Page 174 of Slack Tide Kill

Sally's foot stayed buried on the brake, her body straining like a bow as a pounding pain built in her skull. The wind sucked and pounded through the open window with ear-popping pressure as the car spun, cracked off the sea wall again then rocked to a halt.

Pain filled her head and neck. She let out a sob. Her hand came back from her head covered with blood. Icy rain blasted her scalp. The pain was drilling deep and she felt sick and dizzy.

"What the hell was that?" Liam shouted over the storm, as he unhooked her seatbelt and hauled her bodily across him, away from the open window. "Are you OK?"

More rocks pinged off the car's frame. Sally tried to frame words but couldn't get anything out. Liam swiveled, putting his back toward the shattered window and blocking the worst of the influx. "Let me see."

He studied her head, peering through her tangled blond hair, then swore.

"Your scalp's split. Damn it. Hold still a second."

He pulled back and wrenched off his jacket, popping buttons to get it free, then wadded and held it to the side of her head. His face hung close before her, his eyes swimming, and she was back in the pile of bodies in Louisiana, looking up at the man who'd shot her.

"All you bitches," he'd said. He'd looked her in the eyes. Then he'd shot her in the head, and nothing had been the same again.

"Help!" she murmured.

"I've got you," Liam said, but she could feel the blood pulsing out, just like before. The sense of panic rising, the terror, with only Liam's blue eyes as a lifeline. "We'll get you to a hospital."

He raised her limp hand to hold the compress. "Keep it tight, Sally. I'm coming right back."

Then he was gone. The door opened, the gale rushed in and she was alone. Icy fingers stole over her, like the cold peat of Dark Peak, like the blood of her sorority sisters dripping down.

Dying alone, and so cold...

There was a muted slam, then another, then Liam was back beside her, shielding her from the storm.

"I'm right here," he said.

There was something green in his hands. A box, which he unclasped and tore through. An AED kit hit the floor, a foil blanket, gloves, scissors. He opened a pressure bandage, stripped back the tape then nodded to her. "OK, let go."

She released the jacket and Liam pressed the bandage firmly over the pulsing heat of her right temple, then held her hand back on top of it. "Hold again."

She did her best. Her grip was weak. More blood ran down her arm. Liam opened the bandage strip and began wrapping it around her head, tighter, many times, cinching hard.

The pain dropped slightly. Liam taped the bandage then pulled away to check his work.

"Are you with me, Sally?" he asked.

The words came to her in pieces, misty and uncertain, but she understood enough. "I'm OK."

"You're not OK." Liam adjusted her in the passenger seat gently, strapping the seatbelt across. "We're going back to Rye. You need a hospital."

He got back behind the wheel, pulled his own seatbelt on and restarted the stalled engine. It coughed to life, barely audible over the roar of the storm. He cranked the stick into reverse, started a sharp U-turn, then Sally's hand came on his arm.

"There's no … time," she managed, every half-shouted word making her head burn. "We have to stop Mercer."

Liam stared at her, like he was weighing something. "Your scalp is gashed open, Sally. I'm not qualified to–"

"We stop … Mercer!"

A stillness descended between them. The storm was still there, hammering at the car, but distant. Strange thoughts spiraled in her mind; the unruly sunne, the world's center, all coming down to this.

"We don't even know what he's carrying," Liam said faintly. "We don't know if he can get through."

"He … might. And he's got Mayhew."

Liam stared. She could feel him bending. The kind of man he wanted to be, his vision of a career, being pushed to the very edge.