Kitabı oku: «First Responder On Call», sayfa 3
He opened his eyes and shook his head. “I might not be unbiased, but I’m also sure my opinion is sound.”
The older woman sighed like she was hoping to hear something else. “Okay. I believe you.”
“So what do you think? You want to call the police?” For no good reason, the idea bothered Remo, and he was thankful when she shook her head a little.
“I don’t know,” she told him. “Nothing illegal happened. Not yet, anyway. And domestic violence...” She let out another soft breath. “It’s a fine balance here, Remo. If what you think is true, then exposing their location and identities could put the two of them at more risk, and patient well-being is my number one priority. Particularly when there’s such a large element of vulnerability involved.” Her eyes strayed toward Xavier. “But protecting the hospital’s needs is a part of my job, too. Not doing anything and them getting hurt because of it could put us in a bad spot.”
“I’ll take responsibility,” Remo said immediately. “I’ll watch the kid. I’ll see what I can find out from his mom. And if there’s the slightest hint of danger, you know I’ll do the right thing.”
“Do you think the child’s in danger right now?” she asked.
“Did you see any signs of abuse?” he countered.
She shook her head. “Considering that fact that he was just in a car accident, he’s in damned near perfect shape.”
“So...”
Her gaze hung on him, her expression thoughtful. She was clearly weighing it all, and he had to fight an urge to make an uncharacteristic plea. Instead, he waited with as much patience as he could muster.
“All right,” she said at last. “But you’re going to stick like glue to that boy in there. As long as his mom’s a patient and you’re here in the hospital, I don’t see a need to involve social services.”
Relief washed over Remo. “You’re the boss.”
Tanya issued a nod. “I’m trusting you both personally and professionally here. You’re the best paramedic I know, and you’re a good man, too. So at the slightest hint of anything that could put anyone at risk... I expect to be informed. And I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that as far as the kid is concerned, it’s a legal obligation.”
“Got it.”
“I’ll give you a call on your personal phone as soon as I hear anything about the kid’s mom.”
“Thanks, Tanya.”
“And, Remo...” She trailed off, then cleared her throat. “One more thing.”
His heart thumped an unusually nervous beat. “What?”
“It hasn’t escaped my notice that the little boy is about the same age as your niece would’ve been now.”
Her words hit him hard, and square in the chest, and he was thankful that once she’d said them, she simply nodded, then spun and walked away.
* * *
This time, consciousness slammed into Celia like a cold wave. It smacked her in the face, forcing her to open her eyes and gasp in a breath at the same time. For a moment, she was too stunned to move. Then a thought jumped to the front of her mind and forced her to act.
Xavier.
Her son’s name took the wave to the next level. Her rib cage squeezed a protest, while her vision fought to adjust. Trying to stay calm was an impossible endeavor, and Celia gave in to the panic. She whipped her head back and forth in a frantic search. On the periphery of her mind, she noted her surroundings. She was tucked firmly into bed. The room was dark. And quiet, too, except for a light, mechanical hum. And it was all a concern. But it was also secondary to the fact that Xavier was nowhere to be seen.
“Where is he?” The words came out in a raspy whisper, and they were met with silence. “Where am I?”
She tried to sit up, and met with resistance. Her fear doubled. She tried harder, and a new noise overrode the relative silence—the beep of some kind of alarm. And it was followed by the rapid thump of feet hitting the floor.
No.
She had to get away. She had to find Xavier and keep him away from the man who threatened the life they’d built together.
Celia drew in another sharp, burning breath. She could see his face. See the craggy outlines of his cheeks and feel the heat of his breath.
Then there was a zap, and the relative darkness became a soft, artificial glow.
Nowhere to hide.
“God, God, God.” It was a prayer and a plea and a curse.
Ignoring the indistinct voices that suddenly filled the air, she fought against the hands that were on her now, holding her in place. Her flails got herself free. Partly. Something else gripped the back of her hand and made it sting.
The IV.
A rush of recall swept through her. The ambulance. The accident.
“Remo,” she whispered as a pair of blue, blue eyes filled her memory.
The thought of them—of him, dark-haired, rough-spoken, and protective—brought the panic down to a reasonable level. Her heart rate eased, and the decrease of blood roaring through her let the sound of a patient female voice reach her ears.
“It’s all right,” the voice was saying. “Just breathe in and out.”
Celia complied. It would be easier to communicate and locate her son if she was calm.
Slow suck of oxygen in.
Steady release out.
And again.
“Just like that,” the voice encouraged.
In. Out.
“You’re safe and sound now,” the voice added.
In. Out.
