First Responder on Call

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  “I was away at school. On my way to becoming a doctor. Or I hoped so, anyway.” Remo’s voice was full of regret, and Celia reached out to squeeze his hand.

  “Your sister’s accident wasn’t your fault,” she said.

  “I know. It was her own reckless behavior. And I knew it then, too.” He shook his head. “But I still felt responsible. I came back. Cut my college career short. I took two jobs to help cover the money we owed.”

  He paused there, his fingers toying with her hair, and Celia had a feeling he was building up to something even harder. She almost held her breath, waiting. Marveling over his self-sacrifice. Wondering just how much more intense his story could get.

  “You did want the messy and complicated,” Remo said after a few silent moments.

  “I’m still here, aren’t I?” she replied.

  “True enough. But then again...you’re kind of stuck with me for the moment, aren’t you?”

  She twisted herself around so she was facing him. “I’m not stuck, Remo. I could’ve said no to letting your mom take Xavier. I could’ve insisted on doing it on my own. I think I have been doing it on my own for five years. But I chose to stay with you.”

  “Didn’t know what you were getting into, did you?”

  “All I can say to that is ditto.”

  He laughed, and his palm found her cheek, and the contact made the air shift. It heated. It sparked. And when Remo leaned in and pressed his lips to Celia’s...it ignited.

  * * *

  Remo kissed Celia hard, pouring the strange mix of emotions into the contact.

  Just a moment earlier, he had been on edge. Worried about what she would think of his personal truth. Puzzled by how badly he wanted to tell her everything—even the things he never shared with anyone. Or maybe it was the fact that he especially wanted to share the things he never shared with anyone. Either way, he’d been uncharacteristically nervous. He didn’t want to scare her off before he even got a chance to really know her.

  With his lips on hers, all the concern lifted, unseated by desire. Overruled by the eager way her mouth moved in time with his, swept aside by her hands, which pulled him in instead of pushing him away.

  Everything about Celia fit just right. Felt just right. Her soft, warm mouth. Her curves pushed against his body. How his hand rested perfectly on the swell of her hips, and the light scent that emanated from her skin and made him want to inhale deeper and deeper.

  But Remo didn’t have to dig very deep to conclude that the rightness applied to more than the physical. There was the easy way she listened, not an ounce of judgment apparent in her responses. The trust she afforded him, even though her life had obviously worked her over enough to wring out any ease in doing so. And the fierce protectiveness for her son. Remo admired it. He respected it. He was even a little envious of that aspect of her life.

  Which brought him back to the rest of his story. The part that hurt the most, and that he rarely spoke aloud, because most people didn’t want to hear about true loss. Or if they did, it was in a voyeuristic way that made Remo’s stomach churn. And well-meaning, sympathetic words did little to ease the residual ache that marked his soul. So he kept it inside. With Celia, though, something made him sure he could tell her everything, and not fear losing her before she truly became his.

  His.

  The word was powerful and unexpected. Undoubtedly premature in its implications. But it didn’t matter, because it made a burst of warmth hit Remo’s gut.

  He broke off the kiss, abruptly more interested in figuratively baring it all than taking the kiss to the next level. He pulled back and brought both his hands to her face.

  She opened her eyes and smiled. “Hi there.”

  “Hi,” he said back, unable to resist a need to give her another quick, soft kiss.

  “Is our thirty minutes up?”

  “Getting close. But that’s not why I stopped.”

  Her forehead creased. “What’s wrong?”

  He let his hands drop to her shoulders, then slid them down her arms until they reached her fingers, which he threaded with his own. “I didn’t quite finish telling you about Indigo.”

  Her expression became hesitant, but when she spoke, Remo could tell that the hint of reluctance was about him rather than about her. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

  “The funny thing is, I do want to. And the funnier thing... I don’t normally want to. In fact, I usually try to keep things to myself.”

  “So what’s different?”

  Remo studied her for a moment. It was a valid question. And he had only one answer.

  “You are,” he said.

  She blinked. “Me?”

  He shrugged. “I know. It’s kind of a lame answer. I pulled you from that wreck tonight, and I looked into your eyes, and...”

  “And what?”

  “Either I was lined up to be there at that exact moment, or you’re a witch.”

  Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open as she blurted, “What?”

  “Yeah, I’m leaning toward the former, as well,” he teased.

  She made a face, then turned serious. “Do you believe in that kind of thing?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “In witchcraft?”

  She snorted. “In fate.”

  “You want an honest answer?”

  “Always.”

  “Then I have to be very decisive and say ‘sort of.’” He chuckled at her wry expression. “I believe that life gives us moments of perfect opportunity. All we have to do is fight through the bad stuff so we see those good ones.”

  She stared at him, then shook her head a little. “Then I guess you’d better hit me with the worst, because I think I’d really like to get a look at the best.”

