Jacked (5 page)

I’d been down this dead-end road before. It was why I jumped at the chance to join the ATTF when it came up, to get off regular patrol and being first on the scene.

Most people didn’t understand this special hell. They had no clue what emergency responders went through on a daily basis, seeing the unthinkable ways people were injured or the gruesome ways people died.
 

No, most people went to work every day in their happy, oblivious little bubbles, never knowing what horrors transpire thousands of times a day, how unavoidable and merciless death can be, or the crushing stress placed on those whose job it is to clean up the mess.

The pressure started to build in my chest. I swore I could still smell the burning flesh of that seventeen-year-old girl we’d lost four years ago.

I used to be invincible.

Not anymore.

I’d already seen my fair share of death for one lifetime.

I needed Erin to stop before it was too late.

My throat felt tight again and damn near choked me seeing her long blonde hair floating in her wake.

She didn’t need to see this.

No, this was my cross to bear, not hers. I may never get free of the nightmares but I didn’t want her memories to become as tainted and bloody as mine were.

Anything she would see now crushed in the mangled wreckage could never be unseen. Even the smell from pumping her own gas might trigger the shakes.

I shouted her name but she ignored me. The anger that manifested from her blatant disregard came on like a tidal wave of heat through my veins.

I grabbed her arm and yanked. “Stop! I need to get you out of here before you get hurt.”

Her eyes narrowed on my hand then flashed back to stare me down. “I’m a trauma doctor. I can help. We need to help them.”

Somewhere in the carnage, a man’s anguished wails and moans cut through the air, pulling her farther away from me, further out of my control. “This is not your turf. You follow my lead out here.”

She nodded and grabbed my arm as we rounded the first car.

“My name is Doctor Erin Novak,” she said to the man behind the wheel of the small four-door sedan. It used to be a green Mazda.

I yanked on the dented passenger door repeatedly until I finally pried it open and climbed onto the empty passenger seat. A leather briefcase was smashed apart on the floor. Back seat was empty. The interior smelled like fresh coffee and the coppery stench of blood.

“I need you to stay calm, all right?” she said. “What’s your name?”

I looked around, trying to find some shred of fabric to use as a temporary bandage for the gash on his forehead.

“Officer, you have latex gloves?” she asked, in between getting the victim’s current condition and trying to keep him from struggling and fighting her.

“Easy, buddy,” I said to him, trying to keep him from attempting to get out of the car. He was not being cooperative and listening to her instructions. I pulled the only pair of gloves I had on me out of the large pocket on my cargos and handed them to her, keeping him steady with my free hand.

The fact she was an ER doctor wasn’t lost on me watching her stay calm and collected while she worked. After doing a quick assessment and instructing several of my team how to attend to this one, she ordered me to follow her, snagging the sleeve of my coat and dragging me along with her like a damned puppy.

We hurried over to what was left of the maroon SUV, finding a young male lying in the road near the opened driver-side door. He was pretty torn up and his foot was pointing in the wrong direction.

Instead of freaking out, she was like a fucking machine, dropping down onto her knees on the icy wet street, ignoring the cameras that followed us.

Fellow ATTF Officer Glenn Martucci trotted up behind us, pushed Ritchie and his camera out of the way, and froze. He pulled an extra pair of latex gloves from his pants pocket, handed them to her, mumbled something about God and vomit, and then quickly backed away. I heard the distinct sound of Ritchie gagging, too. It didn’t take long for us to lose the light of his camera.

I watched her tear off her soiled gloves and pull the new ones on over her delicate hands, trussing back up as if she were in the O.R. Somewhere along the way her white ski jacket had gotten big red smears of blood all over it and now part of me was wondering if she was hurt, too. That dry burn started again in my throat, aching for oblivion.

“Officer Trent,” she called out again, pulling my attention back to her determined face.

Man, she was pretty: creamy flawless skin with the pink blush of a natural beauty. An angel sent to heal my broken soul.

Heal all of us.

Her cheeks… God, I just wanted to touch them, see if they felt as soft as they looked.

How does she do it?

How does she stay so beautiful amidst this ugliness?

