Читать книгу The Perfect Gift - Lenora Worth - Страница 9

The man and the two little boys stared down at the disheveled woman asleep on the big Ultrasuede couch in their living room.

“Is she a princess, Daddy?” six-year-old Tyler asked, his dark eyes going wide. “My friend Emily is always talking about princesses. She’s a girl, though.” He shrugged. “I don’t know much about that kind of stuff.”

“She’s not a princess, silly,” his older brother, Sam, answered with ten-year-old authority. “And she shouldn’t be here. Isn’t it illegal to enter someone’s house when they’re not at home, Dad? Besides, she’s ruining our couch with her wet clothes.”

Rory, still in shock from finding the woman there in the first place, stopped staring and went into action. “It’s okay, Sam. She looks hurt.” He gently nudged at the woman’s arm. “Ma’am, excuse me? Wake up, okay?” When the woman didn’t move, he panicked. “Lady, can you hear me?”

“She’s asleep,” Tyler pointed out. “Maybe she needs a blanket.”

Rory pushed away the blanket his son offered. “Let’s make sure she’s all right first.” He bent and carefully rolled the woman over from her stomach to her back, then felt for a pulse along her neck. She had a pulse. That much he knew. He could feel it through the softness of her skin. And she was wearing an intricate gold-chained square locket that fell across her V-necked sweater with each movement of her breath.

“Is she dead?” Sam asked, his curiosity with all things crime-related making Rory wince. The kid had been that way since his mother had been killed three years earlier in a convenience-store robbery.

“No, son. She’s breathing. But something is definitely wrong.”

Rory carefully examined the woman for broken bones or any other signs of injury, then turned her face around so he could inspect it. And that’s when he saw the blood matted in her dark blond hair just above her left temple.

“She don’t look so great,” Tyler remarked.

“No, she doesn’t,” Rory replied, grabbing his cell out of his pocket. He immediately called 911 and explained the situation. “We found a woman in our house, unconscious and bleeding from a head wound. She needs medical attention.”

After giving his address to the dispatcher, Rory hung up and turned to his two quiet, curious sons.

“Now you can hand me the blanket, Tyler.”

His son shoved the plaid comforter toward him, the boy’s big eyes wide with wonder—and a keen interest. “Daddy, if she lives, can we keep her?”