Page 81 of Her Silver Fox Firefighters
I help him drink some water through a long straw and give him a moment to clear his throat while the cool liquid soothes the irritation. “You woke up, yeah,” I reply. “You’ve been in and out for the past few hours.”
“The car,” Carlos says, frowning as he turns his head to look at me. “We were coming back to Ember Ridge.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
“My head hurts.”
“It’s going to hurt for a while. You banged your head pretty good, and the doctors are keeping a close eye on you. You have a subdural hematoma that’s concerning them, and they’re trying to treat it with IV medication before they consider other, more invasive measures.”
He closes his eyes, and I think he might be out again, but then he starts to talk. “Olivia was alive,” Carlos says. “We were run off the road.”
“We figured as much when we found you in the car last night.”
“Last night? How long have I been out?”
I check my watch. “About sixteen hours.”
“Fuck. I need to be out there, looking for her,” Carlos says, and moves with the intent to get up. He quickly gives up, realizing he’s in no condition to even turn his head too quickly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
“Brother, calm down. There’s a lot of people out there looking for her already, Dax and Leo included,” I say. “But Ineed you to tell me anything you can remember, anything at all. The smallest detail could help.”
Carlos closes his eyes for a moment, groaning from the pain. “Alright. There’s not much to tell, though. We were coming back from the cabin. I took the south road. Out of nowhere, a car rams into us. Once, twice. I tried to get ahead. Olivia was going to call you, but we got jostled and she dropped her phone.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah, talk about bad luck,” he mumbles. “The third bump knocked us off the road and we slammed into a tree. The airbags deployed and caught me off guard. I could hear Olivia screaming, but I couldn’t see her anymore. She kept saying, ‘Marcus, please, don’t.’” He pauses and gives me a devastated look. “Fucking hell, Beck. He’s got her.”
I shake my head slowly. “Not for long, he doesn’t,” I say. “We got the sheriff’s department involved. Wilkes has been a huge help. Got us an arrest warrant for that fucker. The search is ongoing, Carlos. We’re going to find her.”
“Marcus Bennett is a fucking psychopath. Those fires?—”
“We know. We’re still trying to figure out his purpose, his endgame. Most importantly, we’re trying to figure out where he’s got her and how he plans on leaving the state. There are roadblocks everywhere. Wilkes is bringing in the state troopers to assist. There’s a DA coming out of New York to handle the legal process.”
“Not Jocelyn?” Carlos seems confused.
“Nope. She’s been AWOL since last night, right after we told her what happened. Something was off about her. Is there anything we might’ve missed?”
He shakes his head. “Not a clue, though I’m not thinking too straight right now. I’m not sure I’m as reliable a witness as I’d like to be. Dammit, Beck, I let you all down.”
“No, Carlos. Marcus came for Olivia because he was determined to get her back. There’s nothing you could have done.” I try to soothe his nerves with an uncomfortable truth that I’m still trying to deal with myself. “He’s been in Ember Ridge for quite a while. He picked last night to pounce for a reason.”
“Still, I?—”
“You did everything you could, man. Nobody is blaming you, I promise. Look at the state you’re in. You damn near got yourself killed to protect her.”
Carlos takes a deep breath, wincing from the pain. “Shit. I cracked a couple of ribs in the crash, didn’t I?”
“Doc said you’ll have to go easy while they heal. Small breaks, semi-fractures, I think he called them.”
“Still hurts like a mother?—”
“I know, brother. I had my share in Kandahar. I was decommissioned for more than a month. I was crawling the walls, drenched in my own sweat and misery. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone,” I say.
The sound of approaching footsteps is loud and familiar enough to draw my attention to the open door. Carlos follows my gaze, and we both watch Jocelyn as she warily comes into the room, narrowly escaping a brush with a couple of rushing nurses while a code blue blares somewhere down the hallway.
I pick up on the accelerating beeps of Carlos’s heart monitor as Jocelyn approaches the foot of his bed.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” she tells him, tears filling her tired eyes. “How are you feeling?”