I wanted to know her secrets, soak in her magic.

Surely she had some mystical armor keeping her insulated from the fucked-up carnage.

Everything seemed to blur until I refocused on the vic laying in the street. Young guy, white, late teens or early twenties at most, was in bad, bad shape. I had to pull my shit together.

Adrenaline surged, forcing my years of training to the surface. Still, I was so damn glad she was here. First aid… hell. He was so cut up and gasping; I wouldn’t even know where to start with this one. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

“You,” she yelled up at Ritchie, “shine that light here. Quit shaking.” After a quick assessment and telling the patient who she was and that we were here to help, she moved my hands for me, placing them on the guy’s thigh. She told me where to apply pressure and why, but this whole scene made me numb. Blood was just everywhere, spilling out of this poor SOB like a punctured waterbed, scorching my mind with more heinous visions that I’d never be able to forget.

“Officer,” she said, leveling her eyes on mine. “It’s just you and me. I need you to stay calm and listen, and trust me.”

I liked her much better when she was wearing my handcuffs, helplessly glancing up at me with those sexy blue eyes. If she only had a clue as to the other shit that she stirred in me when I had her restrained, she’d probably snag my Glock and put a bullet in me right here, right now.

Those blue eyes flashed to me again as she was feeling for the kid’s pulse, dragging me back to the unsightly trauma. “No, no, no, shit. He’s stopped breathing. You have a bag mask on you?”

I knew what she was asking for but I had nothing to give her. “Sorry, Doc.”

She frowned. “I can’t find a pulse, either. I need you to keep steady pressure to keep him from bleeding out on us. Squeeze as tight as you can. Okay?”

All I could do was nod, waiting on her next instruction. I wanted to help her give him CPR; I’d been recertified recently, but I knew the second I let go of this kid’s leg the blood would flow.

Such a tiny thing and yet she was pumping his chest with renewed strength. I found that I was keeping count with her, but nothing was happening.

We were wasting our time trying to change his fate. Out here on the streets, not breathing and no pulse only meant one thing.

“Doc, I think he’s dead.”

She never stopped pumping. “No, he’s not. Not yet.”

I felt useless just doing nothing but clamping his leg. I didn’t want to admit that the smell of his blood was getting to me. “Do you want me to do that? You hold his leg?” I switched to breathing out of my mouth.

Her dirty blonde hair bounced off her shoulders with each compression. “No. Your hands are stronger. Keep him clamped tight. You have an AED in your rig?”

Regret and anger poured over me, knowing we should be better equipped but weren’t. “No. None of the ATTF units do.”

“Shit,” she growled out, pressing down on him harder. “Bagger? Oxygen?”

I squeezed the kid’s thigh with all my might, not wanting any of her efforts to be in vain. “No. Regular patrol does. We don’t carry that stuff. Like you said, it’s just you and me, Doc.” The moment she looked over at me again with those gorgeous blue eyes, I felt it. It was as if an invisible wavelength tethered us together in this shitty situation somehow. It almost took my breath away. It was that strong. I saw her next question clearly manifest on her face, as if I could read her mind like her thoughts were my own. She didn’t need to ask. I scanned the area, yelling over to one of my team members, making sure she’d get whatever she needed as soon as a squad car pulled up.

“Thanks,” she muttered, still compressing his chest.

Hearing the added sirens from arriving fire trucks and ambulances was nothing short of a relief, but it seemed to take forever for them to get on scene. I’d been a first responder on numerous occasions, but never had much of a stomach for the sight of torn human flesh.

“Officer, you can let go now,” some paramedic said to me as he tried to shoulder me out of the way. I reluctantly rolled back off of my knees, very aware how much they hurt from kneeling on the wet, icy cold road. I didn’t want to leave her; we were working well as a team. We’d gotten the kid’s heart to beat again, and I felt like I was abandoning her to deal with the mayhem all on her own.

