Deep Night (23 page)

Chris gasped, pulled his hand away and took a step backward. “No, that's lesson five. We can't rush this.”

Sara was beginning to regret her commitment to his program. What she thought would be a gentle awakening was becoming torture.

“Next, we climb into bed and get some sleep.”

“Oh…right.” So, now came the action.

She pulled back the comforter and sheet and got into bed. It felt weird because she had never slept completely naked before. The mattress sank as he stretched out next to her. He reached over and turned on her wave machine, then moved until their bodies were pressed together from chest to toe. She could feel the heat and the weight of his erection pressed against her. Her body reacted immediately with a flow of hot liquid between her legs. She might not be ready for him emotionally, but her body was certainly ready for him physically. It seemed to have a mind of its own as her pelvis ground against him.

“Uh-uh,” he cautioned. “That's lesson nine.”

Crap,
she muttered to herself. He couldn't be serious.

“Good night,” he said, and closed his eyes.

What was wrong with him? If he was trying to make a point, okay…point made. She wanted him. Bad. Now.

His now familiar little snore made her pull back enough that she could see his face. Was he faking it? How could he fall asleep when he was so turned on? When
she
was so turned on? But he appeared to be genuinely asleep.

His arm was around her waist, holding her close…not that she wanted to get away. She snuggled back against him, nestling her head under his chin. For a few seconds, she lay still and savored the sensation of skin to skin. She could feel his heart beating under her cheek. His breathing was steady and slow, and she regulated her own to match his so she mirrored his every movement. Most peculiar was his penis, which had a pulse of its own as it pressed against her.

All wariness was gone, replaced by a deep, aching desire to have this man make love to her. Their one brief encounter was sort of an appetizer. Now that she'd had a chance to see what was on the menu, she realized she was starving.

And he was asleep.

Sara was screaming. She sat up and looked around the room, disoriented and gasping for air.

“Sara…baby…wake up.”

The voice drifted into her consciousness. She realized she was naked and fumbled with the sheet to pull it over her breasts as she turned to Chris. The warmth and concern in his eyes calmed her.

“I must have had a nightmare.” She didn't remember anything about it, but she could guess what it had been about. “I woke you…I'm sorry.”

Chris glanced over at the clock. “It's time for us to get up anyway.” He turned his full attention back to her. “Are you okay?”

She lifted her sweat-dampened bangs off her forehead. “I'm fine.”

He dropped a kiss on her lips, then got out of bed. “I'm going to make some cereal. Want me to leave the box out for you?”

“Sure. But I'm going to take a shower first.” However, she didn't move. She was mesmerized by the beauty of his naked body as he walked toward the door. It was amazing how all the sinews and muscles worked together…and his ass…Sara forced herself to look away. She had never in her life admired a man's ass. Add that to her list of firsts with Chris.

She put on a T-shirt and shorts, feeling slightly scandalous because she wasn't wearing underwear. After all, it was just for the trip from the bedroom to the bathroom.

After her shower, she felt refreshed and more in control of her emotions. Dressed in slacks and a blouse that she would wear to work later, she went into the kitchen and poured cereal into a bowl. Chris's bowl was in the sink, and he was nowhere to be seen, so she guessed he had taken Riley out. Hopefully, he'd gotten dressed first.

The image of his naked body flashed through her mind, and she impatiently shook it away.
Get a grip,
she admonished herself. It was like high school all over again…except this time she knew what she was wishing for.

He returned, fully dressed, with Riley. They were both dripping wet. Riley shook it off and Chris dried his hair with a towel.

“It's cold out there,” he told her. “And raining.”

“Colorado weather. I heard we might get snow today,” she told him. “Probably not…The weather people are always wrong.”

But this time they were right. By the time they hit the road that night in their ambulance, it was snowing big, fluffy flakes. It was not uncommon for them to have a late-spring snow, typically just enough to nip the fresh leaves on the trees and cover the tulips and daffodils. It never stayed long and usually completely melted away the next day. However, for the moment, it was slushy and messy and just cold enough to be annoying.

