Excerpt from: The Doctor and the Bad Boy

Mitchell Askett knocked firmly on the door then stepped back. After glancing down at the piece of paper with his hastily scribbled instructions, he again checked the cabin. There was no number on it or sign to indicate this was where Brenda Skylar lived, but the directions had led him this far.

“Uncle Mitch,” Bobbie called from the car. “It hurts. I feel sicker than before.”

“I’ll be with you in a minute, sweetheart.” Mitchell knocked on the door again. If there was no answer, at that point he would skip finding where he was supposed to be staying and meeting the other owners. He’d find the nearest hotel room and get his niece tucked up into bed. Maybe if he was really clever he could locate a shop in Ellery that sold dry crackers, or eggs. He always liked eggs when he had a hangover. Not that twelve- year-old Roberta was facing the awful post-alcoholic binge effects like he did. No, she just seemed to be suffering from car sickness. Or she had a bug. Or something.

“I’m gonna be sick,” she whined. Mitchell was torn. No one was answering. He should just go and find the hotel, or hell, maybe even a doctor, just to get her checked out.

“I’ll be right with you,” he called.

To be fair, they’d been driving on and off for quite a few hours and their diet had consisted of whatever they could get from gas stations en route. At twelve, he would have jumped at the chance of a road trip fuelled entirely on chocolate and Doritos, but the normally buoyant Bobbie had refused everything he’d offered.

The front door finally began to open.

“Unca Mi—” he heard, then the sound of a car door opening and retching.

Suddenly torn between what he had come here to do and what he needed to do, he threw a hurried “Sorry” to whoever had just answered the door then jumped the steps back down to the car. Sliding to a halt around the passenger side, which faced away from the cabin, he stared in horror for a second. Not only had Bobbie been violently sick, but she was curled in a ball and sobbing.

Without further hesitation, Mitchell crouched down next to her and in a smooth move had her up in his arms.

“Baby? Are you okay?” Stupid question, but all he wanted was for her to open her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” a voice broke through his concern. Holding Bobbie protectively close to him, he swivelled to face the owner of the soft words. A short woman with grey hair and a concerned look on her face stood with her arms outstretched like she wanted to take Bobbie from him. He tightened his grip, only for Bobbie to whimper at the hold.

“Does she need a doctor?” the woman asked in a rush.

“I don’t know,” he said. God, he felt worse than useless. What would Annabelle do? Not that he could remember his sister having to deal with a sick Bobbie, as Bobbie was usually one healthy child.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” She touched Bobbie’s head. “She’s very hot.”

“She complained of stomach ache, but it’s been getting worse.”

“Let’s get her to the hospital.”

Mitchell felt suddenly as sick as his niece. Hospital? That sounded like this was serious. He’d only been responsible for her for two days and he’d already fucked up.

“Hospital?” he said.

“Our doctors are there—we just need to get her looked at. Wait...” The woman ran up the steps then came back out almost instantly. In her hand she had wipes and some keys. She locked the door behind her then came and climbed into the back seat.

“Give her to me," she ordered firmly. “You drive."

“I’m not— I don’t...” he stammered. Bobbie was curled up in his arms, then her head lolled back and suddenly Mitchell’s instinct to get things done kicked in. In seconds, he had her laid with her head in the woman’s lap, and he pulled a blanket from behind the seat up and over her.

“Where?” he asked quickly. Bobbie was crying quietly and the woman shushed her gently with soft words.

“Left out of here and down into Ellery,” she said.

Forcing the car into gear, Mitchell wheel-spun on the loose gravel and the car lurched as it gripped and surged forward. In a few minutes, he was back at the road. Only when they were on the main route to town did he speak again.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s very hot, and listless,” the woman said.

Mitchell realised he couldn’t keep thinking of her as ‘the woman’.

“I’m Mitchell Askett. Mitch.”

“I know who you are, Mr Askett. Brenda Skylar.”

“The little girl...my niece, Roberta—we call her Bobbie.” Or Bobs when she was cute, or Roberta Jane when she caused mischief.

Brenda had a cellphone in her hand, talking to someone, possibly the hospital, but Mitch had to watch the road. He came to a three- way stop and for a moment was confused, then realised which way he needed to go. Down. Into town. Where was the hospital? The last time he’d been in Ellery, he was only twelve or so, the same age as Bobbie. All he remembered was that the limousine he had been riding in had a mini bar and that he’d had his first taste of brandy. It hadn’t made him sick but it had taken the edges off the anxiety inside him.

