“Hey, Susan, we got a call!”
Susan MacGregor looked up from the patient she was checking in on, a young girl who’d broken her arm on the soccer field that afternoon. She’d brought the girl in earlier, and they’d bonded as she set the arm. Now it was her partner, Eric Mendoza, who was rushing toward the double doors that led to the ambulance bay at the hospital. She quickly said goodbye to the girl and followed Eric out the door.
“We just got back. Where are Rosen and Bailey?” They had another unit on duty tonight who should have been on this call.
Eric jumped behind the wheel as she clicked her seatbelt. “They’re too far out, we’re closer. It’s a call-in from some guy driving home, saw a motorcycle smashed against a light post just off Route 5 near the reservation.”
Susan made a bitter face. “It’s about time. I knew one of those guys who thinks he’s a badass would eventually bite it. Serves them right for drinking and driving. Or riding, or whatever they call it.”
Eric slid a meaningful look at her. “Get it under control, MacGregor. He’s still a patient, and we have to treat him like everyone else. Besides, you don’t know that he’s been drinking.”
“That’s all they do,” she scoffed. “They throw their weight around, intimide everyone into doing whatever they want, treat women like property, and get drunk. When was the last time any of those bikers donated to charity? I bet the list of them with felony records is as long as my arm.” She shook her head in disgust as she tied her long, blond hair back from her face. “How bad do you think it is?”
Her partner shrugged. “I didn’t hear anything about pools of blood or body parts on the road. I guess we’ll see soon enough.” He rounded the curves of the winding road from Olympia toward the accident, and Susan guessed they were about five minutes out. She called it in, making sure the dispatcher knew their position, and grabbed the first aid kit, ready to jump out of the truck as soon as it pulled to a stop.
Mendoza was right. Biker asshole or not, whoever had been the lucky lottery winner was still her responsibility, and in five years on the job, she hadn’t lost anyone yet. She wasn’t about to start now.
***
Searing pain swept through Jim’s body. He squeezed his eyes to keep them shut against bright lights that flashed around him, but they bled through his eyelids, making his head throb with each blink from blue to red. As he tried to roll away from them, he felt something stabbing into his side and vaguely remembered where he was.
The road by the reservation… the slick spot… the crash. Dammit. The last time he’d seen those lights flashing up close had been a year ago, when he’d called 9-1-1 and they’d come to try to revive his old lady. He took a self-assessment as voices gathered around him. He needed to tell them what hurt and what didn’t.
Jim blinked several times and squinted, his vision slightly blurred, the lights blinding. Then someone dropped to their knees beside him and blocked some of the offending emergency beacons. “Sir, are you awake? Can you hear me, sir?” The voice was male, with a slight Latino accent. “Can you tell me your name?”
One question at a time would have been fine. Jim tried to nod and winced at the pain in his head. “Jim Wade,” he grunted.
“Mr. Wade, can you feel all your limbs?” This time, a female, a raspy quality and harsh tone. “We need to assess your injuries-”
“Hell, yes, I can feel them, and they hurt like a motherfucker,” he cut her off, not caring how surly he sounded. “I don’t think it’s bad, just bruises and scrapes, but my head’s pounding like a desperate man in a three-dollar hooker.” Apparently, his vision wasn’t as poor as he’d thought, because he saw the sour expression on the woman’s face.
Then again, he must’ve suffered a head injury because his next thought was, That expression doesn’t take away from her looks at all.
“Mr. Wade, could you please be still?” The woman sounded impatient, and Jim realized he was squirming in his pain. He stilled, letting them check vitals and check his body for damage. He hissed in a breath of pain as someone – he didn’t see which one – pressed on his thigh and caused a burning sensation.
It took a few minutes, and they put the required neck brace on him before transferring him to a gurney and loading him into an ambulance. He managed to look around and see a couple of badges with black-and-whites checking out the scene. He listened carefully as the Hispanic medic told them, “It doesn’t look like there was alcohol involved, but they’ll do a tox screen at the hospital. I think he just hit a patch of water and lost control.”
No shit, Jim thought, wishing like hell he was drunk. Maybe then his head wouldn’t hurt so bad. He settled in the best he could and waited it out, raising an eyebrow as the sexy blonde climbed into the back with him and the other guy took the wheel. “You got a name?” he asked, closing his eyes against the nausea that suddenly slammed into him like a brick wall.
She didn’t answer right away, and he stared at her lips, which were pressed into a thin line. He imagined that, under normal circumstances, they were full and red, and he couldn’t help imagining them around his cock. Finally, staring at a monitor like she was watching the most intense scene in her favorite movie, she answered shortly, “It’s Susan.”
So much for conversation, he thought, looking away from her. He shut his mouth, knowing when someone considered herself of a higher class. Inside, he laughed. If she only knew.