by Lane Hart
"Oh no," he replies, lacking any emotion or surprise. Pussy bastard. "Is Nadia okay?"
"Nadia?" I ask, then look to the young woman still lying in the floor. "The cashier?"
"Yeah. Where is she? Did she give him any money?" he asks, and I want to sock him in the jaw for even asking that.
"She's unconscious right now, but no, the robber didn't get away with any money."
"Oh God," he says as he rushes over to where the paramedics are checking on her. That time he does sound genuinely concerned. He crouches down next to her; and when he touches her face, I feel a strange, possessive growl rumble out of my chest.
What the hell was that? I cover it with a cough, hoping everyone's too busy to notice.
By now, the old man is on his feet, practically dancing a jig and refusing to go to the hospital to get checked out. They don't give the girl the same option. Not that she could protest from dreamland. They load her on a stretcher and start toward the ambulance.
"Wait, can I go with her?" I ask the two male paramedics. I want to be there when she wakes up to try to persuade her not to say anything. One of them finally gives a shrug.
"Do you know her?" he asks.
"Yeah, that's, ah, my friend, Nadia," I lie. "Ellis, can you get my statement later? I'll be at the station all day tomorrow."
"Sure, go,” he agrees. “We'll be busy with him the rest of the night," he says, nodding toward the robber.
Chapter 2
Nadia Ryans
It feels like I'm on one of those tilt-a-whirl rides that’s spinning in circles. I blink my eyes open and look around. Where the hell am I? This doesn't look like the carnival. I try to figure out the answer with context clues, but I'm lying flat on my back and there's only dim lighting in the spinning room, along with some sort of … medical equipment? It definitely feels like the ground is moving.
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," a masculine voice says from above my head. "Although, I'd have to say you're really more of a Snow White. She zonked out too, right?"
I tilt my head backwards to see who's randomly talking about Disney princesses. It's the big, sexy ginger from the grocery store smiling hesitantly down at me from his seat on some type of bench. He looks away and glances forward and then back down at me, raising an eyebrow as if waiting for me to respond to an unknown question.
"Where am I?" I ask, wanting to start from the beginning.
"The back of an ambulance. Do you remember what happened?"
"I-I was getting robbed. Then you walked in …"
The man licks his lips and looks away, waiting to hear what else I'm going to say.
"Then I passed out," I finish, not speaking aloud the part where I watched him get shot like it was nothing more than a bee sting. Oh, and then he knocked out the robber before giving his blood to my customer, who was probably having a heart attack.
The ginger's bright green eyes come back to mine before he grins and relaxes his wide tense shoulders.
"Exactly," he says with a wink, making my heart skip a beat.
"How's our patient?" another man's voice asks from further away. I assume it's a paramedic.
"Nadia's feeling much better, aren't you?" the big ginger replies, and I can't help my gasp when he says my name like we're old friends. How does he know it?
Then I belatedly remember I'm probably still wearing my work uniform with my name tag.
"Yes…" I wait for him to fill in the blank.
"Cash," he whispers so softly I almost didn't hear it.
"Yeah, Cash, I feel fine." I like his name. It sounds nice and friendly, sort of like him. But cute isn't exactly the adjective that does him justice. He's big and broad across his chest that can withstand bullets, and I remember from his standoff with the robber that he was tall and muscular all over. His reddish-brown hair is cut short at about two inches high and looks like he'd styled it to point in different directions except for the wavy curl at the front that does its own thing. His red, scruffy jaw line is well past a five o'clock shadow since I was guessing it has to be at least ten or later at night.
"Well, they want to get you checked out by a doctor to make sure," he says.
"Great," I mutter with an eye-roll and exhale. "Another bill I don't need."
The man, Cash, frowns down at me like he was going to ask more questions, but I close my eyes, pretending to sleep for the rest of the trip to avoid his unnerving, jade stare. There’s something up with this guy, and I’m not sure what. I just know I don't want to get on his bad side. He’s built like Superman and is just as bulletproof.
