Stronger With Us (The Strength Series Book 3)

by JA Hensley

  What the actual fuck is wrong with me? It’s been two weeks since Las Vegas, and I still can’t get that asshole out of my mind. It’s like he’s purposely taunting me with memories of hot sex. Last night was supposed to be the way to get Jude Schaefer out of my head. Unfortunately, the guy I went home with just didn’t reach the bar that Jude has set. What if he’s ruined me for all men? I will definitely kick his ass if that turns out to be true.

  “Stop it right now,” I say out loud to myself. “You’re not this woman. You’re strong and independent, and you do not need a man for anything except a great orgasm.”

  Nobody gives a better orgasm than Jude. He left me as a boneless heap and begging for more.

  STOP! Just stop thinking about him. I finally get out of my car and into my condo. I head straight for the shower, feeling a little dirty after last night. I can’t even recall the guy’s name. Allen, Aiden…something that started with A. Who cares? I’m never going to see him again anyway.

  The water heats up as I shed my clothes and click the Spotify app on my phone so I can listen to music while I shower. The Bluetooth speaker mounted to the wall connects and the room is filled with the latest Meghan Trainor song. I have the best shower in the world. It was pricey but the four body sprays, the rain head mounted in the ceiling, and the handheld all make it worth every penny. I even had a bench installed so I could sit down when I shave my legs.

  Once the temperature is right, I step in and let the water do its job of relaxing my muscles.

  As always, I stop and get my coffee on the way into work, even though it’s lunchtime. I hate doing this swing shift; it messes with my routine. The ambulance bay is full as I drive to the employee lot. Great, it’s almost noon on a Monday and it’s already chaos. Hopefully that means that the time will go fast today.

  I follow a stretcher into the ER, listening to the information being given because I know I’ll get assigned to this patient. After stashing my purse, I carry my drink to the nurses’ station and wait for Geneva to tell me where I need to be. The good thing about today is that all my regular team is here. We work so well together, and that makes things that much smoother when it’s this busy.

  “CJ, take the man in room two, please. He needs an initial assessment before a doctor can see him.” I nod at her instructions and move to start my day.

  I wasn’t prepared to see the person lying in the bed. He lifts his head as I walk in, and his face breaks out into a smile that reminds me of the Joker from Batman. It’s creepy as hell and takes everything I’ve got to remain professional and not run out of the room.

  “Mr. Lindy, it seems that you’ve hurt yourself again. What happened?” I ask as I bring up the screen on my tablet to start taking notes. I’m met with silence so I chance a look at the patient, but he’s still just staring at me.

  “Mr. Lindy, if you’re hurt, you need to tell me so I can have the doctor look at you. Why are you in the emergency room today?”

  “My heart hurts,” he says quietly.

  “All right, can you describe the pain?”

  “It’s an ache in the middle of my chest.”

  “Rate your pain on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst pain you’ve ever had.”

  “Hm, this pain is probably an eleven,” he says with a grin. I know there’s absolutely no way he’s telling me the truth. He wouldn’t be able to talk.

  “I see. Okay. When did the pain start?”

  “The last time I saw you. It hasn’t stopped since then. I hoped that seeing you again would help me to feel better,” he says as he sits up on the bed.

  The hair on the back of my neck prickles and my gut tells me to get out of this room right now.

  “I need to go let the doctor know that you’re here. I’ll be right back,” I say as I practically run from the room. I make it to the desk before he follows me.

  “CJ, what’s wrong?” Jonathan asks.

  “That creepy-ass guy is back. The one who was here a few weeks ago. Says his heart hurts because he hasn’t seen me. Seriously, he gives me the heebie-jeebies. I don’t want to go back in there.”

  “No problem, I’ll take him. Give me a second to finish up this chart. Why don’t you go to the breakroom for a while until I can get rid of him?”

  “Thanks, J, you’re the best,” I say as I hurry away. I really hate these shifts.

  21

  The past two weeks have been filled with a lot of windshield time. I had no idea this job would keep me so busy. I’m not complaining, but it is surprising. Belator has more clients than I could imagine.

