High Octane Heroes (18 page)

Mickey couldn’t have agreed more. He unbuckled the boy’s seat belt and laid him supine on the backseat before clearing his mouth and starting chest compressions. He spoke to the woman over his shoulder. “Tell me what happened.”

“We were driving home from a birthday party. Jack was playing with the things inside his party bag. He ate some candy and then blew up a balloon. Suddenly, he started thrashing his legs and making gagging sounds. I pulled over as fast as I could, but didn’t know what was wrong. I called emergency services when nothing I did helped.” Her dark eyes pleaded. “Can you help him?”

“I’m a paramedic. I’ll do everything I can.” He told the woman his name. “I’m with Appleton Fire Station.”

The mother released a shaky sigh of relief. Her body trembled. “Thank god!”

Mickey’s brain processed the information the woman gave him. Candy. Food allergy? Gagging. Choking.

Balloon.

“Where’s the balloon?”

The mother dumped the party bag on the floorboard. “I don’t see it.”

Jesus. Mickey felt for the penknife in his back pocket. He had about thirty seconds to decide whether or not to do a tracheotomy on the kid. “Any straws inside the car? I need one. Now! Go!”

The Heimlich maneuver didn’t typically work with balloons, but now that he knew what he was dealing with, he decided to try to clear the child’s airway before taking more drastic action. He tilted the boy’s head back, opened his mouth and reached
into his throat while depressing the tongue with his thumb.

There. The tips of his fingers touched something pliable.

Mickey had become some kind of cosmic disaster magnet since Iraq. His fate had been sealed the day a soldier died in his arms while Saddam’s statue fell in central Baghdad. Since then, life or death situations found him wherever he went, on or off the clock. He no longer questioned why, just did his best to serve his community. Right now, that meant saving this kid.

Mickey turned the boy over and started the Heimlich. The maneuver wouldn’t expel the balloon, but might dislodge it enough to manually pull it free.

He pressed in and up on the child’s solar plexus, hard enough to force the balloon to shift, but gently enough not to break Jack’s ribs. If this didn’t work, he’d have to do the trach. The child’s color had turned from pale blue to dark. There were only seconds left.

Mickey turned the boy over again on the backseat. He reached into his throat, whispered a prayer when he pinched latex, and pulled.

The balloon slipped free and an enormous inhalation followed. Jack’s eyes flew open and his jaw dropped as he gulped down autumn evening air. The child’s color instantly improved. His mother crawled onto the backseat and took her son into her arms, soothing him as he began to wail.

Crying was good. The kid would take in plenty of oxygen.

Mickey stepped out of the car. “You need to take Jack to the nearest emergency room and have him checked out.” He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket. “I’ll call ahead and let them know you’re coming.” All Pennsylvania hospitals within a twenty-five mile radius were listed on his speed dial.

The sounds of sirens proceeded flashing lights, as a medical team pulled up behind the SUV, followed by a police cruiser.
Mickey closed his cell phone. “These guys will take it from here, ma’am.”

He recognized the crew of EMTs and their paramedic from a neighboring town, and they nodded to him in return. They were almost as good as his Appleton team and would take proper care of the kid. Mickey leaned over and whispered in the other paramedic’s ear. “Where the fuck were you guys?”

The other man released a weary sigh. “Car crash. Six victims. Elevator accident before that. It’s been a crazy day.”

Mickey slapped his counterpart on the back. “I hear you.” Mickey’s week included a heart attack, a stroke victim, a girl who fell from a third-story window, five car accidents and a supermarket trip and fall. Since most communities hired only one or two paramedics, with as many ambulances to serve them, their expertise was stretched thin.

Mickey headed toward his Mustang as the EMTs loaded the boy onto a stretcher. Before he got halfway to his car, footfalls sounded behind him. “Wait!”

He turned and Jack’s mother threw herself into his arms. She hugged him tight. “My husband and I will never be able to thank you enough.” After she released him, she kissed his cheek, and then pressed something into his palm. “Come to our place whenever you want. Where you’re concerned, everything on the menu remains on the house.”

