by Jordan Marie
Silently, I said a prayer for the fallen officer. As I approached the room and pushed my way through the army of men, I could hear Dr. Miller hollering out orders.
“Page the trauma surgeon on call STAT. And call the OR and get a room ready now!”
Chapter Two: Leila
I made my way into trauma three to see Mary and Derrick rushing around working on the patient. I ran straight to the phone on the wall and paged Dr. Drake Thomas to the ER. I called up to the OR and had them start prepping a room the way Drake required for GSWs. As I turned back around, my whole world stopped and the bottom dropped out.
No way. This couldn’t be happening. I rushed to the side of the stretcher and gasped in horror. “Drew, oh my God, Drew. Talk to me Drew, can you hear me?”
Mary looked up at me. “Leila, what the hell? Do you know this officer?”
Tears were streaking down my face. “This is my brother. Drew.” Turning my attention back to him, I grabbed his hand. “Drew, can you hear me? Please open your eyes.”
Derrick came around the stretcher, grabbed me and tried to pull me back, but I fought out of his grasp.
“Leila, you can’t stay in here, you know this. He’s your brother. You’ve gotta step aside. Let us help him. We’ve got this. You know we’ll do everything we can to save him, but you gotta go.”
Turning around, Derrick got the attention of one of the SWAT officers that came in with Drew. “Hey man, can ya please get her out of here, she doesn’t need to see this.”
Jasper Smith, sergeant of the narcotics unit, stepped forward and scooped me up in a hug, and guided me to the glass front door that was swung wide-open. “Leila, I tried to reach you in route before we got here. I didn’t want you finding out like this.”
Jasper was a fifteen-year veteran of the North Charleston Police Department and had kept an eye out for Drew over the last ten years. Jasper had been Drew’s sergeant when he started with NCPD, at the ripe old age of twenty-one. Drew eventually moved out of Narcotics to the K-9 unit and now onto the SWAT team, but they stayed close. Jasper and his wife, Donna, had Drew and I over for many Sunday dinners. They didn’t have any children of their own. So after Mom died, they sort of became our surrogate parents.
I took a deep breath to try to regain my composure, but failed miserably and ended up rattling off questions like an interrogator. “Jasper, what the hell happened? How did this happen? I talked to Drew before my shift and he said it was gonna be a quiet night. Y’all only had one warrant to serve and it would be a piece of cake.” Fisting Jasper’s shirt, I cried, “How’d he get shot?”
Standing back, Jasper scrubbed his hand down his face. “We got shitty intel and…I don’t know. It’s like they knew we were comin’ or somethin’. We always hit these houses at crazy hours, when most people are sleeping, so we’ve got the element of surprise. But these fuckers were waitin’ in the house for us.”
Shaking my head, I couldn’t process what he was saying. “I have to find out what’s going on with Drew.” I turned and stalked back toward trauma three and was met just outside of the door by Barb.
“Oh no, don’t tell me I missed all of the fun. The patient didn’t come in DOA did he?” Barb joked, and then stopped. “Wait. Leila, what the hell is going on? Why are you out here?”
“Barb, you have to get in there. You have to help him,” I demanded.
“Leila, you aren’t makin’ any sense. What’re you talkin’ about? Help who? Why aren’t you in there?” Barb started to rush down the hall, getting closer to the room.
“It’s Drew. Drew is the GSW. Oh God, Barb, it’s bad. It’s so bad. Please. You’ve gotta get in there,” I pleaded with her.
Barb stopped short of the doors, turned back to me to say, “I promise, I’ll do everything I can,” then sprinted into the room.
“Barb, wait. I want an…update.” But it was too late, the door was closed and the curtain drawn. Now I had to wait, something I didn’t do well under ordinary circumstances. Being on this side of the door was a horror I had never contemplated.
Pacing the corridor, I thought of the times I came out here myself telling patients’ families to have a seat and someone would be out shortly with an update. Heaven help the person that tried to say that to me right now. Chances were good I’d punch them in the throat if they did. I really didn’t know the extent of Drew’s injuries, but I knew enough to surmise they were bad. Really bad.
Standing across the hall from Drew’s room, I shed my gear, then leaned back against the wall and slid down until I clutched my knees to my chest. Dear God. This wasnot happening.
Our father walked out on us when I was nine years old, then my mom was killed in a drunk driving accident two weeks before my eighteenth birthday. There was no way God would be cruel enough to take Drew from me too. Silently, I prayed to the heavens above not to take the only family I had left. Drew wasn’t just my brother, he’s my rock. He has always been there for me, even when I didn’t want him to be.
Pulled from my thoughts as a strong, hand landed on my shoulder, I looked up from my not so comfy spot on the floor to see Bobby Gray, Drew’s best friend and partner. He held out a calloused hand to help me up from the floor.
Wrapping his strong tatted arms around me, he pulled me into a tight hug and whispered, “I am so sorry Lei. What can I do?”
Tears threatened yet again, but I pushed them down. “There’s nothin’ we can do. They won’t let me in there with him. They haven’t even come out to tell me anythin’. I don’t know what to do right now…damn it. Please tell me y’all got the asshole who did this.”