After we arrive at the hospital, I’m taken to a curtained off room with a bed and asked a million questions by a nurse. The staff shoos away my red-haired companion, which pisses me off. I wanted to keep talking to Mr. Sexy and Mysterious, and I sort of liked having him around, especially after his daring rescue.
I put on the horrible open-back gown as required, then curl up under the thin, white sheet trying to get warm. They do know it’s winter outside, right? Why the hell is it twenty degrees in this damn place? I shiver as I huddle under the rough, picked cotton and try not to think about how big the bill for this place is going to be or how long it'll take to pay off.
I don't have any insurance because I can't afford the premiums. Besides, it had always seemed unnecessary since I never get sick. Like ever. I haven't even stepped foot in a doctor’s office before now, much less a hospital. But here I am running up a medical bill, all because my dumbass fainted like a little bitch. After having a gun pointed at me and then seeing a man get shot and another almost die of a heart attack, I started feeling a little woozy. Actually, I'd been feeling funning for a few weeks, and tonight I just couldn't withstand all the craziness.
"Are you cold? I can try and find you a blanket," Cash says from beside my bed, making me jump. How long has he been standing there?
"Shit, you scared me," I tell him when I try to catch the breath that he chased out of my lungs.
"Sorry," he says, giving me a sheepish smile when I roll over to face him. "Do you want me to go?"
"No, you can stay." The words barely leave my lips before he disappears, leaving the curtain swinging from his departure. What the hell is up with that dude?
A second later he’s back with a handful of white blankets. Cash takes his time, carefully covering me with each blanket, all of them tattered like they've been washed a million times. I just hope all the germs on them have washed away too.
"Ah, thanks."
"Sure," he says before taking a seat in the blue, plastic chair beside the bed.
"So, are you sticking around and trying to be all nice to me so I don't rat you out?" I ask, getting straight to the point.
His jaw drops momentarily, but he quickly recovers. Then, he ducks his head to look under the curtain, I assume for feet, to see if anyone is nearby. I have a feeling I know what his secret is, and it isn't one he wants uttered in public. If reported, he'd be sought after for execution.
"Yes. Is it working?" he asks with a half-smile.
"Yes."
"Good," he replies with an exhale. His big, broad body visibly relaxes, melting like butter in his chair.
"You do know there's a video surveillance camera in the store, right?" I ask.
"Shit," he says, rubbing a hand over his face. "The police will probably grab it too."
"Yeah, but even so, they shouldn't be able to see you on the floor behind the counter."
"That's good to know."
We sit in silence for a while, listening to the noises and voices on the other side of the curtain. Some people are having a pretty shitty night based on the sound of screaming and sobs. I know I'd gotten off lucky, thanks to the man in the room with me. Now the asshole with the gun is sitting in a jail cell somewhere.
"Thank you," I tell him. "For earlier. My boss would have been pissed if that guy had cleaned out our register."
"Your boss is a dick," he says gruffly, making me laugh.
"Yeah, he really is."
I hear Cash take a deep breath, and then he’s out of his seat faster than I can follow. "Gotta go, sorry. Thanks for not outing me," he blurts out, and then he’s gone.
Oh-kay. My stomach flips in disappointment at his sudden departure. What the heck was that about? I didn't get his last name, and he didn't even ask for my phone number. Sure, that’s a stupid thought to have at this moment, but it’s the first one that popped in my head. After the crazy night, I liked having him here with me. He made me feel like I wasn't alone for the first time in, well, a long damn time. And if he can keep me safe from an armed robber, I’m pretty sure he can take on anything, which is…comforting.
Chapter 3
Zaine
“You change your mind?” I ask Cash over the loud club music when I answer his call on my cell.
“No,” he replies. “I need your help.”
“Can’t it wait?” I ask as I eye the sexy women on the dance floor, swaying their hips to the song and trying to figure out which one I may have a chance with.
