Ashes - Book 2 (New Adult Romantic Suspense) by Leslie Johnson Read Free Book Online Page A

minutes flat.
    Poor Onyx. Poor baby dog. Please please please be okay.
    I round the corner of the street she’s on and am thrilled to see the man is still there. He can maybe help us lift her into the seat.
    Screeching to a halt, I’m out of the Jeep, towels in hand. “Is she okay?”
    Stephanie’s crying, but she’s otherwise calm and in control. “Broken leg for sure. No signs of internal bleeding. Her head seems to be okay.”
    “I’m so sorry,” the man is saying again. “I swerved to miss the man, and then felt a thud. I didn’t even see the dog.”
    Startled, I look up at him. “A man?” I’m folding a towel to stabilize Onyx’s leg and try to focus while a dozen thoughts race through my mind.
    There was someone by the pool.
    That someone had left the fence open.
    A man.
    But why was he there?
    What did he want?
    I shiver as a thousand reasons come to mind.
    “Could you describe him if you needed to?” I ask him, as together, the three of us lift Onyx and lay her on a towel.
    “The clothes, maybe. I didn’t see a face.”
    I try to pay attention to Stephanie’s instructions as she takes control and organizes us getting Onyx loaded.
    “Can I get your phone number?” I ask him as Stephanie jumps in the back with the dog. “In case we have questions about the man?”
    He pulls out a business card and says, “Yes, of course. Anything I can do to help.”
    I take the card and thank him for being so kind. Then I rush to the driver’s seat and break every speed limit getting Onyx to the emergency vet.

Chapter 9 — Gage
    This is bad. No, this is really bad. The first thing I notice is a shock absorber and wheel a hundred yards from the overturned … Nissan? Ford? I can’t even tell, it’s crushed and twisted so badly. The car looks like it’s been through a scrap yard, looking like a rectangular pancake. The debris field is a good twenty yards long and covers all three lanes on Eastern.
    “No kids, please,” I say under my breath. I can’t handle losing a kid today. Adults are bad enough. Kids take a piece of your soul with them.
    I quickly take in the rest of the scene. A Mercedes is at an angle, but appears relatively intact. Road is wet. Gasoline — terrific. Smoke — of course. Plus, a crowd is already gathering — people seem to be hypnotized and drawn to tragic events.
    “Fuck. This is not good,” Ken says grimly as we skid to a stop and he gets ready to hop out of the cabin. “I give it two percent survival rate.”
    I don’t say it, but I think he’s being generous. Now, the horrible question. How many died today?
    I jump from the truck, rush to the back and start pulling out the hose to dampen the source of that smoke. Truck two is dumping solidifiers onto the gasoline to help neutralize that danger. Police are here, pushing back the crowd and giving us room to work. Sarah, another police officer, is spray painting the road, quickly marking the position of the car for later forensics. Everyone here has a job to do and a reason for doing it.
    Hose under my arm and Ken at my back, we haul ass toward the car. I’m still searching for the source of the smoke when I see it … a hand sticking out of a window. No. A hand and a foot.
    Holy shit. The hand is moving.
    “Life,” I yell and paramedics dive into the scene. We’ve got to get them out. Give them a chance. If they can survive the impact, we’ve got to give them the opportunity to live.
    “Gage!” Captain Frank yells over the noise. “Get the jacks and cribbing material. We need to stabilize the car.”
    Handing the hose off to Jeff, I rush back to grab the hydraulic jacks, motioning for Sawyer to come over. “Grab some cribbing and follow me.” Sawyer just transferred from California, so he needs a little guidance, but grabs the straps from the pile of wood as soon as I point him to the correct compartment.
    Back at the car, I see that Engine 3 has arrived. I hear Captain Frank order wire cutters and the Jaws of Life