Love on the Line (Love Beyond Danger Book 3)

by Diane Holiday

  After leading her to the first-floor guest room, he pulled some clothes out from the dresser and handed them to her. He pointed to the adjoining bathroom. “If you want to wash up or just change, I’ll be right here. ”

  “Thanks, but I’ll be okay.” She nodded and walked stiffly into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. When she came back out her face had more color. His grey T-shirt sleeves came down to her elbows and she’d rolled up the bottom of the sweats. If her face wasn’t such a nightmare, she might even look cute.

  “How about if I heat up some soup? You have to be hungry.” Devon said.

  “I’m fine, but thank you.” She kept checking her phone.

  Even so, Devon led her to the kitchen and slid out a high bar stool. Six of them flanked one side of the L-shaped counter, overlooking a center island with a stovetop. She hoisted herself up and frowned at her phone as he heated up a bowl of chicken rice soup. “Maybe Wyatt lost his cell in the scuffle, or the hospital has it in a bag that he can’t reach.”

  Devon’s chest blazed. Enough already about Pearson.

  She raised her gaze to his. “Thank God you saw us in that alley and helped.”

  About fucking time. “Yeah, that was lucky.”

  “Way more than lucky.” The corner of her mouth turned down. “What you did…how did you do that?”

  That was more like it. Finally, some admiration. He took the bowl of soup from the microwave and set it in front of her. “I’ve had training. And please, have this soup.”

  “Okay, thanks.” She picked up a spoon, shook her head, and winced. “But there were four of them, and they were big. I mean, Wyatt couldn’t even handle them, and he’s huge.”

  Vindication uncurled in Devon’s belly. Perfect. He’d shown up Pearson all right. “In martial arts size doesn’t matter. It’s all in the technique.”

  “Are you a black belt or something?” She sipped a spoonful of the broth.

  “I earned my fifth degree a while back.”

  Her eyebrows shot up, and she winced again. “Fifth degree? No wonder.”

  Going for humble, he shrugged. “Just glad to help.”

  “Why were you there?” she asked between spoonfuls.

  He’d expected the question and had set up Paul as an excuse. “I was supposed to meet a friend at a nearby bar but had to park on the street and walk a few blocks because the lot was full.”

  “That was a good thing for us.” She finished the soup and closed her eyes, pressing her fingers to her forehead.

  “Why don’t you come sit on the couch for a bit? You have to be exhausted, and I’ll keep an eye on you for a while.”

  She nodded. “Okay. I’ll admit my head is a bit fuzzy.”

  He came around the counter and helped her from the chair to the sofa. A fire blazed to life when he hit the remote. Clutching her phone, she sat and fell asleep within minutes. He took a seat beside her, placing his arm around her.

  With a small whimper, she shifted and leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. Drawing her in, he took the phone from her limp hand and stuffed it down between the cushions. Now she wouldn’t hear if it rang and would stay the night.

  The tables had turned. Heat from the fire and her body warmed him. He gloated over the success of his scheme. Not only had he impressed her, she was sleeping in his arms and wearing his clothes.

  Without a doubt, this should lead to more trouble for her and Pearson tomorrow.

  Chapter 26

  At the scent of fresh brewed coffee, Anne opened her eyes. She glanced around the unfamiliar room. Her stomach knotted as memories of the nightmare flooded back. That’s right, she’d gone to Devon’s. But wait, why was she in the guest bedroom? Her fuzzy brain couldn’t keep track of what had happened. All that really mattered was that she needed to see Wyatt.

  She scanned the room, searching for her phone. Nowhere in sight. She hurried down the hall to the kitchen.

  “Good morning. Would you like a muffin or some coffee?” Devon sat at the kitchen counter, holding a steaming cup, his laptop open in front of him. In a suit and tie, he clearly had been up for a while.

  “No, thanks. What time is it? I have to get over to the hospital.” She squinted to read the clock and winced as the tape from her bandage pulled at her temple.

  “It’s seven. I was going to wake you if you didn’t get up soon, but I knew you were exhausted. I checked on you several times throughout the night, and you were sleeping soundly.”