Since when does my sullen roommate ask me for anything? Never, that’s when.
“No,” he says more adamantly.
I may piss my roommate off on a regular basis in an attempt to get him to loosen up and remove the stick from his ass; but after two years of being stuck with him, I do know when shit is serious.
“All right. What is it?” I ask as I throw a hand up to the guys to tell them I’m leaving and then start for the exit. “It better be good. And you’re going to owe me big time.”
“I need you to go to the hospital and pick up a girl.”
“A girl?” I repeat. “Is there a girl in particular, or should I just grab the first one I see? Are things that dire, man? For the right price, I’m sure we can find you a hooker who would look the other way when you bite her.”
“Shut up and listen,” Cash snaps at me. “There’s a red-headed girl in the ER. Her name is Nadia. She works at a grocery store that got robbed and then she passed out.”
“That sucks,” I mutter.
“Can you go find her and give her a ride home? Please?”
Holy shit. This dude never says please for anything.
“Why do you give a shit about a random store clerk?” I ask Cash. “And why can’t you give her a ride home?”
“Just make sure she gets home! I couldn’t…I couldn’t stay at the hospital. There was blood…”
“Let me guess, you fanged out because you only drink twice a month when all other vamps have a bag of blood each week.”
“Will you go find her or not?” he huffs.
“I’ll go. I’m on my way right now,” I assure him when I reach my GTO in the parking deck.
“Good. Thanks.”
That’s all Cash says before he hangs up on me. Honestly, it may be the first time he’s thanked me for anything. Not that I do anything to earn Cash’s gratitude. He still hasn’t forgiven me for the bats I set loose in our shared room.
I thought that prank would be the final straw to convince him to move out, but no such luck. Whether it’s because he, like myself, can’t afford his own place, or because he enjoys being a part of the academy with other freaks, I’m not sure.
Most likely, he stays for the endless blood supply.
Cash can pretend like he hates drinking blood all he wants; but as a vampire, he craves it. All the time. So while he doesn’t indulge but twice a month, at least he knows where to find as much as he’ll ever need. All he has to do is visit Jezebel, the one who turned him, and she’ll hook him up.
And sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one who has noticed that the ancient female vamp only seems to “save” hot, young men by making them immoral. It’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with the council, but those guys, and a witch, are intimidating while I’m just a weak ass warlock.
My father and grandfather were warlocks and so on, so that’s how I became one. But thanks to the constant breeding with humans, we’re basically duds. The one concoction I can make decently is a healing potion.
And since the council is all about supernaturals helping humans with our powers since they overthrew the old coven masters, I have to help people in order to stay at the academy. I don’t like needles or blood at all, and yet I still suck it up to be an EMT to sneak and heal patients before they reach the hospital.
It’s not much, but I get where the council is coming from. My job, no matter how much I hate it, makes me feel a little bit like a superhero even if I’m just a warlock.
Nadia
After Cash left, I pulled the covers up to my chin and dozed off until a nurse came in later to check on me. As soon as she steps out of the curtain, a young guy wearing a black leather jacket with a dirty-blond faux hawk peeks around the piece of fabric.
"Nadia?" he asks.
"Yeah?" I answer slowly, blinking several times at him, wondering if I’m supposed to know who the hell he is.
"Hey, I'm Zaine,” he says. He struts in like he belongs and shakes my hand. Jeez, his skin is freezing, so I pull away to huddle under the blanket.
“Cash, ah, sent me to see if you needed a ride home or whatever. He said he had to, um, go unexpectedly and didn’t want to leave you stranded."
"Oh. That was … really nice of him," I mutter while pulling the blankets up to my chin. "You must be one of his close friends."
"Ah, I wouldn’t go that far,” he replies with a grin. “We’re just roommates.”
