Stronger With Us (The Strength Series Book 3) (12 page)

21

The past two weeks have been filled with a lot of windshield time. I had no idea this job would keep me so busy. I’m not complaining, but it is surprising. Belator has more clients than I could imagine.

One of the coolest assignments I had was to take a famous pop singer from the airport to the stadium for the concert. There were three of us working that detail and we had to switch drive a limo, but it was awesome. I even got an autograph for Becca since she really likes that kind of music.

Today has been back and forth to the courthouse a couple times. I’m on my last run now. The shitbag in the back was arrested over the weekend and has been held in the county jail. Most of his teeth are broken off and black, there are scars and open wounds on his face that I’m sure he spends hours picking at, and his eyes dart back and forth like he’s watching a ping pong match on the back of the seat. He’s obviously a pillar of the community, staying in custody due to “trumped up drug charges,” according to him. The fact that he had an active meth lab in the bed of his truck while he was doing over 100 mph running from the police has nothing to do with it. He hasn’t stopped talking since he got in the car, and I’m ready to be done with him.

“Man, this is bullshit. I’m innocent. Stop treating me like I’m Jeffrey Dahmer.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I respond, looking at him in the rearview mirror.

“I gotta pee.”

“I don’t care. You make a mess in my car, you’ll be cleaning it up. Now shut your mouth, we’re almost there.”

We pull up to the courthouse, and there are people everywhere. It looks like the protest a couple weeks ago, but there are a whole lot more people this time. The sally port is backed up with cars so I have no choice but to park on the street. At least this guy isn’t a federal prisoner or anything. It’s not the best situation, but he’s scheduled to be in court in five minutes, so I really don’t have a choice.

Once the car is in park I look around at the protestors. There are handmade signs that say things like “Justice Now” and “Fuck the Police.” Great. The courthouse closes in an hour. Maybe they’ll be gone before we come back out.

I walk around to the passenger side and open the back door. Dipshit doesn’t move to get out, and that really pisses me off.

“Dude, you’re about three seconds from being pulled out of there like a dog. Is that what you want?”

“I’m innocent. Just let me go,” he cries. No, really, he’s bawling like a baby.

“Then let’s go tell the judge that and get you out of here. I can’t do anything for you until the judge talks to you.” That seems to get his attention.

“You’ll let me go?”

“After we talk to the judge, and she tells me what she wants to do. But we’re not going to know what that is if you stay in the car. Now get the fuck out of there. If you’re late, you for sure won’t be going home.” Thankfully, that’s all it takes for him to get moving. He finally slides out of the car and I help him stand, holding on to the belly band, and leading him into the courthouse. People are behind barricades yelling shit about the system being unfair and police brutality. I obviously need to pay more attention to the news because I have no idea what they’re talking about.

We make it inside the building without too much trouble. Once we get on the elevator I start to relax just a little. The courtroom is on the third floor, right across from the elevators. The doors open and the hallway is empty. We walk straight into the courtroom as the judge is finishing the case before us.

“Ten thousand dollar fine and thirty days in jail,” she says before banging the gavel, indicating that she’s finished. A woman in the front row starts to cry as she reaches out for the man who was just sentenced. His security detail pulls him away and out the side door. His lawyer tries to comfort the woman, escorting her out of the room. I pull my suspect down the aisle and sit him down at the defendant’s table. A pimply-faced kid who doesn’t look old enough to be out of high school sits down and introduces himself as a public defender. It takes everything in me not to laugh out loud. This guy is totally screwed now.

The initial hearing lasts less than five minutes. Mister innocent was remanded without bail, so I have to take him back to County. He’s yelling and screaming as I drag him from the courtroom. I tell him several times to calm down, but he doesn’t listen. We make it down the elevator and into the lobby before he stops yelling. I breathe a sigh of relief as I walk him out of the building and toward the car. We get to the top of the steps, and he stops walking. I push on his back to get him moving, but it doesn’t work. He looks across the street at the protestors and then back at me.

“DO YOU SEE WHAT HE’S DOING? POLICE BRUTALITY!” he screams just before he stumbles down a few steps. My grip on his shackles slips, and I fall into him trying to maintain control. I hear the crowd get louder and then a noise comes from the left side that I hear in my nightmares. There’s no doubt in mind that was a Browning 30-06 rifle.

I turn my head to try and find the shooter, but my suspect’s head explodes before I can focus. Skull fragments and brain matter fly everywhere, and the body falls out of my hold. I feel a pinch in my side, but play it off as I try to get down on the ground. More shots ring out, and I use the suspect’s body as a shield. The crowd is screaming now and people are running everywhere. I look around trying to find an escape route. My side is killing me so I reach down to rub the cramp out. I touch something wet and when I pull my hand back it’s covered in blood. Is that my blood?

“Sir, are you okay?” I hear from behind me. I turn my head as far as it will go and see a uniformed officer.

“I think so. My suspect didn’t make it, though. Where’s the shooter?”

“Took off. We’re looking for him. An ambulance is on the way. You’re bleeding, sir.”

