by Freya Barker
“Don’t move,” I tell her when we come to a stop, bracing her body in the seat beside me with my arm.
I catch a glimpse of the pickup on the other side of the curve, barreling down the mountain. It’s impossible to make out the license plate, but I can easily see the Confederate flag covering the rear window on the cab.
“Evan?” At Tahlula’s trembling voice I turn to look at her, and my breath freezes in my lungs when I see nothing but sky on the other side of her window.
“It’s okay,” I try to keep my voice calm as I reach for her seat belt after unclipping my own. “We’re going to get you out on my side. I need you to climb over me; can you do that? Nice and easy.”
I swing my door open before grabbing hold of her arm to pull her weight toward me. It’s a relief when moments later we’re both standing beside the driver’s side door.
“You okay, baby? Are you hurt?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
I can feel her swaying on her feet and keep her steady with my arm around her. “Hold onto me,” I instruct her, while I pull my phone from my pocket with the other hand and call 9-1-1.
Ten minutes later, when the first emergency vehicles pull up, we’re still standing in the same spot, our arms around each other.
“Cheddar?” Blue asks when she walks up. “What the hell happened?”
“Jesus,” comes from Sumo, who walked around the vehicle and is staring at the front of the Lexus.
I’m still shaking on my legs at the thought of what almost happened, I haven’t dared check it out myself.
“Someone tried to run us off the road,” I bite off. “We need to get Tahlula to the hospital.”
“I’m fine,” she mumbles, her face still pressed to my chest.
“Let’s make sure, shall we?” Blue says diplomatically, putting her hand on Tahlula’s back. “Do you think you can walk to the ambulance?”
Like fuck she’s gonna walk. I realize I’m probably overreacting, but it doesn’t stop me from swinging her up in my arms.
“Okay. That works too,” Blue comments dryly, as she leads the way to her rig, Sumo following behind us. When she helps me get Tahlula in the back of the ambulance, Keith comes walking up.
“What happened?”
I get ready to blow him off in favor of staying with Tahlula, but she reads me and grabs my arm. “Talk to him.”
“I’m just going to check her vitals, I won’t drive off without you,” Blue reassures me. I never realized I was such an open book to the women in my life.
“We’ll take good care of her,” Sumo adds, earning a sharp glance from me, but for once he doesn’t look like he’s needling me; he looks dead serious.
I press a kiss to Tahlula’s lips before I exit the ambulance and walk with Keith to the Lexus. The moment I see the damage to the front end, and the way the passenger side front wheel barely clings to the ledge, my stomach somersaults and I fight to hold on to the contents.
“Take a breath, brother.” Keith places a hand between my shoulder blades. “You’re both still in one piece.”
I spend the next few minutes giving an account of the incident, including as many details as I can recall.
“So a blue GMC Sierra, late seventies-early eighties, with rust on the left fender and the gate?” he repeats back to me.
“Yes. Same truck Tahlula says was behind her the other day.”
“Anything else?”
“The flag, a Confederate flag in the back window.”
“You say it was a woman driving?”
“A blonde. She looked really young, but that could be ‘cause she had her hair up in pigtails. Small—she almost disappeared behind the wheel.”
“License plate?”
“It had one, but I couldn’t read it.”
We never ventured far from the ambulance, which is why I could hear Tahlula call out. “Evan?” I stick my head in the door. “Don’t forget about the flag,” she says.
“Confederate flag—I already mentioned it.”
“Not just that; what about the initials on the flag?”
“I didn’t notice those,” I admit. My brain registered the flag but that was it.
“In the bottom left corner: ANL. I don’t know what it means, but maybe it’s helpful.”
“I’ll pass it on.”
Keith has taken a few steps away and is talking on his phone when I join him. I interrupt him when I hear he’s passing on the truck’s description and add the new information.
“ANL?”
“That’s what she said.”
“Fuck. Only one thing that can mean on a Confederate flag; the American Nationalist League.”
“First time I heard of them, but already I don’t like the sound of it.”
“You’d be right. It’s a radical splinter group taking your run-of-the-mill white supremacists to an entirely new level. A neo-Nazi militia mirrored on the former German SS.”
The cold fist of fear closes around my heart. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Fuck, I wish I was. FBI is looking into that sick group of bastards.”
He gets back on his phone. “Ramirez, did you get all that? Yeah, that’s right. I’m gonna swing by the Rock Point office, have a chat with Gomez to see if they know about any local ANL involvement. Right. Later.”
He tucks his phone away and turns his serious eyes on me.
“This could be coincidence.”
Something tells me he doesn’t believe that himself. “But?” I prompt him
“But…it might be a good idea to stick extra close to her until we know what we’re dealing with.”
“I’m moving her into my place.” I don’t even think before it flies out of my mouth, but it makes sense to me. If whatever the fuck is going on has anything to do with her, she’s better off closer to town. Safer.
I’m not entirely sure she’ll agree, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.
“Cheddar? A word?”
Sumo is standing in the ambulance door waving me over.
“What’s up?”
“Need you to have a look.”
I climb in the rig to find Tahlula, pale-faced, sitting back on the gurney only in her underwear. A massive bruise runs diagonally across her shoulder, from her right shoulder down between her breasts.
