First Responder on Call by Melinda Di Lorenzo

Author:Melinda Di Lorenzo
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-05-06T19:25:41+00:00

Chapter 13

Without asking for an explanation, Remo took Celia’s hand and sprinted. She didn’t take time to note the blind trust that she was right. She didn’t have time. From across the courtyard, she’d spotted Teller.

Not Teller. Detective Teller.

The silent, self-directed correction might’ve rubbed her the wrong way—or made her fear worse—but she didn’t have time for that, either. Because Teller had seen her, too. His eyes had locked with hers, and she’d stared back for just long enough to see the surprise on his face morph into determination. He’d be coming after them. Alone, or with an entourage of police. She didn’t want to find out which. She pushed to keep pace with Remo.

Along the temporary fence, then past it.

Around the exterior of the long-term care home.

Through a group of startled, wheelchair-bound seniors who’d sneaked out for a few cigarettes.

Into a tranquil garden of flowers.

It all blurred by in a haze. And to top it off, the wound on Celia’s leg hurt more than it had since she’d got it. The painkillers were probably wearing off, and they couldn’t have picked a worse time for it.

Each time her foot on the injured side hit the ground, a stabbing pain emanated out from the stitched area. Each time she lifted the same foot, her quad burned. But she refused to let on that it was bothering her, and she didn’t dare slow down.

Not now.

She turned the two-word command into a mantra, chanting silently in time with the slap of her shoes on the pavement, and used it to keep going.

Not now, not now, not now.

Into an open-air parking lot.

Not now.

Weaving between minivans and coupes and compact trucks.

Not now.

Nearly knocking over a young couple pushing a stroller.

Not now.

Past the bold, red Emergency sign and onto the sidewalk.

Not-now, not-now.

At last, they reached a footpath that cut between an outbuilding and the first house in the adjoining residential area. There, they paused, breaths coming in matching, heaving time. Celia’s lungs burned almost as badly as her thigh. Her arms and legs were like jelly. Blood rushed through her head so hard that she could hear it thumping against her skull, and if Remo’s hand hadn’t been anchoring her to the spot, she might’ve collapsed. Maybe she’d collapse in spite of his strong grip. But then—like he could sense her imminent demise—the big man pulled her to his side. Celia closed her eyes and leaned gratefully against his reassuringly solid body.

“Guess I can cross ‘running a half marathon’ off my list of goals for the year,” he joked.

“Sorry,” she said breathlessly. “It was Teller. He saw us, Remo.”

“Figured you had a damned good reason,” he replied.

She pulled away as a new worry hit her, and she didn’t bother to disguise the desperate note in her voice. “Xavier. What if Teller tracks you to your mom, and finds your mom’s house, and—”

Remo cut her off, his tone as firm as it was reassuring. “She’s not that easy to find. Even for the police. Trust me. She’s very good at keeping a low public profile.

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