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Acclaim for Radcly ffe’s Fiction

Lambda Literary Award winner Stolen Moments “is a collection of

steamy stories about women who just couldn’t wait. It’s sex when

desire overrides reason, and it’s incredibly hot!”— On Our Backs

Lambda Literary Award winner Distant Shores, Silent Thunder

“weaves an intricate tapestry about passion and commitment

between lovers. The story explores the fragile nature of trust and

the sanctuary provided by loving relationships.”— Sapphic Reader

Lambda Literary and Benjamin Franklin Award Finalist The Lonely

Hearts Club “is an ensemble piece that follows the lives [and loves]

of three women, with a plot as carefully woven as a fine piece of

cloth.”— Midwest Book Review

ForeWord’s Book of the Year finalist Night Call features “gripping

medical drama, characters drawn with depth and compassion, and

incredibly hot [love] scenes.”— Just About Write

Lambda Literary Award Finalist Justice Served delivers a “crisply

written, fast-paced story with twists and turns and keeps us guessing

until the final explosive ending.”— Independent Gay Writer

Lambda Literary Award finalist Turn Back Time“isfilledwithwonderful

love scenes, which are both tender and hot.”— MegaScene

Lambda Literary Award finalist When Dreams Tremble’s “focus on

character development is meticulous and comprehensive, filled with

angst, regret, and longing, building to the ultimate climax.”— Just

About Write

By Radclyffe

Romances

Innocent Hearts

Passion’s Bright Fury

Promising Hearts

Fated Love

Love’s Melody Lost

Turn Back Time

Love’s Tender Warriors

When Dreams Tremble

Tomorrow’s Promise

The Lonely Hearts Club

Love’s Masquerade

Night Call

shadowland

Secrets in the Stone

Erotica

Erotic Interludes: Change Of Pace

(A Short Story Collection)

Radical Encounters

(An Erotic Short Story Collection)

Stacia Seaman and Radclyffe, eds.:

Erotic Interludes 2: Stolen Moments

Erotic Interludes 3: Lessons in Love

Erotic Interludes 4: Extreme Passions

Erotic Interludes 5: Road Games

Romantic Interludes 1: Discovery

Romantic Interludes 2: Secrets

The Provincetown Tales

Safe Harbor

Storms of Change

Beyond the Breakwater

Winds of Fortune

Distant Shores, Silent Thunder

Returning Tides

Honor Series

Justice Series

Above All, Honor

A Matter of Trust (prequel)

Honor Bound

Shield of Justice

Love & Honor

In Pursuit of Justice

Honor Guards

Justice in the Shadows

Honor Reclaimed

Justice Served

Honor Under Siege

Justice for All

Word of Honor

First Responders Novels

Trauma Alert

Writing as L.L. Raand

Midnight Hunters

The Midnight Hunt

Visit us at www.boldstrokesbooks.com

Trauma alerT

by

RADCLY f FE

2010

TRAUMA ALERT

© 2010 By Radclyffe. all Rights ReseRved.

isBN 10: 1-60282-157-7e

isBN 13: 978-1-60282-157-6e

This ElEcTronic Book is PuBlishEd By

Bold sTrokEs Books, inc.

P.o. Box 249

VallEy Falls, ny 12185

FirsT EdiTion: July 2010

This is a Work oF FicTion. naMEs, characTErs, PlacEs, and

incidEnTs arE ThE ProducT oF ThE auThor’s iMaGinaTion or

arE usEd FicTiTiously. any rEsEMBlancE To acTual PErsons,

liVinG or dEad, BusinEss EsTaBlishMEnTs, EVEnTs, or localEs

is EnTirEly coincidEnTal.

This Book, or ParTs ThErEoF, May noT BE rEProducEd in any

ForM WiThouT PErMission.

cRedits

EdiTors: ruTh sTErnGlanTz and sTacia sEaMan

ProducTion dEsiGn: sTacia sEaMan

coVEr dEsiGn By shEri (GraPhicarTisT2020@hoTMail.coM)

Acknowledgments

Although several important characters in this book have appeared in

previous novels, this book is not a sequel or even a continuation. This is

the first book in a new series. The concept behind the First Responders

Novels is to create a series of stand-alones that feature similar storylines,

but with new characters and new romances in each one. The term First

Responder is defined differently depending upon where you look, but I

plan to employ the broad definition of “any professional who responds

to a crisis on the ground level.” These individuals could be emergency

medical technicians, paramedics, firefighters, law enforcement agents,

medical personnel, hostage rescue negotiators, natural disaster teams

(think hurricanes, tsunamis, earthquakes). Basically, people who put

their lives on the line for others. Ali Torveau is a minor secondary

character in the Justice series, but I always saw a much larger role for

her and finally told her story. I hope you enjoy it.

