Page 8 of Fly Back to Me
My thumb manages to dial the three necessary numbers, and an operator shortly greets me on the other end. “Hi, a woman has just been attacked,” I say. “I need an ambulance in Newbridge Village in the parking lot off Windom Street.” I explain that she’s conscious, but I don’t know how badly she’s been hurt or what exactly happened. “Look, I need an ambulance and police here as soon as possible. She’s terrified and I refuse to leave her like this.”
Once I answer a few follow-up questions, the operator insists that an ambulance will arrive within the next ten minutes.
I pocket my phone, leaning forward as my eyes drag over the curled ends of her long hair. My gaze drops to the bunched hem of her sweater dress, nostrils flaring when I glimpse overmy shoulder. This bastard fucking preyed on her when all she wanted was to enjoy a Saturday night out.
For a split second, wrath laces around my conscience. Any rational or moral thought is nonexistent. The only urge lurking within me is to make sure this motherfucker never wakes up. But when I shuffle on my legs to finish the job, a palm pinches my fingers tighter.
My head darts back to her, breath hitching from the pressure of her talon-like grasp.
She needs you right here.
“An ambulance is on the way,” I assure her. “I’ll stay with you until they’re here. You’re not going to be alone.”
She doesn’t speak this time, her body only vibrating against the pavement. Reflexively, I tug my leather coat with my left hand as I begin to rock my opposite fingers out of her hold. Once I pry my knuckles out, the resistance is less cumbersome, and I finally break free.
I promptly shrug my jacket off, fanning it over the lower half of her body. “You’re right. No one else’s choice but yours,” I mumble, shielding her exposed thighs from anyone’s view. “No one else’s.”
She inhales a jagged breath, her shudders mellowing as I turn to sit on the asphalt. My elbows rest on bent knees, and my right palm connects with the wet sleeve of my left forearm.
Luckily, the thickness of my leather coat prevented the blade from piercing any deeper. Not to say this is a shallow cut, but it definitely could’ve been much worse.
I grunt under my breath as I apply pressure to the wound, and the wailing of ambulance sirens grows louder from the near distance.
What a fucking night.
Chapter 4
Cade
“Can you step aside, sir?”
Red and blue flashing lights poke the corner of my eye, propelling my head to the side. The paramedic’s navy uniform sharpens into focus, and I swipe my jacket from the woman’s thighs.
I stand just as the medical professional slides between me and her. A tiny draft nudges my legs, the small chill blatant enough for me to take a step back.
But nothing more.
My eyes bolt to her shuddering form beneath the crouched paramedic, and a fat knot lodges in my chest. I silently replay my actions, considering that maybe I indirectly harmed her. Maybe I was too caught up in serving justice to her assailant. Too reckless.
No.
Please, no.
Fuck.
Just as another paramedic invades the scene, the thud of a car door sounds off in the distance. I trek along the blacktop to round the dumpster, only to be approached by two cops. One parks himself in front of me, and his partner travels to her limp attacker. To my displeasure, tiny grunts signal the piece of shit is beginning to come to.
“Officer Peter Bellmont,” the policeman says, a stern gleam knitted in his hazel eyes.
“Cade Owens.” I nod my head in acknowledgement, pressing my right palm into my left forearm.
When he catches my wince, he rotates his head to the focal scene behind the dumpster. “I need a paramedic over here too,” he requests.
I offer a tight-lipped smile, the ache intensifying as more attention shines on it. But within a few seconds, there’s a woman slipping beside me to release my forearm from my grip.
My brows crease when she bunches my sleeve up, the thermal texture grating the wound. I hug my coat against my right pec from where it’s draped over my shoulder, fingers digging into the leather.
The woman leads the three of us to the ambulance, only for me to sit on the rear step between the open doors. Flickers of red and blue light form an umbrella over us, and my left forearm is now nestled in a latex palm.
