just grand.”
“Sorry, darlin’.” Joe spoke through gritted teeth as they shot through another red light. “I’m of the generation where you do not call a lady by her last name.”
“Is that what you think I am?” Saoirse shot him a sidelong glance. “A lady?”
“Well,” grumbled her partner of two months, “something like that, anyways.”
Saoirse threw back her head and laughed. “Don’t you worry, Joe. I’ll get you to your party safe and sound tonight. Your wife won’t have to worry. There’s only one heart attack we’re fixing today and that’s whoever is...” she abruptly pulled the ambulance to a halt at the side of an overpass where a motorcycle stood without a rider “...under this bridge. You ready for a bit of off-roading?”
* * *
“Down here!” Santi shouted as loudly as he could once the siren’s wail was turned off in midscreech and he heard the slamming of doors. Keeping count as he took in the change of environment was second nature to him. What wasn’t was registering the stuntwoman-style entrance of the paramedic.
The skid down the embankment was more snowboarder with a portable defibrillator than cautious EMT adhering to health and safety codes. First came the boots in a cloud of gravel and dust, then a set of...decidedly female legs...a swoop of a waist and... Ker-ching! This woman wore her regulation jumpsuit as if she were delivering a sexy singing telegram. Hard to do, harder to pull off.
“How long you been at it?”
The lilting voice and ultrafeminine figure didn’t match the C’mon, buckaroo, I dare you to say something unprofessional attitude her face was actively working. Fine. Suited him. He wasn’t here to pick up a date.
“Twenty-four minutes. What took you so long?”
“You look like you know what you’re doing,” she shot back, all the while pulling out the pads to her twelve-lead ECG. “Why haven’t you got him back yet?” Her blue eyes sparked with confrontation as she gave a satisfied “Humph!” in response to his lack of one.
Feisty.
“It’s a long time to carry out compressions.”
“That’s very wise for an EMT.”
“Paramedic,” she snapped, unshouldering her run bag on the ground opposite him and pressing two gloved fingers to Diego’s carotid pulse point, eyes glued to his. If this had been a staring contest he would’ve been happy to stay all day but they had a life to save.
“Are you sure it’s been that long or are we just guesstimating?”
“We’ve been timing.” His eyes stayed on hers. “Still early days yet.” He gave her a look that said You give up easy, received a glare in return as she ripped open the man’s shirt—all without blinking. Even the sea went cloudy sometimes, but not her blue eyes. They were as clear as could be. Limitless.
Santi refocused on his hands. “He’s a vet.”
“You, too?”
Wasn’t much of a stretch to make the link. One life wasn’t worth more than another, but some prodded at your conscience a bit harder.
“Marines.” He never gave much more information than that. He nodded toward the unconscious man. “Diego Gonzalez. That’s the name on his tags, anyhow. Thirty!” He gave the two breaths as she applied the monitoring pads to the heavily tattooed chest.
“Joe! How’re you coming with the AED?” she shouted over her shoulder, a swish of short blond hair following in her wake as she began peppering Santi with questions. “Have you sprayed nitroglycerin, injected epinephrine, anything?”
“Yeah. I keep it just here in my invisible magic bag of tricks.”
“Easy there, cowboy. It was just a question.”
He checked his tone before he continued. She was just doing her job. He needed to do his.
“I saw him stagger at the side of the road when I was riding past. Then he fell down the embankment. I’m an off-duty doc—paramedic,” he quickly corrected. Coming to Miami was about looking forward, not what he’d left behind. “I was on my bike so...no run bag. That’s why I called you guys. There are some cuts and bruises that’ll need looking at and I’m pretty sure he could do with a saline drip.” He nodded down at Diego’s dry skin. “Dehydrated. Big time.”
“Right. Guess we’d better get to it, then.” She raked around in her bag as her partner skidded to the bottom of the hill in a slow-motion version of—what was her name anyway? He hadn’t seen her around the depot when he’d checked in to get his schedule. Santi’s eyes flicked to her badge.
Murphy.
He gave a satisfied smile. Irish. He’d thought that was what her accent was. Hopefully she’d brought some of that fabled Irish luck along with her, too.
“Open wide, Diego.”
Santi watched as she swiftly carried out the tracheal intubation and attached the airbag and oxygen tanks together. The woman was no stranger to a cardiac arrest. That was for sure.
“Joe! Have you got that AED ready or not? And how about some epinephrine for the poor lad?”
“Give a man a chance, woman!” her partner huffed as he handed over the paddles for the AED unit after he’d pressed the power button. “I’ll load you up some epinephrine.”
“Thanks, Joe. You’re the best tutor a girl could ask for.” Her eyes zapped to Santi as the AED began its telltale charging noise. “Are you clear? Wouldn’t want you getting shocked, now. Would we?”
He lifted his hands away from Diego’s chest and, once again their eyes met. More of a lightning strike than a tiny click of connection. He didn’t know what she was seeing in his eyes, but the triumphant glint in hers made his raised hands feel more like a surrender than a safety measure.
“Clear!”
The corners of her lips twitched into a smile at his microscopic flinch. She’d cranked up the volume on purpose. It was easy enough to see she wasn’t flirting, but not so simple to put a finger on the rise she was trying to get out of him. The day was pulsing with tropical heat, but this woman didn’t sweat. But, válgame Dios, did she ever have a glow.
He followed her gaze to the portable heart monitor. Nothing.
“Joe?”
Her colleague wordlessly handed her a syringe loaded with a one-milligram dose of epinephrine as Santi recommenced compressions.
“Want me to get the backboard?” Joe asked with an unenthusiastic glance up the steep embankment. The poor guy looked like he could’ve done with an iced coffee in the shade. January wasn’t usually this hot, but it’s what the weather man had brought.
“Don’t worry, we don’t need it for this phase. Too uncomfortable for the patient while we’re doing compressions.” Santi threw the guy a get-out-of-hard-labor option. “When I finish this round, why don’t you take over compressions
