Twist My Heart by Brooke Taylor (ebook audio reader .txt) 📕

“What did you call me?” Does he know my name?

He turned away, ignoring my question and returning to his flat commanding tone. “I’ll get you help. You’ll be fine.”

“Do…do I know you?”

“I’m Nikolas Steele. Call me Nik.”

“I’ve got to get out of here, Nik.”

“Just the shock talking. It’s normal with a head injury. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

“No.” I shook my head and immediately regretted it. Ringing waves threatened to knock me out again.

More questions came, and I wanted to be able to answer them, but everything seemed to buzz in my brain. The static numbed the pain and stifled the noise. The truth seemed to hide just beyond my reach. The ringing in my ears made it hard to hear Nik or even to focus on him. Again and again, I told him I didn’t know my name, where I was from, or why I was there. But I knew the year, every math equation he threw at me, and I was damn good at telling him how many fingers he held up. About the tenth time he squatted in front of me I snatched his wrist, locked eyes, and growled, “Ask me to count your fingers again and I’m going to hold up just one of mine. Would you like to guess which?”

I hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but I was frustrated my protests were being ignored. Instead of being mad, his laughter boomed, echoing in my ears. My eyes widened at the shock of his white teeth—the only clean and bright thing in this strange world I’d woken up in. He gave my shoulder a patting squeeze. “Easy, tiger, you’re starting to sound like one of my guys. Not sure if that’s a good sign or a bad one,” he added with a grin. He didn’t ask me to count his fingers or answer any more random math equations again.

Dust hung so thick, I choked breathing it in. Something else permeated the air, something strong. I should recognize it. I tried to dig deep into my mind.

What is that smell?

“Gasoline,” he explained while continuing to clear away the debris around me so I could get up safely. He held up a piece of plastic that read ‘Shell’. Littered among the shelving and construction debris he’d stripped off me were Ding Dongs, giant rainbow lollipops, and balled donut holes. Munchkins, Nik had called them. There’d been a Dunkin Donuts attached to the gas station. I recognized these were franchise and brand names, like I knew the dog was a German shepherd. But all they were to me were words with definitions. I couldn’t say if I’d ever gotten gas or eaten a Munchkin.

A breeze came through carrying fresh air. I tried to pull a deep breath but my lungs split in pain as if my ribs had stabbed right through them. Punctured?

“Your lungs? No,” he replied as if reading my thoughts again. Maybe I’d been speaking out loud. With the cycling noise whipping through my head it was so hard to tell. “Probably got the air knocked out of you, at worst bruised ribs. You’re lucky you weren’t crushed. This steel girder”—he jammed a muddy boot-heel onto the heavy beam barely an inch from my head—“created a pocket for you and kept most of the weight off, but it could’ve killed you just as easily.”

He surmised flying debris had whacked me from behind and knocked me unconscious. The tender, yet pounding spot on the back of my head agreed. “Won’t know how bad it is until we get you to the hospital. Let’s see what else might be going on.” His hand squeezed around my ankle. “Does this hurt?”

“I really don’t have time for this.”

“What about here?”

“I have to go.”

Why wasn’t he listening to me? I didn’t have the patience to check for other injuries. It didn’t matter what he’d find wrong with me, I absolutely refused to go to the hospital. Nor did I want to be seen by any of the policemen or firemen descending on the field of destruction surrounding us.

I had to stay conscious. Alert. No doubt he’d call them over if I passed out again. Not only did I have to pretend to be okay, I had to convince him to get me away from here. And I wasn’t going anywhere until I could walk.

“Can you help me up?” I held out my hand. He fisted his. “Please?”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“I really am feeling much better,” I lied, nodding for emphasis. Probably not the smartest thing to do with a head injury.

“You don’t look good. I seriously think you shou—” He clamped his lips into a firm, disappointed line when I didn’t wait for his permission. His fingers unfurled and reached for my elbow, helping me to stand. “Okay…but go slow.”

Careful not to grasp my rib cage, Nik brought his hands up under my arms and steadily lifted me. Strobing red and blue lights struggled to cut the dirt-dense air. I muttered an expletive and ducked my head, trying to stay shadowed. Nik heard. Hell, the emerging police officer probably heard.

“We don’t need help,” I spit out, even as my traitorous knees buckled. Digging my fingers into Nik’s flesh, I fought to stay upright.

He flexed, stiffening his arm to stabilize me. Then he motioned his free hand toward a crushed car. “There is a DOA under the white truck over there.”

The officer dipped his head, giving it a solemn shake. He thanked Nik and disappeared at a run.

I started to do the same when my vision swirled. The strength in my legs evaporated. Nik hooked an arm behind my knees and scooped me against his chest. “Told you it wasn’t a good idea to get up so quick,” he grumbled as he carried me to his car with Titan following behind.

Chapter Four

The sound of each and every piece of clothing I shakily worked to remove echoed over the sleek hotel bathroom tiles.