They hit town and he spotted the sign for hospital and in no time at all he was pulling up at the Emergency Room door. Maybe the doctor would be elsewhere, but Bobbie was shaking and crying and in pain. The ER was certainly the place to take her. He threw the car into park, jumped out and pulled Bobbie into his arms. She reached a hand up around his neck and gripped hard to his long hair. Just like she used to when she was a baby. Compassion, love and fear warred for dominance. A small group of people waited at the entrance, but Mitch saw none of it. Someone took Bobbie from him and in the next instant she was on a gurney and all Mitch could hear was shouted words like ‘ultrasound’ and ‘emergency’. He ran in after them, then stopped at the glass internal doors beyond which he could see two women and a man checking Bobbie out.

“What is it?” he asked. He was so scared he could feel the acid of it eating away at him. He’d made Annabelle let him have her. He’d forced his sister to think Bobbie would be best off with him in Ellery while she was at her lowest point. And now Bobbie was in there, unconscious. Was she dying? What had he done?

“Come and sit down,” Brenda said gently. She had her hand on his arm and pulled him away, but he shook it off and refused to move. “I think it may be appendicitis,” she said.

Horror gripped Mitch. He’d read about that, seen it on TV shows, where being sick all of a sudden turned into a fight for life and poisoning in the body.

“Fuck,” he cursed. “No.”

“She’s in good hands,” Brenda said firmly. “Doctor Wolfe and Jamie have it under control.”

The names were a blur—all he could see was his flesh and blood lying so still beyond the glass door.

“Sir? Did you understand me? Can you sign consent?” someone asked. “Are you her father? Hello? Sir?”

Mitch met green eyes that held so much compassion that it made his heart ache.

“Uncle,” he managed.

“Can you sign for us to operate?” The green-eyed guy looked determined. What was he asking? What was Mitchell going to be signing?

“Operate?”

“Your niece has appendicitis, she’ll need to have it removed,” Green-Eyes said patiently. He didn’t seem at all pissed off that Mitch had clearly not heard a word of what he guessed had been a lengthy explanation. Mitch glanced down at the guy’s badge. Paramedic. Jamie Llewellyn. Paramedics knew what they were doing. He should trust this Jamie.

He signed consent where he was told and without another word Jamie moved back into the room where Bobbie lay. The other man in there looked up and over at Mitch and nodded. Then in a flurry of movement the two men disappeared out of another door with two nurses trailing them until all that Mitch was looking at was an empty room. Left suddenly bereft, he slumped and rested his head on the glass. What the holy hell had just happened?

“She didn’t want her Doritos,” he murmured. “I should have known. She never turns them down.”

Brenda pulled him gently and this time he allowed himself to be led until he could feel a chair at the backs of his knees and in one loud exhalation of breath he fell into the chair. He winced as the set of three joined plastic torture devices shifted under his sudden fall.

Brenda sat next to him. “Do you want to call someone? The girl’s mother...your sister or sister-in- law?”

Mitchell shook his head. They’d get a call in to his sister if it was an emergency, and God, this probably qualified on all levels. But putting a call in to the rehab switchboard didn’t mean she would take it, or if she would actually care at this moment in time. Depended on where in her cycle of depression she was—and two days ago she hadn’t looked good at all.

“I’m Roberta’s guardian,” Mitchell lied. He wasn’t officially a guardian in the eyes of the law. He was, however, Bobbie’s uncle—that had to count for something. He’d deal with the fallout later, but right now the last thing he needed was any kind of legal problems... Or, worse, for his parents to find out what he had done. They didn’t even know Annabelle was sick again, let alone that he had taken it upon himself to remove Bobbie from all the crap she was in the middle of.

“Can I get you anything?”

Excerpt from: The Paramedic and the Writer

Jamie Llewellyn didn’t do early mornings. He had never quite got used to waking up at the ass-crack of dawn for any reason, not even emergencies or early shifts.

Unlike Daniel and Max, who thrived on the early mornings and were chatting about a TV room and exchanging sarcastic remarks while stretching, ready to go for a run.

