Chapter 6

Sir,sir,canyouhear me?” I call out to the man trapped inside the vehicle. The airbag had deployed. He’s restrained by his seatbelt and remains motionless covered in blood.

Wearing gloves, I reach in and feel for a pulse. It’s faint but steady. “Can you hear me? You’ve been in a car accident, sir. We’re going to get you out of here and take good care of you. Can you tell me your name?”

His lips quiver, but no sound emerges. Blood covers everything, so it’s difficult to determine the source of the bleeding. I push aside the deflated airbag to get a better look. That’s when I catch sight of a gun holstered at his side. I recoil at the sight of it, but then remember I’m here to perform my

From above, I hear rustling and see Nathan, the EMT assigned for tonight’s ride along, making his descent.

“What’ve we got here?” he asks, carrying a stretcher board and neck brace. “Are they alive?”

“Yes, I’ve got a steady pulse on a white male, adult, early thirties. I can’t determine the extent of his injuries until we can get him out of here.” I touch the man’s face gingerly, his eyes are mere slits. He blinks when I shine the little flashlight into them. “Pupils are equal and reactive.”

Nathan peers in at him and then examines the door. “Damn, looks like we’ll need the jaws on this one. Sweet ride though, hope to hell he had insurance.”

“We need to get him out of there, quick,” I say forcing him to focus. Jeez, men and their cars.

Nathan hurries off to retrieve the hydraulic scissors that will rip the door off like the lid off a tin can.

While I wait for Nathan, I reach over and grip the driver’s left hand. His eyes flicker open as if startled, and they fix upon me with great intensity before they slide shut. But not before I saw their fierce anger, followed by the subsequent relief that I wasn’t…who? Is the gun for protection?

“Sir, can you squeeze my hand?” I grow anxious at his lack of response, fearing he’s slipping into unconsciousness. But then I feel the slight pressure around my fingers. “All right, good job. Now can you tell me your name?”

His eyes open a fraction and his gaze slides over to me as his lips move. “Se…Nathan.”

“Nathan, very good,” I say as pleasantly as I can muster. “Nathan, can you tell me where it hurts? Any neck, hip, or back pain?”

He grimaces. “All…over.”

“Okay, we’re going to take good care of you,” I say, still gripping his hand. “But first we need to get you out of the car. Okay?”

Nathan manages to groan a response, but at least he’s still conscious. I glimpse Nathan making his way back over carrying the portable engine and the hydraulic scissors to cut through the crushed door. Thank God this EMS attendant is built like a linebacker.

I’ve got to prepare my patient for the noisy machine.

“Nathan, you’re going to hear a really loud noise, don’t be alarmed. It’s the engine that powers the hydraulic device to get you out safely. You ready?”

He groans in the affirmative, turning to me. His eyes are piercing blue sapphires when they connect with mine. I give him a small smile to reassure him.

I signal Nathan to let it rip. He fires up the portable engine and hauls over the heavy cutting tool. At about that time, the flashing blue and red lights of a patrol car come into view and we hear car doors slamming. A few seconds later, we see two officers with flashlights making their way down the embankment toward us. Brian makes steady progress in cutting through the door.

“Hi, Officer Reilly and Officer Mimi here,” says the older one in a brief introduction before he crouches down for a closer look at the wreckage. “What do we have here? Geez, almighty.” He turns to look at me. “Is he alive?”

“Yes, I think he’s going to make it,” I reply, willing Brian to hurry.

“You running the tags?” Reilly says to Mimi.

“Yeah, I got it,” he turns the tablet screen toward Mimi. “It’s him, or his car anyway.”

I turn to look at them. They know this guy?

“As soon as he’s talking.” O’Reilly says sternly, “We’ll want to have a word with him.”

Instinctively, I go on defense. The care of my patient is all that concerns me. “Look, the man’s been in a horrific accident, can you give him a minute?”

O’Reilly and Mimi exchange looks. “Do you have any idea who this is?”

