Read Online Justice Mine: a Base Branch Novel by Megan Mitcham - Free Book Online
Authors: Megan Mitcham
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She smiled and blood seeped from her swollen lip. The top one, maybe. Hard to tell in the dark with no mirror. Lord, she probably looked like a mess. Tough shit.
“You’re a wonderful guy, Martin. But I don’t even know who they were or why they attacked me.” And that troubled the hell out of her mushy brain.
“They?” His ruffly brows rose high. “Damn. And you got away? You’re either really lucky or a badass.”
“Lucky,” she sighed. Really unlucky. But really bloody lucky.
“All right then. Sit back and relax. I’ll take you.”
“You’re the best,” she said with a sniffle.
“Ah,” he said by way of a dismissal.
Magdalena set the phone in her lap, curled her sore feet on the bench beneath her, and held her hand protectively against her chest. The adrenaline ebbed and the questions revved along with a total body and mind ache. Two men attacked her. They had targeted her.
Why?
10
L aw’s ears pricked at the sound of crunching gravel. Had his head not been in a cabinet the night—morning—before, he’d have heard the taxi and seen Magdalena before he peeled her off the floor. Not that a stalling walk across the driveway could have prepared him any more for the sight of her. He swallowed, remembering her soft skin pressed against his chest and wrapped securely in his arms.
He stood from his prop on the counter and walked to the door. Through the panes he watched another cab roll to a stop between the two houses. As much as he’d hoped she wouldn’t return, a shot of excitement plunged into his veins. When the blonde fluff of her hair rose from the depth of the car nothing could keep the words of praise and agony inside.
“Bloody hell.”
She turned toward the house, and the exterior light he’d left on in case she came back caught the unmistakable smear of blood marring her creamy skin. “Bloody hell.” The phrase took on a whole new meaning. Law was out the door and half way to Magdalena before she moved. When she took a step, she faltered and seized the open door in her grasp.
The cabbie called out, “Here, let me help.”
“I’ve got her.” Law stilled the kid’s move to exit the car.
Magdalena’s gaze found him and her lower lip quivered. She pressed her mouth into a thin line. A hard feat for such sultry lips. The shake stilled and her little shoulders squared.
“What happened to your face?” Law demanded.
In his periphery, the cabbie threw his hands up. “She was like that when I picked her up.” His floppy hair shadowed his eyes as he shook his head. “I offered to go kick the shit out of whoever did it, but she fancied this place.”
“Somebody did this to you?” His voice quieted, but held no less demand.
Her slender jaw rose and fell so slightly had he not been expecting it he’d have missed the confirmation. His fists clenched at his sides. “Who?”
“Inside, please?”
She looked dead on her feet. Much like she had the previous night. Only this time she damn well could have been killed, judging by the looks of it. Her left arm was tucked against her chest, and, sod it all, her naked feet were caked with crimson. Dirt ruined one leg of her pants and her shirt looked like he’d properly mussed it. But he hadn’t.
With three steps he squared with the cabbie and offered his hand along with three hundred pounds’ worth of banknotes. “Thank you for taking care of her.”
“Ye…yeah, no problem,” the kid stuttered. His dark brown eyes saucered at the number of queens in his hand and shuffled the currency into two stacks. “It’s way too much.”
“It’s not enough,” he countered.
The kid nodded.
“Here.” Law held out his hand for Magdalena’s bag and she released it from the hand that also clamped the car. “Are you hurt anywhere other than your face, hand, and feet?”
“My right shoulder is pretty tender,” she whispered.
“Is that it?”
She smiled and blood seeped from her swollen lip. The top one, maybe. Hard to tell in the dark with no mirror. Lord, she probably looked like a mess. Tough shit.
“You’re a wonderful guy, Martin. But I don’t even know who they were or why they attacked me.” And that troubled the hell out of her mushy brain.
“They?” His ruffly brows rose high. “Damn. And you got away? You’re either really lucky or a badass.”
“Lucky,” she sighed. Really unlucky. But really bloody lucky.
“All right then. Sit back and relax. I’ll take you.”
“You’re the best,” she said with a sniffle.
“Ah,” he said by way of a dismissal.
Magdalena set the phone in her lap, curled her sore feet on the bench beneath her, and held her hand protectively against her chest. The adrenaline ebbed and the questions revved along with a total body and mind ache. Two men attacked her. They had targeted her.
Why?
10
L aw’s ears pricked at the sound of crunching gravel. Had his head not been in a cabinet the night—morning—before, he’d have heard the taxi and seen Magdalena before he peeled her off the floor. Not that a stalling walk across the driveway could have prepared him any more for the sight of her. He swallowed, remembering her soft skin pressed against his chest and wrapped securely in his arms.
He stood from his prop on the counter and walked to the door. Through the panes he watched another cab roll to a stop between the two houses. As much as he’d hoped she wouldn’t return, a shot of excitement plunged into his veins. When the blonde fluff of her hair rose from the depth of the car nothing could keep the words of praise and agony inside.
“Bloody hell.”
She turned toward the house, and the exterior light he’d left on in case she came back caught the unmistakable smear of blood marring her creamy skin. “Bloody hell.” The phrase took on a whole new meaning. Law was out the door and half way to Magdalena before she moved. When she took a step, she faltered and seized the open door in her grasp.
The cabbie called out, “Here, let me help.”
“I’ve got her.” Law stilled the kid’s move to exit the car.
Magdalena’s gaze found him and her lower lip quivered. She pressed her mouth into a thin line. A hard feat for such sultry lips. The shake stilled and her little shoulders squared.
“What happened to your face?” Law demanded.
In his periphery, the cabbie threw his hands up. “She was like that when I picked her up.” His floppy hair shadowed his eyes as he shook his head. “I offered to go kick the shit out of whoever did it, but she fancied this place.”
“Somebody did this to you?” His voice quieted, but held no less demand.
Her slender jaw rose and fell so slightly had he not been expecting it he’d have missed the confirmation. His fists clenched at his sides. “Who?”
“Inside, please?”
She looked dead on her feet. Much like she had the previous night. Only this time she damn well could have been killed, judging by the looks of it. Her left arm was tucked against her chest, and, sod it all, her naked feet were caked with crimson. Dirt ruined one leg of her pants and her shirt looked like he’d properly mussed it. But he hadn’t.
With three steps he squared with the cabbie and offered his hand along with three hundred pounds’ worth of banknotes. “Thank you for taking care of her.”
“Ye…yeah, no problem,” the kid stuttered. His dark brown eyes saucered at the number of queens in his hand and shuffled the currency into two stacks. “It’s way too much.”
“It’s not enough,” he countered.
The kid nodded.
“Here.” Law held out his hand for Magdalena’s bag and she released it from the hand that also clamped the car. “Are you hurt anywhere other than your face, hand, and feet?”
“My right shoulder is pretty tender,” she whispered.
“Is that it?”
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