Halligan To My Axe (The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC Book 2) (16 page)

We were both working frantically to save our individual patients, and I knew they’d never do it if either of us had to drive; so, making a split-second decision, I called Tunnel Morrison over.

“Morrison, get in the seat and drive!” I bellowed.

Tunnel jumped like he’d been poked in the ass with a cattle prodder, sprinting around the ambulance, closing the doors, and then heading for the driver’s seat.

“Lights and Sirens, code 1. Go!” Sebastian urged.

Morrison went, slamming his foot down on the gas a little too hard, and then taking the corner a little too quickly.

“Slow down, boy! We’ll never get there if you don’t get your nerves under control.” I said soothingly.

“Goddammit. You’re going to have to start an IO. Can’t find a fucking vein anywhere. Motherfucker.”

I cursed.

Sebastian couldn’t legally perform an IO since he was only an intermediate. As I was the acting paramedic, I’d have to perform the procedure. On a tiny baby.

It was hard enough to get an IV on a baby that young, but with as much blood as the infant had lost, while we were on scene, it became almost impossible to accomplish.

An IO was only used on patients that didn’t have any other options.

It looked like a little baby screwdriver that was used to drill through the bone and run fluids straight to the bone marrow. Although it was crude, the technique worked. Even on babies.

Stripping my gloves off and replacing them with new ones, I switched places with Sebastian awkwardly and then got to work.

Tunnel slowed his pace moderately, and Sebastian and I worked side by side running fluids, taking vitals, and staunching blood flow the entire way to the hospital.

When we arrived, we took our patients to different rooms before giving our reports to the nurses and walking back out to the medic.

“God, I hate those now.” Sebastian sounded like he’d been beaten.

Babies and children were hard for anyone to work on, but when you had a child of your own, comparisons start to be made, and you end up making yourself sick at the potential of your own children being hurt like that.

My eyes flicked to my best friends’ before returning to Tunnel who was practically bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, beside the truck.

“It’s never been easy to see babies, but now I’m sure it’ll always be hard for you, Ian. I’m sorry.” I said, genuinely sorry for my friend.

“Did they live?” Tunnel asked as soon as they were within a distance that he didn’t have to yell.

Sebastian snorted. “This kid has to be as green as they come. What the hell were you thinking?”

I was currently sponsoring Tunnel. Tunnel was his given name, too; one that Tunnel hated with every fiber of his being.

I saw something in the kid that I’d seen in myself quite a few years ago.

Tunnel, like me, had been kicked out of his parent’s house when he was eighteen for dating a little Mexican girl and getting her pregnant.

Just like I had
...I shut my mind down before it could go back to that dark place. That wasn’t something that I wanted to think about right now, especially when I’d just ran a call on young kids.

Particularly one that dealt with a young mother that didn’t have the first clue on how to take care of her kids.

What the fuck was that woman thinking not putting her kids in child restraints? Although not 100 percent effective, most of the previous call could’ve been prevented. All it took was one lone instant in time to change the course of those childrens’ lives.

My own baby wasn’t...

“Kettle!” Sebastian growled snapping my fingers in front of my face. “Where’d you go?”

“To hell.” I muttered before stepping into the passenger side of the medic.

To hell indeed.

“You can drop me off at the station. They took my rig back to headquarters.” Tunnel explained quickly.

Sebastian nodded, but didn’t comment on the fact that the two places were right the fuck next to each other.

Looking down, I studied my clothes and grimaced. These would need to be sent to the dry cleaning service the department utilized. There was too much blood...and other stuff, to let Adeline wash them.

Speaking of Adeline, my phone started vibrating in my pocket, and I pulled it out carefully, avoiding the blood that practically coated my pants leg.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Tiago?” She coughed.

“Addy, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” I asked quickly.

Sebastian’s foot let up on the accelerator slightly, gauging what was going on to see what he needed to do next.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m going home sick, though. I don’t feel well at all. My head feels like it’s the size of a small turbo jet, my sinuses are killing me, and my body aches.”

