Trauma Alert

by Radclyffe

  “Wait here,” Beau said, hoping Ali couldn’t hear the hoarseness in her voice. “I’ll come around and help you out.”

  “Thanks,” Ali said faintly. “I’ll take you up on that. Changing positions is not my strong suit at the moment. Be careful getting out.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Beau handed the cab driver a twenty dollar bill, slid out on the street side, and hustled around to the rear passenger door. She opened it and leaned inside. “Ready?”

  Ali edged carefully to the end of the seat and wrapped her arm around Beau’s shoulders. “Ready.”

  Beau slowly stood, looping her arm around Ali’s waist to steady her. Ali leaned into her and gripped her hips. They were nearly facing each other, their mouths kissing close. Beau swallowed, pleasure thumping in her belly. “Okay?”

  “Yes,” Ali said, anchoring herself in Beau’s steady gaze. “You’re good at that.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ali closed her eyes against the midday sun. “What, no smart remark about how good you are at everything?”

  “Not today.” Beau slowly guided them to the steps of the building Ali said was hers. “I’ll wait until you’re feeling better so you can fully appreciate my charms.”

  Ali squeezed Beau’s hip. “Just get me inside and you’ll be relieved of your duties.”

  “I’m staying, and you’re in no shape to fight me,” Beau said. “Keys?”

  “Right-hand pocket of my coat.”

  Beau slid her hand into Ali’s pocket, found the keys, and unlocked the front door, all the while keeping one arm around Ali’s waist. She wanted to steady her. And she just wanted to keep touching her.

  “The door on the left,” Ali said.

  Beau sorted through the keys, found the right one, and opened the apartment. It was much bigger inside than she’d anticipated, and old-world elegant. “This place is gorgeous.”

  “Thanks.” Ali opened her eyes to soothing shadows and released her hold on Beau. When she started to remove her greatcoat, Beau gently caught her hands.

  “Let me get that for you.” Beau lifted the coat from Ali’s shoulders and hung it on a wooden coat rack inside the door. “Where’s your bedroom?”

  “I think I’ll just take the couch in the parlor.”

  Beau cupped Ali’s elbow. “Okay. Where to?”

  Ali rested both hands on Beau’s shoulders. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done. When I realized it was you with me after I got shot—that helped a lot. And when you stayed with me in the trauma unit, bringing me home—all of it. But I’m all right now. And I need you to go.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Ali,” Beau said softly. “Not for anything I did back there in the hospital or just now. But your balance is off, you’re photophobic, you’re nauseated and in pain. You need someone. It might as well be me.”

  Ali hesitated. Beau was right—she wasn’t going to be functioning at full power for a few days, but tonight was the only real danger period. She was stubborn, not stupid. She could call her friend Catherine, ask her to do a phone check every few hours. But if she did that, Catherine would insist on coming over. She couldn’t call Wynter. Asking Ralph was out of the question.

  “No strings,” Beau said.

  “I hope you mean that.”

  Beau nodded. So did she, because Ali Torveau really needed to come with a warning sign. Caution: This Woman May Be Hazardous to Your Heart.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Beau checked her watch. Twenty more minutes and she would need to wake Ali. She’d given her a couple of Tylenol right after they arrived back from the hospital, even though they both knew Tylenol wasn’t going to touch her headache. With the possibility of head injury, anything stronger was out of the question. After a while, Ali had fallen asleep on the sofa while Beau sat nearby in a big overstuffed chair.

  The parlor had gradually grown darker as the afternoon had worn on, but she hadn’t bothered to turn on a light. Surprisingly, she wasn’t bored. Inactivity usually made her agitated and out of sorts, but she found watching Ali sleep restful. Realizing the room had grown cold, she got up and retrieved a multicolored wool throw from the back of the sofa. Carefully, she covered Ali, who was still in the scrubs she’d worn home from the hospital. Beau’s chest tightened at the sight of Ali’s pale face and shadowed eyes. A purple bruise spread from the laceration on her left temple down the side of her face. She looked vulnerable and alone, and Beau had the overwhelming urge to stroke away the small lines of pain that furrowed her brow.