  One of the coolest assignments I had was to take a famous pop singer from the airport to the stadium for the concert. There were three of us working that detail and we had to switch drive a limo, but it was awesome. I even got an autograph for Becca since she really likes that kind of music.

  Today has been back and forth to the courthouse a couple times. I’m on my last run now. The shitbag in the back was arrested over the weekend and has been held in the county jail. Most of his teeth are broken off and black, there are scars and open wounds on his face that I’m sure he spends hours picking at, and his eyes dart back and forth like he’s watching a ping pong match on the back of the seat. He’s obviously a pillar of the community, staying in custody due to “trumped up drug charges,” according to him. The fact that he had an active meth lab in the bed of his truck while he was doing over 100 mph running from the police has nothing to do with it. He hasn’t stopped talking since he got in the car, and I’m ready to be done with him.

  “Man, this is bullshit. I’m innocent. Stop treating me like I’m Jeffrey Dahmer.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I respond, looking at him in the rearview mirror.

  “I gotta pee.”

  “I don’t care. You make a mess in my car, you’ll be cleaning it up. Now shut your mouth, we’re almost there.”

  We pull up to the courthouse, and there are people everywhere. It looks like the protest a couple weeks ago, but there are a whole lot more people this time. The sally port is backed up with cars so I have no choice but to park on the street. At least this guy isn’t a federal prisoner or anything. It’s not the best situation, but he’s scheduled to be in court in five minutes, so I really don’t have a choice.

  Once the car is in park I look around at the protestors. There are handmade signs that say things like “Justice Now” and “Fuck the Police.” Great. The courthouse closes in an hour. Maybe they’ll be gone before we come back out.

  I walk around to the passenger side and open the back door. Dipshit doesn’t move to get out, and that really pisses me off.

  “Dude, you’re about three seconds from being pulled out of there like a dog. Is that what you want?”

  “I’m innocent. Just let me go,” he cries. No, really, he’s bawling like a baby.

  “Then let’s go tell the judge that and get you out of here. I can’t do anything for you until the judge talks to you.” That seems to get his attention.

  “You’ll let me go?”

  “After we talk to the judge, and she tells me what she wants to do. But we’re not going to know what that is if you stay in the car. Now get the fuck out of there. If you’re late, you for sure won’t be going home.” Thankfully, that’s all it takes for him to get moving. He finally slides out of the car and I help him stand, holding on to the belly band, and leading him into the courthouse. People are behind barricades yelling shit about the system being unfair and police brutality. I obviously need to pay more attention to the news because I have no idea what they’re talking about.

  We make it inside the building without too much trouble. Once we get on the elevator I start to relax just a little. The courtroom is on the third floor, right across from the elevators. The doors open and the hallway is empty. We walk straight into the courtroom as the judge is finishing the case before us.

  “Ten thousand dollar fine and thirty days in jail,” she says before banging the gavel, indica
ting that she’s finished. A woman in the front row starts to cry as she reaches out for the man who was just sentenced. His security detail pulls him away and out the side door. His lawyer tries to comfort the woman, escorting her out of the room. I pull my suspect down the aisle and sit him down at the defendant’s table. A pimply-faced kid who doesn’t look old enough to be out of high school sits down and introduces himself as a public defender. It takes everything in me not to laugh out loud. This guy is totally screwed now.

  The initial hearing lasts less than five minutes. Mister innocent was remanded without bail, so I have to take him back to County. He’s yelling and screaming as I drag him from the courtroom. I tell him several times to calm down, but he doesn’t listen. We make it down the elevator and into the lobby before he stops yelling. I breathe a sigh of relief as I walk him out of the building and toward the car. We get to the top of the steps, and he stops walking. I push on his back to get him moving, but it doesn’t work. He looks across the street at the protestors and then back at me.