Celia at last blinked away the last of the fog and cast a careful look around, trying to get a handle on her surroundings. The nearly drawn blinds drew her attention first. They revealed that night reigned, and that a rainstorm raged.
Still raged, she thought, as she remembered it hitting the windshield of her car before she was blindsided.
But that wasn’t what she wanted to be thinking about now.
She swiveled her head, noting that the room was pale blue and lit with soft light. Her gaze finally landed on a plump, olive-skinned, sixtyish woman—the source of the voice, obviously—who was smiling at her from a safe couple feet away. She was dressed in scrubs, wore a stethoscope around her neck, and had on a name tag that read Jane. As Celia took in the woman’s appearance, she connected the dots. The soothing ambience, the tube hanging from her hand, and the nurse added up to one thing.
I’m in a hospital.
That realization provided her with some relief. But where was Xavier? In the hospital somewhere, too? Could the nurse be trusted?
And why do I have to wonder if a nurse can be trusted?
Her head ached, and Celia briefly closed her eyes to minimize the pain. From behind her dropped lids, a vision of her son filled her mind. In it, he was tucked under the blue-eyed man’s arm during the ambulance ride. Remo. She knew it was his name, even if she didn’t recall why. Was Xavier still with him? For no tangible reason, she kind of hoped so. Deciding she had no choice but to ask—trust or no trust—she opened her eyes and her mouth at the same time. But the nurse—Jane—spoke first.
“Hello, Mrs. Poller,” the other woman said, stepping closer. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”
“It’s Miss,” Celia croaked automatically.
“I’m sorry?”
“Miss. I’m not married.”
“Well. That’s one more thing we know about you, isn’t it? Your name and your marital status. It’s a start.”
Celia eyed her and tried to keep her heart from fluttering. Something in the back of her mind told her she didn’t want to be known. And not knowing why it was true was frustrating. Especially since she wasn’t sure how it affected her son. Regardless, she needed to know he was okay. She started to clear her throat, and the action brought a cough-inducing dryness to the surface. Jane moved nearer again, grabbed a cup and a straw from the bedside table, then held them up to Celia’s lips.
“Don’t drink too much, too fast,” she cautioned. “You don’t want to make yourself sick.”
Celia nodded and took a miniscule sip. The icy water slid down her throat and cooled the burning sensation.
“Better?” asked Jane.
“Much,” Celia replied. “Thank you.” She took one more taste, then met the nurse’s eyes and chose the direct route. “Was my son brought in, too?”
“Your son?” The blankness in the woman’s tone spiked Celia’s pulse again.
She forced herself to answer as calmly as possible. “He’s five, but on the small side for his age. Brown hair, gray eyes, and freckles. He was wearing a red T-shirt with a fire truck on it.”
Jane set down the cup, then moved to the foot of the bed and pulled a chart from a clip fastened there. She flipped through a couple pages and shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Miss Poller,” she said. “I don’t see any notes on here about your son. I can call down to Pediatrics and—”
“No.”
“What?”
Celia exhaled. Whatever it was she feared, the thought of further exposing her son made it that much worse. She had to keep the attention off him. It was a compulsion.
“What about Remo?” she asked.
“Remo DeLuca? The paramedic with the dreamy eyes?” Jane smiled.
Even though she wasn’t sure of the last name, Celia nodded. The description fit. And besides that...how many Remos could there be hanging around the hospital?
“He’s the one who brought me in,” she added.
Jane took another look at the chart, and her brow furrowed. “He’s not listed here.”
Doubt crept in. Was there a reason he’d left his own name off her admission documents? Was it significant? And did she even have time to think about it when her instincts told her she needed to get to Xavier as quickly as possible? Then, from somewhere in Celia’s mind, a full-body image of the man popped up, and in it, Remo wasn’t wearing a uniform.
He was off-duty.
Celia exhaled and made herself smile. “That’s because Remo wasn’t acting in an official capacity. He’s...a friend. Which is why I think my son might be with him.”
Jane thoughtfully tapped the chart for a second, then sighed. “Okay. Let me do a quick check of your vitals, and then I can send out a general page through the hospital. If Mr. Blue Eyes is here, I’m sure he’ll come running.”
Celia nodded, sat back, and pressed her lips together to keep from impatiently demanding that the nurse do her job as fast as humanly possible.
Chapter 4
Remo smiled as Xavier put the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle in place, then let loose with a triumphant fist pump.
“Did you see that, Remo?” the kid asked excitedly. “There were fifty pieces, and I got them all.”
“I did see it,” he agreed. “And I’m pretty impressed. Should we put this one away and start another? Or do you want to go back to coloring?”
