“Keep your eyes open for me, okay?” I whispered, squeezing her hand back. “Don’t fall asleep.”
“I’m scared,” she said, and I forced a half-assed smile for her sake, then turned my attention to the threat.
“Troy,” I said steadily. “A doctor needs to assess Lisa’s condition.Now.”
“That’s what you’re for!” he roared.
“Listen to me and listen to me good.” I took a deep, shaky breath to compose myself and then turned to look him straight in the eye, keeping my voice level and firm. “I’m only an EMT. I can’t do what a doctor can for Lisa. Maybe I can keep her alive, but only a doctor can save her life.” I pulled in another shaky breath. “If you just get me my captain, maybe we can figure—”
At that moment, Lisa’s grip on my hand tightened severely, and I glanced down just in time to see her eyes roll back in her head as she began to seize.
“Shit.”
“What’s happening? What the fuck is happening?” Troy lunged forward, pushing the barrel of the gun against the back of my skull once more. My breath caught in my throat, and terror seeped through my veins, but I knew I had to ignore him and keep working.
“She’s seizing.” I placed a hand on either side of her head to steady it. “She could be hemorrhaging. You need to let me get her in an ambulancenow.”
“Help her!” Troy cried. “Fuckingdosomething!”
“I can’t!” I shouted. “She just has to ride it out, okay?” I took a breath and turned my head to meet Troy’s steely gaze. The gun pressed against my forehead, the cold steel chilling me to my core. “I need you to open that door and let my captain in. Erik Hansen, the man who was behind me. I need his help.”
“I don’t want anyone else in here.”
“Then Lisa may die.” I didn’t realize I’d been clenching my jaw until a tick made it spasm with pain. Blood swilled around my mouth before I realized I’d been biting my tongue.
“Right now, Troy, you’re going to be in trouble for domestic violence, okay? You’ll get a slap on the wrist and time in the pen. Butlisten to me…if you don’t let us do our jobs, and Lisa here dies, you will be brought in for manslaughter. Do you understand me?”
“I…”
“Do you understand me?”
Troy didn’t have time to answer. Before he could speak, the front door burst open, splintering under a man’s boots, and police lunged for him. One tackled him to the floor, pinning his hands back, while another kicked the gun away so he could safely help his partner hold Troy down.
“Hang in there, Lisa,” I muttered. Relief flooded through my body; a relief so intense I thought I might pass out. Lisa’s seizure was starting to dissipate, but I kept my hands on her for comfort … not just for her, but for me. I tried to catch my breath and ease my racing heart as Hansen kneeled beside me and retook the patient’s blood pressure. Behind him, Korbin and another recruit were bringing in the stretcher. I looked at Hansen, meeting his gaze, and saw something that could have been intense relief.
“You did good,” he murmured, nudging me in the arm, and I had to catch my breath as a sizzle of anticipation coursed through my veins. Right here, in the middle of an anxiety-inducing situation, I still wanted to be seduced by Erik Hansen. “You probably saved this woman’s life.”
* * *
My high on cloud nine didn’t last long.
Later that night, raising my face to the warm spray of the water, I closed my eyes to allow the day’s events to wash away. My muscles were sore, my feet aching, and a painful twinge in my back refused to go away. I hadn’t heard any updates on Lisa, but I knew we probably never would. Our job was to keep them alive until they arrived at the hospital, nothing more and nothing less. Getting attached, getting involved … was too much of a risk. I could only hope I’d never see Lisa or Troy again in this profession.
Hopefully, that bastard gets what he deserves, too, I thought bitterly.
The bathroom door squeaked open as I turned to rinse the conditioner from my hair. I froze, horrified, holding my breath. My mind reeled as I tried to think of something to say to warn the intruder that I was there without sounding like some prissy outsider. But a loud whoop filled the air before I could open my mouth. I jumped, my feet slipping out from beneath me as a bag of open flour sailed over the top of the shower curtain and slammed me on the head.
Shit.
I went down hard, the back of my skull catching the faucet in a horrible moment of blinding pain as baking flour coated me in a sticky, white paste. There was another hoot, a few laughs, and a sound of pounding feet rushing away. Multiple pairs of feet.
With a low curse, I slowly pulled myself off the shower floor, touching the back of my head gingerly. It was stained in cherry red blood, and I felt dizzy and slightly nauseous. The now-empty bag of flour lay at my feet, battered down by the water from the shower. I leaned down to pick it up and hurled it angrily over the curtain, where it plopped pointlessly onto the cold tile. My entire body was coated with the sticky paste. It was in my eyes, in my hair … everywhere.
“Fuck you all,” I muttered. Ignoring the stabbing pain in my head the best I could, I washed off most of the floury paste from my body, unable to cleanse it entirely from my hair, despite my best efforts. My eyes stung with tears as I turned off the water and stepped out, angry, hurt, and most of all, humiliated. After everything I’d done earlier, I still walked around like a pile of cow shit ready to be trampled through.
I should have expected nothing less.
Chapter8