Mickey glanced at the business card advertising an organic foods restaurant owned by
Your hosts, Andy and Elena
and suppressed a groan. These people were probably vegetarians at best and vegans at worst. He liked big, juicy cheeseburgers heaped with crisp bacon, or a Texas-sized steak piled high with fried onions and mushrooms. To maintain his muscle mass after daily workouts at the gym, he needed large quantities of protein.

He smiled at the woman. “Thanks.”

They parted, and Mickey glanced at the time on his dashboard as he slid behind the wheel of his car. “Shit.” He’d missed his after-work drinks date with Madelaine. Again
.

He checked his cell. No messages. His spoiled, over-sexed girlfriend had warned if he was late
one more time
, she’d be done with him. With her looks, men offered to crawl through glass to sleep with her. She’d made it clear Mickey could be easily replaced. One stiff cock was as good as another, as far as she was concerned. It would take her all of about five minutes to finish sulking and find a new guy. Maybe two, in ten.

He called her anyway, but Madelaine refused to answer. Mickey swore. He’d miss the luscious mouth that drank him in, slow and steady, like velvet whiskey. And her ass. He’d surely miss that.

His cell phone went dark.

Without a shadow of doubt, Mickey knew he’d just been dumped.

 

Mickey hadn’t intended to stop by Andy and Elena’s Organics Fantastic restaurant for dinner, but Elena had called the stationhouse three times since the incident on the roadside, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. When he assured her she owed him nothing, she replied, “My chef will make something extra special for you,” and hung up.

The eatery was located on the outskirts of Appleton, less than six miles from the fire station. He decided to take his bean sprouts on sandpaper bread, and drink his broccoli-and-beets soy shake like a man, and be finished with his obligation to this family.

Mickey expected to find minimal clientele seated at unvarnished bamboo tables and chairs inside a stark room bearing
grass floor mats when he stepped through the doors of Organics Fantastic. Instead, glowing candles warmed the rooms of a restored farmhouse, filled with well-dressed people seated in plush chairs at polished mahogany tables. Original artwork hung on freshly painted walls. Expensive wool carpeting cushioned his feet as he made his way to the pretty blonde hostess, who smiled in welcome.

The appreciative glint in her eyes made him grateful he’d worn business casual for dinner instead of his usual T-shirt and jeans. When he introduced himself, the hostess replied, “We’ve been expecting you, Mr. Kent. I’ll tell the owners you’re here.” She led him to a reserved table in a private corner of the main room.

Elena hurried to Mickey’s side moments later, hugged him and introduced her husband, Andy. The men shook hands and chatted like old friends before Andy disappeared into the bar. He returned with a set of glasses and a bottle of the finest scotch whiskey, poured Mickey a drink and left the bottle on the table.

Mickey took a grateful swallow and looked around the impressive room. A tall, handsome waitress brought him a menu. When he opened the cover, he couldn’t have been more surprised by its contents. Grass-fed beef. Free-range chicken. Coldwater shrimp and lobster. There wasn’t a glass of soy milk or a bean sprout to be found.

He salivated and licked his lips before taking another mouthful of scotch. At the smooth, heavenly taste, he closed his eyes and sighed.

“Glad to see you’re enjoying our little part of the world,” said a soothing feminine voice, adding a layer of comfort to his reverie.

Mickey nodded and opened his eyes. The poised young
woman standing before him lit his senses like a lightning strike.

She might have been twenty-two to his twenty-nine, but not much more. Everything about her looked glossy, supple and smooth. From the frank, dark eyes and shining black hair that touched her shoulders in waves, to the ample curves of her breasts and hips, this woman looked the epitome of health and vitality. He blinked, stunned by her heady effect on his system.

She smiled, and clean white teeth behind lush red lips rushed blood to his groin. Visions of her mouth on him, everywhere and all at once, filled his head. Her beauty warmed him from the inside out, like the spirits he’d consumed. The sight of her intoxicated him and almost made him drop the glass he held.

“I’m Amanda. I wanted to meet the man who saved Jack’s life before I cooked for you.”

Mickey reached for an empty glass and poured her a drink, steadying his hand over the lip. “Join me.” He set the tumbler on the table and pulled a chair closer to his. Then he stood and held the chair out for her while she took the seat beside him.

