and think of the positive.