Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(10)
Instead of freaking out, she was like a f*cking machine, dropping down onto her knees on the icy wet street, ignoring the cameras that followed us.
Fellow ATTF Officer Glenn Martucci trotted up behind us, pushed Ritchie and his camera out of the way, and froze. He pulled an extra pair of latex gloves from his pants pocket, handed them to her, mumbled something about God and vomit, and then quickly backed away. I heard the distinct sound of Ritchie gagging, too. It didn’t take long for us to lose the light of his camera.
I watched her tear off her soiled gloves and pull the new ones on over her delicate hands, trussing back up as if she were in the O.R. Somewhere along the way her white ski jacket had gotten big red smears of blood all over it and now part of me was wondering if she was hurt, too. That dry burn started again in my throat, aching for oblivion.
“Officer Trent,” she called out again, pulling my attention back to her determined face.
Man, she was pretty: creamy flawless skin with the pink blush of a natural beauty. An angel sent to heal my broken soul.
Heal all of us.
Her cheeks… God, I just wanted to touch them, see if they felt as soft as they looked.
How does she do it?
How does she stay so beautiful amidst this ugliness?
I wanted to know her secrets, soak in her magic.
Surely she had some mystical armor keeping her insulated from the f*cked-up carnage.
Everything seemed to blur until I refocused on the vic laying in the street. Young guy, white, late teens or early twenties at most, was in bad, bad shape. I had to pull my shit together.
Adrenaline surged, forcing my years of training to the surface. Still, I was so damn glad she was here. First aid… hell. He was so cut up and gasping; I wouldn’t even know where to start with this one. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
“You,” she yelled up at Ritchie, “shine that light here. Quit shaking.” After a quick assessment and telling the patient who she was and that we were here to help, she moved my hands for me, placing them on the guy’s thigh. She told me where to apply pressure and why, but this whole scene made me numb. Blood was just everywhere, spilling out of this poor SOB like a punctured waterbed, scorching my mind with more heinous visions that I’d never be able to forget.
“Officer,” she said, leveling her eyes on mine. “It’s just you and me. I need you to stay calm and listen, and trust me.”
I liked her much better when she was wearing my handcuffs, helplessly glancing up at me with those sexy blue eyes. If she only had a clue as to the other shit that she stirred in me when I had her restrained, she’d probably snag my Glock and put a bullet in me right here, right now.
Those blue eyes flashed to me again as she was feeling for the kid’s pulse, dragging me back to the unsightly trauma. “No, no, no, shit. He’s stopped breathing. You have a bag mask on you?”
I knew what she was asking for but I had nothing to give her. “Sorry, Doc.”
She frowned. “I can’t find a pulse, either. I need you to keep steady pressure to keep him from bleeding out on us. Squeeze as tight as you can. Okay?”
All I could do was nod, waiting on her next instruction. I wanted to help her give him CPR; I’d been recertified recently, but I knew the second I let go of this kid’s leg the blood would flow.
Such a tiny thing and yet she was pumping his chest with renewed strength. I found that I was keeping count with her, but nothing was happening.
We were wasting our time trying to change his fate. Out here on the streets, not breathing and no pulse only meant one thing.
“Doc, I think he’s dead.”
She never stopped pumping. “No, he’s not. Not yet.”
I felt useless just doing nothing but clamping his leg. I didn’t want to admit that the smell of his blood was getting to me. “Do you want me to do that? You hold his leg?” I switched to breathing out of my mouth.
Her dirty blonde hair bounced off her shoulders with each compression. “No. Your hands are stronger. Keep him clamped tight. You have an AED in your rig?”
Regret and anger poured over me, knowing we should be better equipped but weren’t. “No. None of the ATTF units do.”
“Shit,” she growled out, pressing down on him harder. “Bagger? Oxygen?”
I squeezed the kid’s thigh with all my might, not wanting any of her efforts to be in vain. “No. Regular patrol does. We don’t carry that stuff. Like you said, it’s just you and me, Doc.” The moment she looked over at me again with those gorgeous blue eyes, I felt it. It was as if an invisible wavelength tethered us together in this shitty situation somehow. It almost took my breath away. It was that strong. I saw her next question clearly manifest on her face, as if I could read her mind like her thoughts were my own. She didn’t need to ask. I scanned the area, yelling over to one of my team members, making sure she’d get whatever she needed as soon as a squad car pulled up.
“Thanks,” she muttered, still compressing his chest.
Hearing the added sirens from arriving fire trucks and ambulances was nothing short of a relief, but it seemed to take forever for them to get on scene. I’d been a first responder on numerous occasions, but never had much of a stomach for the sight of torn human flesh.
“Officer, you can let go now,” some paramedic said to me as he tried to shoulder me out of the way. I reluctantly rolled back off of my knees, very aware how much they hurt from kneeling on the wet, icy cold road. I didn’t want to leave her; we were working well as a team. We’d gotten the kid’s heart to beat again, and I felt like I was abandoning her to deal with the mayhem all on her own.