Double Exposure. Lenora Worth

“Jen, he’s right behind you,” Ethan yelled as he shoved through the people rushing at him.

       She looked back.

       Everything seemed to unfold in front of Ethan in slow motion.

       The riders’ chatter, their footfalls on concrete were merely a fog of noise as he bumped through them like a pinball in a machine. But he didn’t have the speed of a pinball. He couldn’t move fast enough.

      Please, God. I need to get to her.

       The guy’s hands shot out. One held a knife, the blade glinting in the sun.

       “No-o-o,” Ethan screamed and felt a chill despite the blazing summer sun.

       The guy grabbed her camera bag, worn cross-body. A flick of his knife and he sliced clean through the strap. He gave a powerful tug. Jennie wrapped the strap around her hand and hugged the bag to her chest. They struggled.

       “Stop,” Ethan yelled.

       The guy glanced up. Hard, black eyes warred with a decision. He let go of the bag and bolted away.

       Jennie lurched back and plummeted toward a concrete planter, her head inches from serious injury.

       Ethan sent his body airborne, diving toward the sidewalk. He hit the ground on his side, his breath exploding on impact. He reached out to cradle her body and protect her head, his shoulder sandpapering along rough pavement.

       “Ethan,” she said, her voice soft and vulnerable.

       The planter bit into his back and the sidewalk tore the flesh on his upper arm. He felt the wet flow of blood across his skin as pain screamed into his body. He ignored the sting, clamping his hands on his forearms and holding fast to Jennie.

       Her body rotated as he slid. She groaned.

       A few more feet of his skin burning on concrete and they came to a stop, her back pressed to his chest, his arms circling her waist.

       “You okay?” he whispered, his breath stirring her hair. The sweet scent of fresh coconuts unleashed a flood of memories from the summer they’d shared at the beach.

       “Yes.”

      Thank You, Father.

       A crowd surrounded them, chattering, speculating, her attacker missing in the sea of faces peering down. Ethan released her, coming to his feet in one fluid move to search the crowd for her assailant.

       He spotted him boarding the train just before the doors closed with a solid thud. Keeping him in view until the train eased away, Ethan committed details to memory for the police report. He turned back to Jennie. She’d come to a sitting position, eyes wide. Still frightened. Maybe heading toward shock.

       He wanted to scoop her into his arms. Hold her close, push away her fear and promise to protect her. He fisted his hands instead. Given the way she’d left him that summer between his junior and senior year of college, touching her would likely have the opposite effect of the soothing one he intended. Plus, if he was going to protect her until they located her assailant, he needed to keep things on a professional level.

       He squatted down next to her and kept his tone soft. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

       “Is he gone?” Her gaze tracked up and down the sidewalk.

       “He’s on the train.”

       She shuddered, and her face relaxed a bit.

       “Can you stand?” he asked, hoping to move her out of the curious crowd and inside, away from danger.

       “I think so,” she said, but he could hear doubt in her voice.

       He stood, his body screaming in protest as the adrenaline started to wear off and pain set in. Stifling a groan, he held out his hand, smiling to help ease the terror lodged on her face.

       Icy fingers slipped into his, her other hand still clutching the camera case. Their eyes met. Ten years melted away to that balmy summer night at his family’s beach house in Seaside and his parents’ anniversary party.

       She’d stood there so appealing in a daring red dress. Innocently unaware of her beauty. Huge brown eyes captivating him and attracting other men within her radius.

       Man, what a night. Excitement in the air. His surprise threatening to burst out. Fighting to control it. Waiting for the right moment to tell her that he planned to transfer colleges to be closer to where she went to school. Her throwing cold water on him, telling him not to bother—she wasn’t into him.

       And now, here she was, rising up to meet him, and no matter what he felt, he had to focus on keeping her safe.

       Still holding his hand, she took a few steps, as if checking for injuries.

       “Everything okay?” he asked.

       She let go and, eyes clouded, lifted her bag. “I am, but I don’t know about my camera.”

       Good. If she was concerned for her camera, maybe she wasn’t as close to a breakdown as he’d thought.

       “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.” With a hand on her back, he urged her along the sidewalk, heading toward the gallery.

       “Shouldn’t we call the police?” she asked.

       “Let’s get inside first. Then we’ll report it.” He took the side near the road and kept his head on a swivel, looking for any threat. He didn’t really think he’d try something again so soon, but Ethan couldn’t take any chances.

       They moved at a good clip despite Jennie’s limp. She had to be in pain, but she didn’t complain. Didn’t speak at all. She cradled her camera bag like a baby, and her focus remained fixed ahead.

       During their summer together, he’d been able to read her mind, but today? Not a clue. Was she thinking about the assault or their breakup?

       Did she feel the awkwardness of their reunion, now that the moment of danger had passed? There was no way for him to know. Still, he could make sure she knew he’d let go of his anger over the way she’d bailed on him and was up to the task of protecting her.

       “It’s good to see you again, Jen,” he said, keeping his tone light and sincere.

       She looked up at him, a tight little smile the only outward indication of her mood.

       “Thanks for helping me today. I don’t know what I would’ve done if…” She shook her head, then reached up and fingered his tattered sleeve. “I haven’t even asked if you’re okay.”

       He looked at her slender fingers brushing over the white fabric soaked with his blood. Her concern warmed him and he wanted to bask in it for a few moments, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted.

       “I’m fine, Jen.” He lifted her hand from his arm and gave a quick squeeze before releasing it.

       “But your shoulder looks bad. There’s a lot of blood.” She stared up at him, measuring. Weighing.

       “It’s just a scratch. I’ll look at it when we get to the gallery.”

       Her concern washed away and her face paled.

      Nice one, Ethan. Remind her of the threat waiting for her.

       “Everything will be all right. I promise.”

       “I really hope so.”

       “We’ll do everything within our power to find this guy.”

       “Good. Because no matter what he threatens, I won’t cancel the benefit. This is our biggest fundraiser of the year. I won’t let these children down.” Her shoulders went back, and she tilted her chin in the cute little stubborn angle he remembered so well. She was still so determined. Tough, ready to take on the world. Now she directed it toward helping children.

       Since she’d moved to Portland five years ago, he’d read all about her dedication to Photos