“It's amazing how people forget how to drive when it snows,” Chris muttered as he drove to their second auto accident since their shift had started. In the background, the dispatcher's voice kept up a constant flow as she sent emergency units to multiple locations around the city. “People sliding into poles and trees and each other.”

The traffic was bumper to bumper and moving at a snail's pace as they drove down Market Street toward the ballpark.

“The game must just be letting out,” Sara commented as she tried to see out the windshield. The fat, moist flakes were the size of quarters and covered the windshield faster than the wipers could clear them away. “I can't believe they actually played in this.”

“They don't like to call games. It totally screws up the schedule to work in a makeup,” Chris explained. “Must have been a good one, because many people stayed until the end.”

Even with the flashing lights and ear-splitting siren, there was simply no place for people to go to get out of the way. The sidewalks were packed with fans huddling under parkas or holding blankets over their heads. There were police at the intersections, trying to organize the chaos, but with twenty thousand people all exiting at the same time, it was practically impossible. They turned left on 18th and inched through the traffic toward Wazee Street.

“Look, we're only a couple of blocks away. I'm going to take the kit and walk over there,” Sara told him. “It's right in front of Jackson's Bar, so if the traffic's all backed up, you might want to park as close as you can get to the corner of Wazee and 20th.”

“Got it. Be careful.”

“I will.” She pulled on her parka and zipped it up. They weren't moving at the moment, so she got out, went to the back and took out the kit. She slammed the back door and slapped her hand on it so he'd know she was done, then wove her way through the crowd of pedestrians to get to the sidewalk. The snow slapped against her face, melting instantly on her warm skin, but it clung to her eyelashes and she had to keep blinking to clear her vision. Since she was walking toward the ballpark, she was going against the flow of people and most had their heads down, so she kept bumping shoulders as she made her way toward 20th Street.

When she finally turned the corner, she could see that a driver had lost control of his car and slid into the crowd. People were standing around, looking down at someone who was lying on the sidewalk.

“Paramedic!” she shouted. “Let me through, please.”

People more or less moved aside, at least enough for her to squeeze through. She knelt next to the unconscious middle-aged man who appeared to have busted his head open on the concrete. She quickly checked his pulse and his pupils and saw that his heart rate was strong, so she moved to triage any other patients.

The driver and his passengers had only minor injuries and were out of their car. Another pedestrian had been hit, but her fall had been cushioned by the crowd. She was sitting on the curb, a little shaken up, but not apparently hurt.

“Sit tight. I want to make sure you don't have a concussion. An ambulance is on its way,” Sara told the woman after doing a pupil and pulse check on her. When Sara turned back to the man on the ground, she saw that he was stirring. His eyes slowly opened and looked straight into hers.

For the first time, she got a good look at the man. She blinked the snow out of her eyes. Before, she had been focused on his injuries and hadn't really studied his face. But now that she was staring into his eyes, she recoiled as if he were a poisonous snake.

Actually, he was worse. He was her father.

Chris was finally able to make it to 20th Street, but the traffic was backed up all the way to I-25, so he parked in the middle of Wazee Street near the corner. He tried communicating with Sara, but either her radio wasn't on or she was so busy, she was ignoring it. Assuming the worst, he unloaded the stretcher and used it as a battering ram to push through the crowds to get to the accident site.

When he reached the front of the bar, he saw Sara, kneeling on the ground. A man was lying on his back. She had started an IV and was about to insert a syringe into it. But there was something about the expression on her face that made his heart stop.

Sara was an excellent paramedic. She could tune out the world around her while she took care of a patient, focusing only on that person. He had watched her during the entire course of his training, and he had seen the compassion and concentration on her face as she worked.

That was not the look he saw right now. Her face was twisted with hate and anger. Tears were running down her cheeks. He stepped closer. What was she injecting into the man?

