I nodded, paying her little attention as she checked each of my limbs and asked a few basic questions. I was focused on Liam. Asher had pushed his shorts up and was washing the wound. Did it hurt? Was it bad? I couldn’t tell from here.

Another siren announced the police’s arrival. Nate and Constable Mehrtens got out of the marked vehicle and hurried over.

“What happened?” Nate demanded. “The emergency caller said you cut through two lanes of traffic and hit a concrete wall.”

Liam looked up, his expression grim. “The brakes didn’t work.”

Nate frowned. “When was the last time you had a maintenance check?”

“Just before Christmas,” Warren cut in. “Everything looked fine then. No indication of wear or damage.”

Nate’s frown deepened. “So, when you say they didn’t work,” he said to Liam, “were they weak or completely gone?”

“Completely gone.”

Nate swore. “Warren.” He turned to our rescuer. “Can you check the brake lines? Mehrtens will oversee. Turn on your camera,” he added to the constable.

“Yes, sir.”

A chill zapped down my spine. They were checking the brakes. Would they do that if this was a typical traffic accident?

“You don’t think this was random.” My tone was accusatory, and Nate’s gaze snapped to me. His eyes were hard at first, but they softened after a moment.

“I think we need to keep an open mind.” He moved closer to Liam, surveying the now clean wound on his thigh. “Considering the problems you’ve been having, it seems like a pretty big coincidence for Liam’s brakes to fail when he usually maintains that crappy old Ute like it’s his baby.”

“How’s your head?” the paramedic asked. “Does it feel woozy and muddled?”

“It’s fine,” I told her, but my stomach lurched at the thought of someone sabotaging Liam’s vehicle. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Brakes have been tampered with,” Warren called.

My stomach roiled and bile burned up the back of my throat. Oh my God. Someone had done this intentionally. They wanted to hurt us, and they’d succeeded in injuring Liam.

I closed my eyes and took a slow breath, begging the world to stop spinning so much. And here I’d thought the stalker wouldn’t actually hurt me. That they’d cared, in some twisted way. If this had gone differently, Liam and I could be dead. If a truck had been coming the other direction and swiped us off the intersection, we’d have been goners. All because of me.

“This is my fault,” I said quietly. Forcing my eyes open, I bent beside Liam as Asher covered his cut with tape. “Is it bad?”

“He got off lucky,” Asher said. “It’s shallow. Won’t even need stitches.”