Nightingale Read Online Free PDF Page B

reached out and fumbled at my hand, the one holding the phone. His fingers closed around my wrist. Good grief, the man had a strong grip, even though he’d just been shot.  
    “I can’t just leave you out here,” I said. “You’re bleeding, and it’s snowing again. You’ll get hypothermia in no time.”
    His fingers tightened on my wrist. The palm of his hand was rough and cold, his fingers hard and calloused, but a hot tingle traveled up my arm at his touch. A small rush of interest, of attraction, I hadn’t felt in a long time. I wasn’t into superheroes, not like Piper, who could recite obscure facts about every hero and villain in town, but I found myself very curious and very drawn to Talon.
    “No. Promise me, you won’t call the police. They can’t protect me. Bandit will come to the hospital and finish the job, and I won’t be able to stop him. Not now. And a lot of innocent people could get hurt if they get in his way.”
    “But—” I protested.
    “No, no police.”
    I drew in a breath and opened my mouth to argue when I caught a whiff of his scent. He smelled like snow mixed with mint—crisp, cold, sharp, clean. A wonderful aroma, even if it was tinged with blood.  
           I looked up into his face. I couldn’t see his eyes, of course. The blue, wraparound visor hid them from view, but he had a strong, square jaw. Talon wasn’t really handsome, not like Debonair or one of the other suave superheroes, but he had a rugged look that appealed to me.  
    He was Talon. A superhero. A larger-than-life G-man who went around the city making things right.
    And I found myself nodding in total agreement, as if it was a perfectly reasonable plan, instead of the dumbest thing I’d ever heard.
    “All right. I won’t call the cops.”
    “Good.” Talon smiled. “And let me thank you. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be breathing at the moment. Now, can I ask you to do one more thing for me?”
    “Anything,” I asked, mesmerized.
    “Help me stand up.”
    I scooted closer to him and put my shoulder under his left arm. He was heavier than I expected—much heavier than Peter Potter had been. Then again, Talon was all leather-clad muscle, whereas Peter had been all portly businessman. I made sure my boots were steady beneath me, then rose to my feet. I’m sure there were some women in Bigtime who would have gracefully guided Talon to his feet, who would have been strong and solid, while still maintaining elegance and girly-girl mystique. Not me. I grunted like a noisy tennis player from the effort of hauling the superhero upright.  
    But I managed it, and we stood there, like lovers in a heated clinch, my face pressed against his chin. A bit of dark stubble scraped against my skin, and I breathed in, enjoying his crisp, cold scent. Talon was a couple of inches over six feet, but seemed larger, stronger in the dark night. I’d never paid much attention to superheroes, but I was definitely intrigued by the man before me. Even if he was bleeding all over my coat. Good thing it was black. At least I couldn’t see the stains easily, even if I could smell them.
    Talon slid his arm off my shoulder and took a step back. His boots skidded on the snow a moment before he found his footing.  
    “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, still worried.  
    Talon’s face was pale, despite the stubble darkening his chin. Beads of cold sweat glistened on his forehead, and his breath puffed out in ragged gasps—all signs of someone about to pass out, superhero or not.
    “I’m fine,” he said. “It’s just a flesh wound. Now, I’m sure you want to get in out of the cold. So, it’s time for me to go.”
    Talon grabbed at his leg harness, fumbling around until he found his grappling hook gun. Finally pulling it free, he raised it over his head and squeezed the trigger. The hook arced up into the night sky before clanging onto the roof above our heads. Talon clipped himself to the line and gave it a tug