  In spite of what he was about to disclose, Remo smiled, and started to tell her he was a give-it-his-all type of guy, but the sound of someone clearing his throat halted him. For a heart-stopping moment, he thought their hiding place had been exposed. But when he turned—defense on the ready—he found a familiar face instead of an attacker. The man had his hands on a gurney that was stacked with supplies, and his expression was noticeably curious.

  “New treatment technique, DeLuca?” the man asked.

  Remo exhaled. “Kent. Your timing is impeccable.”

  “Impeccably bad?” the doctor replied.

  “You said it, not me,” Remo stated.

  “I save real lives, not love lives,” Kent quipped, then stepped forward to hold his hand out to Celia. “Kent Fresh. I’m an actual doctor, in case you’re ever looking for an upgrade.”

  A surge of unexpected possessiveness crept in, and it surprised Remo so much that he couldn’t come up with a quick, clever response. Thankfully, Celia was more on the ball. She gave the other man a brief handshake, but then let go and slid her fingers back to grab Remo’s—like it was an old habit more than a new venture—and she smiled up at Kent.

  “I’ll remember that in case I ever get a particularly bad eye infection,” she said.

  The doctor let out a loud laugh, then gestured to the gurney. “You wanna have a look? Make sure I got everything for your not-so-standard first aid kit?”

  Remo pushed to his feet and stepped closer, eyeing each thing as his colleague pointed to it.

  “Good dose of antibiotics and some painkillers,” said the other man. “Both pulled from her chart, so no need to worry about a contraindication. Heavy-duty bandages for that leg of hers. Everything you need for a good old-fashioned suturing. And of course, the discharge papers.” He lifted the paper-clipped stack and held it out. “Though in my humble, medical opinion, if you need all this crap, you probably could stand to stay in the hospital another night.”

  Remo took the papers and gave Kent a look. “Funny. I don’t remember asking for your opinion to be added
to my list.”

  “Yeah, well. Sometimes these things are necessary, too.” As Kent said it, genuine concern played over his features, and Remo sighed.

  “You know my work ethic,” he stated. “I wouldn’t endanger a patient’s life.”

  The other man’s eyebrows went up, and it didn’t take a genius to know what he was thinking. Sure. But I don’t think you’d normally be holding a “patient’s” hand, either, so maybe all bets are off?

  He said nothing aloud, though, so Remo just offered him a nod. “I appreciate the help, Kent.”

  The doctor reached out his hand for a shake. “Just leave my name out of the police report when they come looking for you and your stowaway.”

  Celia drew in an audible breath, and Remo knew the other man’s joke had struck a little too close to home. He moved closer and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and her fingers immediately closed overtop of his, squeezing tightly.

  Remo addressed Kent, but his words were intended for Celia’s ears, as well. “Don’t worry. We’re far too slick to let the cops catch us.”

  The other man laughed again. “All right. Say no more. I’d hate to be an accessory, and I have to get back to doing some actual doctoring. But try not to get in too much trouble.”

  “Will do.”

  Kent gave them a smile and a little salute, then turned up the hall. Remo waited until he was fully out of sight before releasing Celia’s shoulder and offering her his hand.

  “We’ve reached our thirty minutes. Wanna do this now and hear more of my deep, dark secrets later?” he asked.

  Her eyes flicked to the gurney. “Oldest trick, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Okay.”

  He pulled her to her feet, locked the wheels on the gurney, then said, “Can I offer you a boost onto your chariot?”

  She smiled. “How could I say no to that?”

  He stepped forward and put his hands on her waist. But before he could lift her up, the overhead speakers crackled, and a too-calm voice came to life. Remo paused to listen.

  “Attention staff,” said the voice. “We have a code black in area four. That’s a code black in area four. Commence code black protocol.”

  The words made Remo’s feet stick to the floor, and it wasn’t until Celia spoke that he realized he’d frozen.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is it something bad?”

  Remo met her eyes. He wished he could lie just to protect her. But he had to tell her the truth.

  “Code black,” he said grimly. “It’s a bomb threat. The hospital’s going on lockdown.”

  Chapter 10

  Remo’s statement sent Celia’s thoughts spiraling. There was no doubt that a bomb threat right then, at that exact moment, was related to her situation. But she wasn’t sure what scared her more—the idea of the bomb itself, or the thought of not being able to get out. Her heart was leaning toward the fear of being trapped. Of being away from her son.

  “Xavier,” she said, hearing how small her own voice sounded.

  Remo’s hands were still on her hips, and he quickly pulled her into an embrace, then spoke into her hair. “He’s safe.”

  “I know,” she replied. “Really. Your mom has him, and she’ll take good care of him. But...”

  “But he’s not with you,” he filled in.

  “Exactly. And I know how selfish and backward that sounds.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “It feels like it.”

