Kyle appeared at the open door. “First transport is here. Who are we sending?”
I gritted my teeth, hating that I couldn’t say Lyla. But the older man with cardiac and breathing issues was priority. “The patient.”
I finished bandaging her cut and then examined her for any other obvious injuries. Looked as if her right side took the brunt of the impact.
When the next ambulance pulled up, I climbed to the other side of Lyla. With Jay’s help, we carried her out and placed her on the stretcher. I ran down her injuries and what I’d already done with the responding EMTs, and they went through their own quick assessment before loading her up.
I glanced around the scene, seeking out Owen. Our eyes locked and I braced for a fight.
“I’m going with her,” I called, waiting for his argument. Not that I had any intention of backing down.
His eyes widened slightly before he relaxed and nodded.
“Here,” Kyle hollered, jogging toward me with her bag.
I nodded and took it from him, turning and heading toward the ambulance.
My priority was making sure Lyla was okay, but then I wanted to find out what the fuck had happened. Someone caused this and then left the scene. Why?
The questions sat heavy in my gut as we drove toward the hospital.
Chapter Five
LYLA
Everything felt fuzzy,like waking up from a deep sleep. A steady beeping broke through the haze, and I tried opening my eyes, only to squeeze them shut again as my head throbbed. I shifted slightly and winced when pain radiated through my shoulder and down my side.
I breathed deep, the smell of antiseptic and bleach invading my senses. Ever so slowly this time, I pried one eye open and then the other.
White, sterile walls. A heart rate monitor and an IV bag hung off to one side.
I was in a hospital room. But why? What happened? The last thing I could recall was being in the back of the ambulance taking the blood pressure of an older patient who’d had a heart attack.
I glanced down my body. My right arm was in a sling, but other than that, I saw no additional signs of injuries. I wiggled my fingers and toes, then went through checking for feeling in all my extremities. My breathing and heart rate seemed normal as well. My left wrist had a hospital band wrapped around it with my name, Lyla Freeman, my birthday, and today's date on it.
A head of dark hair rested on muscular forearms on the side of my bed. The noticeable and detailed ink covering most of the skin below the elbows was another sure giveaway if I didn’t already know who it was.
Adam.
I opened my mouth to say his name, but instead, a sound more like a croak came out.
He lifted his head and searched my face. Relief, and something else I couldn’t discern, swam in his irises.
I cleared my throat. “What happened?” This time my voice stayed steady but it had a slight rasp to it.
His brows pulled together slightly. “What do you remember?”
“Nothing. Just being in the back with a patient.”
His large hand covered mine. “You guys were in an accident.”
I figured as much. “How? Kyle alright? The patient?”
He nodded. “Kyle’s fine. Walked away with just a sprained wrist. So is the patient.” With a visible breath, he studied me, indecision warring in his eyes. “Kyle said a car ran him off the road and then took off.”
“Like on purpose?” I tilted my head and winced, reminding myself not to move too suddenly, or too much.
“From what I understand, yes.”
