Page 3 of Road Trip
Chapter Two
Abra
“No! Oh, shit.” The cop had passed out. Damn, when was the friggin’ CHP going to get here? And the paramedics? The assholes could come back, he might have more damage done I didn’t see…and I still had to pee!
I looked around, realizing just how vulnerable we were, and scrambled over to grab the flashlight he’d dropped. How the hell was I going to protect us if these guys came back? I could swing the fuck out of this flashlight, but I weighed a buck-thirty soaking wet. I had a bat in the trunk from softball, but I didn’t want to leave his side.
I checked his pulse and it was still strong. I breathed a sigh of relief and took a good look at his face. Damn. How could anyone have found it in them to damage this perfect face? He looked like a goddamned model. Close-cut hair, strong bones in his face with ridiculously full lips, and huge shoulders. This guy was built like he took a lot of pride in his body. Hell, he looked like a damn Boy Scout. Clean-cut to the max. Someone I’d never talk to unless I was trying to avoid a ticket.
His skin felt cold, so I went around to my trunk and grabbed my bat, just in case, and my emergency blanket to cover him up. He moaned softly and turned his head so I could see the cut. Perfect. I grabbed my first aid kit and came back to at least disinfect it. It didn’t look too bad. It probably wouldn’t need stitches. I uncovered his leg and tried to clean the cut through the hole in his pants. Concerning myself with his wounds kept my mind focused so I wouldn’t freak the fuck out. I was still checking him over when I finally heard sirens and saw lights approaching.
A CHP officer pulled up and got out of his car with a flashlight in one hand and his other hand on his weapon. “Are you Abra Mora?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered him and stepped back from the car with my hands out. “He’s in here. He passed out.”
The CHP officer approached us carefully, keeping an eye on me and on his surroundings. His body language read he feared an ambush. As he got closer to the car, he said, “Ma’am, I need you to step back.”
I did as he told me and then he saw the bat on the ground.
“I had it in my trunk. I didn’t know if those guys would come back.”
He looked me over and then looked at the cop in my car and frowned. He spoke into the radio on his shoulder, and I couldn’t make out the muffled reply.
“Ma’am, I’m going to need to—”
“Fine, whatever, just help him.” He motioned for me to walk and he escorted me over to his cruiser.
“If you would please,” he said, opening the back door.
I rolled my eyes.Great. Just what I get for being a Good fuckin’ Samaritan!
“Sorry. He has cuts on his head, his right thigh, and I think he may have one on his backside. He was walking okay after he got up, just really woozy.”
I smiled at him. I remembered something as he shut the door. I tapped on the glass, and he came back and opened the door.
“Officer? I know this isn’t high on your priorities list right now, but I pulled off here because I was having a urinary emergency. As soon as someone else gets here, can I pretty please go take care of business? I’d hate to make a puddle in your car. I swear I’m harmless.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Just stay put and I’ll come and get you.” The CHP officer nodded and shut the door.
I watched him look around the area. Whoever had done this hadn’t left much behind. They even took the gas can. I saw him find my cop’s vest, sniff it, and cringe back. He spoke into his radio and approached the cruiser. He opened my door again.
“Ma’am? Did you see any of what happened?”
“Yes, sir. I pulled in and saw two guys beating on him and then one of them poured a can of gasoline on him.”
The CHP dude muttered, “Motherfucker.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. If it makes any difference, the officer said he had just gotten off work, but he didn’t say where from, and then he passed out.”
The CHP officer nodded, then did that thing where he cocked his head to the side to listen to his radio. He was a tall, thin, white guy, probably in his forties, with what looked like buzzed hair under his hat. Thankfully he was completely professional and I appreciated the good care he was taking of my cop. My cop? He closed my door again and walked back over to my car.
It felt like forever, but it was probably only another ten minutes before an ambulance pulled in. I had been switching positions to try to relieve the pressure on my bladder. I had even broken out into a sweat. The only thing keeping me from just letting it all flow was the mortification I would have in telling this CHP officer that I’d soiled his seats.
True to his word, as soon as the paramedics got to work on my cop and another CHP cruiser pulled in, the first guy came back and opened the door.
“We’re just going to check the area and then let’s get you to the bathroom,” he said. He closed the door and took another year it seemed to confer with his compadre and then get to checking. When two additional squad cars, these with regular police logos, arrived, he came back to retrieve me.
