Deadly Fall. Elle James

out.

      Staggering to his feet, Andrew pressed on, more afraid than ever for Leigha.

      Brewer barked again, closer to him and far too close to the cliff’s edge for Andrew’s liking.

      “Mr. Stratford?” a tiny voice called out.

      “Leigha?” Andrew’s heart pounded against his ribs and he strained to see through the thick fog.

      “I’m here. I got lost,” she said, her voice wobbling.

      “Stop,” Andrew ordered. “Stay right where you are. But keep talking to me so that I can find you.” Andrew moved forward, careful not to get too close to the ledge.

      “I’m scared,” Leigha said, her voice thin and shaky.

      The Labrador materialized out of the fog and walked toward him.

      Holding on to the dog’s tail was the little girl Andrew obviously had no clue how to care for. He swept her up into his arms and hugged her tightly. “Thank God.”

      Leigha wrapped her arms around his neck. “Brewer and I were playing with my friend. Then the clouds came in and I couldn’t see my way back home.”

      “You have me now. I’ll make sure you get back,” he assured her.

      “I held on to Brewer’s tail,” Leigha said. “He knows the way. He was leading me home when we found you.”

      The big Lab leaned into his leg. His tongue lolled and his tail thumped against the hard ground.

      Andrew glanced down at the dog. He’d never had a pet. As a child growing up in New York City, his parents refused to have an animal in their apartment. When he was old enough to make his own decisions, he got caught up in making a living, and then powered on to make a fortune. A pet didn’t have a place in his intensely busy life.

      Now he stared down at the dog that seemed to be smiling up at him, daring him to smile back.

      “Brewer is happy to see you,” Leigha said. She placed both of her small palms against Andrew’s cheeks and turned his face toward hers, undaunted by his scars. “Mr. Stratford, why are you bleeding?”

      “I tripped and fell.” Andrew swept a damp strand of blond hair out of Leigha’s eyes, leaving a streak of blood across her forehead.

      Leigha captured his hand. “You have a boo-boo on your hand, too. You need to go to the doctor.”

      For the first time since his fall over the cliff, Andrew felt the pain of a cut on his hand. The way it was bleeding couldn’t be good.

      “I’ll take care of it when we get back to the house,” he assured her.

      Leigha leaned her head against his shoulder, her pretty little brow puckering. “Mr. Stratford, are you going to die?”

      He snorted. “Not today, Leigha. Not today.”

      “Tomorrow?” Her fingers curled into his shirt and held on as he walked in what he hoped was the direction of the mansion, his attention focused on sounds and any movement. Holding Leigha in his arms, he was doubly aware of his responsibilities toward the child.

      Someone had pushed him over the cliff. But who? And why?

      When Stratford House finally appeared in front of him, he sighed and hurried through the back entrance, into the large kitchen.

      “There you are.” Mrs. Purdy stopped in the middle of unloading a bag of groceries and set the can in her hand on the counter. “What happened to you?” she cried. Grabbing a kitchen towel, she rushed over to him.

      Andrew lowered Leigha to the ground in time for Mrs. Purdy to grab his hand.

      “Good Lord, you look like you got into a fight,” the older woman said.

      “It’s nothing,” he said, trying to calm his housekeeper.

      “Nothing?” She frowned and led him by the hand to the kitchen sink. “That cut is deep enough it might require stitches. And I don’t know how they go about stitching over burn scars.”

      “A bandage will do.” He let her drag his hand under running water and winced as pain shot up his arm. He jerked his hand back, but the woman stubbornly held on.

      “You need to have a doctor look at this. I’ll wrap it up, but you’ll continue to bleed if you don’t have it stitched.”

      “Please, Mr. Stratford. Please go to the doctor.” Leigha touched his arm and stared up at him. “I don’t want you to die.”

      “I’m not going to die,” he insisted. “And I’m not going to bleed to death.”

      Mrs. Purdy crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down. Then she tipped her head toward Leigha. “If not for yourself, do it for Leigha.”

      Outnumbered, Andrew sighed. “Okay. I’ll let a doctor look at it. I’ll make an appointment for tomorrow.”

      “Today,” Leigha said.

      “We’ll go to the ER in Cape Churn.” Mrs. Purdy wrapped a clean kitchen towel around his hand. “I’ll drive.”

      “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself to Cape Churn.”

      “You’re bleeding like a stuck pig. You might get dizzy.” She held up her hand. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

      “I’m going with you.” Leigha clutched his sleeve.

      “And I’m driving,” Mrs. Purdy insisted.

      “Do I have a choice in this matter?” Andrew asked.

      “No!” Mrs. Purdy and Leigha answered as one.

      Thus outmaneuvered, Andrew found himself loaded into the passenger seat of Mrs. Purdy’s minivan and driven all the way to the Cape Churn Hospital emergency room.

      Once inside, he was whisked back to an examination room. Mrs. Purdy and Leigha waited in the ER lobby. As the door closed between them, Andrew noted Leigha burying her face into Mrs. Purdy’s sleeve, her eyes clouding with tears. The child appeared terrified for him.

      He had to admit, he was terrified for her. After nearly falling to his own death, he realized how easily it could have been Leigha. The thought of finding her body smashed against the boulders made him sick to his stomach. He sat on the edge of the hospital examination bed, pain throbbing through his hand with each beat of his heart.

      A nurse carrying a clipboard stepped into the room. “Hi, Mr. Stratford. I’m Emma Jenkins. I’ll be your nurse. What brings you here today?” She set the clipboard on the bed beside him and took his injured hand in hers, unwrapping the dish towel. “How’d you get this cut?”

      Andrew’s first instinct was to retract his scarred hand. Instead he stared at the gash. “I was pushed over a cliff.”

      Emma blinked. “Say again? Someone pushed you over a cliff?”

      He nodded, more certain than ever it hadn’t been a ghost or a blast of wind in the fog. “Someone pushed me over the cliff behind my house.”

      “Do you want me to notify the sheriff? He can send a deputy out to take your statement while we stitch the wound.”

      Though he didn’t like anyone invading his privacy, Andrew nodded. If someone had pushed him, he couldn’t ignore it. What if that someone tried to push Leigha? “I think that would be best.”

      Emma waited until the doctor appeared before she slipped out to make that call. Within minutes, a sheriff’s deputy appeared.

      “Hi, I’m Gabe McGregor. I believe we’ve met once before.”

      Andrew nodded, his lips thinning. “You came to my house when you were looking for a murderer, several months ago.” They’d questioned him as a suspect. “I’m glad you caught him.”

      “You