Justine Davis - The Coltons - Fisher, Ryder & Quinn

Fisher.

In wickedly tight blue jeans, a chambray shirt that hugged his lean chest and abs, and a black Stetson that made his green eyes pop brightly in the morning sun.

“Fisher,” she said out loud, a little more breathlessly than she liked.

“What are you doing here?” T.J. said and came to stand before her, placing himself between her and Fisher in an obviously protective gesture.

She placed her hand on T.J.’s shoulder and urged him back to her side. “Fisher and his dad were nice enough to keep me company last night. We had dinner together at Miss Sue’s while I waited to see if Deputy Rawlings would let you go home.”

T.J.’s mouth quirked with displeasure before he mustered some politeness. “Thank you for taking care of my mom.”

Fisher seemed taken aback by the unexpected gratitude, but quickly recovered. “My pleasure. I’m sure Jericho would have done the same if he were here.”

Disappointment stung her ego followed by confusion at the disappointment. Snagging her keys from her purse, she handed them to T.J. and pointed to where her car was parked across the street.

“Fisher and I need a moment alone. Why don’t you go wait by the car for me?”

T.J. nodded, but before he left, he chanced an assessing look at Fisher. Then he did as she had asked, walking down the steps of the sheriff’s office and to the corner, where he waited for the light to change so he could cross.

Macy shifted her attention to Fisher. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, looked away and dragged off his hat, bouncing it back and forth in his hands. With his head hanging down, he said, “I wish I knew.”

She wished she knew as well and was about to press him for another answer when the squeal of tires rent the air. Loud, harsh and angry.

Both she and Fisher whirled toward the sound in time to see a large black sedan lurch wildly toward T.J. as he was crossing the street. Smoke came off one of the tires as the car burned rubber with the driver’s haste to pick up speed.

“T.J.,” they both shouted in unison and sprinted toward him, intent on getting him out of the path of the oncoming car.

He had noticed the car as well, but for a moment he stood there, stunned as the vehicle accelerated toward him. Then in a blur, he raced for the side of the street, trying to avoid the sedan which made no attempt to avert hitting him. If anything, it picked up speed, veering toward where T.J. had run to escape.

At the last minute, her son sidestepped the car like a matador might a bull as the vehicle traveled past him, but it still struck him a glancing blow. He flew into the air and against one of the parked cars as the sedan hurtled down the road, its engine racing as it continued to pick up speed.

She and Fisher rushed to where T.J. lay sprawled in the street as did a number of other pedestrians who had witnessed the accident.

When they reached his side, T.J. was attempting to rise, but Fisher laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Stay down, son. You could have some broken bones.”

T.J. didn’t argue, clearly dazed. A large gash on his temple bled profusely and he had a number of other cuts and scrapes along his face and arms.

Her hands shook as she passed a hand along T.J.’s forehead. As she glanced up the block, she noticed the flashing lights of an approaching ambulance and it filled her with relief. “Take it easy. Help will be here soon.”

T.J. nodded, but even that small action seemed to hurt. He closed his eyes and lay there quietly, his face pale, frightening her.

Fisher sensed her fear. He placed his hand at the nape of her neck to steady her and said, “Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”

She sucked in a shaky scared breath and it rocked him all the way to his gut. He wanted to make her feel better, but he was failing miserably.

Luckily, the EMTs arrived a second later and urged them both to move away.

He kept his contact with her as she stood there, arms wrapped around her waist. Her body tight with anxiety as they waited for some kind of word from the paramedics.

The young man finally looked up at them over his shoulder. “Nothing serious from what I can see, but we’ll take him to the hospital just to confirm that.”

The EMT quickly had the rest of his crew getting T.J. ready for transport. At the periphery of his vision, he noticed that Deputy Rawlings and one other officer were talking to the crowd, getting witness statements, he assumed. He wondered if anyone had gotten the license plate number. He had been too rattled to think about it, which shocked him. He was a man of action and trained to stay in control in stressful situations.

That he had lost that control scared him more than he wanted to admit.

But despite that, he knew he had to be in charge now for Macy and her son.

As the paramedics finished getting T.J. on a gurney, he took command. “Can his mother go with him in the ambulance?”

The EMT nodded. “Yes, but there’s only room for your wife, sir.”

“I’ll follow in the car, Macy,” he said and she nodded, murmured a strained, “Thanks.”

He stood by her until T.J. was loaded into the ambulance and then he helped her climb up into the back. One of the paramedics came by and closed the door of the ambulance, leaving him standing there awkwardly until the sirens kicked in, reminding him he had something to do.

He had to follow them to the hospital and be there for them.

He had to do that, but not because it was what Jericho would have done.

He had to do it because his heart told him it was the right thing to do.

Macy held T.J.’s hand as the paramedic placed a temporary bandage on the cut along his temple. When he was done, he strapped T.J.’s head in place to keep it from moving during the drive.

Apparently comfortable that T.J. didn’t have any major injuries, the paramedic slipped into the seat beside the driver and left them alone in the back of the ambulance.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“A little sore, but I’ll be okay,” he said and squeezed her hand.

Macy thought back to the moment when she had heard the squeal of the tires and the car hurtled forward toward T.J. The fear of that moment fled, replaced by questions.

“I didn’t recognize the car, did you?” Esperanza was a small town and almost everyone knew what kind of car everyone else drove.

“I didn’t,” her son replied, but something in his voice didn’t ring true.

“Do you recollect anything about the car? The make or model? Did you see the face of the driver?”

“No, Ma. I was too busy trying not to get run over,” he answered, the tone of his voice part annoyed but a greater part evasive.

“Are you sure—”

“I’m sure I was trying to get out of the way,” he shot back and withdrew his hand from hers, bringing it to rest on his flat belly.

She focused on that hand, skinned along the knuckles. Drops of blood had congealed at various spots and there were more abrasions on his other hand. As she swept her gaze up and down his body, she noticed the angry road rash along one arm, from his elbow down to mid-forearm.

In her brain came the recollection of the low thud as the car caught him along one hip and he went flying, smacking into another car before falling to roll along the ground from the impact of the blow. A chill took hold in her center and she tried picturing the sedan again. Closed her eyes and attempted to remember what she could about the car, but it had all happened too fast.

The image of the vehicle was just a black blur as it sped toward T.J.

She was sure of that. The car had intended to hit her son. She had no uncertainty about that which made her wonder why T.J. might be lying to protect someone who had tried to hurt him.