  “Thanks for doing that. I can’t believe I slept at all. I’m sure you didn’t get much rest.” She frowned. “I don’t even remember going to the bedroom.”

  “You didn’t. You fell asleep on the couch. I carried you there,” he said matter-of-factly as he stood and shut the laptop.

  What? He’d carried her? A creepy sensation crawled up her back. “I would have been fine on the sofa.”

  Devon shrugged “I wanted you to be comfortable, and you were sort of…leaning on me.”

  She cringed as it came back to her that she’d cuddled up against him, thinking he was Wyatt. “I’m sorry. I hope you didn’t think—”

  “What I think is that you were very tired and confused.” With a gentle touch, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad I could be there for you. You’re always safe with me.”

  “Thanks.” She took a step back and glanced around the kitchen. All she could think about was getting to Wyatt. “Do you know where my phone is?”

  He frowned. “No idea.”

  “It wasn’t in the bedroom.” She crossed to the family room, checking the end tables. “Can you call my number?”

  “Sure, but I need to warn you about something.”

  “Warn me? What?”

  “The press reported the assault last night. It’s all over the news.” He shook his head. “I want to prepare you. There are rumors and speculation about Wyatt’s injuries and whether the Ravens will want him back.”

  A weight dragged down her shoulders. More publicity. Poor Wyatt. They never left him alone. The ache in her head sharpened. “I really need to find my phone.”

  “I’ll call it.” Devon tapped his screen, and a muffled ringtone came from somewhere near the couch. She followed the sound until she stood in front of the sofa. Bending down, she moved the pillows, and the ringing grew louder. She ran a hand between the cushions and pulled her phone out. “Oh no. I never would have heard this from the bedroom.”

  “You must have dropped it in your sleep.”

  Her hand trembled as she pressed her finger on the screen to unlock it. Cripes. Tons of missed calls and texts from her family and friends. She scrolled through and found three from Wyatt. “Oh my God, he tried to call me, and I didn’t hear it.”

  She dropped onto the couch and clicked on the texts. He had to be living the same nightmare as her, with no way to get in touch and fearing the worst.

  Are you ok? Where are you?

  Call me ASAP. I’m panicked.

  I’m out of my mind now. No one will tell me anything. Please call.

  Her hands turned clammy, and sweat slicked her back. He hadn’t said anything about his condition in the texts.

  “Is everything okay?” Devon sat beside her and touched her arm.

  “I…I don’t know.” She called Wyatt, not wanting to waste a second listening to the voicemails.

  He answered on the first ring, and her heart leaped.

  “Anne? Are you okay?”

  The sound of his voice brought tears to her eyes. “Yes. Are you?”

  “Oh, thank God. Where are you? I’ve been going crazy.” He wheezed. “No one would tell me anything.”

  “You don’t sound okay. What did they say is wrong?”

  “I have a fractured sternum and a cracked rib. There’s some internal bleeding, so they’re observing me for now. I’m going to be fine. Don’t worry.”

  “Internal bleeding?” Adrenaline rushed through her body. That was serious. “Will they need to operate?”


  “They hope not.”

  She brought a hand to her chest and took a shaky breath. Breaking down wouldn’t help. “I’m coming right over.”

  “Don’t rush. I’ll be here. I thought maybe you were admitted, too. Scared the hell out of me.”

  Her head throbbed. No point in worrying him over the concussion. “They checked me out in ER and released me last night. I’ll be there soon.”

  “Okay. John’s on his way over to interview me.”

  “John?” That’s right, he was a Baltimore police detective.

  “Yeah, this happened in his precinct. He’ll be working the case.”

  “Well that’s good.” It couldn’t hurt to have a friend on the force who cared about the outcome. “See you as soon as I can.”

  She hung up and let out the tears she’d held in check. Devon rubbed her back. “I’m sure he’ll be all right.”

  “I don’t know. Internal bleeding? That’s bad. And he has a cracked rib and sternum.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Could you please take me to the hospital?”

