The driver’s door closed, and the ambulance roared to life. “You okay back there?” Roger demanded.
“Yes.”
Roger grunted before shifting into drive and pulling away from the scene. The man’s fingers twitched again when she spoke. “We’re going to get you to the hospital,” she assured him.
The brush of her fingers on his flesh caused Aiden’s skin to come alive in a way it never had before. So startled by the sensation, it took a few seconds for her words to penetrate. The hospital? A human hospital?
He had to focus, had to recall what happened. It took far more strength than he ever would have believed possible to crack his eyes open. A blurry glow met him, and he spotted the edge of a khaki shirt before his eyes closed again. Shuffling sounded and cool metal pressed against his stomach.
Then, memory flooded back to him, and his eyes flew open. A gasp sounded. Metal clattered as the khaki blur recoiled.
“You okay?” A brusque male voice demanded from somewhere in front of him.
“Fine,” the butterscotch-smelling woman replied, but Aiden couldn’t see her anymore.
All around him were shelves, white walls, and medical supplies. Beneath him, he felt the rumble of tires on the road, and he realized he was in an ambulance. He should be dead. How was he still alive?
Maggie inhaled a calming breath and steadied her hands before she bent to retrieve the scissors she’d dropped. The back of her patient’s shirt and coat may have been torn open, but the front was not. She’d been preparing to cut his clothing off so she could hook up the EKG machine when he’d opened his eyes! The scissors wobbled in her grip as she recalled those eyes on her.
It shouldn’t have been possible for him to wake up, but he had. Over her time working on the ambulance, she’d had her fair share of men and women groping her, as well as spitting on her, and cursing her. She’d take a spitter and biter any day over this guy.
Gripping the scissors more firmly, she rose and held them before her. For the first time, she knew she’d stab one of her patients if it became necessary.
When her eyes met his, her heart hit her ribs so violently she thought she might have to hook herself up to the EKG machine to make sure she wasn’t having a heart attack. His eyes reminded her of spring as they were the green of oak leaves in May when they were first unfurling and vibrant with new life.
She felt like she was tumbling further away from reality when, beneath the blood streaking his face and caking his short black hair, she realized he was a handsome man. His lips parted, and a breath rattled out of him. He seemed to be trying to speak, but she wasn’t getting any closer to hear what he might say. Handsome or not, the guy freaked her out.
“We’re going to get you to the hospital,” she assured him again, and suddenly she had to make sure he made it there. Over the years, there were so many she’d wanted to save and been unable to; it wouldn’t be her fault if this guy died, but she couldn’t shake the belief she had to save him. The need to make sure he survived hit her so hard that she was amazed her hand didn’t shake when she started cutting his shirt up the front with clinical precision.
Aiden watched her capable hands slicing through his clothes before he lifted his gaze to the curve of her cheekbone. He didn’t think he’d ever seen skin so fair or unblemished before. It reminded him of the porcelain dolls his sisters Abby and Vicky collected as children. Twisted into a knot against the back of her delicate, swan neck, her auburn hair shone in the light of the ambulance.
She remained focused on her task as she cut his sleeves next. Air rushed over his already chilled skin when she pulled the remaining shreds of his shirt and coat away.
My weapons!
The thought blazed through his mind as she hefted the coat a little higher. She dipped a hand into one of his pockets and pulled out a small crossbow. He saw one auburn eyebrow rise before she carefully set the crossbow aside and lowered his coat with the caution one would take with a poisonous snake.
The woman didn’t look at him again as the sound of something peeling drifted to him. Then, she leaned forward to stick things on his chest before moving out of sight again. He heard shuffling noises and a small clatter before a steady beeping started.
“Is that his heart?” Roger demanded.
Maggie swallowed to get some saliva into her parched throat before replying, “Yes.”
“Jesus Christ,” Roger muttered.
Maggie resisted making the sign of the cross. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d crossed herself. It had probably been when she’d fostered with that ultra-religious family who had dragged all the kids to church three times a week. Maggie had only spent a month with them before proudly declaring her love for Satan and all things demonic while dressed as a Goth. She’d never been sent packing so fast in her life. Right now, though, the sign of the cross felt like the appropriate thing to do.
What was this guy?
She could feel him watching every move she made, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him again.
I am not a coward. I have endured too damn much to be rattled by some weirdo with a freakishly high tolerance for everything.
However, she was beginning to question if he was a man. What man could endure the amount of damage this one had and not only survive it, but be awake so soon afterward?
At least half his blood remained in that alley, and his spine was visible.
She was half-tempted to crawl into the front with Roger, but she’d never backed down from anything before and she wasn’t about to start now. She glanced toward Roger as they raced through side streets and past warehouses with sirens blaring. She didn’t have to see the speedometer, she could feel the tires spinning faster than normal, yet she yearned for Roger to go faster.
“Uncuff me,” Aiden rasped out.
A pair of charcoal-colored eyes shot toward him and widened fearfully. The beeping from some machine increased as he got his first full-on view of the woman. He’d never seen anyone like her before. She wasn’t what he would call sexy or stunning. He didn’t know how to describe exactly what she was, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her.
Then, he recalled his mother holding one of Abby’s porcelain dolls and turning it in her hand as she inspected it. Unlike this woman, the toy had possessed blonde hair and blue eyes, but something about this woman brought the memory back to him.
“She’s lovely, Abby,” his mother had said and handed the doll back to his then seven-year-old sister.
Lovely, that’s what this woman was, but none of those dolls could compare to her.
The woman’s rosebud lips quivered. Those dark gray eyes stared at him before rising to the front of the ambulance. “Roger,” she whispered.
“Going as fast as I can, Mags,” Roger replied brusquely.
Aiden seized her hand as something crashed into the side of the ambulance with enough force to dent the wall and send the ass end of the vehicle careening sideways.