Page 25 of Sinful Seduction

“The difference between me and you, Doc.” He bangs on the door again. “Is that I’d do it. I’d sit on the stairs because you asked. You, on theother hand, can’t even go dress shopping for your best friend without bitching about it.” He knocks a third time. “If you don’t answer the door, I’m gonna kick it in, old man. I can’t walk away till Mayet knows you’re okay, so if you?—”

“This old man was trying to relax.” Steve’s voice is like a balm on burned skin. Like a cool bath on a boiling day. I hadn’t even realized how tightly wound my stomach was until it releases. Or how anxious I was until it dissipates. “If my heart so much as skips a beat and Ipromiseto call 911 right away, will you leave me alone?”

“You good now, Mayet?” Cato’s grumpy tone hits me. Or perhaps disappointed is a better term. Or sad. Probably the last one. “Can I let the man rest now?”

“Yes.” I lower my shoulders, and with them, my brows. A mild headache pounds at the base of my skull. Dehydration, no doubt. And though my body demands I sit down, the corset in my dress says that’s not happening. So I release a heavy sigh and wander to the window overlooking the street instead. Traffic is backed up already, the end-of-the-day commuters humming along in cars they hope have air conditioning that’ll last the drive. But then the power drops out again, and outside, the traffic lights simply fall dark.

That’s gonna suck for getting home.

“I’m completing a double major at college and maintaining a 4.0 GPA, by the way. I’m at the stadium five days a week, practicing with the team, and I spend way more hours with Mia than any standard friend of the family. I’m mediating my brothers, which is basically a full-time job. And since Tim is moving into his house, Lix is wondering if maybe he’s readying to take a more active role in the family business. He feels guilty, like he’s taking Tim’s seat. Plus, Zora’s here now, which means he’s worried about missing a single second with her, but also worried if he loses focus, the family business may suffer. And by the family business, he means his family might not be as safe as they are when he’s on top of it all. Maybe I don’t have a nine-to-five like you do, Doc, but neither did you when you were in college, and just because you’re old and forget what it’s like to be nineteen, doesn’t mean I prescribe to your tight ass impossible standards.”

“Cato… I’m?—”

“I’m not a bad person because I like women, and I’m not lazy because it’s summer and school is out. But then again, you’re not a bitch either. That’s just the heat making you meaner than usual. Telling the bastard son of a murderous prick that he’s unwantedevery single fucking daygets alittle old. You might not give a shit about my feelings, since you like to pretend you have none, but I’m not a robot, and sometimes, I spend time with pretty women because they make me feel wanted. Joke’s on me, huh?”

Outside, the boom of one car hitting another tears my eyes up and through the window, then the screech of metal on metal, the tinkle of shattering glass, and finally, the guttural panic of a human in danger has me moving. “Shit! Aubree!” I snatch the door handle and sprint onto the sidewalk as another car hits the first two, then a fourth hits the third.

“Mayet?” Cato’s tone turns sharper in an instant. “You okay?”

“Motor vehicle accident, multiple car pile-up.” I grab the bottom of my dress and rush into the street. “I’m okay. But I gotta go.” I kill our call and dart between cars, shimmying out of the way just as a fifth—sixth?—hits the one in front of it and pushes the others forward. I fist my phone, knowing I have no pockets to use, and sprinting toward the screaming woman, I arrive at car number two, the one that started this mess, and find an older man slumped over the wheel, and in the passenger seat, his same-age wife screaming like her foot is stuck in a bear trap. “Ma’am?” I reach through the open window and press my fingers to the driver’s neck. “Ma’am? What’s your name?”

“He just… And he…” She flaps her arms, her face burning a bright, hot red. “And then he…”

Aubree skids to a stop on the other side, her eyes meeting mine and her hands dropping to the door frame. “What’s happening?”

The woman starts screaming again. So loud. Ear aching, stomach clenching, lung compressingly loud.

“Chief?”

“Shut her up!” I shove the driver back and search for a pulse. But he’s not sweating either. He’s not breathing. His heart isn’t moving. “Acute MI.” I rip the door open, smashing my shin with the bottom corner and hissing when the pain registers in my mind. But I lean in past the man who weighs an easy two hundred and fifty pounds—could be three hundred—and unsnap his seatbelt.

“Can I help?” Fifi skids to a stop on my left, her willow green eyes glittering with something other than disdain.That’s new. “Chief, what can I do?”

“Where’s Mia?” My back strains as I get under the man’s weight. The compression of the dress’s corset, squeezing me to breathlessness. Though, ironically, the quality boning supports my spine and core the way weightlifters use belts in the gym. “You have to be with Mia.” I dragthe guy out of the car and onto the stifling blacktop heat. His feet remain inside the vehicle, tangled between the seat and the steering wheel. “Fifi, you have to be with?—”

“She’s with Penny. What do you need?”

“Uh…” I lower onto the blistering hot road and fold over the old man, listening for breath sounds. “Check the other cars and make sure everyone is okay.” I link my hands together and press them over his heart, and, revisiting the knowledge I could have sworn I would no longer need, I begin chest compressions. “Aubree! Is she alright?”

“Teddy?!” The little old lady races around the car. “Teddy! Is he okay?”

“Aubree!” I grab Teddy’s face and exhale into his mouth, expanding his lungs and pushing his chest higher.

“Ma’am.” Aubree latches onto the woman and jerks her around. “Lady! Stop screaming.”

I pull away and continue my work.

“What’s your name?” Aubree asks. “What happened?”

“D-Donna. My name is Donna Beecroft. He’s Theodore. We were just driving, and he was complaining about how slow traffic was. And then he…” She presses her hand to her chest. “He saidouch, and he grabbed here, and then we crashed.”

“How old is he? Medical history?”

“He turned eighty-seven last month,” Donna sobs. “Eighty-seven! He has high cholesterol, and he takes medicine for blood pressure.”

Well, that explains that.I lower and puff fresh air into his lungs.

“Chief?!” Fifi shouts from three cars down. “I think this kid might be dehydrated. She’s smaller than Mia and kinda lethargic looking.”