  “Do you want to go to your apartment first?”

  “No. I don’t want to waste the time. I’ll ask Emily to run some clothes over to me on her lunch break or something. She has a key to my place.”

  “Whatever I can do to help.” He stood, and she followed him to the kitchen.

  He packed up his laptop and opened the door to the garage. “Which one do you want to ride in?”

  “What?” She glanced at the row of cars gleaming under the light. Last night she hadn’t even noticed them. Who needed that many?

  “I…I really don’t care. Whichever one has the least chance of breaking down. That seems to happen to me.” Much as she hated heights, she’d take a helicopter if it got her to Wyatt faster.

  Devon’s eyes flashed. He snatched a set of keys from the hooks on the wall. “Every one of these is in perfect shape, so that should never happen. We’ll take the Porsche.”

  On the ride to the hospital, a million “what ifs” badgered her brain. None of them good. She gripped the arm rest and forced herself to breathe.

  “The seat and backrest are independently adjustable if you aren’t comfortable in that position,” Devon said. “That’s one of the nice features of a Porsche.”

  “It’s really fine. But thanks.” She sent a group text to let people know she was okay, telling them she’d call from the hospital after she saw Wyatt. Her empty stomach gurgled, and a headache made her queasy.

  After what felt like forever, they reached the hospital. Devon parked in his reserved spot, and they got out of the car. When they neared the entrance, a woman and man, both holding microphones, raced up to Anne.

  “Ms. Cooper, can you tell us what happened last night? What’s the status on Wyatt Pearson? Is it true that his injuries might prevent him from going back to the Ravens?”

  Cameras snapped, and Anne’s heart rate soared off the charts. This couldn’t be happening.

  Devon held a hand up and slung a protective arm around her. “No comment.”

  Oh, God no. Now they had pictures of her wearing Devon’s shirt and sweats, her bandaged face pressed against his chest, while presumably on her way to see Wyatt.

  The press was going to have a field day.

  Chapter 27

  Wyatt hung up the phone and closed his eyes. Thank God Anne was okay. He sighed, and pain ripped a route from under his cracked rib to his fractured sternum. Holy shit, he’d forgotten from his football days how much injuries hurt.

  Last night had been nothing short of a living hell, not knowing Anne’s condition. He’d never been so scared in his life. When that bastard dragged her into the alley, Wyatt’s world exploded. He’d been crazed to get to her, but couldn’t overpower three men. Worst of all, he’d failed to protect her. His stomach sank, defeat dragging it down. Not a feeling he had much. Then again, nothing but saving her had ever mattered more.

  All morning his phone had been blowing up from people who’d seen the breaking news. Poor Anne, for the second time, thrown into the spotlight.

  “I’ve seen red-assed baboon butts that looked better than you,” John’s voice rang out as he entered the room.

  “Guess you spend a lot of time looking in the mirror, huh?”

  John snorted. “Not enough pain meds if you can still make wise cracks.”

  “Nah, I just have super powers when it comes to insulting you.” Wyatt hit the button to raise the back of the bed. He grimaced and caught his breath.

  “Seriously, bro, are you okay? Cuz you look like hell.”

  “I’ll be fine. The Steelers have done worse damage.” Well, maybe not. The image of Anne, leaning over him, her face bloody, singed his insides. He met John’s eyes, all kidding aside. “Tell me you’re gonna find the fuckers.”

  John nodded and approached. “Damn straight. Let’s get to it.” He pulled out an iPad and tapped the screen. “I read over the statements taken last night from Anne and Devon Blackwood. They matched.”

  Wyatt blinked and shook his head. “Blackwood? What does he have to do with this?”

  “He’s the Good Samaritan who came to the rescue and called nine-one-one.”

  A vague image of a man entering the alley and kicking a guy flashed in Wyatt’s mind.

  “They questioned him at the police station. According to the report, he fought three of them, and then they all fled the scene.”

  Wyatt’s lungs collapsed. “Are you kidding me? Those assholes were big. I couldn’t take them, and believe me, I was motivated.”