Many thanks to: editors extraordinaire, Ruth Sternglantz and Stacia

Seaman, for finding the wrong turns—those that remain are all mine;

first readers Anita, Connie, Diane, Eva, Jenny, Paula, Sandy, and Tina

for feedback and suggestions; Sheri, whose art continues to inspire;

Cindy, who gets the work out month after month; and never last—all

the readers who stand by me.

And to Lee—who always gets it. Amo te.

Radclyffe 2010

Dedication

To Lee, everlasting

Trauma alerT

chapTer ONe

Dr. Ali Torveau was late, and she hated being late. She supposed

her psychiatrist friends might call her rigid or inflexible or

even obsessive for insisting her OR cases start on time and requiring

her clinic hours to begin and end on schedule. She thought of it as being

in control, and a surgeon, especially a trauma surgeon who worked in

the midst of chaos, needed to be in control. So she was faintly annoyed

as she hurried down the stairwell to the auxiliary conference room on

the ground floor of the Silverstein Pavilion a little after seven p.m.

on what was supposed to be her night off. She’d been elbows-deep

in the belly of a gunshot victim a little after four p.m. when Ambrose

Rifkin’s secretary had called to inform her that she needed to cover

the chairman’s lecture in the TER-OPS training course that night. The

edict had been politely phrased in the form of a request, but refusal was

not an option. Never mind that she had four lectures of her own to give

later in the month. Not even a senior attending like herself said no to

the chairman.

Ali resolutely squashed the image of sitting in front of the fire with

the book she’d been trying to finish for a week and a glass of Pinot Noir.

The Littorai 2006 she’d been saving had been described as brooding

and powerful. Tonight, the brooding part, at least, fit her.

Putting regrets about the lost evening aside, she shouldered through

the door and surveyed the strapping young men lounging around the

conference table. They were pretty much exactly what she expected

firefighters to look like—husky, clear-eyed jock types in jeans and

shirts or sweatshirts emblazoned with Philadelphia Fire Department

paramedic emblems. A little windswept and flushed from the cold

• 11 •

RADCLY fFE

November air, they slouched in their seats, legs spread, arms draped

over chair backs. Self-assured and a tiny bit arrogant, not all that much

different than most of the surgical residents she dealt with, although

her residents generally opted for earnest and respectful demeanors—at

least on the surface.

“I’m Ali Torveau, one of the trauma surgeons. Dr. Rifkin couldn’t

make it tonight, so I’ll be filling in for him on crush injuries to the

chest.” She counted heads, frowned. “Aren’t there supposed to be six

of you?”

“Cross went out on a call right at the end of shift,” a ruddy blond

with an incongruous spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks

that made him look about fourteen replied in a deep baritone voice.

“It’s my understanding that all the TER-OPS trainees are to be

relieved for these sessions. They aren’t optional, and you can’t make

them up. The state certification board is very clear on that.”

The blond grinned and shrugged. “Nothing gets Cross out of the

field.”

Ali plugged her jump drive into the computer sitting on the

conference table, thinking that the firefighter paramedic in question

probably ought to reconsider his plans to join the new PFD technical

rescue unit. A unit like that demanded discipline and tight teamwork,

and Cross sounded like a cowboy.

“Okay,” Ali said. “Let’s talk about sucking—”

The door burst open and a woman in a sweatsoaked T-shirt

plastered to her broad shoulders and sculpted chest shot into the room.

“Someone mention my favorite subject?”

A couple of the men chuckled as the latecomer dropped into a

chair and tossed Ali a confident smile while pitching a denim jacket,

too light for the unseasonably cold late November weather, onto the

table. She looked vaguely familiar, but Ali was sure she would have

remembered her had they met. She was about Ali’s height—a little

above average—and like the male firefighters, fit and strong looking.

