Page 81 of Blake

“You’re worried.”

Blake leaned in closer. “Someone tried to kill the woman I’m falling for. Hell yes, I’m worried.”

Her heart stumbled.

The woman I’m falling for.

Blake seemed to realize what he’d said at the same moment she did. But he didn’t look away, and he didn’t take it back.

“Blake . . .”

A knock interrupted them.

Seriously?

The door opened, and a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped inside. Early forties. Short, dark hair and an expression that suggested he didn’t have much patience for nonsense.

“Savage.”

Blake rose and shook his hand. “Boone. Thanks for coming.”

The detective’s gaze shifted toward Devon. “Good to see you again, though I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“You and me both.”

Lincoln glanced toward the bandage near her temple. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got into a fight with a sidewalk and lost.”

“Concussion,” Blake offered. “CT and shoulder X-rays were clear, but they’re keeping her a little longer for observation.”

“Glad to hear it wasn’t worse.” The other man pulled a notebook from his jacket. “You up for answering some questions?”

“Yes.”

She’d do whatever they needed if it helped.

“Emmett filled me in on what happened, and I’ve spoken with the responding officers. But I’d like to hear what happened directly from you.”

Devon settled against her pillows before telling him everything she could remember. Walking toward the restaurant. Talking about a recent project she’d been working on.

She skipped the part where he called her his girl.

“And you didn’t notice anything unusual?”

“No.” She refrained from shaking her head.

“Neither did I.”

Devon and Lincoln looked Blake’s way.

“What happened next, Miss Brighton?”

“Please, call me Devon. And the rest is a bit blurry. I remember Blake grabbing me and hearing tires squealing loudly. Then we were falling, and the next thing I remember, I was on the sidewalk, and Blake was leaning over me.”

“Did either of you see the driver?”

“No,” she and Blake answered in unison.