“Another puzzle.” But the kid no sooner started to pull apart the pieces than he stopped again and lifted a hesitant look in Remo’s direction. “Do we have time?”
“You mean how long until we see your mom?”
The kid didn’t answer immediately. He just flicked his thumb over the bumps of the completed puzzle. Remo waited. For the last thirty or so minutes, the little boy had been painstakingly pressing the bits together. Though he had to be tired and scared, he’d managed to elevate keeping a stiff upper lip to a whole new level. He’d chatted about cartoons and YouTube and his friend Kevin from school. The one thing he hadn’t brought up was his mom, and Remo was sure it was on purpose.
Even though the door to the subject had been opened now, Xavier’s next sentence came out in a small voice. “She says patience is a virtual reality.”
Remo fought a chuckle. “A virtue?”
Xavier nodded without looking up. “Yeah.”
“And she’s right, buddy,” Remo told him. “But I know you’re worried, and it’s okay to talk about it.”
The little guy sighed a deep, far too adult sigh before lifting his face and asking, “They’re going to fix her, right?”
“That’s their job.”
“Does that mean yes?”
For the first time in his life, Remo wished he was better at making grand promises he couldn’t personally guarantee. Reassurance was one thing, but sugar-coating wasn’t his forte. Even when it came to children, he believed it was better to be honest. Kind but forthcoming. Something he’d always appreciated as a kid himself, but not received often enough.
Everything will be fine was the last thing someone had said to him before his seven-year-old world imploded, and he wouldn’t lay that on someone else.
So instead he said, “It means they’ll do everything they can to make sure she’s fine, buddy. They have science and medicine on their side, and from everything I could see myself, she looked good.”
Xavier’s face screwed up like he was thinking about the lacking-of-promise answer, but when he spoke, it was to ask a seemingly random question. “Why are they saying your name?”
Remo frowned. “What?”
The kid aimed a thumb toward the hall. “Over the speaker thing. Like the one they have at kindergarten.”
Remo cocked an ear. Sure enough, a second later, a crackling page came to life.
“Remo DeLuca, if you’re in the hospital, please report to room 414. That’s Remo DeLuca to 414. Thank you.”
Xavier’s face lit up with hope. “Do you think room 414 is my mom?”
Remo ruffled the kid’s hair. “I sure do. And that’s good news, because 414 is the perfect room.”
“It is?”
“You bet. Should we put away the puzzle and go?”
Xavier quickly swept the pieces into the box, then jumped up, visibly excited and truly childlike for the first time since Remo had met him. Smiling, he let the kid grab his hand and tug him into the hall. Room 414 truly was good news. It was in recovery, but not intensive care. If the medical staff had found any issues with Celia Poller’s well-being, they would’ve moved her to one of the wards that offered a better chance for one-on-one care. Knowing that lightened Remo’s own steps as he led the kid to the nearest staff-only elevator. He was gladder than would be expected of a stranger, and he was eager to speak to Celia.
What would the woman have to say about her situation? He couldn’t help but wonder just how much she’d be willing to disclose. Maybe nothing. Maybe she’d see him as no more than the stranger he was. Or maybe—hopefully—he’d get lucky, and she’d choose him as a confidant. If she and her son were on the run, then there would be few people who understood it better than Remo did. The peculiar need to continue to help her and her son only strengthened as he acknowledged that his past had to be one of the main reasons behind it.
But there’s a difference between admitting it to myself and saying it aloud to a stranger.
He cast a glance down at the kid. The sandy-brown curls were pressed to the outside of Remo’s thigh, and the easy trust made his chest compress. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t make that trust worthwhile? Not the kind of man he wanted to be, that much was for sure.
The elevator dinged then, and he started to move forward before realizing that he’d acquired a human ankle weight—the kid was standing up, but was also sound asleep. With a chuckle, he reached down and scooped the boy up. As Remo cradled him to his chest and stepped out of the elevator, Xavier barely did more than sigh. Even when someone tapped Remo’s shoulder and made him do a startled spin, the little guy didn’t stir.
“Hey, DeLuca,” greeted the nurse attached to the hand that had made him jump. “I didn’t mean to scare y—whoa! Is that Celia Poller’s kid?”
Remo looked down, then smiled and feigned surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned, Jane. Where did he come from?”
The nurse rolled her eyes. “Pipe down, DeLuca. I’m just surprised to see that the patient’s claim about you having her kid was true. I wasn’t aware that you had any friends.”
“I have you, don’t I?”
“I’m friends with your mother. You’re just the leech along for the ride.”
Remo’s smile became a grin. “Your bedside manner must be impeccable.”
Jane’s eyes crinkled, but she put her hands sternly on her hips. “No complaints yet.”