Her bare arms were subtly corded and her threadbare jeans stretched

tight over muscular thighs. The soot streaking her lightly tanned face

did nothing to detract from her good looks. Casually layered collarlength dark brown hair shot through with shimmering red highlights

clung to her neck in damp ringlets. The startling softness of those

sensuous curls against a canvas of carved muscle and bone gave her the

• 12 •

Trauma alerT

look of a fallen angel. Her ridiculously blue, blue eyes flickered with

amusement and Ali realized she was staring into them.

Abruptly, Ali cut her gaze away. She’d been dealing with these

showy types all her life. Surgery bred—or perhaps simply attracted—

super-confident, sexually charismatic, egotistical pains in the butt.

Unfortunately, as annoying as these sorts might be, they often made

the best surgeons. Maybe the same was true for firefighters. Any other

time she would have ignored the relatively harmless flippancy, but

she hadn’t completely forgotten about her missed glass of wine and

interrupted evening of relaxation. She was feeling a little testy.

“Since it’s your favorite subject,” Ali said conversationally,

directing her comments to the newcomer, “maybe you’d like to give

the rest of us a quick overview on sucking chest wounds. Cross, is it?”

“That’s right. Beau Cross.” Beau leaned back in her chair, affecting

a blasé attitude to buy herself a few seconds to get her game back on.

The woman standing at the end of the conference table with her arms

folded across her chest and an expression of supreme control put her off

balance, and that just never happened to her. She worked with strong,

commanding women all the time. Female firefighters and emergency

medical personnel needed to be smart, tough, and resilient to handle

the work and disprove the lingering belief in some quarters that women

couldn’t cut it in the fire department. No, there was something else

about this particular woman that tripped Beau up.

Beau studied her through lazily lowered lids. Taken separately,

the brunette’s short tousled hair, matching dark eyes, trim figure, and

delicately etched features could be carelessly termed “pretty.” But her

high-bridged nose and dark, dramatic brows emboldened her profile

and moved her from attractive into the arresting category. Still, the

surgeon might conceivably go unnoticed amidst the literally hundreds

of other women and men roaming the hospital in shapeless, faded green

scrubs. Maybe. Maybe if someone were comatose. But Beau rarely

didn’t notice a goodlooking woman, and she could never remember a

single one throwing her off stride.

Not just off stride. The look she’d gotten from the surgeon when

she’d breezed into the room had almost stopped her in her tracks. Those

deep dark eyes had swept over her with the intensity of a flashover,

assessing her, summing her up, and then—just as quickly—dismissing

her. Beau had spent the last ten years of her life honing her image,

• 13 •

RADCLY fFE

perfecting her façade. Everyone believed she was exactly the person

she wanted them to see. And that worked just fine for her. But for a few

seconds, as she was evaluated and discarded, she’d felt the weight of

maintaining her image tighten like a chain around her chest, and she’d

wanted to cast the mask aside. A very dangerous reaction. Her heart

raced, and usually only a multi-alarmer or a do-or-die crisis could do

that to her. Her pulse didn’t even pick up when she came, not like this.

She took a deep breath, forced a grin.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” Beau said.

“That might be because you were late.” Ali was aware of the

others in the room watching the exchange avidly. If one of her surgical

residents had been as irreverent, she could have threatened the hapless

soul with weeks of floor work. Being locked out of the OR was a

fate worse than death for a competitive surgeon-in-training. But this

firefighter wasn’t her resident, and why she seemed compelled to joust

with the woman was completely mystifying. Holding the turquoise

gaze without blinking, Ali said softly, “The question?”

“Occlusive dressing and positive pressure ventilation,” Beau

said.

“Good,” Ali acknowledged. “And if the BP bottoms out?”

Beau hesitated, and when she flicked a glance at her colleagues,

Ali realized the firefighter was giving the others a chance to answer.

Interesting. Not quite as egotistical as she initially appeared.

“What if I told you there was a midline shift in the trachea?” Ali

said when the room remained silent.

“Tension pneumothorax,” one of the men blurted out.

“Yes.” Ali nodded and canted an eyebrow at Beau Cross. “Care to

amend your treatment?”

