Stirring Up Trouble
Page 31
Don’t miss Kimberly Kincaid’s next
Pine Mountain novel,
Fire Me Up,
coming next February.
“Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but I heard this was where the party is.” Without a second thought, Teagan slipped into the hairsbreadth of space between the cop and her irritated patient, assessing the latter with a critical eye. Her subconscious gave up a whisper of recognition as she looked at his ruggedly stubbled face, but the tickle of familiarity took a backseat to the visual assessment she needed to do in order to gauge his injuries.
The guy had nearly a foot on her, which was pretty freaking impressive considering she clocked in at five-foot-seven. The physique that went with his height left impressive in the dust, though, especially since his chest was as thick as a double-wide trailer and every ounce of it looked to be muscle.
Make that leather-clad muscle, which had probably saved his ass, quite literally. As best she could tell, thanks to his now-banged-up jacket, the guy’s road rash appeared shockingly minimal, although she’d have to get the garment off to be sure.
Too bad the rest of his injuries didn’t look to match, namely that arm he was cradling like a helpless newborn. She didn’t even want to get started on the laundry list of other injuries that could be lurking beneath the dirt-streaked denim and leather.
She passed the first-in bag to Jeff, who caught it without looking while the police officer stepped to the background to give them a wide berth.
“My name is Teagan O’Malley, and I’m a paramedic with Pine Mountain Fire and Rescue,” she said, her hands a flurry of movement as she geared up to do a rapid trauma assessment. “Can you tell me your name?”
The guy lifted a pierced eyebrow toward his spiky platinum hairline and speared her with a stare caught somewhere between hazel and cold gray. God, how did she know him?
“I’m fine,” he ground out, his voice pure gravel and aggravation. “Which I already told that fucking jarhead, but he wouldn’t let me leave.”
Yeah. It was going to take a little more than a bad attitude and some uncut testosterone to get her to back down. “That fucking jarhead, as you so eloquently put it, might’ve saved your life by keeping you here until you can be medically cleared. While I doubt there’s a gift registry for that kind of thing, a simple thank-you might be nice. Just to be on the safe side.”
Her would-be patient took a step back, his stare going from cutting to calculating in the span of a breath. “I don’t need to be medically cleared,” he said, although it didn’t escape her notice that he caught the cop’s attention to toss him a deferent nod.
Teagan bit back the temptation to point out that, from the looks of things, he was a walking, talking version of the board game Operation with that arm bent up like it was. “Okay. Why don’t you let me give you a quick once-over to be sure?”
“No.” The word fell between them without subtlety, and she drew back with a frown. The tough-guy routine was cute, really, but nobody was indestructible.
“Look, I know this isn’t fun, but it’s necessary, so—”
“If you think I’m getting in that ambulance, then you don’t know shit.”
Jeff locked eyes on her in a nonverbal translation of say the word, but Teagan gave a tight, singular shake of her head. She’d handled enough tough guys to fill a stadium, and this one was no different.
She craned her neck and stepped close enough to see the numerous abrasions peppered in with the guy’s dark stubble, meeting his stare head-on even though it sent an involuntary shiver down the plumb line of her spine.
“Let me tell you what I do know.” She dropped her voice to just a notch above a whisper and threw on a smile as thick and sweet as store-bought frosting. “I know your arm is broken, and I think you know it, too. I know you don’t want me to look at it even though it hurts like a bitch. And I also know that’s not an option, because it’s possible that broken arm is the least of your worries. So here it is. You can either cooperate with me and we’ll do this the easy way, or I can sedate you and work you over so thoroughly, I’ll be on a first-name basis with every last part of you. Are we clear?”
A muscle tightened in the hard line of his jaw, drawing out the silence for a beat, then two before he turned toward her ever so slightly, as if waiting for her to get on with it.
Good enough, she thought as she lifted her hands to start checking him out.
But before Teagan could even start on his pulse, the guy’s free hand had turned to form an ironclad circle around her wrist.
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2014 by Kimberly Kincaid
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ISBN: 978-1-4201-3287-8
First Electronic Edition: October 2014
eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-3288-5
eISBN-10: 1-4201-3288-1