“I hate early mornings,” Jamie muttered. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously when he caught Max grinning and Daniel reaching into his shorts pocket and handing over a five-dollar bill.

“You should have known it was the first thing he’d say,” Max said. He placed the note in his pocket and zipped it. “You’ll never win.”

“I thought he would at least say good morning,” Daniel groused.

“When has he ever done that?” Max crowed.

“Guys. I’m right here,” Jamie reminded them. “And given both of you fell asleep in your drinks last night at the planning meeting in The Alibi, then you can’t talk. Some of us work well in the morning, some of us normal people at night.”

Daniel glanced at Max and the two of them began laughing in earnest. Jamie turned his back on them so they didn’t see him smiling along with them. Instead he used the advantage to begin the run and get ahead. Max and Daniel were both really competitive—it didn’t take them long to realise he’d gone and within a minute they had caught up. The three men fell into a companionable rhythm. The direction took them out of the cabins where they had met and into the forest behind. Jamie didn’t need to think about the direction—it was so familiar to him now. Through to the road, over the road, across the bridge, down into Ellery, then back to the cabins with a punishing uphill finish.

The time in the forest was more steeplechase than run—jumping fallen trees and small stream beds—and by the time the road was in sight, Jamie was feeling the warmth in his muscles. They crossed the road and made their way to the narrow bridge over the canyon between the two levels of Mercury Peak. Jostling for position, Jamie decided he’d let the other two go first and it was lucky he did. In holding back for those few seconds he glanced over the side of the bridge and saw the car.

“Max! Daniel!” He slid to a stop as he shouted. Peering over the edge, he tried to make out what the hell had happened. But it was Max with the experience and Max who suddenly was on point with this.

“Hell,” he said with an added curse. “Car, off the road.” He indicated back to the barrier on the corner. They hadn’t even seen the bent and buckled metal. Max leaned over the bridge and Daniel passed him his cell phone.

“Car off the road under the bridge at Mercury Peak,” he relayed to emergency services. “Through the barrier. We’ll need shoring... It’s right on the edge. No sign of passengers—”

“Wait,” Jamie said. He concentrated on the driver side where he thought he’d just seen movement. Then he saw it again. A hand gripping the open window covered in the scarlet of way too much blood. “There’s someone in there.” Without conscious thought he was up and over the rail and scrambling down as far as he could get. He was about six feet away when the car slid from him. Only a few inches but it was enough to have him stop absolutely still.

“Max, the car’s sliding!” he yelled up.

“Stay where you are!” Max shouted. “I’m coming down.”

Jamie opened his mouth to protest. If the car had moved because of him, then adding Max to the equation was going to have the car falling over the edge. But Max knew what he was doing. Not everyone was like his ex-boyfriend, Zach.

Not everyone wanted to put their life at risk, whatever the cost.

He watched as Max carefully made his way towards the car. Instead of taking the direct route, as Jamie had, he moved slowly and tested the ground before each inch.

“Help...” The word was faint but Jamie was attuned to small voices in difficult situations.

“We’re here,” he called to the driver. “Help is coming to you. Stay very still.”

There was no answer. He hoped to hell that meant the guy was still, and not unconscious. He concentrated on locating ingress. The driver’s door looked intact but the entire windshield was gone. Jamie’s inspection tracked the outside of the vehicle, a grey sedan, of which make Jamie couldn’t see. This close it was easy to see someone under the car. Little more than three or four feet away from where he was, Jamie found himself staring into sightless eyes and so much blood and damage that it was clear this guy was dead. His face was a mess, carved and bloody, and his neck looked broken from the unnatural angle of his head.

“Passenger through the windshield and wedged under the car,” he summarised for Max. The fireman wouldn’t be able to see the body from the side he was approaching the wreck. “He’s dead,” he added. Max nodded and carried on to the trunk of a tree that grew at a crazy angle from the side of the peak. It had probably been that which had saved the car from going the whole distance into the ravine itself down the sharp drop. Max finally disappeared from sight and Jamie imagined the large man checking to see how unstable the car was.

“Help...” The word was fainter.

God, Jamie wanted to move. Every fibre of him needed to check the driver out, but he couldn’t—years of training and he was still like a statue until he got the all-clear. Finally, Max crawled back up.

“We’re okay. It’s steady for now," he said, “but wait. I’m coming to you. I need to counter some of the weight.”