The syringe was empty. There was no solution of any kind in it…only air.

That couldn't be right. That much air would cause a venous air embolism that could kill him. And she knew it. It couldn't be a mistake.

Chris grabbed her arms and jerked her to her feet. The syringe fell to the sidewalk and shattered.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

Her eyes were wide and completely blank. It was like she was sleepwalking.

“Sara!” Chris's voice softened. He was genuinely concerned…not only about what she had nearly done, but about her catatonic state.

She blinked and, although her eyes were looking at him, they weren't focused. What bothered him most was that they were confused and lost.

“Go sit in the bus and wait for me. It's right over there.” He pointed at the ambulance, which was parked a half block away. “I'll finish up here.”

“Okay.” Her voice was weak and monotone, but she turned and walked away without question.

Chris was really concerned that she would wander off. She seemed so out of it. As he knelt down next to the man and checked his vitals, Chris kept looking up, watching Sara's progress until he saw her get into the front seat of the ambulance. He was relieved she'd made it and turned his full attention to the patients. A cop arrived to break up the crowd, and he helped Chris lift the man onto the gurney. The crowd was losing interest, so it was easier to get the gurney back to the bus. Chris and the cop loaded it inside, then Chris went back for the female pedestrian. The couple in the car were being interviewed by the police and had refused treatment.

He walked around to the front of the bus and opened the passenger-side door.

“Is he back there?” Sara asked.

“Yes, we're taking him to the hospital.”

“Do we have to?”

Chris frowned as he studied her closely. “Sara, are you okay?”

Her eyes were red, but she was looking at him, instead of through him, so he knew she was better.

“I'm…fine.”

“You're not. But we'll talk about that later. Are you able to drive?”

She nodded. “I think so.” She scooted to the other bucket seat, and he handed her the keys.

“Drive carefully. I've got two back there.”

Again, she nodded, inserted the keys and turned the vehicle on.

Chris shut the door, walked around to the back, climbed in and pulled the back door shut. “Ready back here,” he called.

She made a U-turn to avoid the traffic jam and headed toward the hospital. In the back, Chris made sure the woman was comfortable on the bench, then focused on the man, who was again unconscious.

It took almost an hour to transfer both of the patients and get them settled with doctors in the hospital. Sara stayed in the ambulance, and Chris offered the excuse that she had a stomach bug, a generalized diagnosis that could believably cover almost any symptom.

Except that she had tried to murder someone.

She had moved back to the passenger's seat and was leaning her head against the window. Chris climbed in, and without going to the garage, he drove to the back of the hospital and parked. He turned to her, not really knowing what questions to ask. This was so far out of character that he wasn't sure where to begin…except with the obvious question.

“What were you doing out there? Did you mean to kill him?”

Her eyes were dull and lifeless, and once again, they were filled with unshed tears. “He found me. I don't know how…and I don't know why…”

“Who found you?”

Her expression changed, hardened. “My father.”

“You thought that man was your father?” Chris's mind raced to put together all the details.

Her nostrils flared, but her voice was childish and small. “I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me.”

“Oh baby,” Chris moaned, knowing he was in over his head. He had seen soldiers suffering through flashbacks and hallucinations when they were struggling with PTSD. For some it was loud noises or crowds that set them off. For others, it was smells or accents or even faces that looked familiar that would send them into a panic mode. He had seen grown men curl into fetal balls on the ground or hide away in small, dark spaces.

Miller had suffered night terrors and couldn't deal with having to meet new people. Chris had been lucky, probably because he hadn't actually been involved in the battles. He hadn't had to make that split-second decision to shoot another human being. Being in the field as an unarmed medic had a whole different set of dangers and fears, but he hadn't had time to dwell on that aspect as he moved from one wounded comrade to the next.