“No, that’s not my blood, I'm fine.”

“Actually, it is. Looks like you took one in the abdomen.” He kneels down and presses something to my side.

“Well, fuck,” I say as I realize that this situation has just become so much more serious. I’ve been shot before, but it usually hurts. I don’t feel anything right now, and that is freaking me out.

“Sir, you need to stay there. Please don’t move too much, there’s a lot of blood. Wait for the paramedics to get here and assess you.”

I start to argue, but my vision blurs, and the next thing I know everything is black.

22

One concussion, two black eyes, a broken leg and creepy Mr. Lindy later, and it’s only four o’clock. The ER is finally empty and the charting is done. I stare at the clock and try to mentally make it move faster. I have four hours left before I can go home and snuggle with my pillow.

“Hey, you okay?” Jonathan comes up behind me breaking my concentration. Damn clock isn’t responding anyway.

“Yeah, I just want to go home and sleep. Did you get rid of that creep?”

“Yeah, he’s gone. So what was his name?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“You know as well as I do that you hooked up last night. You’re always in a mood after, so spill.”

I look at my friend like he’s sprouted an extra head. How the fuck does he do that?

“I don’t remember his name, and he wasn’t worth my time. It just pisses me off.”

“Well, all I know is that you were in a fantastic mood about two weeks ago, and since then it’s all but disappeared. Perhaps you need to do whatever, or whoever, you did then and get back to the CJ we all love,” he says with a wink.

I roll my eyes in return. Getting back with Jude would be much more dangerous to everyone’s safety. I can’t stop thinking about him, but I know he’d ruin me.

I’m about to tell Jonathan to let it go when the radio comes to life. We all jump up and huddle around the speaker.

“Damn it, when will this madness stop?” Geneva asks out loud. We all shake our heads not knowing the answer. “All right, people, we’ve got two GSWs on the way in; both law enforcement. Let’s get security down here to keep the lobby in check. I’m sure the local police department will be here in force. CJ, prep trauma rooms 3 and 4, Bill call the OR and let them know what we’ve got coming in. Jonathan, call the pharmacy and get some plasma up here. I’ll page Dr. Stine.”

Three minutes later the first ambulance pulls up. I meet Keith at the back of his rig.

“Hey, CJ. This is the first of three. One will be DOA.”

“Okay. Whatcha got here then?”

“GSW to the left quadrant. No exit wound. He lost consciousness before we arrived, and he’s been out since.”

“He wasn’t wearing a vest?”

“Actually, he was. The bullet hit him right underneath it. Million dollar shot, actually,” he says as he pulls the gurney from the ambulance, his partner helping from inside the vehicle.

“Vitals?” I ask as I turn and walk in front of them, prioritizing the plan of care as we make our way into the ER.

“BP is low, 95/60; Oxygen is 95, pulse 100. He’s hanging in there, but he’s going to need surgery,” Keith’s partner says as they push the gurney to the exam room. The team is there waiting, and we move the patient to the bed.

“Good luck, CJ. The next one isn’t as critical,” Keith says as he walks out.

“Thanks,” I call after him, pulling out my scissors to start cutting the uniform pants from his legs. I haven’t gotten a name or even looked at his face. When a member of law enforcement is in the ER, I make sure to focus on their injuries and getting the doctors what they need. I see Jonathan remove the belt holding his sidearm, handcuffs, and badge as I work on the other pant leg. I really hate when people take their anger out on the men and women who are paid to protect them.

“Do we have an ID?” Geneva asks. Jonathan finds a wallet and opens it.

“Jude Schaefer,” he says, and I freeze. There’s no way. It can’t be him. He does transports, not police work. I look up quickly see his gorgeous face, his build, and the tattoos on his right arm.
How did I miss those details?

“CJ, what’s wrong with you?” I hear Jonathan ask, but I can’t seem to make my mouth work to answer him.
What the fuck happened during a transport that got him shot?

“Get her out of here,” Geneva barks to an orderly. I feel hands on my shoulders, and I’m pushed out of the room. The door closes behind me, sealing out the voices and I come back to the present. I shake my head and push my feelings down. I need to remain professional here. Nobody knows about my fling with Jude, and now is not the time to act like a lovesick girl. I straighten my spine and march back into the exam room.

“Sorry about that, I’m here,” I say to the room. Geneva nods but keeps her eyes on the patient. Dr. Stine bursts into the room, pulling on gloves as she walks to the bed.

“Damn, we need to get him to the OR stat.” She palpates Jude’s belly and more blood oozes out. “Let’s move,” she says as she lifts the side rail on the bed. Jonathan does the other side, I unlock the wheels, and we’re heading toward the elevators as fast as possible. I see the other ambulance pull up, but there’s no way I’m leaving Jude. Geneva seems to sense this and tells Jonathan to take the new patient. Once the elevator doors close she gives me a look that tells me we’re going to have a discussion about this later.

It’s a short ride to the third floor, and Jude is wheeled into the operating room within ten minutes of arriving at the hospital. I don’t want to leave him, but I know there is nothing I can do and there are patients who need care downstairs.

