a Touch of TNT (An Everly Gray Adventure) (12 page)

As the nausea and fog started to clear, I realized the sirens I’d thought I heard were imaginary. I was completely alone.

Me, a burned out building and a hunk of metal that used to be my car. No purse, no cell phone, no iPad. Just me in the middle of a deserted housing development.

Not another breathing soul.

Move, El. You have to stand, walk, get help.

Nice try with the inner dialogue, but totally unsuccessful.

I eased back onto the ground, closed my eyes, and let the late afternoon sun warm my eyelids. It was comforting, and I seriously didn’t know what else to do. Crawling came to mind. But where?

The longer I lay there, the better a nap sounded, but probably I should try and stay awake.

I shook my head.

Big mistake.

Note to self: Don’t ever try a headshake after hitting the ground at ninety miles an hour.

A wave of nausea rolled through my belly, but a few deep breaths calmed it down. I gently eased up on my left elbow to check out the damage to my right side.

Torn skin showed through the rip in my jeans. Another wave of dizziness swept over me, knocking me back to the ground.

Pain shot through my skull.

This was not good. Would probably mean a trip to the hospital for, God forbid, tests. And that meant there was a chance I’d run into Tynan Pierce. Not Secret Agent Pierce, but his moonlighting alter ego, Dr. Pierce. Dangerous. Especially since I hadn’t had a chance to sort out how I felt about Mitch’s awkward departure, and I was emotional. Raw.

And then there was the explosion.

He would have all kinds of questions about the whys and hows of this little episode. Maybe it would be best to slip into a coma for the next few days. Just long enough to get myself together.

More sirens. Fire trucks. Real ones that sounded like they were coming closer. Relief smoothed out my nerves. All hell should break loose in a few minutes. At least I hoped it would. The rumble of the fire engines rattled my body, jarring all my bumps and bruises. Definitely more than one truck, and definitely not my imagination.

The sudden commotion as they filled the space in front of the burning building shattered what little control I had left. Relief surged through me. Who knew a bunch of strangers yelling could be such a welcome sound?

Except no one spotted me. Damn. I tried to wedge my elbow under me, to sit up again, but another wave of nausea made that impossible.

“Hey.” It came out as a baby frog croak.

Okay, that wasn’t going to work. Why didn’t they see me lying here? Granted, the sun had dropped below the horizon, and I had on dark jeans with a worn olive drab t-shirt. I probably blended into the ground. But surely my body was lumpy enough to be noticeable.

Nausea or not, I was simply going to have to sit up.

I worked my elbow into position. Collapsed.

Noise and voices off to my right side.
Roll over so you can see, El.
Deep breath.
You can do this.

An engine hummed. Gravel crunched under tires. A car? Not loud enough to be another fire truck.

The click of stiletto heels scraped the ground next to my head. Yep. I recognized those shoes. A wave of relief washed through my body and tears flowed down my cheeks.

“Annie?” I croaked.

NINE

Could it be? Was I hallucinating?
No. I recognized the shoes, and as my gaze traveled up…sure enough that short mop of blond curls belonged to Annie. I tried again. “Annie?”

She hunkered down and brushed her hand against my cheek. “Lie still. Someone will be here in a minute.”

Her words floated on the air between us, and I had to work to fit them into a sentence.

I wasn’t invisible after all.

Good to know.

“Looks like you have some scrapes, and you must have hit the ground pretty hard. How’s your head?”

Before I could form an answer she turned away and yelled into the blackness of the night. “Sean, where’s that paramedic?”

“I’m fine,” I mumbled.

“Um-hmmm. Haven’t checked out a mirror lately have you?” The words were flip, but there was a catch in her voice that frightened me more than the pain and nausea. Annie didn’t do mushy.

I ignored the fear, and focused on my immediate need. “Water?”

“There’s some in the car, but…I’ll be right back.”

A second later she handed me a bottle and supported my shoulders while I drank. The cool liquid slid down my throat, washing away the acrid taste of smoke.

