Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Owww.” He made a pained noise as I put firm pressure on the wound. “Hercules. Hercules. Oh. Hercules.”
“Curse if you need to.” Under other circumstances, I might find his drawing on mythology to avoid the F-bomb hilarious, but at the moment, I was more concerned with keeping him calm for the EMTs. No sirens yet, though, which had me barking into the phone. “What’s the ETA on that ambulance?”
“Soon, sir. I don’t have an exact estimate, but we’ve got police and ambulance both en route.”
“Good.” I turned my attention back to Sterling, who continued to mutter.
“Where’s Hercules? Hercules? My Hercules?”
My arms tensed as I finally guessed what he’d been trying to say. “Your dog?”
I would tear those perps limb to limb if they’d taken that dog and then tan my own hide for allowing them to get away. I strained, listening both for sirens and the dog—
“I hear him.” Sterling struggled to sit up, but I pressed him back down. Sure enough, I could hear faint yapping myself.
“He’s in the car?”
“I think…” Sterling hiccupped and winced like swallowing hurt. Fuck. We needed that ambulance stat. “Check. Go check.”
“Mr. Sterling. Boss. I need you to hold still. You’re hurt pretty good.”
“Ambrose.” He hiccupped again. “You saved my life. I think you can call me Ambrose.” He started to laugh but ended up moaning again. “Please get me Hercules. Please.”
He thrashed against me, and I made a frustrated noise. Maybe the dog would calm him down. I’d never been entirely clear whether the dog was a fashion accessory or therapy animal, but anything was better than Sterling—Ambrose fighting me.
“Hold this against you.” I positioned his hand against my wadded-up T-shirt. “I’ll go see.”
And sure enough, I found the frantically yapping, ugly-as-sin dog on the front seat in his designer quilted carrying bag. I hurried him, bag and all, to Ambrose’s side, crouching to show him the dog was in one piece. Angry as hell, but fine to my eye.
“Poor baby.” Ambrose tried to unzip the bag one-handed, and despite my better instincts, I helped him free the dog, gratified when he exhaled hard and cuddled the little beast to his chest. Ambrose’s pulse felt steadier under my fingers. Huh. Guess that was the right call.
“You both hold still now, okay?” I resumed the pressure on his back.
“Is it bad?” Sounding less frantic, Ambrose craned his neck, trying to see his back, but I gently redirected his gaze back down to the dog.
“Nah. Scratch, really. I’ve seen worse.”
“I bet. There’s a rumor you were special forces. I believe it after tonight.”
“I didn’t do much.” I frowned. “Wasn’t quick enough. I was gonna walk you back myself, but you were gone.”
“Sorry.” Ambrose’s eyes filled, so I used my free hand to stroke his arm.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Promise.” I forced a lighter tone to try to distract him. “And good guess. I was a SEAL. Retired a senior chief.”
“Nice.” He closed his eyes, head falling back against me.
“Nope.” I gave him a gentle shake. “No sleeping now.” I finally heard sirens in the distance but not close enough. If he had a concussion, the last thing we needed was Ambrose drifting off. “Stay with me now, boss.”
“Ambrose,” he corrected with a sleepy smile.
“Ambrose. I need you to stay awake. Where’s your phone? I’ll call your sister and see if she can meet you at the hospital.”
“Car. Phone’s in the car. But I can’t go to the hospital.” His whole face fell as the sirens got closer, two cop cars careening into the lot. “Hercules. I can’t leave Hercules.”
“I hear you.” I waved the cops over. An ambulance arrived next, uniformed EMTs hurrying over with blue equipment bags. I moved so the EMTs could reach Ambrose, but before I stepped back, I patted his shoulder one last time. “I’ll call your sister. I’ll get the dog to her, promise.”
“Hercules…doesn’t…like Cressida.” He struggled for breath between words, holding the dog that much tighter.
“I’m pretty sure this is his therapy animal,” I said to the closest EMT. “Is there any way he can go along? He’s got a bag, and I can go w—”
“Sorry.” She shook her head. “No animals in the ambulance. No support people either. New rule. You’re welcome to follow, though, plead your case to the ER staff.”
“Will do.” I could tell when to save my breath. Instead, I reached down to rub Ambrose’s shoulder. “It’s okay, boss. I’ll keep Hercules safe.”
“Okay.” With eyes wide and trusting, he nodded. Gently, I removed the dog from his arms so the EMTs could continue their exam. The cops, of course, wanted a statement from me, but I managed to give it while holding the little dog and watching the EMTs work on Ambrose. The night air whipped against my bare skin, but I hardly noticed the cool breeze, all my attention still on Ambrose. The EMT crew loaded him up, and as the door slammed shut behind the gurney, my heart twisted with an unfamiliar sensation. I’d been in all manner of dangers, firefights, and treacherous waters, but for the first time I could remember, I felt truly out of my depth.