“Yeah, we did babe. Drew actually got him. Clean shot right between the eyes. Dead before his sorry piece of shit body hit the floor.” Whispering so quietly I could just barely hear him, Bobby added, “’Tween me and you, I put another one in ’em just for good measure. Seems like he deserved it.”
Bobby released me just as the curtain and door to Drew’s room flew open. Barb was perched on top of Drew, counting out chest compressions as they ran down the hall toward the elevators that went up to the OR. Dr. Miller nodded once, signaling me to walk with him.
“Leila, quickly. We’re lookin’ at a single GSW, left chest with hemothorax. We got a chest tube in and are movin’ to the OR. I’m not gonna lie, it’s bad, but we’ve seen worse cases come in and walk out. Drake’s on and Barb said she is staying with him. I’m gonna go up and assist. And before you ask, he’s not regained consciousness. I’ll send you a text in a while to update you,” he said hastily looking back toward me while still moving toward the elevator.
In the blink of an eye, he was gone and my heart sunk. Although I was surrounded by a truckload of officers I considered friends, I felt hopelessly alone.
I couldn’t lose my brother.
Mustering courage I didn’t feel, I gestured to the crowd. “Hey, y’all don’t need to sit around here and wait. I’ll tell Bobby as soon as I have an update. Ya know, it’s probably gonna be hours before Drew comes out of surgery and the waiting room up there isn’t very big. Go on home. Bobby’ll send out a text as soon as we know more.”
Heads nodded in agreement and after a few mumbles, the SWAT guys slowly filed out of the corridor. Everyone left, except for the two who I knew wouldn’t budge. Bobby and Jasper. They were family.
Jasper walked over, draped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me toward the elevator. “He’s gonna be okay sweet pea.”
Bobby shook hands with the last few guys as they were leaving then turned to follow us up to the waiting room to wait for news about Drew.
Chapter Three: Leila
More than two and a half hours had passed, and several of the nurses and techs from the ER stopped by to ask about Drew. I must have heard a half dozen times that I needed to go downstairs and take a break or go get something to eat. Politely, I shook my head and told every one of them I would not leave until I knew Drew was okay.
After I had paced the same pattern around the
chairs in the waiting room for what seemed like the hundredth time, I heard a smooth, deep voice ask about Drew. I turned toward the information desk, set just inside of the surgical waiting room, to see a man I’d never met. He was dressed in a sharp, custom-tailored suit. Cautiously, I moved toward the desk. When he turned to face me, I stopped dead in my tracks.
Holy. Shit. He was fucking hot with a capital H.
A face defined by a strong, chiseled jaw, he had sensual, full lips and dark unruly waves adorned his head. At least six-two, maybe even three, he was a hell of a lot taller than my five-foot-three-inch frame. He sported a subtle scruff that screamed sex god, and had piercing baby blues to complete the devastating package. Then, as if all that wasn’t enough, he gave me a rock star smile when I started toward him.
That smile could melt the panties off a lesbian.
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A.F. Crowell lives in Charleston, SC with her husband and two sons. They have two dogs, Diesel, a German Shepherd rescue and Dez, a black Labrador Retriever. She shares her love of books with her children, who have a head start on becoming life-long readers.
Romance fiction hit her radar when her husband forced her to watch Twilight one weekend when they were snowed in. That was it! From there her love grew; Contemporary Romance, Paranormal, YA and Dystopian are her preferred reads.
Up next, an excerpt from Baylee Rose:
Unlawful Seizure
Baylee Rose
Amazon US Buy Link
1
Tess
I wake up with a migraine and feeling sick to my stomach. That is sign number one. Sign number two is my horoscope warning me I shouldn’t leave the house today. Sign number three is when I go outside to discover my old, beat up, 1990 something model Toyota, sitting on a flat. I’m stressed out already, and it’s only 7 am. I’m all set to call in sick when my boss calls me with his usual song and dance. I’m sick today Tessa. I really need to take the day off. Clear all my appointments. Make up some excuse for me. What he really means, is he and his wife are flying to Tahoe for the weekend. I know because Claire, the other secretary, let that little tidbit slip.
When I remind him that Judge Ryson appointed him as counsel in a case that was on the docket this morning, he goes silent. When I inform him it is a parole hearing and can’t be rescheduled, that sick feeling only increases. When he asks me to get Stuart to cover for him, we begin a ten-minute conversation on why Stuart is hopeless and will end up losing the case and destroying a man’s chance for freedom.
I’m not usually so concerned, but his client today is Max Kincaid, and I’m more than slightly obsessed with this case. Max deserves someone who will actually try to get him free.
I shouldn’t be that concerned with this case. I should have kept my fat mouth shut because the next thing I know, Charles, my boss, has volunteered me to go before the parole board and present the case as his proxy. I try every way in the world to stress that I can’t do it. I point out that Mr. Kincaid was unlawfully put in jail, and he needs a real attorney looking out for him. I might as well have saved my breath. His response was that I know the case better than anyone and Mr. Kincaid would best be served with me, by his side.
“Tess you know the law inside and out. You can do this.” Click.