I tried to talk again. “You…here? Romantic evening?”

Annie smiled, a warm glow shining behind her eyes. Maybe she wasn’t all that worried about me.

“I’m going to assume you’re asking how my date with Sean turned into a rescue mission for you.”

“Un-huh.” Grunting was decidedly easier than talking.

“I’m here because Sean was paged to the scene. He’s been training to work arson, and he was next in the cue, so here we are.”

“Excuse me—” some guy in a white shirt elbowed in front of Annie— “let’s see what we have here.”

“I’m fine.” I almost sounded normal. Raspy, but no longer croaking.

He ignored me and did some of those paramedic things to make sure I was alive, then asked a bunch of questions, and ended with a promise to have me in the hospital in no time.

“Skip hospital. Home with Annie.”

I must have looked a lot worse than I felt because he gaped at me like I’d just escaped from a zoo for disabled wild animals. He patted my arm and shot a glance at Annie. “Your friend needs to have her head looked at.”

Annie smiled—the one that always turned alpha males into sweethearts. “Yeah, I know. I’ll ride in the ambulance with her. My ride—” she gestured toward Sean who was totally involved with the fire situation— “is obviously going to be unavailable for quite some time.”

I had no memory of the ride to the hospital. A total blank until a bunch of overly efficient people in colorful scrubs whisked me through some machine. They said something about pictures of my head. I think.

When I managed to gather enough functioning brain cells to assess the situation, I cataloged the scent of antiseptic and sickness, ugly green curtains, and someone moaning with spine-chilling intensity. Must be the emergency department. Not a lot of privacy.

Annie wasn’t around, but I distinctly remembered that she’d saved me. She was probably dealing with some sort of hospital bureaucracy.

The curtain surrounding me whisked open, and a young man in blue scrubs burst into my temporary domicile. I greeted him with the question of the day. “Water?”

“Sorry,” he said, sounding disgustingly chipper. “Nothing by mouth until we get your head films from radiology.”

There was no reason to confess that it was too late on the water ban, and since I didn’t want Annie to get in trouble for providing it, I settled for an unintelligible grunt.

The guy patted my arm. “I need to take care of the cuts on your arm and leg. Looks like the fabric from your jeans is imbedded pretty deep.”

Just what I wanted to hear.

He checked the ID bracelet on my wrist. “My name is George, Ms. Gray, and I’m the RN assigned to your case. Looks like I’ll have to cut your jeans off.”

“Bad idea. Nothing to wear home.”

“Sorry. They have to come off, and you won’t be going anywhere for a while.”

“I don’t do hospitals.”

“Um-hm. You’ll feel a prick when I numb the area.”

“No! No numbing. Don’t want to be numb.” If he made my leg numb, I wouldn’t be able to sneak out of here, and no way was I staying in a hospital. Too many emotions. Too much stuff for my fingertips to bump into. Nope. Not staying.

“Say, what? Seriously, Ms. Gray, that’s not a good idea. The debris is embedded quite deeply—”

I inhaled and gave him my best parental voice. “No. Numbing. Stuff.”

“Right, then.” He snapped on some gloves. “I’ll try to be gentle with this.”

Icy liquid spread along my leg followed by sharp pain. “Aaahh.”

Was that my voice? Must have been. The sensation in my leg, and the agony in the aaahh seemed to be perfectly matched. “Emesis basin. Now.”

He shoved one in my hand. “Nausea should go away in a day or so. Sorry about the pain. Sure you don’t want some anesthetic?” He stopped digging in my leg to meet my gaze, and then empty the emesis basin.

“Positive. Just get it done. And give that basin back to me. Prepared is better than not at a time like this.”

He barely stopped an eye roll to glance at the computer screen. “Looks like you were treated for a gunshot wound here a couple months ago?”

“Dr. Pierce,” I said through clenched teeth. It was definitely getting easier to form words. If all went well, in a few hours I’d be able to wrap my tongue around enough vocabulary to have a conversation with a three-year-old.