"Oh. Well, it was nice of him to send you to check on me, and kind of you to show up," I reply with my own half-smile. The two men don’t seem anything alike, so it’s odd to think of them sharing living space. Cash looks much older and more conservative while Zaine seems more likely to find trouble. Unless they have a particular affliction in common…
"Do you have the same…'condition' as him?" I ask hesitantly.
The guy’s mouth falls open much like his roommate’s earlier.
"No, but how do you … how do you know about that?"
"I take it Cash didn't give you all the details of what happened tonight?" I respond.
Zaine shakes his head. "He said he was at the grocery store when it got robbed and then he came here with you."
"Ah. So, he left out a few key pieces."
Zaine steps forward until he’s standing right next to me, knuckles resting beside me on the bed when he leans down to get close. "What else happened?" he asks softly.
"Well, Cash got shot in the chest and didn't flinch. Then, he swung a fist and knocked the shit out of the robber."
"Ah, fuck!" Zaine mutters, taking a step back and running a hand through his hair. "Sorry."
"I'm wearing my big girl panties. I can take a little profanity," I joke to which he smirks and raises an eyebrow.
"Anything else I should know?" he asks.
"Ah, yeah.” Lowering my voice, I say, “Then he bit his own wrist and gave some blood to my customer that was having a heart attack."
"Shit!" Zaine exclaims, pacing in the small space beside the bed. "What the hell was he thinking?"
The doctor comes in then, halting our conversation. After asking me a few more questions, he thankfully clears me to finally leave.
"Great, so are you ready?" Zaine asks, looking like he’s glad to be getting the hell out of here.
"Yeah, sure. Can you hand me my clothes?" I ask, nodding to the bag of my belongings on the floor.
"Here you go," he says, sitting them on the bed.
"Ah, thanks. Can you maybe wait out there?" I nod toward the curtain.
"Oh, shit. Sorry. You've got to change. I'm an idiot," he mutters, and I’m pretty sure his cheeks redden before he leaves, making me smile.
I put my work uniform and shoes back on, then I’m ready. As soon as I step out into the main area of the busy emergency room, I glance around until I find Zaine leaning against a wall out of the way. He's offered to give me a ride, and I’m too desperate to get out of here to pass it
up. And too cheap to get a taxi. Besides, I don't have any money on me since my purse is still in my locker at work.
"Ready?" Zaine asks with a smile as he comes toward me.
"Yeah, thanks," I say, spinning on my toes to head toward the exit.
As soon as we clear the sliding doors into the cool night air, I shiver and wrap my arms around myself. Damn it. I didn’t have my coat on when they loaded me up on the ambulance either.
"Here," Zaine says, shrugging out of his black, leather jacket and handing it to me.
"Are you sure?" I ask, my eyes roaming over his long-sleeve tee that fits snuggly to his lean arms and flat stomach.
"Take the damn coat, woman," he grumbles with a heavy exhale that blows a smoky puff of breath into the cold night air.
I smile at his rough but sweet directive before I do as he said, slipping my arms into his coat that’s still warm from his body heat. I take a deep breath in, wanting more of the delicious citrusy cedar scent of him that now surrounds me. "You smell really good," I say, closing my eyes to hold the collar to my nose and absorb it all.
His chuckle has me peeking up at him. "Thanks, I guess," he says, his cheeks darkening a shade before he rubs his hands over his unshaven jaw like he’s trying to hide his blush. "My car is this way," he says, nodding to the left side of the parking lot. Sliding his hands in his pants pockets to try and keep warm, he leads the way over.
I can't believe it when he opens the door on a classic muscle car. In the dim light of the parking lot lamps, I can't tell if it’s black or dark blue, but it’s shiny under the lamp posts, and in great condition.
"A GTO?" I ask him.
"Damn right. Nineteen sixty-seven that I restored myself," he beams with a proud smile.
"Very nice. It's beautiful," I tell him as I lower myself onto the leather seat.
"Yeah, she is," he says softly before closing my door to walk around to his.
He cranks his ride, the engine thundering with masculinity in response, then he turns the heat on full blast.