Claimed By Her Billionaire Protector. Robyn Donald

       CHAPTER TWO

      SHOCKINGLY, THE GLARE of the headlights revealed a stationary vehicle on its side. The driver had failed to take the corner and the car had skidded into the ditch before sliding along the clay bank that bordered the road on the passenger’s side.

      Hideous memories of another accident, the one that had killed her stepfather, and ultimately her mother, flashed through Elana’s mind. Sick apprehension tightened her stomach and froze her thoughts into incoherence until she realised that Niko Radcliffe was already out of his vehicle and running towards the wreck.

      Fingers shaking, she released her seatbelt and opened the door. Her first instinct was to join him, but second thoughts saw her haul the first-aid kit from the glove box.

      Clutching it, she ran, heartbeats thudding in her ears as Niko wrenched open the driver’s door and leaned inside.

      ‘Oh, dear God, please...’ Elana breathed a silent prayer that jerked to a sudden stop when she realised he was half inside the car, presumably undoing the driver’s seatbelt.

      Over his shoulder he commanded harshly, ‘Get back. Quickly—I can smell petrol.’

      So could she now, the acrid stench cutting through the minty perfume from the kanuka trees. At least the force of the collision had stopped the engine.

      ‘Go,’ Niko Radcliffe ordered, dragging the driver free of the car in one ferociously powerful movement.

      ‘I’ll help you—’

      He broke in, ‘Have you got a cell phone?’

      ‘Yes, but—’

      ‘Then get back to your car and use it to call for help.’

      Torn between summoning the emergency services and helping him, Elana wavered.

      ‘Move! And stay there!’

      The peremptory command raised her hackles, but sent her running back. Snatching up her cell phone, she tapped out the emergency number, eyes fixed on Niko and his limp burden as he strode past his own vehicle towards her.

      ‘Ambulance, fire engine and police,’ she told the emergency operator, and answered the subsequent questions as clearly and concisely as she could, finishing by saying, ‘The smell of petrol seems to be getting much stronger. I have to go now.’

      She dropped the phone onto the driver’s seat and ran towards Niko and his burden.

      He had to be immensely strong, because, although the hard angles of his face were slick with sweat, he’d carried the driver of the wrecked car past their vehicles to what she fervently hoped was a safe distance.

      Breathing heavily, he laid the unconscious man on the narrow, stony verge before straightening. ‘How long will it take them to get here?’

      ‘About fifteen minutes,’ Elana told him unevenly, adding, ‘I hope that not too many of the volunteers were drinking champagne at the ball.’ She dropped to her knees beside the still—dangerously still—driver. ‘Jordan,’ she said urgently, groping for his wrist. ‘Jordan, can you hear me? It’s Elana Grange. Open your eyes if you can.’

      ‘Who is he?’

      ‘Jordan Cooper.’ Tears clogged her eyes. ‘He’s only a kid—about eighteen.’

      ‘Any pulse?’

      Steady, she told herself when her probing fingers found nothing. Concentrate. ‘No.’

      Inwardly shaking, she explored a little further, and to her intense relief recognised the faint flutter of heartbeats against her fingers. ‘Yes. He’s alive.’ Barely...

      She laid a gentle hand on the driver’s chest, some of her panic fading when she felt it rise and fall beneath her palm. ‘He’s breathing.’

      ‘Keep checking. Tell me at once if his pulse stops or he stops breathing.’

      Vowing to take the next first-aid course available, she infused her tone with a confidence she didn’t feel. ‘Jordan, hang on in there. You’re going to be all right. Help is coming and will be here soon. Keep breathing.’

      Did he hear her? Probably not, but that faint flutter steadied a little and his breathing became slightly less harsh.

      * * *

      Niko surveyed her, crouched on the stones, her long fingers clasping the unconscious man’s wrist.

      As though sheer willpower could keep him alive, she urged again, ‘Keep breathing, Jordan, keep breathing. It won’t be long now before the ambulance gets here.’

      Never had time dragged so slowly. Niko hoped to heaven he hadn’t made Jordan’s injuries—whatever they were—worse by hauling him from the car. The boy had worn a seatbelt so he’d almost certainly have escaped severe injury, although to knock him out the car must have hit the bank heavily.

      And the stench of spilt petrol hung in the cool air, a constant threat.

      At last the silence, broken only by the regular mournful morepork call of a nearby owl and Elana’s commands to Jordan to keep breathing, was interrupted by the sound of engines labouring up the hill.

      Her head jerked up. Voice trembling with relief, she said, ‘Jordan, the ambulance is almost here. I can see its lights flashing through the bush. Keep breathing. You’re going to be all right.’

      She fell silent as the ambulance arrived, followed closely by a fire engine and a police car.

      Gladly handing over to those who knew what they were doing, Niko gave silent thanks for volunteers, and decided to double the donation he gave to each organisation.

      Reaching down, he pulled Elana gently to her feet. Although she valiantly straightened her shoulders, she couldn’t hide the shivers that wracked her slender body.

      He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it across her shoulders. ‘All right?’

      ‘Yes.’

      The quaver in her voice and the shiver that accompanied it told him she was in mild shock. Understandable, especially as she knew the kid.

      He looped an arm around her shoulder. When she flinched he demanded, ‘What’s the matter? Did your seatbelt hurt you?’

      ‘No.’ She held herself stiffly while he urged her onto the side of the road out of the way of the vehicles. ‘I’m all right.’

      And presumably to prove it, she moved away from him, putting distance between them. For some reason that exasperated him. Eyes narrowed, he kept a close watch on her while the ambulance personnel got to work and what at first seemed chaos soon resolved itself into a well-oiled routine that swiftly transferred the still-unconscious youth to the ambulance.

      ‘Elana?’ A young policeman stopped in front of them, frowning. ‘You all right?’

      ‘Don’t worry, Phil, I’m fine,’ she said, and summoned a shaky smile.

      ‘Rotten thing to happen to you—’ He stopped, looking profoundly uncomfortable, then asked hastily, ‘You sure you’re OK?’

      Niko glanced down at her. What was going on? Had she been involved in an accident recently?

      ‘I’m fine,’ she repeated, her voice a little firmer, and added, ‘Truly, Phil, I’m all right.’

      The young cop kept his gaze on her face. ‘Can you tell me what happened?’

      ‘Neither of us saw it,’ Niko informed him. ‘It looks as though he took the corner too fast, over-corrected, then hit