I relaxed slightly and returned my back to the seat once more and felt Sebastian resume my pace. “Sounds like the flu. Did you get your flu shot?”

She snorted. “Yeah, right. I’ve had the flu every year since I started teaching and had the flu shot for half of those. What would be the point?”

“Umm,” I had the resist the urge to laugh. “Possibly not having the flu right now?”

“Shut up.” She sniffled. “Anyway, I need a ride home.”

I looked at the rig and the state of my clothing and knew immediately I couldn’t give her a ride. She’d probably have a heart attack.

“I’ll have to send someone over there. Don’t leave without someone from the club.” I said harshly.

Much more harshly that I’d intended, but I could just see the stubborn woman calling a cab because whoever was supposed to pick her up took too long.

“Fine,” she hissed and hung up.

“Fuck,” I groaned.

“Trouble in paradise?” Sebastian goaded.

“Up yours.” I said before calling the club to see who could pick up my woman.

Turns out there was only the president in residence; he’d have to do.

I walked in later that night to find Silas kicked back on my recliner, drinking my beer, and watching my DVR.

“Please, make yourself at home!” I said dryly as I dropped my duffel bag on the floor inside the door.

“Your woman started running a high fever on the way home, and I was worried to leave her alone. She started talking about her papa and thinking I was him.” Silas shrugged and took another swallow of beer.

I started stripping out of my clothes as soon as I made it past the hallway, and was down to my boxers by the time I entered my room.

The first thing I noticed as I entered was the TV that was playing Transformers, one of Adeline’s favorite movies. The second thing was Adeline clothed in only a pair of underwear that showed the swells of her ass and one of my fire department issued t-shirts.

She looked freakin’ awful.

Her hair was a matted mess, pieces here and there clung to the sweat on her forehead, and her face was the color of chalk.

Walking quietly as not to wake her, I felt her forehead and winced at the temperature. 104 at least.

Walking to my dresser, I grabbed the first pair of sweats I found and stepped into them before heading back out to the living room.

“When was the last time she had any meds?” I asked Silas as I walked past him into the kitchen.

“She had a hot toddy and some Ibuprofen at seven.” Silas answered.

Looking at the clock on the microwave, I realized that she still had over two hours before she could have that again; I reached for the Tylenol and shook out two pills.

Then I grabbed a glass of ice water before heading back the way I came.

Setting it down on the bedside table, I sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed Adeline’s hair back as I spoke quietly to her. “Addy? Honey? You need to wake up and take these pills. You’re fever’s too high.”

She groaned, sat up, and held her hand out for the pills.

Which she promptly dropped.

“Here,” I said as I scooted her closer to me.

With my arm around her back and my hand on her tummy, I held her still as I grabbed the pills from the table. I held them up to her mouth and dropped them in before giving her a sip of water.

She grimaced and then dropped back against me in a boneless slump. “Feel like shit.” She whimpered.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’ll bet you do.”

“I heard you had a bad day. Baylee sent me a text message a couple of hours ago. I’m sorry.” She whimpered, kissing my neck softly.

“That’s okay, honey. Coming home to you makes everything better.” I said softly.

“I know,” she whimpered, coughed, and then settle back into my arms. “I love you.”

Then she passed out, and I was as high as a fucking kite.

Sometimes being a bitch is all a woman has to hold onto.

-Adeline to Viddy

Adeline

I woke at five in the morning six days later, finally able to breathe.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Kettle’s tattooed back.

He was curled up on his side with his arms stretched up over the top of his head, and he didn’t look comfortable at all.

Smiling, I got up quietly and walked into the bathroom to get a quick shower that ended up lasting nearly half an hour.

However, it felt so good to finally be able to stand by myself that I got a little carried away.

When I got out, I dried off with my favorite towel that wrapped around me completely and turned off the light before exiting the bathroom.