  As she leaned over, Ali opened her eyes.

  “Beau?”

  “Hey,” Beau said softly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Ali shifted, groaning at the crick in her neck and the pounding in her head. “What time is it?”

  “About six, I think.” Beau reached up to the fabric shade–covered lamp on the end table. “Close your eyes. I’m going to turn this light on.”

  A moment later, Ali opened her eyes and braced her arm on the sofa, trying to push herself up. “I should fix you something to eat.”

  “I don’t think so.” Beau gently clasped her arm, restraining her. “I appreciate the offer, though. Are you hungry at all?”

  “God, no.” Ali pressed a hand to her stomach. “Although I do feel a little better in that regard.”

  “Good. If you don’t mind me poking around in your kitchen, I can find myself something to eat.”

  “Ah, that might be a problem. I don’t do a lot of cooking.”

  “I’ll order pizza, then. Will that bother you?”

  “No, of course not.” Ali frowned. “You must be bored.”

  “Not really. I thought I’d take a look in your library, if that’s okay with you. I don’t get much of a chance to read. At the station house, it’s pretty much TV, cards, or video games.”

  Ali smiled wryly. “Sounds a little bit like a frat house—without the beer and girls.”

  Beau squatted down by the sofa so that Ali wouldn’t have to crane her neck to see her. The move put them at eye level, and when she folded her arms on the seat of the sofa and leaned forward, Ali’s eyes were all she could see. Even filled with pain, they were beautiful. “I suppose it is, a little. Definitely not a place for alone time.”

  “You’re not the only woman, are you?”

  “No, although there still aren’t many of us. About five percent of firefighters are women.”

  “You love it, though, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I do.” Beau thought about exactly why, something she rarely did. She lived, she didn’t examine. “The group is tight—like family. The work is important.” She grinned. “And fun.”

  “How did you get to me so quickly today? They weren’t even letting the trauma team in.”

  Beau shrugged. “I came in with SWAT. That’s normal for medical first responders in that kind of situation.”

  Ali reached out and touched Beau’s Henley. She remembered the softness of that shirt beneath her cheek and the panoply of scents she now associated with Beau. She remembered too her fear for Wynter and the pain in her head and the comfort of realizing Beau was there. “Shouldn’t you have been wearing a vest?”

  “Not standard issue,” Beau said gruffly. Ali’s fingertips might have been hot cinders, because her chest was on fire from the light touch. Her nipples tightened, tenting the body-hugging cotton. She took care to breathe shallowly. If she took a deep breath, Ali’s fingertips would brush her nipple, and if that happened, she might very well go insane. As it was, it took all her willpower not to whine pathetically.

  Ali couldn’t look away from the hard tips of Beau’s breasts. She’d seen Beau’s breasts. She knew they were beautiful—from a distant aesthetic perspective. But knowing her touch had caused this response filled her with unexpected awe and wonder. She barely stopped herself from rubbing her thumb over a nipple. “You were good in a crisis. I’m not surprised.”

  Beau had lost track of what they were talking about. She wa
s watching Ali’s face, watching her lips part and her eyes soften with shades of arousal. She was turned on and Ali knew it, and Ali liked it. Beau’s thighs trembled and she rocked forward onto her knees, catching herself with one hand against the arm of the sofa. Ali’s palm brushed her nipple and Beau bit back a groan.

  “Sorry,” Ali whispered. Beau was breathing hard. So was she. She had no business touching her at all and she yanked her hand away.

  “You ready for some more Tylenol?” Beau asked, wondering if she could marshal enough strength in her legs to stand up.

  “That would probably be a good idea.”

  Beau stood, clenching her jaw as her jeans chafed against swollen, hypersensitive body parts. She was worse off than she’d been when she used to come just from making out with her first girlfriend. She’d been fifteen then, so she’d had an excuse. She didn’t have one now.

  “Be right back,” Beau said.

