Page 8

Yeah, she had expected that. He’d been critical when they’d let him go. She’d seen Myrna’s body as they’d rolled her out of the surgical room. It had been shoved to the side with the other dead patients. And she’s seen a flash of blond curls that might have been Santana.

The loss was going to be bad, and in a way, she was glad to escape. Even though she was going to lose her leg. It was so minimal. At least she wasn’t one of the dead being shoved into a corner.

It was getting harder to keep her eyes open. “Keep my team together, please, Truck.”

The harsh-faced man gave her a surprisingly gentle smile. “I’ll do the best I can, lieutenant. Now,” he said, fitting her with an oxygen canula, “close your eyes and know that things are going to change for you, but you will survive it. Do you understand me? You will survive.”

“Yes, I will survive,” she breathed, and her world went dark.

CHAPTER 1

If the truck had hit her head on, it would have been an entirely different scenario. As it was, it hit her rear driver’s side quarter panel – she’d just seen a flash of red— before the world went crazy. It sent her SUV spinning, the seatbelt tightening painfully on her chest. She held the steering wheel, but there was no controlling the six thousand pounds of rubber and metal as it hurtled through space. Holding the wheel in an iron grip, she prayed the spinning would stop. And it did. When it slammed into something.

Pain rolled through her body, radiating out from her ribs. Her head had hit something, because it hurt when she lifted it. She expected glass to fall from her hair or something, but it didn’t. Thank goodness for safety glass. Drawing in a breath, she braced for pain. Yep. Oh, shit… Agony roared through her body, and she went still, not drawing any more breath in. Instead, she let it out, slowly. Then there was more pain. Well, fuck.

Olivia was afraid to open her eyes, afraid to see the destruction. She’d been in accidents before and this split second was precious, because inevitably the pain and drama and loss would roll in and threaten to overwhelm her. Plus, it was the ten-year anniversary of the worst day of her life, and she didn’t want to add any more fucked up dreams to her colorful lineup. Apparently, though, someone else had other plans for her.

She’d known when she’d woken up it was going to be a shit day.

Who the hell had taken a ball bat to her ribcage?

“Fuck me running…” she hissed.

I will survive this.

She drew in a shorter breath, stopping just before the pain threshold. Then another. With adrenaline pumping in a situation like this, it was hard not to draw in big draughts of air to oxygenate the body. The sharpness of the pain had been no joke, though, and she didn’t want to feel it again. So, she panted and lifted her head to look around.

Olivia blinked in the bright morning light and tried to look out her windows. They were shattered, of course. Even the side window. Maybe that was what had hurt her head. Probably a good chance she had whiplash as well. People were running outside, but her head was still ringing, and she couldn’t hear anything. They seemed to be just running in a panic. Had the asshole that had hit her run into the crowd or something?

The thought of an active emergency galvanized her. If there was something going on, she needed to be there. Reaching down, she unfastened her seatbelt, her breath catching again. Oh, yeah, that was where the damn pain came from. The seatbelt across her chest. The airbags had exploded, and the belt had restrained her, but not without consequence. The Highlander didn’t have the best visibility on a good day. Luckily, though, it had awesome airbags. Although, with the air bags deployed it was near impossible to see much of anything.

Wiggling her fingers, Olivia started a basic self-check. Hands were good, arms were good, although her right shoulder was aching more than it normally did. Despite the pain she palpated her ribs, locating the pain point. Points. More than one. Her abdomen seemed normal, though. If she did have broken ribs, at least they hadn’t poked holes in anything important. She wiggled her toes and left ankle. They were fine. The prosthetic on her right lower leg seemed okay, but she wouldn’t know for sure until she got out and looked at it.

Olivia tried the handle on her door, and it didn’t budge. Fuck. Knowing pain was coming, she held her breath and wedged her shoulder into it. A four-inch gap appeared. She pushed at it again. Six inches. Turning in the seat, she lifted her left leg and wedged it against the door, pushing hard with her thigh muscles. It opened enough that she might be able to slip through. Well, her top half anyway. Why did I have to inherit my mother’s broad hips? She pushed and scraped and squeezed, pain radiating through her body as she forced herself out of the mangled vehicle. Landing on the ground hard on all fours, she let her head rest on the concrete for just a moment, breathing as deeply as she could. It felt like someone was stabbing a poker into her chest.

Someone screamed, and Olivia went still, sounds of another catastrophe ringing through her mind. She cowered, waiting to be shot. Where was Baylee? Had she found a gun? No, the Taliban wasn’t attacking, no matter what she thought she heard. Breathing calmly, she focused her mind to the timeline. That attack had been ten years ago. Not now. Now she was in Texas, heading for a new job. She blinked, the haze of her mind clearing.

She had to move. She also knew that if she had broken ribs, she couldn’t just curl up to a standing position like she normally did. Heaving, she pushed herself vertical with her good arm, panting as the world swam. Blinking, she waited for the world to still, then opened her eyes. There was blood down the front of her shirt, though not too much. She’d certainly seen a lot worse over her career.

For the first time, she glanced around. San Antonio was not too far away, but this was some outskirt town. The sign with the town name had flashed by, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember what it had been. Some small Podunk town like 5 million others she’d been through. After a while, they all looked the same. Scanning the area, she tried to figure out what had happened.

Cars were scattered through the intersection, and it was chaos everywhere she looked. People were running around with cell phones in their hands. Some were talking, and some were crying, probably to their significant others. There were half a dozen cars broken and shattered across the pavement, and none of the vehicles were facing the direction they were supposed to. It looked like a giant child had literally dropped toy cars onto the pavement and left. On the far side of the disaster was a red truck. It had been stopped by a huge aluminum stoplight pole and judging by the shape of the driver’s side door panel, she didn’t think anyone had survived.

Well, it was hard to tell. It seemed like the drunks always survived, no matter how much carnage they left in their wake.

There had been a flash of red before the impact, and it had been almost exactly that color. Moving to the back of the car, which had escaped any kind of damage at all, she opened the hatch and grabbed her med kit. After so many years of traveling and driving, she had learned to always keep one with her. Saving lives was what she had been built to do, and she always had the tools with her to do it.

There were people on the ground everywhere. A man staggered into Olivia’s path, blood flowing freely from a deep looking scalp wound. “Let’s sit you down, buddy,” she told him, taking hold of his arm. The guy looked at her, but there didn’t appear to be anyone home in his expression. She’d seen this so many times in her career, that shell-shocked look. It was devastating being in any kind of accident, and he had that look of disbelief, like how had it happened to him? The guy listened to her voice, though, and dropped to the curb to be treated.

There was a kid with a sweatshirt hanging from his hand, watching people struggle. She snatched at the sweatshirt in his hand. “Hey, dumbass. If you’re not going to help, call 911.”

He blinked at her, as shocked as the accident victim. Then something determined changed in his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

Even as she pressed the heavy cotton to wandering guy’s head wound, the kid dug his cell from his pocket and dialed the emergency number. Olivia looked pointedly at another one of the bystanders and jabbed a finger at him. “You, press here.”

She didn’t give them the option of telling her no. That was one of the biggest mistakes people made in an emergency. The public was trained to follow the leader, but if there was no leader, they floundered. Olivia had no problem stepping up to be the bitch and get them moving. She dug into the med kit and took just a second to swipe at her head. It was still bleeding, just enough to be a nuisance. Ripping open a four by four, she taped it to her head, where she thought the injury was. Oh, yeah, that was the spot. Fuck that hurt.

Olivia handed a stack of pads to the guy holding pressure. “Use these.”