That’s the only response I get from my final plea for him to do what the freaking state pays him to do. I really should have quit this job ages ago. I haven’t because I can’t afford to. I would have loved to go on to law school, but I put myself through school to get my paralegal license. There’s no way I can work full time to pay back student loans, and go back to school.
I was stupid enough to think that I would get a job right out of school. Well, not completely stupid. I did get a job immediately—at McDonald’s and then later at Shoe Warehouse and Dollar Mart. I had three jobs and still could barely manage to pay rent on my apartment. It was also an apartment I barely visited, unless it was to collapse on the bed to nap before my next shift started.
I was drowning in debt from school loans and so tired I could barely hold my eyes open. When I walked into Charles Barger’s, and he offered me a paralegal position, it seemed like the answer to my dreams.
It turned out to be a nightmare.
It does keep a roof over my head though and the damn collection calls down. That’s what I remind myself of again today, as I put on my big girl panties and suck it up. It’s a parole hearing and on a case I do, in fact, know inside and out.
I get my tire changed and head to the office, grabbing the files and things I will need for the hearing, then head straight for the federal prison in Ormond. It takes a good hour to drive there, and the hearing is scheduled to start in forty minutes. That’s when yet another sign from the universe falls in my lap, in the form of a speeding ticket. Fuck my life!
I try to pay attention to my speedometer the rest of the trip, but it’s hard. My mind is swirling as I go over the facts I need to present to the panel. My boss wasn’t lying when he said that I knew this case better than anyone. The truth is I’ve been consumed with Max Kincaid’s case. I must have read his file a thousand times. I know it’s not healthy. I do. I just can’t seem to make myself stop. I stare at his picture, and something about those dark, inky, onyx eyes call to me. His features seem familiar, even though there’s no way that’s possible.
I’ve even memorized his information. Max Kincaid, age thirty-six, date of birth February 11, 1979. Dark black hair, black eyes, and three distinct scars. A small one above his right eyebrow, one on his side from an appendectomy he had as a teen, and one jagged scar on his chest he received in the line of duty as a soldier in the Middle East. Max is a hero, awarded the Purple Heart for heroism in battle when he saved his entire platoon from a mortar attack by driving straight into the line of fire and drawing it away from his men. He had more men offer to stand up for him during his murder trial than the judge would allow to testify. By all accounts, Max was the golden boy, the man that women loved, and men wanted to be. His downfall came from loving the wrong woman, marrying her, expecting a child with her and then brutally extracting revenge for their deaths.
I lay awake at night recounting the facts of the case, and having my heart hurt for the man who lost so much, because of a decision filled with revenge. Truthfully, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have tried to do the same thing as he did if I were in his shoes. A part of me cheers for him. That’s why I’m doing this; but find myself a little giddy at the chance to actually meet Max Kincaid and be close to him.
Claire, my co-worker, likes to joke that I’m halfway in love with the man. If she knew some of the dreams I’ve had, that involve Max, she’d be ready to call the men in white coats.
This is important. This could be the single most important thing I ever do. Not only will I get to meet the man, but I also get the chance to be the one to right a wrong. Yes, he killed a man, and yes, that is wrong. However, the circumstances of the case, the outstanding character witnesses that testified on his behalf and the fact that he has already served five years of his sentence without a single demerit or mark against him, all combine and tell me he should get parole. Now, if I can just convince the court of that.
I feel strongly that he was wronged. I think I’m supposed to do this. I’m supposed to be the one to rescue him. That’s the real reason why I ignore the signs the universe keeps throwing my way. It’s also why I don’t let the fear that floods me when I drive through the prison gates, after checking in at t
he guardhouse, overpower me.
I go through all of the security points at the main entrance and have my files, purse and items searched. I manage only to be five minutes late, but in the end that doesn’t matter since a couple members of the panel are running behind. That will give me a few minutes to meet with Max…I mean Mr. Kincaid before the hearing and go over our battle plan.
“Could you have Mr. Kincaid brought down now? I’d like to meet with him before our hearing.”
“You’ll have to wait here until I have the prisoner brought in and settled,” the guard tells me.
“I…okay. That’s fine. I’ll just wait here.” He doesn’t reply and goes out.
My heart is beating out of my chest. I need to move past my excitement of getting to meet Max Kincaid and get my mind onto obtaining his freedom for him. It’s another ten minutes; which only serves to increase my nerves, before the guard comes back and escorts me in. For a minute, I think I stop breathing. Max is sitting at a table, and if I ignore the orange jumpsuit, he looks even better than he did in his pictures. His black hair is straight and lays lazily on his head, making it look like someone has lovingly run their fingers through it. His dark eyes pin me immediately and with such intensity it takes all I have not to hesitate when walking towards him. His large hands are lying on the table with chains around them. I know that is normal procedure, but on him it feels wrong.
I don’t know what I imagined our first words would be to each other. In my daydreams of Max, I thought we’d meet, and I’d rescue him and he’d be the one. The man who would understand me, who would just…fit me. I thought somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind he might recognize that feeling when he saw me for the first time, too. It sounds all kinds of stupid and juvenile and normally I’m not that kind of woman. I don’t know why I am where Max is concerned.