The ambulance pulled up and two paramedics hurried over.
“What are your names?”
“Joaquin.”
“Britain.”
“We’ve gotta get you to the hospital before hypothermia sets in,” said the female medic. “Can you walk or do you need a stretcher?”
“Walk.” He regarded her. “Babe?”
“I can walk,” she replied.
With help from the medics, they made their way to the ambulance.
“I called someone to pick us up,” Rebel said.
“You should get checked out at the hospital,” said one of the medics.
“We’ve got a private physician who’s gonna take care of us,” Rebel said. “We’ll wait in the ambulance where its warm.”
Before Brit got in, Rebel wrung out her soaked hair, then squeezed the water out of his own. She dropped a grateful kiss on his cold lips before climbing inside.
“Can you help me take off my boots?” she asked.
After the female medic did, Brit removed her pants. The paramedic wrapped a blanket around her and she sat on the stretcher.
The medic brought Rebel in. He stripped out of his boots and pants, wrapped himself in a blanket. They sat huddled together on the gurney while the other medic cranked up the heat.
“I need to call Z,” Brit said.
“That’s who I called,” he replied. “He’s on his way.”
She clasped his hand. “Thank you.” Those words rang hollow in her head. He’d just saved their lives, a heroic deed she would never have been able to accomplish. She wouldnothave made it out of the river without him.
Had someone run them off the road, or had the driver simply lost control?
Her fear gave way to anger.
Someone wanted us dead.
She glanced over. Rebel was staring at the floor, muscles in his cheek flexed over and over again. No way would he sit around and do nothing. He would hunt down the driver and exact his revenge. And like with the Hurly brothers, she’d be right by his side.
The ambulance door opened. Z stood there, flanked by both officers.
Brit climbed out, and he enveloped her in his arms. Rebel thanked the paramedics before exiting the ambulance.
“Let’s get you into the car,” Z said.
“These folks should really go to the hospital,” said one of the cops. “They should be looked at.”
Z displayed his FBI ID and badge, something Brit had never once seen him do. “I’m taking them to a medical facility to be checked.” He thanked everyone, ushered them to his waiting SUV.
They climbed in the back. Z got behind the wheel, and drove out.
The car had to be eighty degrees.
“Where are we going?” Brit asked.