“There’s one like that on her right hip as well,” Blue shares, sitting beside her.
“You’ll be fine, baby,” I say calmly for Tahlula’s benefit as I lean in to kiss her forehead. “The bruising is a bit dramatic.” To Sumo I snap. “Take us to Mercy—now.”
Tahlula
“What the hell is gestational thrombo…whatever?”
I’ve been here at Mercy for the past few hours, getting poked and prodded. The ultrasound luckily revealed a healthy baby and a steady heartbeat. I have to admit when I saw the bruises on my body; I was terrified something might have happened to her.
Evan stayed by my side the whole time through the ultrasound, and I can’t even put into words what sharing that experience with him did to me.
But now the puppy-aged ER physician is back with the results of the myriad of tests, spouting jargon I can’t even pronounce.
“Gestational thrombocytopenia,” Evan repeats the doctor’s words. “Shortage of platelets. Makes it harder for your blood to clot. It tends to strike in the third trimester and is generally harmless and resolves itself on delivery.”
“Most are mild cases,” the doctor specifies, and I turn to him.
“What about in my case?”
“Well, your platelet count indicates borderline mild to moderate.”
“And what does that mean?”
“It means, I’m prescribing you some medication to boost your platelets.”
Evan suddenly jumps to his feet and glares at the doctor. “Not without her OBGYN’s consult.”
Like a young peacock who’s had his feathers ruffled, the doctor brushes his hands over his pristine whit
e lab coat. “And you are?” he asks in a haughty voice.
“Here by invitation, and that’s all you need to know.”
“And you have medical training?”
“I’m a paramedic.”
When the young man scoffs, I see Evan’s hands clench into fists by his side. Time to intervene.
“Excuse me, but could someone explain what this is all about?”
Both heads turn my way, but the doctor is first to answer. “Without the medication you’re in danger of hemorrhaging.”
I suck in a sharp breath as Evan grabs my hand but keeps his eyes on the other man. “Is this the kind of bedside manner they teach you in med school these days? Terrifying your patients unnecessarily? We both know the risk for bleeding is considered minimal, even when her platelet count is very low, but the risk to the infant can be considerable with medication. Something Ms. Rae needs to discuss with her own physician.”
“You’re hardly qualified—”
“I’d like to speak with Dr. Haebe first,” I cut him off, something he’s clearly not used to since he’s looking at me perturbed.
“Ms. Rae, I assure you—”
“You heard the lady.” Evan’s voice is low and threatening.
After a brief stare-down, the doctor must realize he’s not getting anywhere, because he turns on his heel and heads for the door, where my brother’s familiar bulk is blocking his way. He holds the young man’s attention for a moment before he steps to the side, letting him pass.
“How’d you get here?” I want to know when Trunk walks into the room, his eyes on Evan.
“He sent word.” He indicates the man at my bedside, who is still holding my hand
“You did?” I’m pleasantly surprised. My brother and Evan did not exactly start on a good foot.
He shrugs. “Asked Blue to chase him down. He’s your brother, he should know.”
“Thank you.”
“Yeah,” Trunk growls. “’Preciate it. Now someone tell me what the fuck happened?”
It takes us more than a few minutes to fill him in, and the only reason he doesn’t explode is the arrival of Dr. Haebe. My OBGYN always carries herself with a peaceful sense of calm that seems to be contagious—even my big, angry brother appears to be affected.
“Had a scare, I hear?”
“You could say that.”
“Let’s have a quick look then, shall we?”
“Doctor, her platelets are low, but—”
I cut Evan off. “Dr. Haebe, this is my brother Titus Rae, and my…” For the life of me I don’t know what to call him. We’re not twelve, so calling him my boyfriend sounds infantile, but what else is there? “This is Evan Biel.” I decide on.
“Ah, the paramedic, yes I heard about you at the nurses’ station. Apparently you made an impression. And, Mr. Biel, before you carry on, I’ve read Tahlula’s chart. If you and Mr. Rae would excuse us, I’m a little overwhelmed by the level of testosterone in this room. I’d like to examine Tahlula and discuss with her what the best route is moving forward.”
Both men seem reluctant to leave, but eventually cave to the unflappable, serenely smiling Dr. Haebe and skulk out the door.
“Now then,” she says, pleased. “Let me have a listen to your little girl.”
I patiently submit to her examination until she finally seems satisfied and covers me back up. “So?”
“She’s doing fine, and so are you. Your platelets are low, but I don’t think to the point where we have to start intervening. We’ll monitor your levels at each visit from here on out and reassess the course of action should they dip much further. In the meantime, it’s business as usual.”
Relieved I give her hand a squeeze. “Thank you for that.”
She smiles and squeezes back before pulling up a chair and taking a seat. “Now, what’s this about someone trying to run you off the road?”
“Wow. News travels fast,” I observe.
“The nurses’ station is gossip central. Spend enough time there and you’ll hear anything and everything worth knowing.”
I repeat the story once more and find that each time I’m reminded of what almost happened, I get more angry. Whoever that bitch was, she didn’t only endanger Evan’s and my life, but that of my baby. No one messes with my baby.
