For two seconds Ryan sat, stunned and frozen, while the sound of metal against metal faded to nothing. It seemed a lifetime that he sat there. In fact, it was two whole seconds.

Then he was out of the car and launching himself around the front of the bonnet to find the unimaginable horror that lay beneath.

There was a bike-or what had been a bike. A tangled heap of metal was buckled right under his car. For one awful moment Ryan thought the rider must be there too-beneath the twisted bike.

He wasn’t. No. She wasn’t. Dear God…

The rider-a girl-was crumpled and motionless on the verge of the road. She’d been thrown clear.

She was… dead?

As white as a ghost himself, somehow Ryan moved to see, and as he did the girl stirred and moaned.

The moan was a tiny sound. Her stirring was a tiny movement. But it was enough to shove Ryan back into medical mode-to lift him out of the nightmare a little, back to a mental framework where he’d been trained to cope. A medical emergency.

‘Don’t move,’ he snapped urgently, and knelt down beside her on the gravel. His strong hands moved swiftly to press the girl back on the verge to stop her from rising. If her spine was fractured… Or if she had head injuries…

He removed her bike helmet gently, half-afraid of what he might find To his relief, the short, dark curls were unbloodied. Then he put all the authority he could muster into his voice in a vain attempt to override his shock. ‘Don’t try to move.’

Silence. The girl did as he ordered and lay absolutely still. Or maybe that initial movement had been his imagination.

At least she was breathing. Ryan ran his hands over her body to check her, his eyes taking her in. The girl’s eyes were closed. She was young but not a child-maybe twenty or so. Slight. Five feet four or five. Black curly hair, close-cropped and shining. Finely boned with a wide, generous mouth and a neat little nose. In other circumstances she might be described as lovely. Very lovely. Wearing shorts and a T-shirt that said NO FEAR.