Page 56 of Resuscitation
Sara stood over Harper’s prone form, the poker stand still clutched in her trembling hands, chest heaving with rapid breaths.
Blake wasn’t even sure she saw him. “Sara. Are you okay?”
“No. Not really,” she managed to whisper in reply.
She stooped, carefully placed the blood-stained iron stand on the wooden floor, then slumped down onto her knees. “Oh, god, have I killed him?”
Blake got onto his knees and checked the man’s pulse. “We’re not that lucky. Got any duct tape?” He fished his own roll from his jacket, but it wouldn’t be enough. He wanted this guy trussed tighter than a Thanksgiving turkey.
“Duct tape?” Her voice was distant as if translating from another language. Then her posture straightened, her focus returning with a snap. “I’m an ER doc, of course I have duct tape.”
She stepped into the kitchen, opened a drawer, and tossed him a roll. It was neon pink. Of course it was. Actually made sense, here in the snow belt—if you needed it for an outdoor emergency, you wanted colors that were blazing bright, not dull gray that blended into the snow.
She returned with a Kershaw Onion knife that she opened with one hand.
“I like your taste in knives,” he told her as she cut lengths of tape and he wrapped them around Harper’s forearms and ankles.
“I like your timing.” She rolled Harper onto his side into the recovery position. “Don’t want him aspirating,” she murmured.
Something hard fell out of Harper’s pocket, rolling on the floor. Sara felt inside the pocket, emerged with four rubies in her palm. She held them out to Blake.
“Mercer said the ‘stars are cursed.’ Think those are what started all this?” Blake asked.
“That’s what Connor told me. He said they were cursed as well.” She dropped the gems as if they might bite her.
Then she turned to Blake. “How did you know?”
“Almost took me too long. I realized the cops had their head count wrong—not surprising, given that no one left alive saw all of Mercer’s gang together. Then I saw your car gone and one of the cops said you left with a SWAT guy and…” He shrugged. Then met her eyes. “But it was worth the trip. Someone told me you have the best coffee here?”
A wry smile curved Sara’s lips. “I do.” She sat back on her heels. The distant sound of a siren cut through the night. “Someone told me something, too. That it’s better to spend time living than just live waiting for the right time.”
“Thomas,” he said. The old man just couldn’t stop matchmaking, could he?
“Thomas,” she confirmed.
“He’s a very wise man.” Blake scooted away from Harper. He placed an arm around Sara, drawing her in tight against him. “And always, always right.”
She turned her face to his, and he met her halfway with a kiss that was much too short-lived, but plenty long enough to open an invitation for much, much more.