  “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Beau entertained the idea of making a quick stop in the bathroom to take the edge off. A minute would probably be more than enough time. But she didn’t really want to. She’d had enough of disembodied orgasms the last few days. Weird, how wanting someone to the point of pain could feel so damn good.

  She headed for the kitchen but a soft knock on the hall door brought her up short. She glanced back at Ali, who lay on the couch with her eyes closed, breathing unevenly. What the hell had just happened with them?

  The knock came again and Beau opened the door. A handsome white-haired man and an ugly bulldog stood in the hall. He was holding something in a covered dish that smelled so good Beau’s mouth immediately started to water.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “This is for Ali,” he said, handing her the casserole dish.

  She automatically accepted it and stepped out into the hall, letting the door close almost completely behind her. She lowered her voice. “She’s resting right now.”

  “I saw on TV about the trouble at the hospital. She’s all right?”

  “She’ll be all right. She just needs to take it easy for a bit.”

  The man appraised her steadily. The bulldog nudged her pants leg with his flat, wet nose. Beau waited, sensing some kind of important inspection was taking place.

  “You work with her at the hospital?”

  Beau shook her head. “Firefighter.”

  “That’s hard work.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “You’re taking care of her tonight?”

  “I am,” Beau said.

  “She works too much. Doesn’t sleep enough. Forgets to eat.”

  Beau lifted the casserole. “I don’t see how, not with something like this around very often.”

  He smiled. “What’s your name?”

  “Beau.”

  “I’m Ralph. That’s Victor.”

  “Hello, Ralph. Nice to meet you.”

  “Same here,” Ralph said. “We’ll be upstairs. Third floor. If you need anything.”

  “If I do, you’ll be the first one I call.”

  Ralph nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned away. The bulldog waddled after him. Beau went back into Ali’s apartment.

  “You just had a special delivery,” Beau said when Ali slowly rolled over and opened her eyes.

  “Ralph is my tenant,” Ali said. “And my friend.”

  “I figured that.” Beau indicated the casserole. “Does he do this often?”

  “Whenever I’m home.”

  “You are one lucky woman.”

  “Is Ralph all right?” Ali asked. “He…worries too much.”

  “Seems fine,” Beau said. “He knows what happened. He said he saw it on TV.”

  “TV? That can’t be, can it?”

  “I suppose someone could have bootlegged a copy of that surveillance tape and sent it to the stations.” Beau frowned. The last thing she needed was more publicity, and Ali would hate it. “I hope it’s just a short clip. Why don’t I put this in the kitchen and we can check the news.”

  “If you don’t mind giving me a hand to my room, I’d like to take a shower and wash my hair. Get some of the blood out.”

  Beau flinched, remembering the blood running into Ali’s hair, streaming down her face, dripping onto the floor. So close, God, that bullet had come so close. The memory of what had happened, and the thought of what might have been, made her shudder.

  “Beau?”

  “Absolutely,” Beau said quickly. “A shower is just what the doctor ordered.”

  *

  Ali hesitated at the foot of the polished wooden staircase leading to the bedrooms on the second floor. She wasn’t going to be able to manage the stairs without help. She had just enough vertigo to make her dangerously unsteady. As if reading her mind, Beau circled an arm around her waist.

  “Put your arm around my shoulders,” Beau said. “We’ll take it slow.”

  Ali hated being dependent on anyone, especially Beau. The last thing she wanted was to appear vulnerable and needy to someone she was trying to keep at a safe distance. She could hardly deny the physical attraction between them—she was too old to lie to herself about her own reactions and Beau hadn’t made any secret of her interest. Even feeling half dead and seriously contemplating finishing the job herself if the headache didn’t let up, she’d gotten aroused at the sight of Beau’s arousal. Usually it took more than a woman’s nipples getting hard to excite her, but that wasn’t the case with Beau Cross. Hell, just seeing her eyes smolder was enough to make her wet.

  But falling down a flight of stairs because she was too stubborn to put her arm around Beau was just plain idiocy. Besides, she wasn’t a teenager. She could control herself, even if her pounding head couldn’t override her libido.