  “Then I guess we’re going to have to fix that.” He pulled back, let her go and faced the hall. After staring up the empty corridor for a second, he ran a hand over his hair, then turned her way again. “Here are the basics on how the lockdown works. The code and the cops are called at essentially the same time. The area where the threat is identified is cleared of staff and patients in as wide a berth as possible, with as little disruption as possible. No one comes in or out until the ERTs arrive and assess the situation. Unfortunately, there isn’t much that’s subtle about it.”

  The more he said, the drier Celia’s throat became, and she had to swallow twice before she could answer. “So we’re stuck?”

  “Technically. But this wing is undergoing some remodeling, so even if we are stuck, we’re not exactly under the microscope. And if that’s not good enough...” Remo’s eyes flicked up the hall in the direction of the elevators. “There’s a literal construction zone two floors down from us. They’re putting in an enclosed walkway that goes from the hospital to the long-term care facility.”

  “A walkway we can use to get through?”

  “It’s not complete.”

  “That wasn’t really an answer.”

  He sighed like he didn’t want to answer, then said, “It’s probably usable, but it’s not enclosed yet, and even though it’s only one floor up, it’s still not the safest choice.”

  “We have to at least go look, though, right?” Celia replied. “Because if there’s a chance we can get out without being caught...” Her voice broke a little at the end, forcing her to stop.

  Remo put his hands on her forearms. “We can go look, but it’ll be a climb, Celia. And you’re still recovering from your accident. The blood loss will have made you weaker than you think, and that leg of yours just needs an excuse to come unstitched.”

  “Isn’t that why you had Dr. Fresh bring you the supplies?”

  “I wanted to be prepared for any scenario, yes. But I also thought you’d be tucked under a sheet on a gurney, where the only worry would be my ability to steer the damned thing.”

  Celia lifted her chin, stubbornness and determination setting in. “You just said ‘any scenario.’ And I can’t not try, Remo.”

  He nodded and dropped his hands to his sides, but made no move to lead the way. There was something in his stance that stopped her from making another plea.

  “What is it?” she asked instead.

  He shifted from one foot to the other. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

  “Tell me.”

  “That code black was called in section four. Your room is—was—in section five. More or less adjacent.”

  “I figured the two things had to be related,” she said.

  He nodded. “Yes, no doubt about that. But my mind is arguing that the threat’s a diversion. A ploy to create chaos so they can smoke you out. Everyone from section four will be moved to section five. It’ll be crowded. Twice the staff, twice the patients. Plus the police presence. It would be the perfect setup for taking a patient against her will.”

  He stopped talking for a moment, and Celia knew something else was coming. Unconsciously, she inhaled a breath and held it as she waited. And Remo’s next statements made her lungs burn.

  “Whoever your ex is...” he said. “He’s pretty damned determined to get to you. A bomb threat in a hospital? That’s a serious leap to just get access to a son he’s never met. I think this guy might be more dangerous—and more powerful—than we were assuming.”

  Celia was starting to see stars, and she had to force herself to release the air she’d been holding in. “I wish I could remember.”

  “At least we’re on the same page about that.” Remo smiled, softening the statement. “Are you sure I can’t talk you into waiting it out? If it is a ruse, it won’t take long for them to figure out that you’re not where they think you are.”

  She shook her head. “And then what? It will only make them look harder. And you said the chaos is the perfect moment for a kidnapping, right? Doesn’t that mean it could work in our favor, too?”

  “I don’t suppose I could get you to promise me that if we get to the walkway, and it’s not reasonable, you won’t push it?”

  “I wouldn’t want to lie to you.”

  “No. I wouldn’t want that, either.” He gently touched her face, then dropped his
hands to her hips and lifted her a little unceremoniously straight onto the gurney.

  “Hey,” she protested. “I thought the gurney wasn’t a viable option.”

  “It isn’t. Not for the walkway itself, anyway. But we have to get there, which means we have to use the elevator and risk running into any number of people.”

  He grabbed the bag of supplies and slung it over his shoulder, then gestured for her to lie down. Celia made a face, but leaned back and settled in. And she had to admit that it wasn’t entirely unenjoyable to have Remo pull the sheet up over her body, then lean down and kiss each of her cheeks, then her mouth.

  “Cozy?” he asked.

  She wiggled a little. “I’ve slept in worse spots.”

  “Good,” he said, then yanked the sheet completely over her face.

  “Hey!” she protested automatically.

  “Dead bodies don’t complain,” he teased.

  “Fine. I guess I really will just take a nap.”

  “Go ahead. But remember that dead bodies don’t snore, either.”

  He chuckled, and a moment later, the cart under Celia’s back started rolling. She closed her eyes, but there was little chance of any actual sleep happening. And not just because she knew she’d be playing dead for only a few minutes. It was unnerving to be wheeled along without her sight to tell her where they were headed. She felt helpless. Like some unseen danger might jump out at any moment to take advantage of the situation. She balled her hands into fists and forcefully reminded herself that Remo was acting as her eyes, and that he was more than capable. But it didn’t stop her from tensing up when the gurney stopped abruptly and an unknown voice called out.