  John shrugged. “Just reading the report, which Anne corroborated. I checked out Blackwood, and his record is clean as a whistle. He had a valid reason to be in the area at the time. Do you have any cause to suspect him?”

  Other than he irritated the jealous hell out of Wyatt, no. He’d never even met the guy and clearly owed him a debt of gratitude. “No.”

  “Try again.” John arched a brow. “Know that look.”

  Wyatt set his jaw.

  “Come on, this is important. Spit it out.” John straightened, all cop-mode.

  “It pisses me off I wasn’t able to handle the situation. And knowing he did, well—”

  “Cut yourself a break. He’s a fifth-degree black belt. Different skills. Put him on the field and see how well he blocks and catches.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” That hadn’t been too helpful in the alley.

  John waved a hand. “Moving on. Can you describe any of the attackers?”

  “It was dark, but I did get a look at a couple of them,” Wyatt said. “The guy punching me was about six foot, muscular, and had an acne-scarred face. He wore a bandana.” Wyatt angled his head and squinted. “I really didn’t see the two holding me.”

  “What about Anne’s assailant?”

  “Bigger dude. Not fat, but large.”

  “Her statement said he had a lot of tattoos on his arms. Anything else distinguishing? Scars, jewelry?”

  “There was something.” Wyatt nodded slowly. “Yeah, he had some sort of earring. I can’t tell you what it was, though. I saw it flash really quick, and then we were in the alley.”

  John scrolled down the tablet. “This all matches what Anne and Blackwood reported.” He scratched his head. “These goons ask for any money, wallets, keys?”

  “No. Nothing.”

  “Anne said her attacker didn’t make any sexual threats, but we don’t know what might have happened if Blackwood hadn’t broken up the party.”

  Wyatt’s heart hardened, and ice ran through his veins. With him unconscious, they could have done anything they wanted to Anne.

  “Stop that train of thought. It goes nowhere good.” John tapped the bed’s sidebar. “I’m trying to figure out a motive.”

  Wyatt waited while John paced the room. “They didn’t ask for or take anything. I can’t rule out rape, but why pick a woman walking with a guy your size? Too hard. Wondering if someone had it in for you or A
nne. Any enemies you know of?”

  Sometimes things got scrappy on the field, but Wyatt hadn’t played in over a year, and he’d never had a fight. “No one comes to mind.”

  John came back to the bed. “What about an old flame?”

  “But the attackers were men.”

  “Someone could have hired them to do the job.” John shrugged. “I’ve seen a lot, and that wouldn’t be anywhere near the craziest.”

  “There was that thing with Victoria, but that was five years ago, and I haven’t seen or talked to her since.” Wyatt frowned. She was an up-and-coming model who craved camera time with a football star. They’d gone out twice, and she’d started talking serious relationship shit, so he’d told her he wasn’t interested. She came unhinged and made a huge deal out of nothing, gossiping to the tabloids about their “big break up,” only he’d barely known her.

  “I remember that. She was a wack job, but why wait so long?”

  “All she cared about was money and fame. Mostly money.” Wyatt’s eyelids grew heavy, and he blinked. “Damn meds make me groggy. I want out of here and off them.”

  “I hear that.” John ran a hand across his chin. “Something’s not right about this. You know I have a family full of cops, so I’ll send these descriptions out to all of them, and they’ll pass them along to their friends. That’s a lot of territory covered. We’ll get these guys.”

  John was like a pit bull with a big bone; he wouldn’t give it up. He lowered the tablet and sighed. “What do you need help with while you’re in here?”

  “The dog walker is taking care of Goober, but my car is still parked at Luigi’s in Little Italy.”

  “Gimme your keys, and I’ll bring it here.”

  Wyatt pointed to a bag on the windowsill. “They’re in that.”

  John fished them out. “You need some clothes, pretty boy, or do you like wearing dresses?”

  “My exhibition days are over. Grab something from my apartment. Key’s on the ring.”

  “Got it. Call me if you think of anything else.”