The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)(85)

“You are a terrible influence on me, Violet Bates,” he said in mock anger, jerking his shirt over his lean torso.

“Yes, but you love it,” I replied with a wide grin. He squinted at me, but I just smiled as he diligently helped me out of bed and onto my feet.

“Indeed,” he drawled in my ear as he escorted me out into the hall. And I couldn’t help but notice that as we walked, he kept his hand glued to my hip, where his clever fingers had been stroking earlier.





33





Viggo





I had been doing this long enough to know nothing beat being lucky. Ms. Dale’s idea to lure an ambulance from the city had gone like clockwork. In truth, I’d expected it to be a bigger event than it actually was. But we had traveled back to Mr. Kaplan’s empty, torn-though farmhouse (despite the guilt that nudged me at the thought), called for emergency medical care, and then waited. Once one of our guards had spotted the incoming vehicle, we had set fire to the house, while Ms. Dale and Amber had lain down on the ground, smudged up with grime and soot.

The medics had fallen for it easily, rushing to their aid, allowing Cad, Thomas, Lynne, Morgan, and me to close in around them, pistols drawn. We took their uniforms, but left them with most of the medical equipment they might need in case a real medical emergency occurred. Lynne and Morgan stayed behind to act as their guards while we drove away. While no plan usually survived first contact with the enemy, this one had defied the odds.

From there, I’d expected crossing into the city to be difficult—but the tense silence of the ride, the glances at the road behind us, had all been worth it. Jeff had been right about the authorities not wasting any time waylaying medical units. With Ms. Dale and Amber hooked up convincingly in the back, oxygen masks set over their faces, we had been waved through the line of vehicles waiting at the checkpoint. As we drove on past, I had been confronted with the paranoid thought that it was too easy, the sneaking suspicion that we were, once again, being lured into a trap. It wouldn’t have been the first time, and no matter how well things went, my skin crawled every time we passed a Matrian vehicle.

Yet, as we pulled up in the parking lot at the back of the hospital, there was no one waiting to stop us with flashing lights and weapons drawn. No sign that anyone even registered us as out of place.

As I wheeled Ms. Dale toward the double sliding doors leading into the hospital, I looked down at the older woman and noticed that, under the oxygen mask, her mouth was pressed into a tense, tight-lipped line.

“Relax,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if it was more to reassure her or me. “You look like you’re choking on something sour.”

She let out a soft snort, and I hid my grin, feeling a little better. Ms. Dale’s demeanor had relaxed too—as much as could be expected for someone pretending to be in dire need of medical attention. I wheeled her gurney onward, the doors drawing open as I approached. We entered the emergency room, the crisp white beds lining the walls separated by curtains that were mostly drawn closed. Doctors and nurses were moving to and fro, checking on patients. We kept our heads down, allowing our uniforms to blend us in.

I angled the gurney toward the elevator in the back, just beyond the patient beds. I checked over my shoulder again, making sure Thomas was right behind me, and Cad was still pushing Amber on her gurney just behind him. They were, but the reassurance did little to unravel the tension twisting my gut into knots. Sweat was forming at the back of my neck by now. One wrong glance from a doctor could be the end of our expedition. Yet, as I drew nearer to the elevator bank, no one moved to stop us.

Thomas huffed as he moved around me, making a beeline for the buttons on the wall. I pulled Ms. Dale up short as the small man hit the button, and then watched the numbers on the digital readout count down from five. I hid my impatience by checking my watch for the time. It was just after four, which meant we had a little over fifty minutes before the final broadcast of the day.

Finally, the bell over the elevator dinged, and I looked up as the silver doors, shining bright as mirrors, spread open before us. A doctor was already inside, and he gave me a politely bland look as he stepped out, like he was suppressing curiosity. He held his hand against the door for us to keep it from closing.

“Much obliged,” I said, trying to stop my teeth from clenching while positioning Ms. Dale to one side of the elevator to make room for Amber’s gurney. Cad slipped in beside me, followed by Thomas. The doctor withdrew his hand, turning his face away, and then, thankfully, headed out into the emergency area. I exhaled and hit the button for sub-basement three, the lowest level of the facility.

“What was he staring at me like that for?” I snapped as we went down. “Is part of my uniform on backwards or something?”

The rest of the crew gave murmured versions of I don’t know, but Thomas spoke up thoughtfully. “It is possible the man was surprised by the bruising on your face,” he suggested. “I doubt most EMTs work sporting such injuries.”

I huffed, thinking out loud. “We’ll have to say it was a domestic dispute, and things got violent.”

“Those things happen,” Cad said eagerly. “I knew a guy who was an EMT once. Some crazy stuff happens to them sometimes. Once he told me that—”

The door dinged, and Cad stopped halfway through his sentence, joining the rest of us in staring at the door as it opened. If there were people on the other side, they might very well question the plausibility of us descending to a level far, far from triage. It seemed the door couldn’t open fast enough—but finally, the metal wall drew back, and we saw an empty hallway.