He wanted to press his thigh against hers through her gauzy red skirt, but resisted the primal urges she stirred in him. Good manners demanded restraint, though he wanted nothing more than to kiss her senseless, tear the clothes from her voluptuous figure and make love to her on the tabletop in full view of the others. The natural heat from her body wafted over his, merging the pheromones raging between them.

He stared into her eyes and saw she felt it too. Instant chemistry. Connection. An attraction so rare it turned kinetic on contact.

Some called it love at first sight.

Amanda.
Even her name sounded beautiful.

“I never met a hero before. That’s what you are, you know.”
Her dark lashes lowered and lifted, and she smiled at him with admiration.

Mickey shook his head. “I hate to disappoint you, but I only did what I’m trained to do.”

She made sounds of disagreement. “Elena told me at least a hundred and fifty cars passed her on the highway and ignored her pleas for help. Of all those people, don’t you think
one
might have been medically trained? Or at least cared enough to respond to her cries? No. You stopped. Only you.” Amanda touched her glass of scotch to his in a silent toast.

Mickey took her hand in his and she let him hold it. He wanted to learn everything he could about Amanda and this place. Organics Fantastic, indeed. “Nothing here is what I expected.” He squeezed her fingers before letting go.

She smiled and threw her head back with a knowing laugh, understanding his inference. “
Organic
means untouched by artificiality. Consumed in its natural state. We eat only healthy foods unspoiled by chemicals, preservatives, hormones, steroids and genetically modified seeds or cells. Pure.”

Pure
. Mickey gazed at the stunning woman by his side and knew that was true for her too. The satin white skin of her face and arms looked smooth as cream. Her skin looked supple and welcoming to the touch. He longed to run his hands along her generous thighs, imagining sleek roads leading to heaven between her legs.

His cock hardened beneath the table so quickly and completely it took his breath. This woman had turned him wild. Blood rushed to his face and phallus in equal measure. He poured another drink as a distraction, before he lost control and embarrassed them both.

Why had he ever thought women like Madelaine, vain and weightless, with aesthetically enhanced breasts and protruding
collarbones, looked sexy? Why had he accepted her endless diets and liquid fasts as a normal way to live? Was it because his generous muscle mass seemed larger and stronger compared to her leanness? Or had he been brainwashed to believe gaunt women were more desirable?

His rounded muscles and tight angles blended with the curves and planes of Amanda’s lush body like yin and yang. He met her eyes again and read passion and longing in their depths. This was a woman of consequence. Of substance.

He sensed she wouldn’t refuse him if he gave himself to her honestly and completely. A woman like Amanda would nurture and heal. She could chase away his demons with a kiss.

With that final thought, he leaned into her and took her mouth with his. The kiss became his first impulsive act since turning away from his partner in Iraq, distracted by the fall of Saddam’s statue, seconds before a bomb exploded. That was the unretractable moment that changed his life, all those years ago.

Amanda tasted like fine whiskey and raspberry lip-gloss, freedom and forgiveness. When her tongue touched his and her hand caressed his cheek to bring him closer, he melted into her.

Mickey had kissed many women in his life, but none had radiated the warmth and promise of this woman. Rather than take from him, she gave. Despite his advances, she offered. The generosity of her response to his demand touched his soul.

He knew in that moment he’d do anything to win her.

When they broke the kiss, Amanda’s expression looked as amazed as Mickey felt. Yet a smile touched her mouth, and a sigh like contentment escaped her lips as she sat back in her chair.

Mickey said nothing but watched her recompose. Amanda smoothed the fabric of her skirt and ran a hand over the bodice
of her blouse. After a moment, she glanced at him from the corners of her eyes. “I want to cook for you now.”

Mickey reached out to touch her forearm. “Should I be sorry I did that?”

She lifted her gaze to his and shook her head. “If you were sorry, it would mean the kiss meant nothing.”

His hand closed on her arm. “You feel it too?”

Amanda lowered her lids and nodded. She laid a hand over his. “I’m not sure what to do with this chemistry between us. I thought instant attraction only happened in stories. I need to sort things out while I make the best meal you’ve ever tasted.”