As we turn to go back to the ER, my supervisor asks, “Who is he to you?” I take a deep breath before answering.

“His brother just married my best friend,” I answer quietly. I’m going to have to call Colin and tell him what has happened.

“No, that’s not the whole story. You’ve never frozen up in a crisis. So, tell me the truth about your relationship with him.”

Geneva is not one to mince words or beat around the bush. She always just goes for blunt and honest, and she can sense bullshit miles away. The elevator doors close, sealing us in. I take a deep breath before answering her.

“He’s become more important to me than I ever expected. I haven’t seen him since I left Las Vegas, but he’s not far from my mind. I don’t know what to do with that,” I admit to her and myself.

“I know you’re a woman who avoids relationships. I also know that you don’t like to talk about it. However, if this man makes you lose focus on the job, then I would advise you to explore it more. He’s obviously different than everyone else.”

“He is,” I reply. What else can I say? Jude is different in all the ways that scare the shit out of me. It’s why I’ve been trying so hard to not think about him or run back to him. He has the power to make my life better than ever or completely destroy it. There doesn’t seem to be any middle ground.

“I’ll try and get you off duty as soon as I can. Can you get your head back in the game?” I look up and see nothing but concern from her. I straighten my spine and nod, maintaining eye contact.

“Yes, I can handle it. It was a temporary shock, but I’m ready to do what needs to be done,” I say with all the conviction I can muster. I’ll ask Bill to call Colin and inform him about Jude so I can concentrate on my patients. I shove all thoughts of Jude into the back of my mind as the elevator doors open and I’m greeted with complete chaos in the emergency room.

It takes the rest of my shift to deal with the aftermath of the latest police shooting in our area. Someone decided they weren’t happy that their girlfriend had been arrested for having drugs in her car and took their frustration out on the steps of the courthouse. Jude and Officer Morrison were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The man who was killed was a suspected drug dealer.

I’m signing off the computer when someone walks up to the desk. I take a deep breath before looking up because I really can’t deal with anymore bullshit today.

“Christin, are you okay?” I hear the voice of my best friend, and my eyes fill with tears.

I look up at Becca whose face is red and swollen from crying, but she’s trying to smile at me. I nod slightly and walk around to hug her.

“It was a complete shock. How is he?” I ask.

“He’s going to be fine. The surgeon said there wasn’t much internal damage, but he’ll be off work for a while. They just took him to his room from recovery.”

“Is Colin okay?” I can only imagine what he’s going through.

“Not really, but he’s being a typical man. He’s standing there staring at a wall not speaking to anyone. I’m sure he’ll break down when we get home.”

“Let me clock out, and I’ll come up with you.” She nods and walks with me to the employee lounge. Once I get my things we head to the elevator to take us up to the fourth floor where the surgical recovery rooms are.

“I know now probably isn’t the best time to ask, but what’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you since we were in Las Vegas. Stephanie mentioned that something happened between you and Jude.”

I close my eyes and lean against the wall. How do I explain this in a way that doesn’t make me look like a complete whore?

“It’s complicated,” I say knowing that’s a cop-out.

“I see. Well, when you’re ready to actually talk about it you know I’ll listen and not judge. I only want you to be happy.” I look up and see a sympathetic look aimed my way.

“I know and I’ll tell you, but not now. Today has been shit, and my head’s a mess. But soon, I promise.”

The elevator doors open and we walk in silence to Jude’s room. There is a big scary man standing in front of the door. His uniform is the same as Jude’s was so I assume they must work together.

“Mrs. Schaefer,” he nods at Becca. “I need to see your identification, please,” he says to me, still not moving from his post. I show my hospital badge, which he takes from me and inspects closely.

“Dillon, this is my best friend. She’s a nurse here, and she treated Jude when he was brought in. I promise that she is who she says she is.”

Scary man, Dillon, looks at me and then Becca before nodding, returning my badge, and opening the door. Colin is sitting in a chair by the bed, his head in his hands. There is a heart monitor, a ventilator, two IV poles with multiple bags on them surrounding the bed, and a crash cart in the corner.

Becca goes to stand next to her husband and puts a hand on his shoulder. He finally looks up at her and gives a small smile. I don’t know what to say, so I just stand near the door and look Jude over. Of course I can’t see much because he’s covered with a blanket. According to the beeping sound his heart rate is steady, but the ventilator is breathing for him. That’s not the best sign. His face is pale, which is probably a result of blood loss. The more I study him, the weaker my knees get. I’ve just let this man into my life, and I can’t imagine losing him now. How crazy is that? I have never once in my life wanted a man to stick around, and right now I’m about to lose my shit if he doesn’t wake up and say something cocky and offensive.

The direction of my thoughts causes my cheeks to heat and my eyes to fill up with tears again. I’ve got to get out of this room before I completely break down. I mumble something about being tired and make my way to the hall as fast as I can. I don’t stop walking until I reach the service elevator, knowing that my friend won’t know to follow me this way. Once I’m enclosed in the box, I allow myself to feel the emotions and the tears to fall.