“Today or...”
“I did say pipe down, didn’t I?”
“Not sure. I’ve been told my listening skills aren’t great.” He paused, then turned serious. “How is she?”
Jane studied him curiously. “She really is a friend?”
Remo forced a casual-sounding evasion because it seemed odd to admit that not only was she not a friend, but that he didn’t know her at all. “Not on duty, so she can’t be a patient.”
“Right. Well. Your friend is doing just fine. Worried about her kid and a little groggy and understandably confused, but aside from that, she’s all right. CT scan came back normal, so...” She shrugged. “You know the drill. And I won’t tell anyone if you wanna sneak a look at her chart.”
“Thanks, Jane. Room 414?”
“You got it.”
He started to turn away, but the nurse’s voice stopped him. “Remo...”
He braced himself for a comment similar to the one made by the hospital administrator. Something about the kid’s age or size. Instead, Jane met his eyes, bit her lip, and shook her head.
“Nothing,” she said. “Just glad to see you’re not as friendless as I thought.”
Remo swallowed. He tried to muster up a joke about Jane getting soft in her old age, but he couldn’t quite manage it. So he just nodded, then finished his turn, and made his way toward room 414.
* * *
If Celia hadn’t been stuck in her bed and attached to an IV, she would’ve paced the room a hundred times over. Maybe a thousand. It felt like a millennium since the page for Remo DeLuca had come through the speakers. Where was he? Did he have Xavier with him?
Please, God, let him have Xavier. Because if he doesn’t...
The thought trailed off. She closed her eyes. She refused to let her thoughts go to any kind of dark place. The blue-eyed paramedic would have her son. He’d bring him in. And then she’d take him far away from the hospital and whatever unknown danger it was that lurked on the frustratingly dim periphery of her mind.
“Hurry up, Remo,” she murmured.
“Don’t want to go too much faster or I might drop him.”
The unexpected reply—spoken in a slightly dry, slightly familiar masculine tone—made Celia’s eyes fly open. And even though she was expecting him to be standing there, seeing the dark-haired, blue-eyed man in the doorway made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. When she’d seen him before, she’d been out of it, and he’d been either crouched down or sitting. Now that she was a little more lucid, and he was on his feet, she couldn’t help but note a few things. One, he was tall. Six-five, probably. Two, he was intimidatingly broad-shouldered. And three, he was breathtakingly handsome. The kind of man who would draw the attention of every woman within a three-mile radius. And his looks were so distracting that it actually took Celia a few heartbeats to clue in that what he’d said actually meant something—the “him” he’d mentioned was her son. Held tightly against his wide chest, his sandy-colored lashes fluttering against his freckled cheeks.
“Xavier,” she murmured, her voice breaking with the one word.
The big man stepped into the room, then to the edge of the bed. “You want to wake him?”
Celia exhaled, then shook her head. She had no idea what time it was, but it was definitely well into the wee hours of the night. Xavier needed his rest. Especially since they were going to have to be on the move again. Soon.
Swallowing against the ache in her throat, Celia met Remo’s eyes. “Could you maybe put him on the bed?”
“Sure can,” replied the blue-eyed man.
With more care than his big frame ought to have allowed, he leaned down and gently settled Xavier into the small space between Celia and the guardrail. She tried to offer him her gratitude, but she was too overwhelmed to speak. Her son’s body was warm and soft, and he gave off just a hint of baby powder scent that she recognized as the fabric softener she used in his laundry. The relief at knowing he was okay made her want to weep. But she knew there was no time for indulging. She gave Xavier a brush of a kiss, then peeled off her blankets and eased sideways.
A strong hand abruptly took hold of her elbow, stilling her movement. With the contact, a zap of heat slid along her arm. She looked up, startled. The big man was staring down at her with his eyes fixed on her face. She stared back for a moment before her gaze slid to the spot where his palm met her skin. Seeing his large fingers wrapped around her elbow did nothing to change the peculiar little zaps she felt. Warmth continued to radiate from his touch—maybe it even heightened—and Celia couldn’t pretend that it was unpleasant. Then Remo seemed to notice the extra attention she was giving their position, and he quickly dropped his hand back to his side and stepped a little farther from the bed.
“Hang on there,” he said softly, glancing toward Xavier and dropping his voice even lower. “Are you trying to get out of bed?”
“He’s a sound sleeper,” she replied in a normal voice. “And I’m not trying. I’m doing.”
He took a small step forward, his hand coming up again. Celia tensed with the anticipation of another touch, but he stopped just shy of reaching for her, and a strange stab of disappointment pricked at her for a moment.
