Coup De Grâce (2 page)

Scooping him up, I placed him gently over my shoulder and started sprinting out the door.

I was thankful as hell to see that Bennett, another member of the SWAT team and fellow officer, was pulling into the driveway.

He saw me coming and his eyes flared.

I didn’t waste a second, however.

I ran to his passenger side door, fell inside, and said, “Drive!”

He drove, and the last thing I saw before I turned my attention to the little boy in my arms was the horrified looks on the two elderly people as we peeled out of the driveway, spraying dirt and gravel in our wake.

“Why aren’t we waiting for the ambulance?” Bennett yelled, taking a corner going way too fast.

“Because we’re two minutes tops from the hospital, and it’ll take the ambulance at least five to get to where we are. It’s easier and faster to drive, and this baby may not have that long,” I told him honestly.

He didn’t say another word, and I didn’t either.

Damaged women are strong. And crazy. Don’t forget crazy.

-Coffee Cup

Nikki

“Nikki!” Lennox called from the nurse’s station.

I looked up from the man I was currently getting an IV on, and raised by brows at her in question.

“Nikki, Paxton’s going to get that IV for you. I need a hand. Now,” Lennox ordered.

Her eyes were haunted, and I swallowed at the look.

What the hell was going on?

I’d felt it the moment that the trauma had come in.

The entire room had gone into overdrive.

Not one to usually participate in trauma’s due to my lack of credentials, I stayed out of the way, helping where I was needed.

Handing off the IV for Paxton to tape and finish up, I patted the man’s hand and hurried around the foot of the bed.

My first indication that something was seriously wrong was when I walked into the room and saw a man’s black booted feet at the end of the exam table bending over the foot of the end of the gurney.

Then I followed it up to see the cargo pants that KPD wore.

But what really gave me pause was the fact that the man wore long sleeves.

Nobody, and I mean nobody, wore long sleeves in the middle of a Texas summer.

Unless your name was Michael ‘Saint’ Perez.

“What do you need?” I managed to ask Lennox, looking away.

I’d yet to see what was on the gurney, but I knew it was bad.

Michael’s entire body was shielding whatever it was, and I knew it would be bad before I rounded the end of the gurney.

“I need you to get an IV in him,” she said softly.

That’s when Michael moved, and I nearly lost my legs out from under me.

“Sweet Mary mother of God,” I whispered in devastation.

Michael’s eyes were blank.

No emotion in them whatsoever.

But I could tell he wasn’t doing it because of me.

He was doing it because he knew that if he showed even the least bit of emotion, he’d lose it. Just like I was about to do.

Taking a page from his book, I steeled up my defenses and said, “22 gauge.”

Then I went to work on getting an IV in a baby less than ten months old, with quite a bit of blood loss, and a gunshot wound to his head.

All the while Michael, the man I’d been in love with for over two years, watched me, holding a kid in his arms and talking to him like he was his father.

Heart panging, I found a vein, and started an IV.

I’d done it many times, and it was rare that I missed.

Once the access was started, I backed away, watching as the trauma team descended in mass.

Michael, though, didn’t leave.

Even when his ex-wife showed up and pressed her entire body against his to get a fucking gauze pad when she could’ve gotten one out of her pocket.

Bitch
.

God, she made my life a living hell.

Literally, day after day she made it a point to torture me, and I didn’t know why.

She didn’t know that I liked Michael.

Hell, only a few people knew that I even knew him.

What Joslin didn’t like about me was the fact that everyone liked me.

I was, by nature, a nice person.

I got along with everyone. I was a team player, and I could work with damn near anyone.

Her, though, I couldn’t work with.

Not only because she refused to, but because she hated me and I refused to torture myself.

So when she started to push in close to Michael, I wanted to smack the hell out of her.

But, as the professional that I was, I backed out of the room, and turned to see where I was needed.

I was the newest ER Tech.

I was a licensed paramedic.

But a paramedic that couldn’t be in an ambulance because I got motion sickness.

Something I’d not figured out until I’d taken my first job.

Lucky for me, I was starting with another licensed paramedic to watch over me, because I spent my entire time puking, effectively ending my career before it’d even started.

I’d completely disregarded the medical field after that, going back to my father’s office where I’d been a secretary, with my tail tucked between my legs.

But when my best friend, Georgia, came back into town, she convinced me to give it another chance, and here I was, on the IV team and being a helpful person in any way I could.

“What happened?” I heard asked from behind me.

I saw Paxton, a PA that worked with us, looking at the room that I’d just managed to get the hell out of.

“Gunshot wound to the head,” I whispered, trying really hard to forget, yet not managing to accomplish that very well.

“Fuck me,” Paxton breathed.

I liked Paxton.

He was a very sexy man with dark brown hair that curled over his ears, and a beautiful blue set of eyes that could make any person’s heart start to flutter.

His heart only fluttered for men, though.

Specifically, his significant other that he’d met just a few months ago through a mutual friend of the two.

“Yep,” I said, turning away and washing my hands in the sink that sat right next to the exit that the paramedics used to transfer patients in and out. “I’m going to run to Starbuck’s. Want anything?”

Paxton shook his head.

“Nah, I just had a candy bar. My ass can’t take any more calories today,” he said sheepishly.

I rolled my eyes.

My ass definitely couldn’t take it either, yet I couldn’t find it in me to give a shit at the moment.

I definitely took after my curvy mother.

I had what my sisters liked to call ‘child bearing hips.’

Big boobs, big hips, toned thighs (that, might I add, were still on the bigger side of acceptable) and a chin that was questionably close to what they called ‘double.’

My friends and family didn’t see what I saw, the imperfections.

They said I was beautiful.

I said I was chunky.

