Page 12

CHAPTER 12

TATUM

“I still don’t have a pulse.”

“We’re only three minutes out,” my partner tells me as I continue chest compressions between rescue breathing.

Fuck .

Our call to the scene of an accident fifteen minutes ago was gruesome. The civilians were a young male and female who ran a stop sign, most likely due to icy road conditions, and were T-boned by a delivery truck driver. The truck driver was transported to the hospital with minor injuries, and the woman driving the smaller Honda was airlifted to a larger hospital in another town.

It fucking sucks, but the chopper can only accommodate one patient, and sadly, she had a better chance of making it as long as she got there on time. The male passenger who I’m currently supplying with lifesaving oxygen hasn’t had a pulse since we arrived. He was sitting near the impact site, and it took some time to remove him from the car.

Doesn’t mean we aren’t going to keep trying until a doctor tells us to stop.

Disconnecting from my memories, I shove them out to focus only on this young guy, both pale and unresponsive.

Our ambulance comes to a screeching halt, then doors swing open as the emergency room staff pile in to take over. Standing back, I hold my hands up and rattle off his vitals, as well as everything we’ve administered and done. He’s wheeled away and all I’m left with is monitor sounds and my heavy breathing.

Eventually, my shoulders drop and I jerk as a hand lands on my shoulder. “You good, Cadelle?” Dustin, my partner, asks, then releases me to start cleaning up and readying the ambulance for the next shift.

This was our last call for the evening. Pissed that this is how I’m ending my shift, I glare as I take in our space. I fucking hate leaving with a feeling of failure. I don’t answer him for a moment, spying a black piece of leather on the floor where the gurney was moments before. Bending over, I pick it up and turn it over in my hand. Must be the patient’s wallet.

Opening it, I peek at the contents. There are a few bills, credit cards, and appointment slips alongside a wrinkled photo of a brunette woman’s high school graduation photo. The driver was a brunette, but I didn’t get a good look at her to see if this is the same woman.

“Matthew D. Becker,” I read from the license.

Grunting, Dustin mumbles, “What’s that?”

Closing the wallet, I repeat myself. “Matthew D. Becker. That’s the patient’s name. I’m going to run this in. I’ll be back in a second.”

Jumping out the back, I deliver the wallet to the front desk, then head back silently to help with sanitizing and restocking the bus. Declining Dustin’s offer to grab a drink after we turnover, I drive back to my place without music, watching the windshield wipers clear the light drizzle every once in a while.

I typically like to rinse off before I leave the hospital, but I wasn’t feeling it tonight. As soon as I park, movement to my right catches my attention and I close my eyes in frustration.

Goddamnit, Ez… Not tonight, please .

It’s hard not to be pissed at my best friend right now. His obsession with “hunting” his latest target has moved past “normal” Ezra Hall levels. I don’t think he’s sleeping any more than Miriam is right now.

Turning my engine back on, I follow his truck across town, maintaining a distance he won’t notice. I’m home a bit earlier than normal, so I suspect he left now, thinking I wouldn’t be able to find him. I’m not obtuse enough to think I’ve gone unnoticed, but tonight he has no idea he’s been caught.

After parking, we continue on foot for the better part of fifteen minutes; me waiting at each turn until he’s moved on. Shoving my hands in my pockets to keep them warm, I peek around the corner and hold my breath so the steam when I exhale isn’t obvious to my best friend. He’s been difficult to keep tabs on, but I’ve finally figured out his pattern, and in turn, Miriam’s as well.

How the fuck he figured out her route is beyond me, but I’m not surprised. What’s shocking, though, is how chaotic her schedule is. Tracking Ezra served two purposes. I have been able to ensure he isn’t fully crossing lines in a legal capacity, but I also unintentionally have learned much more about the woman who I haven’t been able to get out of my head.

Miriam Delgado doesn’t stop working. Ever .

She’s a full-time home healthcare worker six days a week. Some patients she sees daily, some every other day, and there are extras thrown in that seem sporadic. Without access to her schedule, it’s hard to know where she’s going to be, aside from her few regulars. She works this job on average of ten hours a day, but with travel time on the bus system, she’s putting in closer to seventy hours a week.

Then, on her day off, she spends almost twelve hours at another house owned by an elderly woman where she cleans, shops, cooks, and does other chores. I don’t believe this particular job is through her company because she’s not in her uniform for those visits.

Most people would rest in the evenings, but not my Miri. She heads to the college campus three nights a week for three hours and takes classes. I learned over our cabin weekend that she’s attending night school because she has plans to become a registered nurse.

And fuck me, if she’s not working hard toward that. Her schedule isn’t technically considered full-time. But she’s only one class away from it. I have no idea how she’s keeping up with studying on top of work, or when she’s able to sleep more than a few hours each night.

It’s concerning, but who am I to tell her to slow down? I’ve no right to give her my opinion, especially with being blocked to contact her.

Ezra is on the move again, so I slip around the corner and keep my head down as I make my way to where he just turned a corner. Clouds blanket the night sky, so it’s extra dark. I’m hoping my friend is too distracted to realize I’m here.