  “Thanks.” Ali looped her arm around Beau’s shoulders. They ascended one step at a time. Her breast fit smoothly against Beau’s, and goddamn it, her nipple instantly became erect along with every other bit of erogenous tissue in her body. Beau must secrete more pheromones than any other woman in the known universe.

  “Okay?” Beau asked when Ali stumbled on a step.

  “Fine.” Ali hissed through clenched teeth. “My bedroom is the first door on the right.”

  Beau pushed the door open. “Here we go. Bathroom?”

  “In the back on the left. I can take it from here.”

  “I’ll turn the shower on and then wait out here until you get in. The heat might make you dizzy. I don’t want to leave you in there alone.”

  “You’re not coming in the shower with me, Cross.”

  Beau grinned at the snap in Ali’s eyes. “While the idea is really tempting, I don’t think today is the right time.”

  Ali laughed despite herself. “You mean there’s ever not a good time for you?”

  “When I get naked with you,” Beau said with total seriousness, “I don’t want to have to hold anything back.”

  “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Ali said softly.

  “Pretty sure of what I want,” Beau answered, even though she wasn’t sure at all. She wanted Ali, she knew that. She just wasn’t certain what else she wanted.

  Ali had never seen a woman look at her the way Beau looked at her. As if she were the only woman in the world, and the only woman who would satisfy her. For one crazy insane instant she wanted to be the only one who could satisfy that dark edge of desire in Beau’s eyes. She backed up a step.

  “I’m going to take that shower.”

  “Good idea.” Beau stepped around her and walked into the bathroom.

  Ali heard the shower come on a few seconds later and followed her. The bathroom was large for a house of this vintage, but hardly spacious. Even with Beau leaning her hips against the vanity, they were within touching distance.

  “I can take it from here,” Ali said.

  “I’m going to come back in after you’re in the shower. If you get dizzy it’s not going to do any good if I’m in the other room. You can’t aff
ord to fall.”

  “I know. I’ll call you when I’m in the shower.”

  “Aren’t you going to tell me to close my eyes when I come back in?”

  “I’m hardly modest. Besides, would you?”

  Beau grinned. “I’m hardly that honorable.”

  “Get out. I don’t want to use up all the hot water.”

  Laughing, Beau backed out of the room. Ali undressed, careful not to bend over and risk getting any more dizzy. The last thing she wanted to do was end up on the bathroom floor naked. She stepped into the shower, closing the glass doors behind her. They fogged immediately, affording her some degree of privacy.

  “Okay,” she called above the rushing water. A few seconds later she saw a shadow move in the bathroom. Beau. Despite the mist on the glass, she was sure Beau could see the outline of her naked body. “Eyes closed?”

  “No.” Beau’s voice was hoarse.

  “You’re right. You have no honor.”

  “How do you feel?” Beau asked.

  How did she feel? The events of the last eight hours ricocheted through her mind—the soul-numbing horror of seeing a gun pointed at Wynter, the terror of imagining another woman she loved being cut down, the helpless fury at the senseless deaths she lived with every day. She saw Sammy, laughing with joy while regaling her with tales of some new adventure. She saw Sammy, cold and still on a steel table. She could have lost Wynter, but she hadn’t. She might have died herself, but she didn’t. She was alive, and she’d won, and she felt reckless and free. Ali pumped bath gel into her hand from the receptacle built into the tile wall and turned to face the glass door. She smoothed the gel over her breasts and belly. Beyond the glass, she could just make out the image of Beau’s broad shoulders and narrow hips but her features were hazy, as if in a dream.

  “All things considered, I feel very good,” Ali finally said. She cupped her breasts, working up a frothy lather. “You can probably leave. I think I’m all right.”

  “I’d rather not.” Beau’s voice shook. “You look beautiful in there.”

  Ali flushed at the unmistakable arousal in Beau’s voice. She liked knowing she excited her, and she didn’t have the energy or strength to pretend otherwise. Her nipples pebbled and she brushed her thumbs over them. “I rather like having you out there, actually.”