Page 6 of Back the Blue

She smirks and moves to sit up. I help her and she allows it. Then Malcolm gives her the bad news.

“We’ve got another call and I think it’s related to the last one.”

Hearing this, I get on my radio and ask for confirmation. When I have it, I help Lorna off the bed and do what’s necessary.

“I’ll ride with you.”

“Why?” Lorna asks.

Jesus, the woman was just shot at a scene and she’s questioning why I want to accompany them to a similar one?

“Hardheaded much?” I ask her as I grip her elbow and lead her out.

“The ambulance will be awful damn cramped with you in there.”

“It wasn’t earlier,” I grin.

“Because my partner wasn’t in there and since you don’t have his medical training that actually broke protocol and I’m probably going to be reprimanded for it.”

“If that does happen, I’ll make a few phone calls,” I tell her. “The best thing at that scene was to get everyone out of there as quickly as possible and in one piece.”

She grimaces at this but doesn’t continue to argue. In less than a minute, I’m in the back of their ambulance. The driver pulls out and they reset the area. When that’s done, her partner reaches out a hand to me. I smile and take it.

“Malcolm Rogers,” he nods.

“Pitbull Hughes.”

“Pitbull? Did your mother not want you or something?” he chuckles.

“No,” I laugh. “All of us Hughes siblings have nicknames.”

“How many do you have?” Lorna asks.

“Three pain in the ass little brothers.”

“Ah,” she smiles. “I’m sure they learned that from their big brother.”

“Cute,” I nod.

“So, what are your brothers’ nicknames?” Malcolm asks.

“Chaos, Snake, and Tank.”

“You all sound like a bunch of hoodlums,” Lorna smirks.

“Maybe you can find out one day,” I tell her.

She wasn’t expecting that. Her shock is quickly curbed by the delicate arch of her eyebrow. Malcolm just chuckles and props his feet up on the stretcher. Lorna never looks away from me, though. And I find that I enjoy having her eyes on me. Until I can have more of her on me. As wicked images of the two of us together bombard my imagination, I get a phone call. When I look at my screen, I see that it’s my supervisor.

“Pitbull,” I answer.

“What’s your twenty?”

“I’m heading to another scene with the paramedics.”

“Which ones?” he snaps.

“The first ones that arrived on the last scene.”

---