“Here.” Leaning far over, I snag the folded registration paper from my glove compartment and slam it shut. “This what you’re looking for?”
“Watch the attitude!” With his rear still offered to a thankful audience, the cop’s gorgeous eyelashes flicker back-and-forth as he reads my documents. I wish I had lashes like his. He straightens up to pull out his tickets and pauses as a radio crackles, “Cocker, we’ve got a 211, what’s your 20?”
Before they have a chance to finish, he’s overlapped with, “Wherever you need me to be.”
They rattle off a location nearby. This must be his normal route, or jurisdiction, or whatever the fuck they call it. He pushes my documents in my face.
“You lucked out.”
“Your last name is Cocker?”
He pauses, lifts an eyebrow. “Depends on why you’re asking.”
Rolling my eyes I mutter, “Of course you’re related to him.”
The cop smirks, “Who?”
“Never mind. What’s your name?”
“Does it look like I have time to answer your questions? Didn’t you just hear them call me in for something more important than your curiosity? You got out of a speeding ticket. Consider yourself charmed. Now drive like a normal person to wherever it is you were going.”
He strolls off.
In my side mirror I watch him, admiring how that uniform hugs his butt.
Yep, they’re related.
Same narrow hips, round butt, cocky swagger and matching attitude.
Dammit.
As I merge with traffic, I’m thinking of the kinds of ways they could be related.
Brother? Maybe.
Cousin? Also possible.
“I’ll ask him as soon as I see him,” I hear myself say aloud.
My jaw drops, appalled.
“Oh yeah, that’s a great idea. Next thing you know, you’ll be wondering what brand of underwear he wears. Keep it impersonal, Elizabeth! And stop talking to yourself in third person!”
My parking spot waits for me, empty and comforting.
It’s all mine.
This is everything I need.
Rising up I smile at the stunning fortress I call home, and hit the fob to lock my Audi.
That place where I lay my head when I’ve no other choice, is nothing compared to this.
Let’s see what today brings.
CHAPTER 5
ELIZABETH
“Dr. Myers, we have a gunshot wound—Code Grey!”
Great, a combative patient.
Breaking into a sprint I burst into the E.R.
An EMT, Mike Peters, fights down a young, white male baring bad teeth, cheap tattoos and a bloody left side.
I check out the kid, noting, “Pupils are dilated. Test him for everything. Is the room ready?”
Sharon nods as Peters and I strap the kid down with leather cuffs while he cusses at us like one possessed.
The EMT and Teri Johnson, his female counterpart, wheel this kid into the Trauma Room where multiple beds stand at the ready separated by curtains with an X-Ray machine waiting nearby. We don’t have time to send someone upstairs for results when patients arrive like this.
“Could be drugs or a psychotic episode. I need to know what I’m dealing with.”
Nurse Sharon nods, “You got it, Dr. Myers,” as she rolls the tray of needles closer.
The kid looks at it like he just won the jackpot.
Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “Pretty sure how those tests will come back,” and cut his shirt open with surgical scissors so I can see the wound.
Dr. Gilroy appears at my side. “Do you want me to take care of this, Dr. Myers?”
“No, I’m on it.”
“Mind if I watch?”
I don’t get a chance to state the obvious, that she should watch—she’s here to learn, isn’t she?—because the kid has started singing the Sid Vicious song, ‘My Way’ at the top of his lungs, squirming on the table. “And now, the end is near! And so I face the final curtain!”
“Yo Sid, you wanna spend the rest of your exciting life with metal inside of your ribcage?”
He spits in my face.
I pause. “Why don’t you buy me dinner first?”
He cracks up and thankfully calms down, my comical retort having the positive effect humor often has.
Sharon smears sanitizer onto a tissue and cleans my face while I inspect the wound.
“This is too deep. Prep the O.R., and sedate him.”
“Yes!!”
“Thought you’d like that.” To Janet I cock an eyebrow. “You know what we need to do?”
She nods, “Police report.” Every gunshot or knife wound, anything involving a weapon, requires one. “Can I perform the surgery?” Janet asks again.
Since it is her job to learn I sigh, “Fine.”
Pivens walks in, “What do we have here?”
“Not exactly sure and he’s in no mood to tell us the truth.”
Janet informs him as she eyes the wound, “I’m taking the bullet out.”
For some reason, this annoys me. Or maybe it’s the spittle that set me on edge. Whatever the case, I glance to Pivens, “Oversee this for me?”
“You got it.”
In the corridor I find an unwelcome sight. The sexy police officer I escaped earlier is standing with Caden of all people. Dammit if my heart doesn’t skip two beats.
One for the wrong reason.
One for the right.
I march up to them. “Dr. Cocker, you are not supposed to be here!”
The cop and my second-year exchange a smirk.
“Caden, you know this woman?”
“Never seen her before, Wyatt.”
My lips part in shock.
“You haven’t? Because I have. Just this morning I pulled this beauty over. Reckless driving. Her music was so loud she couldn’t hear my siren.”
Caden crosses his arms, “I hope you gave her a ticket.” If I were a cartoon there would be steam exploding from my ears. “We don’t want people to get hurt out there. It would be a pity if a doctor sent someone to the hospital.”
“Guess I’ve got a soft spot for sultry brunettes. Although I have to admit she looked better without the coat.” His gaze drops to my chest.
Caden snaps, “Alright, that’s enough!” He steps forward. “Sorry, Dr. Myers. This is my cousin Wyatt, and we get carried away when we’re together. It’s a family thing. I didn’t mean anything by it. This isn’t the place—I get that. Shouldn’t have