But there were other forms of PTSD, and Sara's childhood abuse had bruised her so deeply that it had wounded her soul. For whatever reason, when she looked at that man tonight, she had seen her father, a trigger so powerful that she'd tried to end the torment permanently.

Chris scooted as close as he could and forced her to look at him. “That man wasn't your father,” he told her with a firm but gentle tone.

The tears spilled over. “Yes, he was,” she stated positively.

“No, his name was Nathan Thomas, and he had been at the ball game with friends.”

“Then he changed his name.” Her chin lifted defensively.

“Sara,” he took her hands in his, “your father is dead.”

She shook her head. “No, he's not. He's been following me. That was him on the sidewalk…”

Chris let go of one of her hands and picked up his cellphone from the dashboard. He clicked a couple of buttons, then held it toward her. “I asked Sam to look up your father so I could talk to him. I got this text tonight while I was locked in traffic after you had gotten out.”

Reluctantly, almost as if she was afraid of what she might see, she looked at the screen.

Sara's dad died 1/12/02 in prison. Convicted of molesting a child and distributing child pornography. Found hanged in his cell. See attached.

She scrolled down and saw a death certificate and her father's mug shot with his prisoner ID number on it. Her hand began to shake and she dropped the phone. “He's dead? He can't be…I saw him…”

“You just thought you did. You were having some sort of flashback.”

Her eyes narrowed and she scowled. “That bastard ruined my life. He even came back to haunt me after he was gone.”

Thoughts tumbled through her mind, each change of emotion reflected on her face. Slowly, she worked through the news until the reality of it struck her full force. “He's really dead?” She let that sink in for a moment, then repeated it with a flood of relief. “He's really dead!”

“He can never hurt you again.”

Her chest rose and fell as she sucked in deep lungfuls of air. It was as though she hadn't taken a full breath in years. “I'll never have to worry about seeing him again? Ever?” Suddenly, all the color drained out of her face. “Oh God! What did I do to that poor man? Did I hurt him?”

“He's okay. We got him to the hospital in time.”

“But I was going to…”

“
Shhh,
it's over. I think you should talk to someone about all of this. You're certainly not the first medic who has needed help dealing with all the blood and guts and death that we see, and you won't be the last.”

“I can't afford to lose my job.”

“No harm was done tonight, and they won't hear anything about it from me,” he promised. “I told you, I have your back.”

“You don't know how much that means to me.” Her relief was obvious.

Chris shook his head and sighed in frustration. “I wish I could have done more, but I guess I'm better at patching up bullet wounds. I didn't help Miller either.”

“Are you kidding?” she scoffed. “You set me free…and you saved me. You fix people every day. I just never thought I'd be one of them.”

“This has been a part of you for many years. It's not going to go away quickly,” he cautioned.

Sara considered his words thoughtfully. “I have vacation saved up. I'll take some time off…”

“And you'll go see a grief counselor or a therapist? I'm sure Julie can recommend someone.”

“I will.” She nibbled on her lower lip as she looked up at him. “You're not responsible for me. I don't want to drag you down.”

“Are you kidding?” He cradled her face in his hands. “I told you I'm not going anywhere.”

She looked doubtful. “You've always been there for me. But you don't have to feel obligated to stay.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

Her eyes softened. “Of course not. You've always been a good friend…”

“Fuck that!” he exclaimed. “When we were kids, being friends was enough. But we're all grown up now, and I want more. I'm with you on this. I'm willing to walk with you or to wait for you. But, bottom line, Sara, there's never been anyone else but you. I may not be able to save the world, but I can be there for you.”

“Ambulance 25, are you ready to go back in service yet? We've got several calls waiting on the board.”

Sara picked up the microphone and looked into Chris's eyes. They were warm, loving, familiar and safe. She knew she had nothing to fear from this man and that he would always be there for her. She also knew she never wanted to spend another deep, dark night not in his arms.

“This is Chris and Sara in Ambulance 25. We're ready for
anything.
”