I hiss when my toe taps an empty soda can, so I freeze, closing my eyes in frustration that I’ve most likely been made. After a moment, I don’t hear him heading toward my position, and I blow out a breath in relief.

Inching toward the corner, it takes me a second to find him squatted in a shadow, staring intensely toward the soft light at the end of the alley. A woman’s voice rings out, and by the tone of her voice, I immediately know two things.

Miriam is at the end of the alley, and she knows she’s being watched. I bite my lip at her threat to keep from laughing because it’s so her. My eyes flick to Ezra when she mentions a boyfriend, and he rumbles out a low growl in warning.

Don’t be an idiot, Ez. You know she’s not dating anyone. The woman doesn’t have a chance to eat, let alone get laid .

He’s unmoving, but relaxed, which tells me he doesn’t plan to approach her tonight. Taking my eyes off him, I decide to wait until I hear him on the move again, so I relax against the bricks of the building I’m hiding behind. The drizzle chills my cheeks as my eyes find the sky.

I think I need to get Ezra into some therapy. He’s resisted up until this point, but the weekends away with the guys to fuck and expel all of our pent up energy doesn’t seem to be working for him anymore.

A niggling thought pushes to the forefront of my mind.

Maybe it’s not Ezra deteriorating mentally. Maybe it’s because Miriam is special and he truly feels something for her .

I should probably probe deeper into myself and see how I feel about her as well. If nothing else, I know that I’ve been feeling pretty low ever since she accused us of treating her like a whore and nothing more.

A slow grin tilts my lips up as I remember reading those text messages and Ezra translating. I want to get to know her. Those few days weren’t long enough for me to get my fill.

Gloved fingers slam over my mouth, pressing me against the sharp textured bricks, and another covered hand grips my throat just tight enough in warning, but I can still breathe.

My instinct is to fight Ezra off, but peering into his dilated eyes, I know he’s triggered. Instead, I relax my body and check him over. Then my eyes widen when I see what he’s actually wearing. I tap at his hand covering my mouth and he lifts it away.

“What the fuck, Ez? You’re wearing your gear?” I hadn’t seen his full gear from a distance before now. I figured he was just dressed in dark clothing. But this fucker is fully decked out, his mask like something from our Call of Duty video game. “Where the fuck did you get that mask?”

Ezra drops his chin to look over his attire, never letting up on the grip he has on my throat. He’s on edge. I can feel the tension through his fingers and if I fight him now, he might react in a very unfortunate way for me.

“I think I look alright. Girls get wet over a man in uniform.”

Shaking my head urgently, I give it my best shot to make him to understand. “No, no she won’t. Not in this type of scenario. You’re following a young woman through alleys and dark streets with a fucking mask that makes you look like the goddamn grim reaper coming to claim souls.”

His boisterous laugh catches me off guard and he finally lets me go, smoothing out my jacket, then patting my chest. All I can see are his wild eyes and teeth when he grins widely, clearly proud of himself.

“You think so? I could never tell what these were supposed to make us look like, but the grim reaper is pretty badass.”

“It looks like the guys from our video game.”

His grin becomes more boyish, as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “It totally is. Did you know there’s a whole online shop with this shit?” He plucks at his mask, but doesn’t remove it.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I squeeze my eyes shut in frustration. “Jesus Christ, Ez. If she sees you, or catches you slinking around, you’re going to scare the shit out of her. This is not normal, man!”

“She’ll understand when I explain,” he retorts, then strolls away, back toward where our vehicles are parked. With his hands in his pockets, he whistles as if he’s simply enjoying an evening stroll. Still wearing his motherfucking mask.

“Ez,” I call out and wait for him to acknowledge me. Instead of turning around, he only stops to let me know he’s heard. I jog until I’m standing in front of him, setting my hands on his shoulders and digging deep. “Look at me, man.”

Once his eyes lock in, I lean in and press my forehead to his, never breaking eye contact. I hear him gulp, but he says nothing.

“Listen, Ez. You’re intrigued. I get that. You’re looking for a fix right now, but you’re not going to find it with her. We collectively burned that bridge. I need you to dig deep and focus on the here and now. You’re stalking her. You’re not hunting and this isn’t a game. The line you’re about to cross is fast approaching, and you’re going to get your ass arrested.” Changing my tone from firm to pleading, I add, “I can’t help you if you’re locked up, Hall.”

He backs up from me, breaking my hold, shaking his head only briefly. “No, they fucked everything up with her. Not me and not you. I’m not a fucking idiot, but she needs protection.”

“From what?” I ask, throwing my hands up in supplication, begging him to see this isn’t healthy. “She’s working. She’s moved on and cut ties. It’s never supposed to be more than a weekend with them.”

Ezra’s lip ticks in annoyance. “If you don’t know, then you don’t deserve her.”

Shoving past me, hitting my shoulder with his, he storms away. I let my head fall back, unsure what to do. Maybe I should just let him do his thing. Eventually he’ll get bored.

What I will do is call Kevin again. Someone needs to at least get word to Miriam to keep an eye out. Ezra won’t hurt her, but I don’t want her scared.

Why the fuck did she have to block us?