Startled, Celia blinked at the newly added element. Then the chill-inducing laugh came again, and she realized that she might—for the first time ever—be able to escape it. As a contraction clutched at her abdomen, she stepped forward. The movement somehow brought the door closer to her, rather than the other way around. But she didn’t stop to question the phenomenon. She simply took advantage. She reached out her fingers, grasped the handle, turned it, and flung the door open.
On the other side was a man. He had dark hair and kind eyes. And he was beckoning to her, his palm turned up and his fingers crooked.
Celia didn’t even hesitate. Squeezing her eyes shut, she dived forward, swollen stomach and all, and let the strange man enfold her in a protective embrace. Behind her, the door slammed. She inhaled. His scent filled her nose. Clean and fresh, with no hint of cologne or aftershave. The smell was so real—so distinct—that Celia felt compelled to check again for the ring. And it was there.
But when she opened her eyes, her senses were assaulted by something else entirely.
Voices, churning all around her. Frantic, mechanical blinking. Over all that, the wail of a siren. And under it, a pervading disorientation and feeling of separation from reality.
“What...” The word came out as a cracked whisper, and she knew it couldn’t possibly be heard. She swallowed and tried again, willing her voice to be stronger. “What’s happening?”
A hand found hers. It wasn’t a grip she was acquainted with, but it was warm and strong and reassuring, and Celia clutched at it, glad for its solidity. For a blissful second she felt safe. And though she couldn’t pinpoint why, she was sure it was actually the safest she’d felt in a long time. Then an odd thing happened. There was a shift—like the person was adjusting to a better position—and a face came into view.
It’s him.
And it was him. The man from her dream. Only real. Celia was certain, because their clasped hands would’ve driven the ring into her palm.
She stared up at him, held transfixed by the incredible blueness of his eyes. They were azure. Stunning. And though Celia didn’t think she knew the man, there was still something familiar about his stare. She was so enraptured by his look that Celia nearly missed the fact that his mouth was moving.
She tried to focus on what he was saying, but it seemed to be a mumble of medical jargon. It distracted her.
Was the man a doctor? Was he her doctor? Was she hurt or sick?
Of course you’re hurt or sick, said a voice in her head. If you weren’t hurt or sick, you wouldn’t be in this ambulance.
The thought jerked her attention away from the man’s blue, blue eyes, and her gaze swept back and forth. It was true. There was a narrow strip of light on the metal roof, bright red medical bags and a variety of equipment hanging from the sides. She could feel a thin mattress under her back. An IV line ran directly into the hand not held by the stranger. And when she tipped her head back a little, she also saw a blue-clad leg that she was sure belonged to a paramedic.
But...why?
She swallowed. She had no idea how she’d gotten into the back of the ambulance. And now that she was thinking about it, she realized she couldn’t remember much of anything at all. Not what she was doing before she got to the spot where she was now. Not where she lived, or what she did for a living. She closed her eyes, trying to grasp at something from her past. Anything, really. But it seemed just out of reach.
It was so frustrating. So frightening. And Celia felt a need to do something about it.
She opened her eyes and tried to sit up. Her head spun. Badly. And the blue-eyed man’s palm slid from her hand to her shoulder, and his voice filled her ear.
“You have to lie back down,” he said gently.
For no good reason she could think of, Celia fought against the soft suggestion.
“Let me go,” she said. “I have to...”
Have to what? Oh, God. Why can’t I remember?
Her heart thudded even faster, and one of the machines in the ambulance chimed an alarm. Celia squeezed her eyes shut again and willed her pulse to slow. She had questions, and if she wanted answers, she needed to be calm. She needed calmness around her so that the blue-eyed man—another paramedic, maybe?—would answer them. She breathed out, counted to ten, then opened her eyes and found herself face-to-face with that azure gaze again.
“Celia.”
He knows my name.
And it was good. It brought a very small, very recent memory to the surface. Him, holding her library card—with its distinct logo—in his hands. Her, not even knowing who she was until that moment. The wave of gratitude tempered her panic, but only momentarily. Because it no sooner washed over her than a tiny, worried voice cut through all of it, and it was the most familiar thing she’d heard, seen, or felt in what seemed like a decade.
“Mommy?”
Xavier.
She knew little else, but she knew her son. Five years old. Freckled face. Too much intense seriousness for such a little person. She loved to make him laugh. Loved it when he let go of that little frown of his and giggled so hard that he said his tummy hurt.
Celia dragged her eyes open and sought him out. There he was, his small frame tucked against the big one that belonged to the blue-eyed man. How she hadn’t noticed him first—or even sensed his presence—was beyond her. He looked scared. But undeniably safe.
And I have to keep him that way. I have to keep protecting him.
She didn’t know where the thoughts came from, but they were accompanied by another, dizzying rush of blood. It thumped through her body, up through her chest, and straight to her head. It wasn’t just fear; it was absolute terror.
The world swam. Celia desperately wanted to say something to her son. To reassure him that everything would be fine. But her mouth didn’t seem to be in a cooperative mood. And worse than that, her mind was slipping again, headed straight back toward the oblivion it’d just barely crawled out of before.
