I threw the truck in Park and got out, my hand going to my pocket as I rounded the hood of the truck.
I dropped down onto the cold asphalt and placed the phone to my ear, already having dialed 9-1-1 in the time it took me to get to her.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the dispatcher called out.
“A woman riding a moped,” I said as I felt for a pulse of the woman who was unmoving. “Slipped on the ice and slammed into my truck. She’s unconscious, but has a pulse.”
“Where are you?” she asked.
I gave her the coordinates quickly, leaving her on the line as I checked to see if the woman was breathing.
She was, thank God.
She had a sizable gash from where her face connected with my truck, however.
“Shit,” I said as I held C-Spine. “Wake up, darlin’.”
The woman’s eyes fluttered, and she stared at me with shock in her eyes.
“Who’re you?” she asked.
My lips twitched despite the horrible setting in which we’d just met. “Creed.”
“Creed,” she said. “You hit me.”
“I didn’t hit you,” I automatically argued. “You slipped on the oil and ran into my rig.”
She started to move her head, but I didn’t allow her to move.
“Shit,” she hissed. “Ouch.”
Sirens sounded in the distance, and I let out a relieved breath.
“You called the ambulance?” she gasped, then groaned, her eyes squeezing shut.
“Sure did,” I said. “You’re going to the hospital to get checked out. You hit my truck really hard.”
She swallowed hard, flickering her eyes open once again.
“Will you call my sister to let Brawny out?” she slurred. “He needs fed, and he needs to go outside to potty.”
I frowned, the name of the dog sounding damned familiar. “Who is your sister?”
“Cody.” She licked her cracked lips. “Cody.”
Everything started to click into place at once.
Cody was a name that I knew.
Cody and her best friend, Mable, were together quite a bit. Mable was engaged to a good friend of mine, Romeo.
Cody and Mable had a sister, Birdee.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Are you Birdee?”
