As luck would have it, the earlier sunshine was a fluke. The skies darkened to a blackened gray, and fat raindrops pelted my arms and battered my umbrella. “Damn it.” Sucking in a resolute breath, I marched forward. A little rain wasn’t going to ruin my day. I’d come to London knowing the weather pattern. It was just one more thing I’d have to get used to.

Quickly, I checked Faith’s scrawled directions to Sophie’s boyfriend’s place. 1257 Camberwell Road. I glanced at the numbers on the row houses on my right. 1232, 1234—at least I was moving in the right direction, though I needed to cross the street.

With rain pelting the sleeves of my thick sweater even harder, I trotted to the edge of the sidewalk and checked for oncoming cars. Just as I was about to step onto the road, I heard a revving motor.

From behind, someone shouted, “Look out!”

In one smooth snap of icy talons, fear gripped my spine as strong arms jerked me backward with enough force to knock the wind out of me.

My head swam. In an automatic reply to being grabbed, my body went numb, and my oxygen would only come in short stabbing bursts as my hands flew up in an attempt to protect my face. But then, the tiny voice inside screamed, You are not helpless. It was just the motivation I needed.

I fought the stranger’s hold and struggled, immediately losing my footing. In the split second my brain registered my downward trajectory, I squealed and tucked my camera into my sweater to protect it as I fell. The arms tightened around me again and turned both our bodies. Nausea swelled as I tried to free myself from the grip of strong hands.

My would-be attacker and I landed ass-first in a grimy puddle with a thud hard enough to make my teeth rattle. I blinked rapidly, my brain trying to register what had happened as a Mini Cooper whizzed by. The driver shouted epithets in my direction.

Unable to calm the panic as adrenaline flooded my veins, I continued to try to free myself and fought for control.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you. Stop struggling. I didn’t just save your life so I could hurt you. Just relax for one second and breathe.”

The masculine voice crooned low and soft in my ear, working its magic on me inch by inch. In those endless seconds, my brain registered that the strong hands that held me weren’t squeezing too tight. They weren’t manhandling me. They weren’t striking me. In fact, they were only tight enough to have pulled me back. These hands had caused me no harm. Unlike Easton’s.

I was safe.