She blinked, trying to clear away the impinging blackness. It was impossible. But as she faded even further, she made a last-ditch effort to communicate by sending the blue-eyed man a look. A plea. And for a moment, she thought she failed. The man said something else—more indecipherable medical stuff. But then turned his attention to her son. And even though she couldn’t hear his words, Celia was sure that they were the right ones. Xavier’s eyes cleared. His tense little body relaxed. And then there was nothing.
Chapter 3
As Celia’s eyes fluttered shut and her pulse evened out, Remo wanted to holler at the driver to go faster. He actually had to grit his teeth to keep from doing it. He knew better. Tyler—the kid at the wheel—had the sirens going, the lights flashing, and he was negotiating the streets of Vancouver at a pace that was both quick and safe. Isaac had done everything right, because that was how the older paramedic rolled. Carefully, perfectly set IV. Heart rate monitor secure. Pain meds, blankets, gurney...all as they should be. Remo was sure of it. Yet he still wished he’d done it all himself.
For no good reason.
He stared down at Celia, wondering where the unusual desire came from. The blonde woman was beautiful. No doubt about it. He’d already acknowledged that. Her physical vulnerability was a given. And Remo had been told on more than one occasion that he had a bit of a hero complex. Except neither of those things—alone or together—usually affected him. He ran into beauty and vulnerability in his job just as often as he saw the ugly side of things, and he always took it in stride. Patients were just that—patients. They needed him, and he got paid to meet those needs.
So not that, then.
Remo ran his eyes over his “patient” once more. The rush of protectiveness didn’t ease in the slightest. If anything, it grew. He watched the rise and fall of her chest—consistent but weaker than he would’ve liked—and reminded himself that she wasn’t as
frail as she seemed in that moment. Underneath it, she was strong. The proof was evidenced in her determination to save her son’s life. In the pleading look she’d sent his way before she faded out. Pure selflessness. She’d sacrifice herself for her kid, and that was a hell of a thing.
And speaking of the kid...
He dragged his attention down to Xavier. The little guy was tucked right against Remo’s side, his forehead creased, his eyes closed, and one of his little hands clutching at his shirt. The sight of the small, nails-chewed-down fingers reminded Remo of something else—the kid had been locked in a trunk. Undoubtedly because Celia had put him there. And if she’d done it, then it had to be because it was the best way to keep the kid from harm.
What could be so dangerous that Celia felt the safest place for her son was hidden in a trunk?
Not what, he thought immediately. Who.
Remo’s eyes flicked from Xavier’s hand to Celia’s face, a suspicion creeping in. The kid claimed that his father wasn’t in the picture. Could be that it was by design. Remo’s heart twisted a little as he considered it. The idea that being locked in a trunk might be the better alternative to putting the kid in contact with his dad was a dark one. Darkness didn’t mean it wasn’t true. His own life was enough proof of that.
He blinked, genuinely surprised to find even a hint of his past creeping up on him. Sure, it was only in his own head. It was still an unusual occurrence. Something he deliberately avoided.
“Remo, did you hear me?”
He blinked again, this time to focus on Isaac, who was eyeing him with concern.
“Sorry, man,” he replied. “Missed it.”
The older man opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Just letting you know that we’re T-minus thirty seconds away from the hospital.”
On cue, Tyler cut the sirens and the lights, and slowed down as they rounded the bend that led to the hospital entryway. They coasted to a stop, and Isaac prepped the gurney for transport.
Xavier lifted his head. “Are we there?”
Remo gave the kid a light squeeze. “Yep.”
“Are they taking her away?”
“Only for a short bit, buddy. Doctors have to look her over, remember? Make sure everything’s working right.”
“But you said these guys were ess-berts.”
“Experts,” Remo corrected with a smile. “And they are. But their job is to get people to the hospital.”
“Because of science?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh.” Xavier’s little face sank. “I wish we could go.”
“I know it’s hard,” Remo said gently. “But you’re a brave kid. I can tell.”
The little boy nodded solemnly, but a moment later, his face brightened. “And you’re staying with me.”
“You got it, buddy.”
Tyler and Isaac finished pulling Celia out of the ambulance then, and Remo gestured to the open doors.
“You wanna go first so you can see them take your mom in?” he asked. “Or you want me to go so I can lift you down?”
Xavier didn’t hesitate. “You.”
“All right. Here I go.” Remo shot a conspiratorial wink in the kid’s direction, then hopped up and out.
Before he could turn and grab the kid, though, a hand landed on his shoulder. Startled, he turned. Isaac stood just behind him, a dour look on his face.
“Shouldn’t you be with Celia and Tyler?” Remo said in a low voice.
The other man shook his head. “Handed off the first patient. Now I’m back for the second.”
At the statement, Remo’s gut flipped uncomfortably. And when Xavier’s worried voice carried out from the ambulance, his stomach downright churned.
“Are you catching me?” the boy asked.
“I sure am,” Remo told him. “Just sit tight and give me a minute with Mr. Isaac, okay?”
