“And how’s are patient?” Jett hops out of the back of the rig with a pack slung over his shoulder while pushing his shaggy black hair out of his face.
While I brief them on the situation, I pick up bits of the conversation going on between the two officers, my patient and, by the sounds of it, his partner and fellow detective.
Jett gets the injured detective into the back of the rig, opting to do care on scene. Fair call, I would have done the same thing if I were responding to a call like this.
With him.
He shrugs off Jett’s attempts at more advanced care at first but gives in when Alice pulls out a syringe for a local anesthetic.
Ok, tough guy but knows when to cave. Smart.
I’m pretending to re-pack my bag, even though all I’m doing is bagging up the dirty gauze to deposit it in the biowaste bin in the back of the rig after Jett and Alice wrap up their care.
Two black shoes step up beside me. I follow the legs up, seeing another badge on a belt and then the red-haired officer that the patient had been speaking with.
“I think that was the quickest I’ve ever seen EMS show up,” he beams down at me with one of the most gorgeous smiles I’ve ever seen. And by the way he flashes it at me, he knows how nice his smile is.
“Oh, yeah. Jett’s a good driver, even when going code three to a scene,” I brush it off. Pretty sure I’m blushing.
“Oh, I meant you darlin’. What are the odds of having a shootout in front of a building housing a paramedic?”
Ah, fair point. “Just a great timed coincidence.” Since he’s so charming, might as well fish for information. “What happened anyway?”
That charming smile is gone so quickly that it might as well have been a figment of my imagination. “We’re investigating something in the neighborhood. It’s- well,” he swallows hard. “You’re too pretty to be in this neighborhood. Ever think about moving? I heard rent prices are dropping over by the zoo.”
I know my neighborhood isn’t the best, but moving is a bit extreme. “Well, I’m only three blocks away from my station. The walk to work is a major selling point.”
“Walking?” he grimaces.
“Is it really that bad? I mean, I carry a can of mace is that helps.”
He lets out a sharp, sudden laugh, throwing his head back.
I think that’s a bad sign.
“It’s better than nothing, I guess.” He concedes, exchanging a glance with the detective in the back of the rig whose stitches are done, bandaged, and is now getting fitted with a sling. I don’t know what they’re silently communicating about, but it doesn’t look good.
“But seriously, maybe consider a firearm, a car, something. This neighborhood isn’t what it used to be, this whole side of town isn’t,” he sighs deeply. “The world isn’t.”
“What’s that supposed to-”
“Thorny!” The red-haired man grins as his injured partner climbs down from the back of the rig surprisingly allowing Jett to give him a hand down.
“Mace,” the dark-haired man obliges reluctantly.
“I was just chatting with your new friend. This is Detective Alex Thornton. I’m Mason Reed. Also a detective,” he adds with a wink. “And I didn’t get your name.”
“Olivia. Well, Liv. Liv Carter. I’m stationed at the corner of Emerson and 86th.”
Mason’s eyebrows lift a tad. “You weren’t kidding about living close to work.”
I lift and drop my shoulders lightly. “Saves me a ton by not having a car.”
Alex fiddles with his sling, seemingly displeased with either the sling or the conversation. Or both. Or the fact that he got shot…
Mason watches Alex mess with the strap for a moment until I break the silence. “So, what happened here anyway?”
Both of their attentions snap back to me, then to each other for a moment, then right back to me.
