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Excerpt
A lumpy
bundle in the ditch captured her attention. Patience was past it before she
braked. Frowning, she peered in the rearview mirror and waited for the dust
cloud to settle.
Still
there.
What was
it? Too large to be a dog. Maybe a bear? A garbage bag? It wouldn’t be the
first time some idiot tried getting rid of their trash on the side of a rural
road.
Squinting,
she couldn’t make out what it was, but she swore part of the blue appeared to
be denim material.
No. It
couldn’t be a person.
Looking
around, she couldn’t see a motorcycle or anything that suggested an automobile
wreckage of any sort.
She ran her
tongue along her teeth. Good thing she fueled up. Someone had to check this
lump out.
She stepped
out of her car and blinked in the sunlight. It was a cool day, typical for late
spring. Dirty snow was still piled in the ditches, but it’d been a mild winter,
and whatever the bundle was hadn’t landed in more than dried grasses.
“Hello?”
She inched closer to the edge of the road. If it was garbage, please be old
rags. Something that didn’t ooze. Picking up other people’s trash was full of
icky surprises.
The lump
didn’t move.
“Garbage
dumpers,” she muttered and crept closer. A mop of rich brown hair caught her
gaze.
The pile
wasn’t small. And it had hair.
Her heart
rate kicked up. A person. But there was no vehicle around. Was he dumped?
She knew it
was a he because of the size. Not that women couldn’t be that big. But this was
definitely a guy. Because the more she studied him, the better able she could
make out that he was on his side and had incredibly broad shoulders.
“Excuse
me?” she said, sounding more timid than she cared to.
No
movement.
“Sir?” She
took a step closer.
No
response.
She closed
the distance between them and stood over him. His shoulders moved in time with
his steady breathing. Good, he was alive at least. Before she could wonder
about her personal safety, she crouched as far away as possible but close
enough to reach out and nudge one heavily muscled arm. “Hey?”
Nothing.
Circling
him, she had a dying need to know what he looked like. If she was getting taken
down by a stranger, she wanted to see his face.
Admittedly,
this stranger didn’t seem like he’d attack anyone any time soon.
A leather
coat flap obscured his face. Since he was breathing, she pushed him to his
back. A normal person would call an ambulance, but there was no way she’d risk
that. With her luck, Damian would be on duty, and she couldn’t risk running
across him. The restraining order had expired and he hadn’t bothered her—yet.
The man
groaned as he settled on his back.
Her lips
parted. He was a mess. But he was a hot
mess. Bits of grass mixed with rich brown strands. A neatly trimmed beard
framed his chiseled face. Everything about him screamed strength and power.
Quite a feat for an unconscious man. She didn’t have to move his jacket and
shirt around to know that he had a great body.
But she had
no wish to touch his shirt. Blood was spattered across it. She couldn’t see any
open wounds. Not his blood? Her gaze swept his long body. No major injuries
other than bloody knuckles.
Her jaw
tightened. He was in a fight before he ended up here. Self-defense? Or was he a
mean bastard?
“What’s
your story?”
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