There’s no time for this, she told herself. Even if I don’t really know what “this” is.
She gave her a head a little shake, then pushed the blankets down even more. She put her hand on the guardrail opposite her son and pulled her body down the bed.
“Okay,” said Remo. “That’s not happening.”
Celia frowned up at him and continued her shimmy. “What’s not happening?”
“Are you kidding me? You’re not getting out of bed.”
“How is it your business?”
“For starters, I’m a medical professional, and I don’t think you’re well enough to be going anywhere.”
“Are you my doctor?” She sat up and swung her legs over the bed, pretending that a rush of dizziness didn’t accompany the motion.
His eyes hung on her bare knees for a moment, and Celia fought a creeping heat in her cheeks. Apparently, finding her pants was the first order of business.
Remo cleared his throat, his gaze back on her face. “I’m not anyone’s doctor. But I was there immediately after you sustained your injuries, and even if you weren’t hooked up to an IV, I could tell you from what I personally saw out there that you’re not in any shape to be up and moving around.”
“You said that already.”
“Because it’s true.”
“But you’re not a doctor.”
“No.”
She took a breath and formulated what she hoped was a believable lie. “Look. I don’t like hospitals, I have terrible insurance, and I feel all right.”
“Celia.”
She was surprised to hear genuine worry as his voice wrapped softly around her name. And she responded without thinking. “Do I know you?”
His dark brow furrowed, making his already oh-so-blue eyes appear that much more vibrant. “You don’t know if you know me?”
Celia fought a wince. “Of course I know.” And she did. Or she thought she did. Hadn’t she been thinking of him as the blue-eyed stranger? She blew out a breath and muttered, “It doesn’t matter.”
But apparently it did matter to Remo. His long legs brought him to the end of the bed in less time than it took to inhale again, and he quickly grabbed her chart and began reading it. Celia watched as his tense expression eased, then hardened, then eased again. What did he see? What would make his face change like that?
Who cares? Why are you just sitting here, staring at him, anyway? You’re supposed to be moving!
She tried to shake off whatever it was that held her pinned to the spot, but Remo lifted his gaze, and she was immobilized again. Held by the intense mix of emotion in his eyes.
“You didn’t suffer a head injury,” he said.
“You’re making that sound like a bad thing,” she replied.
“I’m concerned that you’re experiencing memory loss.”
“Did I say I was experiencing memory loss?”
“You asked if you knew me.”
“That isn’t what I meant,” she argued.
“So tell me what you did mean,” he said.
“Maybe I meant that as a pickup line.” Her face warmed, but she ignored it. “As in...haven’t we met somewhere before?”
He didn’t smile, or even bite on her lame attempt to deflect. “Did you tell your nurse about the confusion?”
She shook her head and lied again. “I didn’t tell her because there was nothing to tell.”
“Do you know what day it is?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“Tuesday.”
“Do you know what year it is?”
“Yes! And I’m not going to tell you. The nurse already went over all of that.”
“So it’s just me you don’t remember?”
“It doesn’t matter if I say yes or if I say no... Either way, you’ll take it how you want.”
She started to move again, but he stepped closer once more, and this time, he did put his hand on her.
“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low, urgent, and earnest, all at the same time. “We don’t know each other. But to reiterate. You were just in a pretty serious accident. You lost a lot of blood. You’ve had a transfusion, you’ve been stitched up, and you’re on some intravenous antibiotics. All of that—combined with common sense—should be enough to keep you in that bed.”
As logical as his words were, Celia couldn’t quite concede. “And if I don’t agree?”
“Then I’ll call the nurse—whose name is Jane, and who I’ve known for twenty-five of my thirty-one years—and I’ll ask her nicely to sedate you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I sure would.”
“I can’t stay here.”
“Then you’d better give me a damned good reason for that,” he replied. “And it better be more believable than a hospital phobia, too.”
“My son...” Celia felt tears well up, and as she dropped her gaze and fought to either hide them or hold them in, whatever further lie she’d been about to issue got lost completely.
Remo spoke again, his voice gentle. “Xavier is only going to be in more danger if his mom’s too weak to help him.”
She lifted her head in surprise. “How did you know he was in danger?”
The big man’s expression shifted subtly, and Celia realized her mistake even before he pointed it out.
“I didn’t,” he admitted. “But now I do.”
She pushed her lips together and looked away. After a second, Remo let out a sigh.
“I want to help you,” he told her. “But if you’re going to keep lying to me, I can’t do it, Celia. I need a little trust here.”
She echoed his words back to him. “Then you’d better give me a damned good reason for that.”
His jaw ticked. She waited for an argument. But what she got instead was his story.
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