“Glad to see you have some strapping men to keep you safe.” She suddenly grins and her eyes sparkle. “Speaking of those guys, think we made them suffer long enough? I should probably tell your…Evan he made the right call.”
She walks over to the door and opens it, revealing two very impatient men in the hallway. Evan walks straight over to the bed and takes my hand in his. Trunk tries hard to intimidate the doctor with his angry glare, but Dr. Haebe is not that easy to impress. She casually dismisses him and turns her attention to Evan.
“Mr. Biel, you’ll be happy to know I agree with your assessment, medication is premature. We’ll monitor instead. What is of more concern now is Tahlula’s safety.”
“She’ll stay with me,” Trunk announces.
“No, she’s moving in with me,” Evan counters. “She’ll be safer in town, and closer to the hospital if needed. Besides, I’m at the end of a cul-de-sac; any strange activity is noticed. Plus, she’ll have the quiet she needs to write.”
“I’m not going with either of you,” I interject, my voice raised. These guys are not to be believed, making decisions without consulting me.
Then Dr. Haebe puts a restraining hand on my arm. “Actually,” she says softly. “It’s a rare occurrence, but I think maybe in this case I agree with the men. Staying in town is a good idea.”
The only person smiling when Dr. Haebe leaves the room, after she announces I can go home, is Evan.
“Don’t be smug,” I hiss at him.
“Gonna need your address,” Trunk grunts at Evan, and I’m shocked he gives in so easily.
I watch in disbelief as the guys exchange information and enter it in their phones. I’ll never get men.
“Ready to go home and pick up Luke and your stuff?” Evan asks, still looking way too pleased.
“Fine,” I grumble ungraciously.
“I gotta go,” Trunk announces, ignoring my mood as he bends over the bed to kiss my forehead.
I roll my eyes when he shakes Evan’s free hand, like they’ve been best buds for years or something, before heading for the door. There, he turns back and looks at me.
“Be smart, Sis. Love you.”
“You’re a pain in my ass, but I love you too.”
Then he fixes a hard stare on Evan.
“You’ll do, cracker. You’ll do.”
“Titus Maximus Rae!” I call out, but he’s already gone.
16
Evan
Well, shit.
I’d been so eager to get Tahlula out of here; I completely forgot I don’t have wheels. My truck is still sitting outside the firehouse and God knows where the Lexus is. I’m trusting Blackfoot had it towed somewhere.
Tahlula is pouting, pissed she’s been strong-armed into coming home with me. The nurse insisted she leave the hospital in a wheelchair, which didn’t help her mood at all.
“Give me a minute?” I sneak into the hallway before she has a chance to say anything, leaving her sitting in her room shooting daggers at my back.
I pull out my phone to see if Ma can come pick us up, when I spot Roadkill chatting up a petite blonde in scrubs at the nurses’ station.
“What are you doing here?” I ask when I walk up.
“Dropping off your keys. I was just checking with…” His eyes wander down to the pretty blonde’s chest, where a tag is pinned with her name. “…Cynthia, to see what room you’re in.” He dangles the keys in front of me and I snatch them out of his hand. “Your truck is next to the entrance. I should probably head out, Cap is waiting out there.”
“Thanks, Roadkill.”
The nurse gasps at his nickname and he throws her wink. “Pleasure meeting you, Cynthia.” A “Later,
man,” is added for me.
“Tell Cap I’ll call him later.”
“Will do.”
I’ve just installed a silent Tahlula in my front seat when my phone rings.
“Hi, Ma,” I answer, sliding behind the wheel and starting the engine.
“I was starting to worry when I didn’t hear from you,” she says, her voice now coming over the speakers.
“Sorry, Ma. We had a little car trouble.”
“Oh no. Everything all right?”
“It’s fine. We may not make it over today, though.”
“Oh…well, I guess dinner will keep for another day.” Her disappointment is clear and I feel guilty.
“Ma…”
“Hi, Joan, it’s Tahlula. Will dinner keep for an hour or so?”
I throw her a stern look, which she completely disregards.
“Hi, honey. Yes, for sure, but I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble, looking forward to it.”
“Ma?”
“Yes?”
“Is dinner transportable? You have my key; maybe we can do dinner at my place in an hour? Tahlula is feeling a little rough.”
“Of course, dear. I’ll see you there.”
Ending the call, I catch a heated look from Tahlula. Before she can tear into me, I wrap a hand behind her neck and pull her into a kiss. Teasing her tight lips with my tongue, I eventually coax them to open for me and I’m grateful when I feel her body relax.
A car horn has me tearing my mouth away and I notice a vehicle waiting for the parking spot. Reluctantly releasing Tahlula, I put the truck in gear and pull out, raising a hand at the annoyed driver in apology.
It still takes us halfway up the mountain before she says anything.
“We could’ve gone to your mother’s place.”
I have my eyes peeled to the road, but risk a quick gland in her direction. “We could’ve,” I concede. “But she’d have felt guilty the moment she found out you got hurt.”
“I’m fine,” she protests, without much conviction, and all it takes is a raised eyebrow from me to shut her down.
