Shattered Glass(90)
“I need to get to my house.” I tried to sit up and weaved as a wave of dizziness crashed into me.
The EMT flattened a hand against my shoulder, gently pushing me back down. “A patrol car will be there in a few minutes, officer. We need to get you to the hospital.”
“Dizzy,” I said.
Jase nodded. “Smoke inhalation. It’s always worse than what people think.”
I was too worried to contemplate going to the hospital. If the fire was meant for any of the boys, they were in danger. And my fears were being heightened by the fact that Peter wasn’t answering his fucking phone.
Maureen began dressing my wounds, giving me an idea of just how extensive they were by the size of the bandage. I didn’t stop them as they loaded me onto the gurney on my uninjured side. But they would have had to pry the phone from my cold dead hands.
My wounds weren’t serious enough to warrant a siren, so when Peter finally answered the phone, I heard him clearly.
“Where the fuck have you been?” I barked. Jase cleaned the wounds on my chest with antiseptic. I tried not to make any noise as it bit into each scratch.
“I was in the shower. Why do you sound like you’re in a tunnel?”
I was getting him a waterproof phone! “Are you at my house?”
“Course. Is something wrong?”
“Are you alone?”
“I’m not all that turned on by the Darth Vader voice.”
I tightened my mouth and pulled the oxygen mask off my face. “I don’t want to have phone sex, Peter.” Jase choked a laugh, unsuccessfully trying to cover the sound with his fist. “Joe’s house just burned down,” I said delicately.
The swallow I heard was about as much emotion as I expected from him. “Are you hurt?”
Was I hurt? His first question. Now I couldn’t breathe at all. If I wasn’t careful, Peter was going to steal my soul. “No. I’m fine. Cai’s pet is fine. I don’t think anything else survived. Is Darryl still there?”
“Everyone’s still here. Did you really save his cat?”
“Have actual tests proven that’s a cat?” The ambulance doors opened, and Jase tried to take my phone. I held up a finger which Jase ignored as he pulled my mask back on.
“What’s that noise?”
A flurry of hands and voices around me drowned him out a little. “Gotta go. Stay at home,” I said falteringly as the gurney jostled me.
The doorbell rang just as he asked, “Are you in the hospital?” I hoped to God it was the police I’d sent and not….
“Don’t let anyone but the cops in. I’ll be home soon.”
I hung up as the speaker system started to page someone.
Jase and Maureen rolled me into a half-sheeted cubicle in the emergency room. “Good luck, officer,” Maureen said.
“Yeah. Thanks, guys.” As they were leaving, I picked up my phone to call Luis and then remembered. “Hey, what about the cat?”
“FD will take it to the pound,” Jase said, walking backwards. “You can pick it up there.” He gave me a thumbs up and vanished out the automatic doors.
“Officer Glass, how are you feeling?” The nurse was a big woman. Amazonian-large with a thick middle and bright floral scrubs. I focused on her long fingers wrapping around the curtain and pulling it closed around us as she entered.
“Less woozy. Can I make a phone call in here?” I looked for the nearest exit.
“Let’s wait until the doctor has a look at your wounds and I’ve taken your vitals. Looks like you’re going to need some stitches.” She smiled kindly as she looked at the chart. When she started pulling on rubber gloves, I prayed that Peter liked scars.
Because I had a feeling I was about to get Frankenstein ass.
Chapter Sixteen
Hospital Admissions
Nurse Jackson’s posture could have been used to end an exclamatory sentence. Even as she gently drew away the bandaging from my backside wounds, her body was ramrod straight. Considering her size, the effect rendered me cowed.
I twisted to look at her over my shoulder. “How many stitches?”
Cleaning the excess dried blood off, she leaned closer to my ass, increasing my embarrassment level. “The doctor will say for sure, but between you and me, I’d say ten?”
That didn’t sound so bad. “In the biggest laceration,” she continued. “The other two will probably require less. Maybe none.” Balls of blood-soaked cotton fell from her hand into a nearby silver trashcan. She had big hands. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Man hands.
After taking my blood pressure, getting a patient history, examining my chest and applying an ointment to the inflamed scratches, she pulled a sheet over my hips and slid my chart into a nearby plastic holder before vanishing through the curtains. I lay there, bored, glaring at my blank cell phone. The resident finally arrived just as my eyelids drooped.