“Yep, looks like Dr. Pierce took care of you then too,” George said, the chipper tone of his voice overlaid with the essence of lust.

He was gay.

Had to be with that tone in his voice.

Couldn’t fault him for that. But Pierce? Nah. Not a chance Pierce was gay. George continued to send shock waves of pain through my leg where he was busy scrubbing skin away with a Brillo pad.

“As soon as I get these scrapes cleaned, I’ll let him know you’re here. Isn’t it a nice coincidence that you’ve been assigned to him again tonight?”

“Un-huh.” Nice would
not
be the word I’d use. For sure the gods and goddesses were out to get me. Pierce wouldn’t let me get away with a thing. Not a bloody thing.

His voice drifted through the curtain and every muscle in my body went rigid. “George? Hey, Claudia, which cubicle for Everly Gray and George?”

“Oh, he’s looking for me,” George simpered. “I’ll just let him know we’re here.” He practically skipped out of the cubicle. Nothing like a good case of unrequited lust to put spring in a young man’s step.

Judging from the thud, George must have bumped smack into Pierce.

“Slow down.” Pierce sounded testy. “Everly Gray in there?”

“Right here Dr. Pierce. Glass embedded in her lacerations, contusions, vitals stable, BP one-thirty over seventy. She’s oriented and talking, but her CT scan hasn’t come back from radiology yet.”

“Right.” Pierce pushed the curtain aside and shook his head at me. I couldn’t read his expression. Not unusual for Pierce, but since he was keeping his distance, I could only assume it didn’t bode well for me. After a short eternity he dropped the curtain behind him and crossed the short distance to my bed.

“El.”

Since he only gave me the one syllable to work with I couldn’t accurately determine his reaction to my presence in his emergency room—so I winged it and gave him a single syllable in return. “Hi.”

He ran the back of his hand along my cheek and bumped into the tube sending oxygen through my nose. I hadn’t paid much attention to it until then. My state of dishabille suddenly became acutely embarrassing, or maybe it was his touch that had heat rushing to my cheeks. It didn’t matter. Right now I was happy to exhibit any sign of life, and since dead people don’t blush…

Pierce moved his fingers through my hair searching for bumps and bruises. “What did you bang your head on?”

“The ground. Rocks maybe.” Words were coming more easily. Thank goodness since Pierce seemed to have lots of questions.

“Adam know about this?”

“Don’t know. Annie was there. She’s here. Water?”

“Ummm, I’ll be right back.”

His voice, warm and sultry, sounded through the curtain. “George, who’s the radiologist on this?”

“Kormansky.”

“Get her on the phone.”

There was a lot of background noise drifting through the curtain, but none of it was connected with getting me a drink. I spotted a sink just outside the edge of the curtain. Water. I pulled the tube out of my nose, swung my legs over the edge of the bed, and elbowed my way halfway to sitting when a sharp sting reminded me there was an IV stuck in my arm.

“Hey, no,” George yelped, grabbing my arm. “Back into bed. Easy now, so you don’t pull out the IV.”

His free hand held a pink plastic pitcher. I licked my lips and reached for the pitcher, but George was faster. He set it down on a tray table, turned off the oxygen, unwrapped a paper cup and straw, poured the water, snapped a lid on the cup and settled the straw in place—all in slow motion.

I tried to smile my thanks, but lost it as I grabbed for the cup and a stab of pain shot through my arm. The cup teetered between us coming to rest on the bed alongside me. Thank God for zippy cup lids. I snatched it up and sucked in liquid like I’d been in the desert for a year.

“Small sips to start,” George said, trying to wrest the cup from my hand. “Let it settle so you don’t make yourself sick.”

Pierce flicked the curtain aside. “You have a decent concussion, El, but other than that your head is fine. I should admit you for observation, but knowing your dislike of hospitals, I’m going to put you in one of the empty procedure rooms. There won’t be any staff to watch you—” I immediately began planning my escape— “and I’m trusting you not to disappear.”