Page 3 of Big Timber

“Really? You’re updatingthePresident?” she confirms, looking over her shoulder before shouting to her partner. “The helmet didn’t help. I think he has a concussion.”

Reaching into my cut, I hold my phone up so she can see the screen. I don’t think the word ‘Prez’ convinces her though, so I click the speaker option, disconnecting the Bluetooth.

“Prez? You’re on speaker. There’s a hot firewoman who thinks I’m brain damaged.”

“You might very well be,” Declan smoothly replies. “However, that’s my property, and I’d like to know what’s happening.”

Her eyebrows draw together as she looks down at my cut, then to the burned-out remains behind her again, and I can see the moment she puts everything together. “Oh, president of the club. Gotcha. Um, I think someone might be angry at you, but this is definitely a crime scene now, so I am not allowed to speculate.”

The words are barely out of her mouth when four vehicles pull in past the busted-up gate. The coroner’s van leading the way tells the story of why neither the cop cars nor the ambulance are running their sirens.

She waves at the ambulance so it pulls up about ten feet back from us. “They’ll get you checked out. Can someone pick you up from the hospital?”

“I’m not going to the hospital,” I insist. My ankle screams again as I sit up and I disguise the moment I need to let the pain settle by taking my helmet off. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Talia,” she says, putting a hand on my shoulder to stop me from moving any more. “Stay put.”

“Just help me to my bike and I’ll get out of your way,” I say, bracing myself before I try to stand.

“Well, that isn’t happening,” she replies, shaking her head at me. “Especially now that the detectives are here. You’re parked at a crime scene, bike stays until it’s cleared.”

“You’re shitting me?”

“We’re getting close,” Declan cuts back in, reminding me that he’s still on speaker. “Timber, you can ride back to my house with Jenna and the kids.”

“I’m not a kid anymore.” I hear Justin chime in, sounding disgruntled.

“The cops will want to interview you, so that probably won’t work,” Talia informs me with a shrug, and I’m at the point I just want to place my hand over her lips.

She’s a fucking smoke show to look at, but nearly everything that’s coming out of her mouth has been the exact opposite of what I want to hear.

“What seems to be the problem here?”

We both look up at the paramedic who has come to stand over us.

“An acute case of stubborn-itis,” Talia tells the guy, getting a chuckle in response.

“That’s been going around all week. Can you walk, sir?” he responds without missing a beat.

“Yes,” I answer.

“No,” Talia simultaneously gives her opinion before shifting her eyes in my direction, then up to the paramedic. “But for shits and giggles, we can wager on how many steps he can take before he crumbles to the ground.”

“That’s hardly fair,” the paramedic deadpans. “Since I’m guessing you actually know what’s wrong with him.”

“Let me give you both a hint,” I growl out, getting pissy over their comedy routine. “It ain’t my fucking hearing.”

“He went down hard, so if not for those boots of his, I’d think a broken ankle,” Talia continues, as if I hadn’t spoken. “A bad sprain would be my guess.”

“He looks pretty fit.” The guy continues in the same vein as the woman I want to turn over my knee for a spanking. “I’d give him five steps.”

“Will you shut the fuck up if I agree to let you help me?” I concede, just wanting silence at this point.

Without another word, the paramedic grips my hand and pulls me up to a standing position. He braces my right side as Talia leads the way to the ambulance.

“She was one of us until a couple of months ago,” he tells me. “Biding her time after she passed the fire academy to be called up. Makes it nice at the scenes. Once the fires are under control, she usually manages the triage order for us. Guess that means you’re the only one with a pulse today.”

“I’m not going to the hospital,” I grunt out, trying to ignore how much I’m leaning on this guy.

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