“Yeah, he’s my patient,” I say, folding my arms across my chest.

O’Reilly snorts. “Sure, right up until you drop him off at the hospital, then the real doctors take over.”

I incline my head at them. “Officers, Iama doctor. I’m just doing rounds as part of my emergency medicine rotation,” I don’t bother explaining that I won’t technically be a doctor until I graduate medical school a few months from now. I’m too busy enjoying the flustered looks on their faces.

“Oh…well, still,” O’Reilly says, regaining his composure. “Your patient there is none other than Sebastian Petrosky, the crown prince of the Russian organized crime syndicate.” He points at the vehicle. “This was probably some skirmish they were having with the Italians.”

“Jeez,” I say as Nathan snaps off the door frame.

“Would you look at that ride,” the younger officer says in an awestruck tone. “That’s the Lamborghini Avanzado Spyder.” He shakes his head. “What a fucking shame.”

“Yeah, do a thorough search, I bet we’ll find all sorts of goodies in there,” Chleo says sardonically.

I think about the gun Nathan has holstered beneath his jacket. I wonder if I should say something. But if he’s carrying it legally, there’s no crime committed here. Plus, Nathan can barely keep his eyes open much less pose a serious threat to anyone. I’ll be sure it’s removed once we reach the hospital.

“Got it!” Nathan says triumphantly, wrenching the door away.

“Let me in there,” I say, brushing past the two officers. I lean in with the neck brace in hand. “Nathan, we’re going to move you now, but first I’m going to stabilize your neck with this brace. Okay?”

Another groan.

I gently ease the brace around his neck and fasten it in place. As I’m doing so, his eyes flick open, piercing me with his gaze. I’m momentarily transfixed by it before I withdraw from him. The rest of his face is a bruised and battered mess that’s beginning to swell. But the bone structure beneath suggests a handsome face.

We ease him out onto the stretcher and strap his head down to prevent any neck injury. The cops are quick to offer a hand to help haul Nathan up the embankment. Our patient seems slightly more alert now. I notice his eyes dart over to the cops. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that’s a smirk on that punching bag of a face.

“Hey, doc,” Chleo says to me as we reach the top. “What hospital are you taking him to?”

I shoot him a look, as we lift Nathan into the back of the ambulance. “Bellevue, but my patient won’t be in any shape to answer questions for quite some time.”

“Look, you do your job, and we’ll do ours.” He glares down at Nathan. “We’ll see you there, Petrosky.”

I hop into the back with Nathan as Ken shuts the doors behind us. Momentarily, I hear the engine roar to life and feel the ambulance lurch forward as we get back on the road on the way to the hospital.

I begin checking Nathan vital signs. As I examine his chest for broken ribs, my eyes come to rest upon the gun again. With everyone’s safety in mind, I carefully remove the gun from its holster and move it to a safe distance. When I turn back to Nathan, his eyes are open tracking my movements even as he lays immobile.

“All of your possessions will be returned to you,” I explain, holding his gaze.

He seems content with this, or he simply gives into exhaustion because his eyes slide shut.

I continue examining him, unbuttoning his shirt to get a better sense of the extent of his injuries. Despite the bruises and blood, a well-chiseled torso lies before me with abs most men would kill for.

Kill for.

I stare at him again, that battered face tells me nothing. Are the cops right? Is this the crown prince of the Russian mafia?

I start a drip of morphine to help ease his pain. Continuing my examination, I run my fingers down the length of his arm feeling for fractures and breaks. All I feel are hardened muscles rippling beneath his shirt.

My gloved hand slides down to his as I continue my assessment. When my fingers touch his palm, his hand gently encloses mine. Startled, I look at his face to find him staring back at me with those sapphire eyes.

“Please…hide it,” he says, it’s barely a whisper.

I frown at him. “What?”

“Can’t…find it,” he manages.

“Can’t find what?”

“Police…the gun.”

My stomach clenches. “You want me to hide the gun?”