pale musculature of his arms. A woman, presumably the man’s wife, sat propped up against the wall, one hand holding her bleeding head, the other gripping her husband’s hand.
“I told you to stay outside. It’s dangerous in here, Cass,” Scott growled, casting a worried glance her way before returning his attention to his patient.
“Forget that.” Cassidy looked for Scott’s bag and found it lying next to him, top opened. She scooted to his side, snagging a field dressing kit. Apparently the military didn’t work too differently from rural fire departments.
Jay took one look at the scene and strode forward, gripping the massive beam, his attention ping-ponging between the two of them for a brief moment before his expression hardened.
“Careful there, hoss. Just enough for me to slide him out.” Scott’s voice sounded authoritative now and cool as a cucumber.
Cassidy went to the woman’s side and removed her hand from the head wound, pressing the dressing against it to staunch the bleeding, trying to make herself as small as possible so she wouldn’t get in the way.
Jay heaved and shifted the beam enough for Scott to slide a portable C-spine collar on the man before inching him out. He went to work, checking the man’s extremities, his pulse, his reactions. All the while, the old man clutched his wife’s hand fiercely.
“Officer, look for something, anything we can put him on to stabilise him.”
Jay disappeared down the hall. Seconds later Cassidy heard the squeal of nails and the crack of wood coming from that direction. He returned, carrying the top of the family dining room table. The two men didn’t even break a sweat as they slid the improvised backboard under their patient.
The house shifted and groaned around them, sounding eerily like a woman’s moan. Cassidy’s heart leapt into her throat and her breath stilled as the staircase to the second floor imploded, sending plaster, dust and fragments of wood flying through the air.
Cassidy ducked, shielding the woman with her body, feeling the shrapnel pepper her back as her heart went from zero to sixty in one second flat. And in that frozen moment in time, all she could think of was Scott’s safety, of the absolute joy she’d discovered in his arms. She didn’t care if she was robbing the cradle, or if Brian’s memory was dimming with every passing second. If she made it through this, she was going to latch onto Scott Carnes and never let him go. It didn’t matter if she was a one-nighter for him… She’d take what she could get.
A scream sliced into her thoughts. She realised it was the woman beneath her.
“Shhh, we’ll be all right,” she soothed, not sure she was even right.
“Ma’am,” Scott’s voice cut through the din, command vibrating through his tone. “Please calm down. I need you to let go of your husband’s hand so we can get him out of here, all right? Cassidy, do you think you can shoulder my bag?”
She stood and assessed the scene. Scott and Jay knelt beside the old man, cool as only cops and rescue workers can be, covered in chalky white dust and debris, their eyes and mouths outlined starkly. Her heartbeat slowed down and she pulled the woman up, disentangling her panicky grasp from her husband. Cassidy twined her fingers through the woman’s freed ones, looped the heavy backpack over her arm and led her patient out of the door ahead of the men.
Jay and Scott set the victim down in the middle of the street, then her brother stalked towards her with an angry stride. Oh hell, she didn’t really want to deal with this. She’d take care of her overbearing brother the way she always had.
She’d expected a full frontal assault on her being right in the middle of the shit. What she got was something else altogether. “Who’s the baby doc and what are you doing with him?”
“Scott Carnes, and I don’t think it’s any of your business, is it?”
“I saw the way he looked at you, Cass, and vice versa.
Learning to Kill: Stories