“Okay.” The kid slipped back into the ambulance.
Remo turned back to his coworker. “I’ll take him in.”
Isaac shook his head. “Not necessary.”
“I want to.”
“Riding along with us was one thing. But you’re going to have to wait in the waiting area like everyone else. Tyler and I will see that the patient is taken care of, and the child care worker will—”
“No.”
“Pardon me?”
Remo dropped his voice and gestured toward the ambulance. “That kid’s scared. His mom is unconscious. He has no one else here, and he seems to like me.”
“You’re not on duty,” the other man reminded him.
“And?”
“It’d violate the rules, DeLuca. Once we get behind those sliding doors, though, you’re a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
“And?” Remo repeated.
Isaac gave him a puzzled frown. “What’s with you?”
“What’s with me? Have you ever been that kid?”
“What?”
“Have you ever sat there and waited while your mother—” He stopped himself abruptly and shook his head as he realized his coworker had a damned good reason for looking confused; Remo was far from heartless, but he had no problem checking his emotions at the door. Usually. What was with him? He had no idea.
But I’m not backing down. The kid needs more than a pat on the head and a bandage.
“I’m going in with him,” he stated firmly, his words a little calmer.
Isaac wasn’t done being his stubborn, by-the-book self. “I’m running this shift, DeLuca.”
“And that means what? You’re going to fight me, to stop me from taking the kid in? Block my way into the hospital?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not. But one of us sure is.” Ignoring his coworker’s irritated expression, Remo turned toward the ambulance. “C’mon, kid. I’m ready for you.”
There was a shuffle, and then Xavier appeared at the doors. He looked uncertainly from Isaac to Remo, and Remo could’ve given the other man a knock straight upside the head for making the kid worry even more.
“S’alright, Xavier,” he said. “I’ve got you.”
“Do you promise?” the little guy asked.
The plaintive question dug straight into Remo’s heart. “I promise.”
Xavier nodded, then reached out his arms, and Remo scooped him up. When he turned toward the hospital, though, he found Isaac standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. Was the other man actually going to block him out, ridiculous or not? If so, would Remo genuinely push his way through?
Only a heartbeat went by before he was saved from having to find out. One of the hospital’s administrators—one who favored Remo, thank God, but knew him well—stepped into view.
She shook her head of tightly curled gray hair and frowned at the three of them. “Are you going to stand out here all night with that kid, DeLuca, or are you going to bring him in?”
“He’s not on duty, Dr. Hennessey,” Isaac said immediately.
The woman pursed her well-wrinkled lips, moved closer, and fixed a kindly smile toward Xavier. “What do you think, son? Should we bend the rules so Remo can bring you in?”
“Yes, please,” the kid replied with barely contained enthusiasm.
Dr. Hennessey chucked his chin, then lifted her head. “You have a good rest of your night, Isaac. I think your colleague and I have it from here.”
With entirely more relief than was reasonable, Remo exhaled and followed the wizened doctor—a woman he’d known most of his life—into the building. Sensing something was up, he let her take the lead. She said nothing as she guided him through the halls and up a flight of stairs to a relatively unused part of the hospital. She continued to keep silent until they finally reached one of the small, unoccupied family rooms. There, she gave Xavier a speedy but thoroug
h once-over, and everything she said was related to that. It wasn’t until she’d issued a clean bill of health and set the kid up with a juice box and a colorful book that she finally asked Remo to join her outside for a moment. After making sure it was all right with the kid, Remo complied. The moment they crossed the threshold from the room into the hall, the older woman’s demeanor changed. She put her hands on her hips and issued a stern look.
“All right,” she said. “What’s going on?”
Remo blinked. “I kind of thought you were about to tell me.”
“Any idea why someone might be looking for that kid and his mother?” she asked.
His earlier thoughts about an angry ex sprang to mind, but he shook his head. “What do you mean?”
“Five minutes ago, I was in Emergency getting a signature from triage. A very well-dressed man pushed his way through the ten people waiting and demanded to know if a mother and son had come in, and when the nurse explained they couldn’t give out information like that unless he could prove he was a family member, he left.” She paused. “It rubbed me the wrong way. And a minute later, I overheard another nurse mention that you were outside arguing with another paramedic about a mom and her son.”
With the term “walking lawsuit” leaping to mind, Remo quickly decided in favor of telling her his fear—that Celia was on the run from an ex-husband. As he spoke, the senior administrator studied him with unveiled concern, and he knew what was coming before she even spoke.
“Remo...” she said. “You know I love you like a wayward nephew.”
“Thanks, Auntie Tanya,” he replied dryly.
“Uh-huh. And you know how close I am with your mother,” she added.
Remo feigned a look up and down the empty hall. “Shh. Nepotism.”
“Monthly coffee with a fellow hospital employee hardly counts as nepotism.” She smiled a sharp I-know-everything-anyway smile. “Stop deflecting. You can guess what I’m wondering.”
“Am I letting my past cloud my view?”
“Exactly.”
First Responder on Call Page 3