  “DO YOU SEE WHAT HE’S DOING? POLICE BRUTALITY!” he screams just before he stumbles down a few steps. My grip on his shackles slips, and I fall into him trying to maintain control. I hear the crowd get louder and then a noise comes from the left side that I hear in my nightmares. There’s no doubt in mind that was a Browning 30-06 rifle.

  I turn my head to try and find the shooter, but my suspect’s head explodes before I can focus. Skull fragments and brain matter fly everywhere, and the body falls out of my hold. I feel a pinch in my side, but play it off as I try to get down on the ground. More shots ring out, and I use the suspect’s body as a shield. The crowd is screaming now and people are running everywhere. I look around trying to find an escape route. My side is killing me so I reach down to rub the cramp out. I touch something wet and when I pull my hand back it’s covered in blood. Is that my blood?

  “Sir, are you okay?” I hear from behind me. I turn my head as far as it will go and see a uniformed officer.

  “I think so. My suspect didn’t make it, though. Where’s the shooter?”

  “Took off. We’re looking for him. An ambulance is on the way. You’re bleeding, sir.”

  “No, that’s not my blood, I'm fine.”

  “Actually, it is. Looks like you took one in the abdomen.” He kneels down and presses something to my side.

  “Well, fuck,” I say as I realize that this situation has just become so much more serious. I’ve been shot before, but it usually hurts. I don’t feel anything right now, and that is freaking me out.

  “Sir, you need to stay there. Please don’t move too much, there’s a lot of blood. Wait for the paramedics to get here and assess you.”

  I start to argue, but my vision blurs, and the next thing I know everything is black.

  22

  One concussion, two black eyes, a broken leg and creepy Mr. Lindy later, and it’s only four o’clock. The ER is finally empty and the charting is done. I stare at the clock and try to mentally make it move faster. I have four hours left before I can go home and snuggle with my pillow.

  “Hey, you okay?” Jonathan comes up behind me breaking my concentration. Damn clock isn’t responding anyway.

  “Yeah, I just want to go home and sleep. Did you get rid of that creep?”

  “Yeah, he’s gone. So what was his name?”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “You know as well as I do that you hooked up last night. You’re always in a mood after, so spill.”

  I look at my friend like he’s sprouted an extra head. How the fuck does he do that?

  “I don’t remember his name, and he wasn’t worth my time. It just pisses me off.”

  “Well, all I know is that you were in a fantastic mood about two weeks ago, and since then it’s all but disappeared. Perhaps you need to do whatever, or whoever, you did then and get back to the CJ we all love,” he says with a wink.

  I roll my eyes in return. Getting back with Jude would be much more dangerous to everyone’s safety. I can’t stop thinking about him, but I know he’d ruin me.

  I’m about to tell Jonathan to let it go when the radio comes to life. We all jump up and huddle around the speaker.

  “Damn it, when will this madness stop?” Geneva asks out loud. We all shake our heads not knowing the answer. “All right, people, we’ve got two GSWs on the way in; both law enforcement. Let’s get security down here to keep the lobby in check. I’m sure the local police department will be here in force. CJ, prep trauma rooms 3 and 4, Bill call the OR and let them know what we’ve got coming in. Jonathan, call the pharmacy and get some plasma up here. I’ll page Dr. Stine.”

  Three minutes later the first ambulance pulls up. I meet Keith at the back of his rig.

  “Hey, CJ. This is the first of three. One will be DOA.”

  “Okay. Whatcha got here then?”

  “GSW to the left quadrant. No exit wound. He lost consciousness before we arrived, and he’s been out since.”

  “He wasn’t wearing a vest?”

  “Actually, he was. The bullet hit him right underneath it. Million dollar shot, actually,” he says as he pulls the gurney from the ambulance, his partner helping from inside the vehicle.

  “Vitals?” I ask as I turn and walk in front of them, prioritizing the plan of care as we make our way into the ER.

  “BP is low, 95/60; Oxygen is 95, pulse 100. He’s hanging in there, but he’s going to need surgery,” Keith’s partner says as they push the gurney to the exam room. The team is there waiting, and we move the patient to the bed.

  “Good luck, CJ. The next one isn’t as critical,” Keith says as he walks out.

