Page 127 of Dirty Pool

“Michel!”

His head snapped up at the call of his name at the same time the gurney rocked when it rolled over the small ledge leading into the trauma center. They were finally leaving the parking lot—they hadn’t even gotten in the hospital yet. He hadn’t realized that until just then.

That ran through his mind at the same time the fact that his wife was watching him from just beyond where an ambulance was parking with its lights flashing. Her wide eyes drifted from him to the gurney, and his bloody hands at the man’s chest.

All at the same time, he kept drifting further away from her.

It was just a split second.

The doors were closing.

Still, he heard her shout, “I’m pregnant!”

His first thought?

That explains a lot.

His second?

He’s lost too much blood.

And that was how Michel found out he was going to be a father.

• • •

Eight months later …

Antony Dante Marcello didn’t have a concept of bad timing. In fact, he decided to make his way into the world when his father was working during one of the worst emergencies New York had faced in several decades. An improper discharge of dynamite on top of a bridge overpass that needed replacement before it was intended to detonate, and while vehicles were still driving underneath on the freeway.

Twenty cars.

Most had two people inside each vehicle.

Eight dead on arrival.

Three air lifted out.

The rest … under the rubble.

So was Michel. Because if they couldn’t bring the injured to the hospital, then he was going to them. Along with the rest of the trauma team. They would do what they could on the road under the sections of rubble that had been lifted enough to find the injured. If they could be treated on site, then they were. If they could be brought out safely without causing death, then they planned to do that.

Assessment was crucial.

That was when he got the fucking call, too.

“Gabbie’s in labor.”

Michel’s whole world stopped.

Except it didn’t.

That was the thing about being who he was—nothing stopped for him. He couldn’t walk out of a disaster where his skills were needed simply because his private life stepped in the way to throw him a curveball.

“Why are you not in your car right now?” Dante demanded.

“Because I can’t. She’ll understand.”

“Michel—”