"Nik. Nik Steele."
Fuck, he knew her name, but she hadn't met him. She was going to be suspicious as hell.
"The waitress was nice enough to tell me your name," he told Mikayla as he watched her fighting to catch her breath, her hand still massaging her neck. "Are you okay?"
She nodded jerkily, the movement halting as she grimaced in pain.
"He tried to strangle me," she rasped, fear quaking in her voice. "You scared him off."
He hadn't scared the f**ker off fast enough. She could have been killed. It took only a second to use a knife, but whoever had attacked her hadn't wanted to kill her the quick, easy way.
Thank God.
"Help me up." She pressed her hands to the ground to push herself up.
"Here." Nik gripped her beneath her arms and lifted her carefully to her feet, holding her as he watched her find her balance. "You should go to the hospital."
Her head lifted slowly.
"Oh, my God, no!" The ragged sound of her voice had rage striking through his chest. The sound of irritated vocal cords. The struggle to breathe as she was being strangled had done minute damage as well.
"You should be checked out."
"My entire family would show up like avenging angels." Her hand lifted shakily to her brow.
"It would be better to make certain you're not hurt."
"I'm fine." She took a deep breath. "I'm just shaky."
"Too shaky to drive--"
"I have to find my keys." She shook her head slowly. "Help me find my keys."
Her keys were at her feet.
Bending, Nik picked them up, holding them away from her as she reached out for them.
"Hospital, or I can drive you home. Take your pick."
Mikayla stared up at the stranger. There was a sense of familiarity in the way he acted toward her. It didn't make sense. She didn't know him. She knew she had never met him before. She would have remembered if she had.
"Who are you again?"
"Nik Steele," he answered, his voice, despite its roughness, incredibly gentle.
"That doesn't tell me who you are." She stared at the keys in his hand. "Could I please have my keys?"
He shook his head slowly. White blond hair dusted against his shoulders as his dark clothing blended in with the night.
"I told you, I can drive you home or to the hospital. There's always the option of calling an ambulance or the police."
"No." Her response was quick.
The last thing she needed was the police. She doubted very seriously they'd help her anyway. They would probably give her assailant a medal.
"No police." She just wanted to go home.
"Come on." His hand gripped her arm, not roughly but in a grip of steel as he steered her to the passenger seat of the Jeep. "Get in. I'll take you home."
He helped her into the passenger seat, hiding a smile as she watched him warily, suspiciously.
There were options. She could feel her cell phone in the back pocket of her jeans. She could call one of her brothers.
No. No way. Any of the three would freak out, call her parents, and she would end up in the hospital whether she wanted to be there or not. And her father would definitely call the police. He'd curse and yell at them when they showed their lack of concern. Her mother would be shocked. She knew most of the police officers in town by first name. There was no sense in allowing more of them to disappoint Mikayla's gentle mother.
Jorrey Martin had cried last week when Mikayla had called to report a break-in attempt at the shop. No one had showed up. Her father had been forced to call and threaten them with a report to the state police.
Not that that would help.
The driver's side door opened and the huge form of the strange man was forced to release the catch on her seat, shoving it back the full length before he could fold his frame into the seat.
"Address?" He turned to her as he pushed the key into the ignition and turned it on.
Mikayla gave him her address quickly, then watched as he put the Jeep into gear and backed out of the parking space.
"Know where that's at, do you?" she asked.
She didn't live in Hagerstown. She'd bought her first house in the small town of nearby Williamsport.
"Actually, I do. I just rented the house next to you this afternoon. I was waiting until tomorrow to move in." His teeth flashed in the dim glow of the dash lights as he glanced over at her. "Hell of a coincidence, huh?"
She so did not believe in coincidence. The house beside hers was definitely for rent. The single-story brick and stucco, like her own, was set behind a screen of evergreen and decorative privacy pine.
"And how do you intend to get back to your car?"
"My Harley," he told her. "Call a cab and have it waiting on me when I get there. I'll see you safely inside your home; then I'll leave. I'm not moving into the house until tomorrow."
"And you care why?"
That didn't make sense. At the moment, Washington County and the surrounding area was rather divided over whether to kill her or to laugh at her.
She had witnessed a murder and seen the murderer, and no one wanted to believe her because the murdered hadn't been well liked and the murderer was a powerful member of the community with an unbreakable alibi. And it seemed someone definitely wanted to shut her up.
"Why wouldn't I care?" Nik asked as he pulled to a stop at the intersection. "Not all men are ass**les, pretty girl."
Her brows lifted. Pretty girl?
Mikayla watched the traffic, her hands clenched desperately in her lap as she fought to hold on to her control. Fear was a wild creature inside her, barely contained. This was a stranger. He wasn't the man who had attacked her. If he had been, she would have been simply dead. His hands were huge, a fitting match to the extra tall, corded length of his body and his rough-hewn face.
"I didn't say you or anyone else was an ass**le." She touched the bruise she could already feel forming on her face. "Except the person who decided to use me for a punching bag tonight."
"You went out without a purse or anything to steal; it's hard to believe it was a mugger," Nik commented. "Why do you think you were attacked?"
Mikayla glanced at his profile before sighing tiredly. "You're not from around here, are you?"