To-ma-toes. Tom-a-toes.

Don’t ask me why I did what I did next.

It could’ve been because I was crazy. Or it could’ve been because I knew he needed it, but I did it with no ulterior motives.

“I want a twenty ounce amaretto latte, and a twenty eight ounce black Americano,” I ordered.

She young teen smiled, busying herself steaming my milk and shaking cinnamon sprinkles on my frothy milk that collected at the top of the drink.

“That’ll be eight fifty,” she said, holding out her hand.

I shoved a ten in her hand and said, “Keep the change.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

Taking my two coffees, I walked back down the hallway to the ER. When I turned the final corner that would take me into the ER, I ran straight into a brick wall of flesh.

Instinctively, I lifted my hands up to save the coffee, and inadvertently padded my collision with my breasts which pressed up agai
nst a hard, well defined chest. They
instantly pebbled.

“Oh!” I said in surprise.

“Fuck,” a deep voice hissed out, hands moving to my hips to keep me steady.

That voice always had the capability to send shivers down my spine.

“Michael,” I breathed, smiling timidly at him.

“Nik,” he sighed. “Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Bringing my cups down, I stepped back, and instantly regretted the loss of his heat.

I knew, though, that the longer I stayed there touching him, the harder it’d be to move away.

“I got you this,” I said, shoving the coffee in his direction.

He caught it before I could spill it all over his chest, but to be honest, his shirt really couldn’t get much worse.

Not with the massive amount of blood I could see soaking it.

He’d have to throw this one away.

It may be black, but there was no way he could get the blood out of this one.

The white lettering that designated him a KPD officer was stained red, and I had a feeling that it wouldn’t come out.
Not with any amount of scrubbing.

“Thanks,” he said, sounding surprised.

“You look like you needed it,” I muttered, walking around him to the door that led into the ER.

He smiled sadly.

“‘Preciate it,” he muttered, staring at the coffee like it was the answer to all of life’s questions.

Seeing him like that made me remember the last time he’d done that.

It’d been at a SWAT meeting that’d turned into an impromptu party when I’d shown up with a box full of tamales from my mother.

Two years ago

“Holy crap that man’s freakin’ hot!” I said to my best friend in the whole wide world.

Georgia was freakin’ beautiful. Just as beautiful now as she had been when she’d left.

And I’d missed the absolute crap out of her.

Georgia smiled over at me.

“Which one?” She asked cheekily.

I knew that was right.

They were all overly hot.

Except my brother. He was just my brother, and
eww. That was just wrong to think of that… on so many levels I couldn’t even list them all.

“Everyone but Nico. He’s ugly,” I told her.

She gave me a roll of her eyes. “Your brother is beautiful, and you damn well know it.”

I shrugged.

“I was talking about Michael,” I stated, watching as he leaned forward on his chair and laced his fingers between his knees.

Georgia rolled her eyes.

“Why are you always going for the bad ones?” She asked, forcing a beer in my hand.

I blinked.

“I don’t like beer,” I said, extending my hand to her, as well as the bottle.

She gave me a pointed look. “Go take it to him. He asked for it.”

Butterflies started to churn in my belly, and I smiled at my best friend. “I love you, you know.”

Georgia’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “Don’t make me cry. Take it to him before I do.”

Sticking out my tongue, I walked across the space separating Georgia and me from the men.

I knew he’d clocked me from the moment I left Georgia.

He wasn’t so much as watching me, as he was aware of me.

When I arrived at his side, he turned his face up to me and looked at me, not smiling.

“Your beer?” I offered it to him.

He took it from me carefully. So carefully that he didn’t touch a single piece of my skin in the transfer.

“Thanks,” he muttered, smiling half-heartedly.
“’
Preciate it.”

I had seen him before. Noticed him at SWAT events. Watched him while visiting my brother. That was the night I became aware of him.

That I became obsessed with him.

That was the night that my world changed, and I wished upon a star, while standing under the star-lit sky with Michael next to me.

Hours after handing him that beer, he told me about his ex-wife. About his job. About how his wife blamed him
for not wanting kids, as for why she’d cheated on him.

That was the night I fell in love with him.

Head over boot heels.

“Do you need some clothes?” I asked softly.

He shook his head. “No. I’m gonna go straight to the station and change into my workout gear. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Smiling, I punched in the code that would get me through the door, but stopped when Michael called my name.

“Nikki?”

I turned to find him staring at me.

His eyes full of pain.

“You…you want to catch dinner and a movie this week?” He asked hopefully.

I blinked, then a small smile split my face. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

He nodded, turned, and walked out of the building. Not once glancing back.

And there I was left in the hallway, practically bouncing on my toes in excitement.

Then I turned around, and the smile slowly fell from my face when I saw Joslin standing there, her eyes full of fire.

Choosing to ignore her, I walked past her with a muttered, “Excuse me.”

But I knew that wouldn’t be the end of it.

Not even close.

Friday. My second favorite F word.

-Coffee Cup

Michael

Needless to say, I was very late showing up to my mother’s party.

By over an hour.

I was wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans that had so many holes in them that they could technically qualify as shorts.

And my tattoos were showing.

Something my mother was definitely not going to like.

But it couldn’t be helped.

I could either go home and change, and make her happy because I was covering my tattoos and be
later
. Or I could
be late-ish and come uncovered.

It was a lose-lose situation, and I really could care less at this point.

I wanted to have this dinner about as much as I wanted my nuts cut off.

Alas, I loved the hell out of my mom, and would suffer greatly for her happiness.

Kind of like having to share a fucking dinner with my ex.
She was the worst mistake of my life, yet my mother refused to tell her to fuck off.

Pulling up to my parent’s house, I got out and dropped to my feet.