"Yes. I'm sorry."
I sat up. Hands reached down to help me and I flinched at their touch. I moved my legs and felt along my arms and ribs. Nothing seemed to be broken. There were no sharp pains, only a mass of aches blending into one. I had been very lucky. The next time they would make sure that I wouldn't escape.
Mike Boyle put a meaty hand under my arm and lifted me to my feet with the casual ease of an adult hoisting a child in the air. Could all that muscle hide a super brain?
I steeled myself to peer across the street at the spot where the man had stood watching me. The sidewalk was empty.
"You been drinking, Mr. Cameron?" the blond boy asked with a grin.
I smiled stiffly. "Coffee. I can't explain what happened. I just lost my balance and fell. It was almost as if someone had pushed me."
I watched the boy's eyes closely but they betrayed no reaction.
"Well, I can't stand around here all night," the red-faced man said belligerently, making the statement a challenge. "I guess you're not hurt."
"No. I don't think so. The car just missed me."
"Maybe you better get his name, Mr. Cameron," the blond youth suggested.