Max steadied himself by digging his feet into the mud and pushing back, then he gripped the underside of the car hard. He looked over at Jamie and nodded. They didn’t discuss what they were doing. Max was doing his thing, and Jamie hadn’t hesitated to climb down to help with injuries. It was what they did.

“Help’s coming,” Max said. In the distance Jamie could hear sirens. There would be lifting equipment, but who knew how hurt the guy in the car was? Time was a luxury they couldn’t afford. He slowly slid forward until finally he was right by the car. The driver’s door opened easily and Jamie got a clear look at the driver. One hell of a lot of blood, but he was still in his seatbelt.

“Can you tell me your name?” Jamie asked as a matter of habit. Asking a name gave a first responder a level to work with. Was the patient aware?

The man muttered something that sounded like ‘no’, but Jamie couldn’t make it out.

“Where does it hurt, sir?” he asked quickly. He needed to get a feel for whether the guy was able to talk coherently.

“O-o-over...” the man stuttered. “All...”

Jamie got himself a better foothold and leaned in to check his pulse. He couldn’t see the main wound that had caused all this blood and considered that maybe it was from the dead passenger. Then when the driver shifted it became obvious—a slice out of his thigh, and he was losing too much of the red stuff.

“He’s bleeding,” Jamie called urgently. As he said it, the car shifted another inch and the metal groaned.

Max cursed. “Pull him out.”

Jamie reached in and checked that there was nothing trapping the man’s legs. “What’s your name, sir? Can you hear me? We need to get you out of here.” Jamie could smell petrol and knew that they had to get away.

“Jus’...leg...” the victim said. He opened his eyes and stared right at Jamie with a gaze so deep blue it was near violet. Shakily, the injured man reached for the belt. “Help...” he said. His voice was raw. "Out.” His hand slipped and Jamie caught it and instead assisted him to release the belt. Under his own steam, the driver moved towards Jamie who cautiously helped him free. The car shifted a little and he could hear Max cursing up a storm. With a final tug the victim was clear and lying half on Jamie. Something hard was between them and when Jamie shifted a little he could see a gun gripped in the driver’s hand.

“Clear,” Jamie called. Max must have let go as a ton of Toyota teetered for a second then crashed in three loud bangs down to the river at the bottom of the two-hundred-foot ravine. Jamie pulled the gun out of a loose grip and tossed it to where Max was, then held his patient tight. He realised immediately that they were sliding as the car had torn away mud and grass. Max grabbed them both and dug into the mud to stop the slide. Jamie cast a grateful look his way then focused entirely on John Doe. He rolled him off as soon as it was safe and realised he had an unconscious survivor in his hands.

“He’s still bleeding,” Jamie summarised. He ripped off his running top and pressed it on the open wound.

“Take his weight, they’re sending down a gurney,” Max said quickly. Jamie nodded and did as he was instructed.

Max assisted the guys at the top with getting John Doe on the lifting apparatus and suddenly it was just Jamie and Max left alone.

Jamie knew the guy would be whisked away. St Martin’s Hospital in Ellery could probably handle it.

“Your turn,” Max instructed. Jamie blanched as he saw the rope and the harness. He hated the feeling of those things. Stoically he allowed Max to truss him up and winced as the harness dug into him. Then before he knew it he was dangling from the bridge with the ground out from under him. Don’t look down. He looked down. The base of the ravine seemed way further than two hundred feet and he could see the mangled heap of car—he couldn’t see the body of the dead man, though. Max and the rest of the crew would have to take the old road that wound its way to the base to retrieve both man and car.

Jamie gave a situation report as soon as he had his feet on the ground. They unbuckled him and he saw Finn and Daniel waiting to one side.

“He’s fine,” Jamie reported to Finn who immediately relaxed. It had to be hard having a boyfriend who was a first responder when you were one yourself and knew exactly what could happen. “He’s bringing up a gun that the driver was holding onto. Freaking Hercules held the car on the tree. Just to warn you, though, he’s cut his hands up.”

Finn frowned. Jamie could see the indecision in Finn’s face. As a lover he wanted to run over and see what injuries Max had. As a cop on scene, and with the chief also being here, he had to show restraint.

“Talk to me,” Chief Mayfield said to Jamie brusquely.