Page 87 of Tackle

Oz merely grunted, sure any reply he shared, she wouldn’t want to hear. The chief one being, he absolutely didn’t give one fuck if the guy felt bombarded. The only thing he cared about was getting Emerson looked after. The sooner the better.

The first thing the paramedic did after Oz set Emerson down on a gurney in the back of the ambulance was supply them with oxygen.

“Take a seat, sir,” he said, handing first Emerson and then Oz a respirator. “Breathe the oxygen in shallowly at first to limit coughing.”

Though his lungs felt tight, he kept the mask in his hand. “I want her knee looked at.”

“I will, sir. Oxygen first. It’s important to start flushing out the chemicals the smoke deposited into your lungs.”

Still he waited until Emerson put her mask on before holding his up to cover his mouth and nose.

Once the paramedic saw Oz put on his mask, he reached for a pair of scissors, cutting away the excess, flapping jean material.

Oz got a better look at her knee in the bright light of the ambulance. It was more swollen than he’d first thought and was already turning purple.

He sucked in a deep breath and immediately had a coughing fit. The paramedic looked over but Oz waved him back to what he was doing, croaking out, “I’m fine.”

As he probed the area surrounding the injury, Oz carefully watched Emerson’s face the whole time. At the first sign of a flinch or wince, he was stepping in.

“This knee needs an X-ray. The swelling is severe enough there’s a chance it could be fractured. You both also need to be properly treated for smoke inhalation.”

Oz wouldn’t argue that he was fine, knowing that would only waste more time in getting Emerson to the hospital. The guy knocked on the window and took a seat. A minute later, they were on their way.

With all the tests that needed to be run—on both of them for smoke inhalation and on Emerson for her knee—even with being seen right away, they were still at the hospital for hours and the sun was starting to rise by the time they made it back to the pub.

One fire truck and a line of police cruisers were still on scene when they came rolling up, blocking the parade of news vans that were trying to get a scoop on the action. Oz had called Rich from the hospital to pick them up and he felt secure that if any reporters managed to sneak through, Rich would take care of them.

Dressed in clean, warm clothes that Rich had also supplied, Oz helped Emerson out of the car, being careful with her knee which was wrapped tightly in a brace, making it difficult for her to maneuver her leg.

The same firefighter they’d talk to earlier approached. “Stuck around until you guys got back. Everything okay?” He indicated Emerson's knee.

“Thankfully, not broken. Just a deep bruise,” she supplied, leaning on Oz for support.

“Well, that’s the good news. Afraid I’ve come bearing the bad. Had to call in the arson investigator.”

“Arson?” Emerson squeaked.

“This wasn’t an accident?” Rich questioned.

The fireman shook his head. “It was set with a device. Come inside and I’ll introduce you to the investigator and she can tell you about it.”

Oz nodded. “Give us a minute?”

“Take your time.”

They all watched the fireman disappear back into the pub before Rich said, “You good here?”

“Yeah, man, thanks for all your help.”

Rich chuckled but it didn’t sound like he was amused. “Shit, my work is just starting. I’m going to head back to the office and put together a team to get ahead of this story. I’ll send a few guys over here to keep the vultures at bay,” he dipped his head to the line of news vans, “so you don’t get mobbed when you try to leave.”

“Thanks.” Oz held out a hand.

Rich reached for it, pulling him in for a hug. “No more heroics, you hear me. Your phone call this morning took about ten years off my life.”

He hadn’t been the only one to have that reaction to their early morning phone call. Oz wasn’t sure which of their mothers had made more of a fuss, his or Emerson’s.

But that did remind him there was one more phone call that needed to be made. One he hadn’t wanted to make at O’ dark hundred. Releasing Rich, he said, “Do me another favor?”

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