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

— both spreaders and cutters. I agree with him. We’ll definitely need both.
    “Gage, jack up the front a bit.”
    I’m already on it, getting the jack under what used to be the hood and wheel well and start to slowly lift. Sawyer is nearby, adding the cribbing to stop the car from spinning or sliding away.
    Octavio and Ed, two of the best paramedics I know, are on their knees, reaching through holes or any space they can to help the victims or at least give a little bit of comfort.
    “How many?” I yell.
    Octavio doesn’t even look up, just holds up two fingers. Thank God. Only two people.
    Ken’s taken charge of the jaws while I’m still monitoring stabilization. Octavio and Ed’s arms are inside this damn car. We’ve got to protect them too.
    The sound of steel being cut is a beautiful thing, knowing we’re closer to rescuing the victims. The bite of the cutter is only slightly louder than the compressor pumping the hydraulic fluid. Every second counts, and this part, the waiting, always seems to take an eternity. I can only imagine that for the victims it must be pure panic.
    “I’m losing him!” Ed yells. He’s on the driver’s side, frantically trying to get a line in the guy’s arm.
    Ken tries to cut the window pillar by the hood first, but the roof is so flattened there isn’t really anywhere to cut.
    I lift the front a little more and Sawyer stuffs more cribbing when the car starts to creak. To my astonishment, I notice a tow truck slowly maneuvering through the debris. What the hell is he doing here so early? This is still a medical sector.
    Ken gets another few inches of space and quickly finishes the front pillars before heading to the back. The device pops and cracks as it tears through the metal, allowing us to lift it off and out of the way.
    The crowd cheers. I look up and notice all the news trucks, their cameras aimed and poised to report additional tragedy. I somehow manage not to flip them off and put all my focus back on the people in front of us.
    The moment the top is off, Octavio gives the car a little test push to double check stability and he and Ed lean in for their first full visual of their patients.
    Shit.
    The woman’s wearing a wedding dress that used to be white. The guy’s wearing a tux. Just married. The knife in all of our guts just twisted.
    Ed calls for the AED, apparently the groom has no pulse. And we still have a major problem – the dash has both victims pinned. All life-saving efforts have to be done in the confines of that mashed metal until we can cut off the front.
    I lose count of the times the guys call clear while we essentially disassemble the car. I lose count of the number of minutes they compress and bag and fight to save the bride and groom. We all want them to live.
    They can’t.
    Their injuries were too great.
    We can’t save them.
    Finally, Octavio calls it and everyone grows quiet.
    To shield the victims from the watchers, we cover them with yellow tarps, giving them some measure of privacy. A fuck of a way to spend their wedding night.

Chapter 10 — Beth
    Five hours and a thousand tears later, we pull back into the driveway at the house. I stopped and picked up Chinese because there was no way Steph or I could possibly muster enough energy to cook.
    Onyx is going to be fine. Well, not fine fine, but better than we could have expected after she’d been hit by a car. She was taken into surgery and had her leg set and pinned in two places and is now sporting a bright pink cast. She has to spend the night at the vet’s, but we can go get her tomorrow. Looks like we’ll have a mascot at HEAL for a while.
    The entire time we were gone, I couldn’t stop dwelling on the man she chased or why he’d been by the pool. Had he been watching me? Or was he someone lost and Onyx had scared him? Should I call the police?
    I just don’t know.
    I don’t want to come off as a crazy girl with paranoid delusions, but I also don’t want to ignore something