Kettle was still asleep, only now he was on his stomach in the middle of the bed. It was almost as if he’d drifted over when he realized I was gone, and instead used my pillow as a substitute for my body.

Dressing quietly in sweat pants and Kettle’s fire department sweatshirt, I went out to the kitchen and had my first cup of coffee in nearly a week.

My sigh of bliss echoed in the empty alcove as I grabbed a blanket and walked out to the back porch. I took a seat on the lounge chair Kettle had set up for my viewing pleasure and sighed in happiness.

Pulling up the reading app on my phone, I read for nearly an hour before I heard the house beyond me starting to stir to life.

Kettle tapped on the window as he finally made it into the kitchen, causing me to look up and smile at him. When he waved his iPod at me and made the universal running sign, I held up my thumb in acquiesce and waved as he disappeared from sight.

I saw him twenty minutes later as he ran down the street that lined the back of our building, and of course, I had to whistle at him.

Putting my thumb and pointer finger in a C shape, I placed the two fingers in my mouth and whistled lewdly at him.

Raising his fist into the air, he gave a fist pump as he turned the corner at the top of our apartment complex.

Sadly, today he was covering up that beautiful body of his since it was nearly thirty degrees out.

I stood up and made my way to the front porch when I ran smack into the chest of the man that was standing at our door getting ready to knock.

“Oh,” I said rubbing my forehead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were knocking. I was on the back porch. Can I help you?”

The man was older, mid-fifties or so, and in fairly good condition for his age. He was wearing a pair of black slacks with black shiny shoes, and a pale blue linen button down shirt. His hair was black with silver at the temples; the more I looked at him, the more I realized he looked a lot like someone I knew.

I couldn’t quite place whom, until I saw Kettle running through the parking lot only to come to a sudden screeching halt where my old apartment used to face.

Once I had the two of them in my field of vision, I knew instantly that they were related; most likely father and son.

Kettle didn’t talk about his family much at all, and when he did, it was about Shannon, his sister. I knew that Kettle and his parents had a falling out, but I didn’t know about what, and knew Kettle wouldn’t allow me to pry into this subject. He’d practically shut down for an hour after I’d asked about his father, and I made it a point to steer far away from that subject from then on.

Except now, I was wishing I knew what the hell to do. Did I slam the door in his face and call him an evil bastard? Did I invite me in? Did I yell and scream at him for abandoning his child?

Turns out, I didn’t have to do anything, because Kettle barreled up the walk, pushed me ever so gently inside, and slammed the door in my face.

I could hear Kettle’s raised voice, followed by the smoother voice of the older man, and I felt it best to just go into the bedroom in case they came inside. It was obvious to me that Kettle didn’t want his father there, and more so, he didn’t want me anywhere near his father. I did the
only thing I could think of, and that would keep myself the hell out of earshot. I did that by going into the bedroom, closing the door, and cranking up the TV.

***

Kettle

“What the fuck do you want?” I snarled at my father.

My father flinched slightly at the pure venom in my voice, but I didn’t feel one iota of remorse.

“I came because your wife...” My father started before I interrupted him.

“She’s not my wife.” I snarled. “You saw to that, didn’t you?”

My wife? What a fucking joke.

I’d met my ex-wife when we were juniors in high school. She’d been the girl from the wrong side of the proverbial track, and I’d been the rich boy who got snared in her web.

She’d been looking for a payday while I thought I’d genuinely been in love.

Then I’d gotten her pregnant.

When I’d gone home to tell my parents about the baby, my father lost his mind. He kept telling me to ‘take care of it’ then shoved some money into my hand like it was a fix all. When I’d refused, my father kicked me out.

I wasn’t experienced in the least.

Before I’d been kicked out, my mother had refused to let me work, scared to let her son go just in case something happened to me again. Which meant I had no job, no home, and I had a pregnant girlfriend to take care of on top of that.

I did the only thing I could think of that day, and that was to enlist in the army.