My captain stepped to my side and snagged my arm, attempting to tug me away, but I stood firm
.
I wasn’t going anywhere, not without her, that is. “Come on, Adam. There’s nothing else you can do here. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

I rolled him off my shoulder, ready to push him away if I had to. She was up to her elbows in trying to save this guy’s life. How she managed to keep so calm and in control was awe inspiring. I wanted to drop back to my knees next to her, soak in some of her power. “No, I’m staying here. She may need me.”

“Adam.”

I contemplated slugging him. “I said I’m good.”

He pulled harder, deliberately knocking me off balance. “Come on, Adam. The EMTs got this. Local PD is here. It’s their show now. We’re just in the way.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” I growled low.

Cap got right in my face, staring me down. “I’m not asking, I’m telling.” He gave my chest a shove.

Respect for the man kept me from doing something rash and stupid, like laying him out right in the street.

“You’ve got blood all over you,” he pointed out. “Try not to touch anything. Come on.”

Touch anything?
My hands felt numb; icy cold to the bone. That’s when I noticed my leather gloves were soaked with the kid’s blood, causing that chill to roll throughout my body.

Cap walked me back to my rig while my constant shadow, Ritchie, followed us like a faithful dog—still filming my every move.

“Shit, Adam,” Cap said, shaking his head in disbelief. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves so he could peel my leather ones off. “Turn your face away until I get these off.”

I looked back at the scene; that adorable doctor was still at it, working with the paramedics and the fire department to secure the victims.

“She sure is something,” I breathed out, feeling extremely proud of her for some reason. She met extreme adversity head on, making me admire the hell out of her. Not too many women would have the guts or the tenacity to roll from one shitty situation to another.

Ritchie’s camera light illuminated the wet street around my feet. Regret for putting her through all of that earlier hit me like a fist to the face, driving my need to right another wrong.

I leaned in closer to my commander, hoping that my words wouldn’t get recorded. “Cap, the footage from tonight, it can never be aired. That shit will ruin her.” I looked back at her; she was still giving orders, maintaining control of the situation as if she’d done it a thousand times. She was assessing the vics in the other car, pointing, telling people what she needed them to do, without even realizing she was being filmed by a major television network.

A third ambulance rolled up, along with another fire engine, taking care of the truck driver and the fluids spilled on the road. I wanted to run back to the scene and pull her out of there, carry her over my shoulder if I had to.

Cap sighed, eyeing Ritchie warily. “I know, but I’m worried about the shit they’re recording right now. You know as well as I do that any shots of your heroics gives ’em serious hard-ons.”

I bit back a curse, knowing the deal with the network and how their focus had secretly shifted, making me their primary target. Why we ever agreed to be filmed for reality TV was beyond me, although the amount of money they tossed at us was ridiculous and hard to say no to. At least it helped get the word out that the Auto Theft Task Force was out in full force, cracking down on crime.

Still, I felt like a sellout at times, especially since there were plenty of other hardworking cops on the streets who weren’t pulling in an extra five figures to do their jobs.

Several patrol units were on the scene now, managing traffic. None of them were getting a cut of the action being on reality TV, but each of them were putting their lives at risk every time they wore their badge.

“All right,” Cap said, dumping my bloody gloves in a plastic bag. “You need to get out of here and get cleaned up.”

I held the plastic bag open while he removed his own soiled gloves. After a healthy dose of hand sanitizer for both of us, he used his com unit. “Attention all ATTF officers, local PD is on scene. It’s almost five forty-five. Time to clear out.”

I checked my watch and hustled over to her car, assuring myself that her belongings were secured. Her sweet ride was at least forty-five grand to start and it was brand new. There was no way I was going to let her
or
her car sit in this neighborhood.

I didn’t need to inform Cap what I intended to do. After being under his command for the last few years, one glance from me was all it took to know I needed to see this to the end. He gave me a nod of understanding.

I turned my glare on Ritchie, pegging him with a pointed finger. “Don’t you fucking follow me. Understood?”

I was glad he didn’t need me to repeat myself since I was at the very end of my rope. I jogged back to the accident scene alone, knowing I wasn’t leaving until she was safe and secure. It was beyond too late to keep her off camera or from her seeing the injured. I found myself shouldering up to her, fighting an urge to wrap my arms around her.