Reunited with Her Parisian Surgeon by Annie O'Neil

Author:Annie O'Neil [O'Neil, Annie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2017-11-08T15:50:46+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

RAPHAEL SAW THE smoke before the vehicles came into view. These weren’t his first crash victims since he’d left Paris, but it was the first time he’d been on-site at a multi-vehicle accident. Adding scent and sound to a scene he’d imagined again and again might be torture. Or it might be the first step in putting the past right.

A couple of kilometers down the road cars were already starting to tail back on the wide highway.

“I don’t suppose you have a spare set of blue lights in your car?” Raphael asked rhetorically.

Maggie shook her head. “No. But I do have a red and blue top in my bag on the back seat, if Monster hasn’t turned it into a bed. Do you mind digging through my things to find it? Hopefully it’s not too near my undies.” She shot him an apologetic smile.

He shook his head and smiled. Trust Maggie to problem-solve her way out of a situation other people would duck out of at the first hurdle.

“Here it is.” He held out a red shirt with blue polka dots.

“Right. Your job is to hold that thing out of the window.”

“What for?”

She yanked the car brusquely out of the slowing traffic and onto the hard shoulder. “Tell Monster to cover his ears. You’re the lights. I’m the siren.”

Clamping her lips together with a determined expression, Maggie pressed on the horn of her car with one hand and gunned the car down the hard shoulder with the other.

It was impossible not to be impressed.

He ventured a guess. “Older brothers?”

“Got it in one.” She flashed him a smile. “As I said, there wasn’t much to do in Broken Hill as a girl.”

When they were close enough to start picking out details, Raphael’s gut told him the next few hours were going to be grim.

“You ready for this?” Maggie’s tone suggested she didn’t really care if he was or he wasn’t. Either way, he’d be rolling up his sleeves and getting to work.

“Of course. You can count on me.”

He meant it, too. Medically, of course. But also to support Maggie. The last thing he wanted was for her to have to worry about if he’d be all right on the accident scene.

“Why don’t you have a dig around the medical kit and familiarize yourself with what we have? From the sound of things, we’ll have to make it last for about an hour. Criticals first.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I forget you’re hardly a stranger to trauma. Talking it through before I arrive always helps me calm down.”

“Bien. Talk away.”

He secured the blue and red top between the window and the window frame, keeping half an ear on Maggie’s ideas for the best tactical approach as he pulled her medical kit onto his lap and had a quick run through it. Rather than the handful of plasters and couple of bandages he had been expecting, it was a proper first responder bag, full of wound dressings, burn gels, eye gels, thermal blankets, Epi-pens—the lot.

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