  “Thanks,” I call after him, pulling out my scissors to start cutting the uniform pants from his legs. I haven’t gotten a name or even looked at his face. When a member of law enforcement is in the ER, I make sure to focus on their injuries and getting the doctors what they need. I see Jonathan remove the belt holding his sidearm, handcuffs, and badge as I work on the other pant leg. I really hate when people take their anger out on the men and women who are paid to protect them.

  “Do we have an ID?” Geneva asks. Jonathan finds a wallet and opens it.

  “Jude Schaefer,” he says, and I freeze. There’s no way. It can’t be him. He does transports, not police work. I look up quickly see his gorgeous face, his build, and the tattoos on his right arm. How did I miss those details?

  “CJ, what’s wrong with you?” I hear Jonathan ask, but I can’t seem to make my mouth work to answer him.

  What the fuck happened during a transport that got him shot?

  “Get her out of here,” Geneva barks to an orderly. I feel hands on my shoulders, and I’m pushed out of the room. The door closes behind me, sealing out the voices and I come back to the present. I shake my head and push my feelings down. I need to remain professional here. Nobody knows about my fling with Jude, and now is not the time to act like a lovesick girl. I straighten my spine and march back into the exam room.

  “Sorry about that, I’m here,” I say to the room. Geneva nods but keeps her eyes on the patient. Dr. Stine bursts into the room, pulling on gloves as she walks to the bed.

  “Damn, we need to get him to the OR stat.” She palpates Jude’s belly and more blood oozes out. “Let’s move,” she says as she lifts the side rail on the bed. Jonathan does the other side, I unlock the wheels, and we’re heading toward the elevators as fast as possible. I see the other ambulance pull up, but there’s no way I’m leaving Jude. Geneva seems to sense this and tells Jonathan to take the new patient. Once the elevator doors close she gives me a look that tells me we’re going to have a discussion about this later.

  It’s a short ride to the third floor, and Jude is wheeled into the operating room within ten minutes of arriving at the hospital. I don’t want to leave him, but I know there is nothing I can do and there are patients who need care downstairs.

  As we turn to go back to the ER, my supervisor asks, “Wh
o is he to you?” I take a deep breath before answering.

  “His brother just married my best friend,” I answer quietly. I’m going to have to call Colin and tell him what has happened.

  “No, that’s not the whole story. You’ve never frozen up in a crisis. So, tell me the truth about your relationship with him.”

  Geneva is not one to mince words or beat around the bush. She always just goes for blunt and honest, and she can sense bullshit miles away. The elevator doors close, sealing us in. I take a deep breath before answering her.

  “He’s become more important to me than I ever expected. I haven’t seen him since I left Las Vegas, but he’s not far from my mind. I don’t know what to do with that,” I admit to her and myself.

  “I know you’re a woman who avoids relationships. I also know that you don’t like to talk about it. However, if this man makes you lose focus on the job, then I would advise you to explore it more. He’s obviously different than everyone else.”

  “He is,” I reply. What else can I say? Jude is different in all the ways that scare the shit out of me. It’s why I’ve been trying so hard to not think about him or run back to him. He has the power to make my life better than ever or completely destroy it. There doesn’t seem to be any middle ground.

  “I’ll try and get you off duty as soon as I can. Can you get your head back in the game?” I look up and see nothing but concern from her. I straighten my spine and nod, maintaining eye contact.

  “Yes, I can handle it. It was a temporary shock, but I’m ready to do what needs to be done,” I say with all the conviction I can muster. I’ll ask Bill to call Colin and inform him about Jude so I can concentrate on my patients. I shove all thoughts of Jude into the back of my mind as the elevator doors open and I’m greeted with complete chaos in the emergency room.

  It takes the rest of my shift to deal with the aftermath of the latest police shooting in our area. Someone decided they weren’t happy that their girlfriend had been arrested for having drugs in her car and took their frustration out on the steps of the courthouse. Jude and Officer Morrison were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The man who was killed was a suspected drug dealer.