Page 24 of Vegas Baby

“Four frequent flyers in one shift. Is it a full moon or something?” Ty asks with a tired sigh.

I clap him on the shoulder as we head back through A&E toward the ambulance entrance.

“Just one of those days. Good thing that’s a wrap. Let’s get this baby off the road and cleaned up.” I look up as we approach our rig only to see another ambulance parked behind us and unloading.

I recognize the lead medic, Grant Tucker, who makes eye contact as his partner lowers the back end of the stretcher onto the ground. An obviously pregnant woman’s cries echo through the emergency entrance area.

“Matern-a-taxi. They’ve got it,” Ty murmurs, his eyes following them toward the hospital.

I turn to respond but get cut off by the woman’s cries escalating, followed by what must be a string of curse words. But they’re screamed in Russian. By what sounds like a voice I haven’t heard in months. It can’t be. Not just when I’d decided to move on. If it is, the universe sure has a sick sense of humor.

I turn back just in time to see them clear the doors, the dark-haired patient on the stretcher disappearing with it.

“Was that —” Ty starts.

“I don’t know,” I interrupt. I hover on the stretch of sidewalk between the sliding doors and the curb. It couldn’t be Kira … could it?

Ty steps up beside me and I can feel the concern radiating off him. “Let’s just go wrap up shift, okay? Then you can come back.”

I chew on my lip, the urge to go find out now if that patient was the woman who tore my heart out and stomped all over it warring with my determination to put it all behind me.

“Dude. You just got off probation for running in ahead of the cops to save the girl. Don’t do anything rash for another girl … or the same girl. Whatever. We’ll go back, do what we’re supposed to. If it’s her — well, she’s not going anywhere. Not for a while. Think, man.”

I take a deep breath. He’s right. And getting out of here will give me time to clear my head and decide if I even want to come back.

“You’re right. It’s probably not even really her. And even if it is I just …” I shake my head, not even sure what to say.

This time Ty claps me on the shoulder. “I get it. Let’s just do what we have to do. Then you can decide what you want to do.”

“Yeah. I guess that’s as good a plan as any.”

* * *

Normally I’m a pretty decisive guy. But when the woman you fell in love with disappears, leaving the key you gave her to your apartment, no note, and is untraceable after a series of terrifying events? It fucks you up a little. And in the end, my need for some sort of closure overrides my good sense.

Because Ty and I prep the rig for its next shift faster than I’ve ever done before and I’m back at the hospital, still in uniform, within the hour.

And I’m standing at the A&E desk getting ready to ambush a woman in labor just so I can move on with my life. Even knowing it’s a jerk move, I can’t stop myself. Marci, the evening intake coordinator, smiles up at me, seemingly oblivious to my inner debate, thankfully.

“Hey, Sebastian, thought you were done for the day?”

I tap the counter and smile nervously. “Yeah … I am. But when I was leaving earlier, Grant was bringing in a woman in labor …”

The surprise shows on Marci’s face. “Uh, yeah, he did. She wasn’t quite far enough along to deliver yet, so they went ahead and transferred her to the birthing center. Did you help bring her in?” She looks confused.

“No, I just thought it was someone I knew,” I admit. Knowing I can’t straight up ask for a patient’s name that wasn’t mine.

“Ah. Well, that’s in their hands now. You can go up and check with them,” Marci replies with an unconcerned shrug.

I take a deep breath and rap my knuckles on the counter. “I’ll do that. Thanks, Marce.”

“Sure thing,” she replies with a smile, turning back to her paperwork.

The ride up to the third floor is a special kind of torture. I’m sweating by the time I walk down the long hall to the birthing and maternity unit. Not having a need to come here often, I don’t know the nurse at the desk. She gives me a stern look as I approach.

“Hi, you had a patient transferred about an hour ago? A Russian woman?” I offer.

“Are you family?” she asks.

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