Page 5 of Love Me Fierce

I shut the door and squint into the storm while the wind whips my hair into my eyes and mouth. The glow of approaching red and blue lights gives me a hit of relief. The medic rig comes first, followed by a crash truck and a silver SUV.

I ignore the burn tightening in my belly.

Not all cops are like Kent.

And even if this one is, it’s not like I’ll ever see him again.

The ambulance pulls over while the crash truck descends into the median, red lights swinging, and parks with its headlights square on the truck’s cab. Two firefighters jump out in full turnout gear.

I poke my head into the back seat of my car.

“Fire truck!” Mateo shouts, pointing.

“Yep. They’re here to help the man who is hurt in that truck.” I point but I’m not sure what he’s able to see through my snow-plastered windshield. “Can you wait here a little longer?”

The squeak of boots in the snow and the heavy presence of someone approaching invades my awareness.

“Are you Vivian Reece?” a man asks.

I whirl around just as a gust of wind sends icy snow into my eyes. It’s the cop. He’s tall and big, with a bristly beard, wearing a thick black coat beaded with glistening white snow pellets on the shoulders. He’s also wearing a cowboy hat.

A cowboy hat? In a snowstorm?

“Yes, and you are?” I grab at my hair and try to tuck it behind my ear but the wind just whips it free.

“Deputy Rum?—”

“Pooliceman!” Mateo cheers.

“Hey, buddy,” the cop says, ducking down so he can make eye contact.

Oh hell no.

“Be right back, okay, Matty?” I squeeze between the cop and the door, then shut it.

“I need to talk to the EMS crew,” I call out over the wind, and spin around.

The cop follows. “All right. Then I need your statement.”

I keep walking.

The firefighters are already hurrying toward the cab of the truck. The static of their radios and the deep rumble from their engine combines with the whistling wind and the cold, making it hard to think. Or maybe it’s my rising anxiety.

I beeline toward the firefighters, my bare ankles aching from the cold and the wet. Either my toes are numb, or the snow has melted through my shoes.

And I still have to pee.

“Hey,” I say to the closest firefighter. The man turns, the glare of the headlights on his reflective gear blinding me. I shield with my hand. “Patient’s name is Tucker. He’s A and O times four, though he’s anxious. Chief complaint is shoulder pain. He’s bleeding but I couldn’t get in there to assess. I had him check where he could. I think he got himself out of his seat belt. I couldn’t stabilize his spine because of where he’s sitting.”

The firefighter gives me a nod. “You a first responder?”

“Nurse.”

The firefighter’s partner is already opening the door and shining his flashlight inside the cab.

“We’ll take it from here,” the firefighter says.

I still can’t see his face, but do I get a hint of cocky in his tone?

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