"Jane, come to me, pchelka!" she looked around and saw Boris reaching for her, his large arm thrust under the car.

She reached out and put her hand in his, trusting him completely. His hand immediately engulfed hers and with a grunt of pain he pulled her bodily from under the car. Jane winced as her sweater rode up and the bare skin of her side scraped across the pavement. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. She suspected Boris was shot and he was still trying to help ...