“Same treatment,” Beau said, “but the dressing needs to be

adjusted. Lift one corner to create a flutter-valve. Air goes out, but not

back in.”

“Agreed.” Ali reached behind her to the wall switch and dimmed

the lights, then opened her PowerPoint presentation. “Let’s talk about

the mechanism of closed chest injury and variations in presentation.”

For the next sixty minutes Ali ran through emergency management

protocols for life-threatening chest trauma, comfortable with a topic

she’d discussed hundreds of times before. She described, questioned,

• 14 •

Trauma alerT

challenged, and found the paramedics sharp and eager. She enjoyed the

session, as she always did when talking about something she loved. The

hour passed quickly, and the entire time, she was aware of Beau Cross

just a few inches away. Even though she couldn’t see the firefighter’s

face, she sensed her presence like a heat signature flaring against a

backdrop of shadows.

v

“Hey, Ali, I thought you were off tonight,” Wynter Thompson said

when Ali walked into the surgical locker room. She pulled a pair of

black pants from her locker with one hand and tossed her balled-up

scrub pants into the laundry hamper with the other.

“I was. I am.” Ali unlocked her locker and kicked her clogs into

the bottom. They made a satisfying thud. “I got shanghaied into giving

the boss’s lecture tonight.”

“Whoops.” Wynter laughed and wiggled her scrub shirt over her

prominently pregnant belly. “I guess I shouldn’t mention the Eagles

tickets Pearce got from a patient’s family for tonight?”

Ali stopped in the midst of buttoning her shirt and glared at her

good friend, who also happened to be the senior trauma fellow. “You’re

kidding. The chief is at a football game right now with your spouse?

Why am I having trouble seeing the two of them tossing back beers and

chowing down on hot dogs?”

“Father-daughter bonding.” Wynter pulled on a navy blue cableknit sweater and tugged on the loose pants. “I think Ambrose has

finally forgiven Pearce for not following in his academic footsteps, but

still…they don’t have much chance to spend time together. So when

something comes up, I push her to go.”

“I understand.” Ali sighed. Ambrose Rifkin had expected his

daughter Pearce to pursue a lofty career at one of the top ten medical

schools, and Pearce’s decision to take a general surgery position close

to home so she could marry Wynter and raise a family had put father

and daughter at odds. Ali tipped her chin toward Wynter’s belly. “How

are you feeling?”

“Like it’s much harder to be pregnant at thirty-one than it was at

twenty-five.”

• 15 •

RADCLY fFE

“If you need to rearrange the call schedule—”

Wynter shook her head. “No. I’m not due for seven weeks and I

don’t want any more time to make up than I already will.”

“You’re not required to make up maternity leave.”

“You know that’s not how it works for female surgery residents.

The guys might be a good bunch, but they’d never let me hear the end

of it if I didn’t make up for the lost time.” Wynter shrugged. “Besides, I

wouldn’t like being out that long either. I need the cases.”

“Ah…I don’t suppose you’d play the chairman’s daughter-in-law

card? You are owed leave, and we could cut down on your floor time

when you return. Get you more cases—”

Wynter snorted. “Oh sure. That would really win me a few

friends.”

Ali grinned and shouldered her locker door closed. Funny, she’d

never noticed the reddish highlights in Wynter’s chestnut brown hair

before. Wynter’s eyes were a sharp clear blue too. She wondered

how it was that Wynter and Beau Cross could share some superficial

physical attributes and yet look completely different. Wynter was softly

elegant—especially now that she was pregnant. And Beau…Beau was

seething sexuality and raw strength. Both were incredibly attractive

women, but Wynter was much more Ali’s type. Steady, calm, focused.

And completely responsible. On the rare occasions Ali imagined herself

with a steady girlfriend, she envisioned a woman like Wynter.

“Ali? You okay?” A tiny frown line marred the smooth skin

between Wynter’s brows.

“Hmm? Sure. Why?”

Wynter gestured to Ali’s jeans on the low bench that bisected the

space between the two long rows of lockers. “You forgot your pants.”

Ali glanced down at her bare legs extending below her halfbuttoned, and forgotten, shirt and her face flamed. She grabbed her

jeans and yanked them on. “Sorry. I was just thinking about the session

earlier.”

“What was that for?” Wynter reached for her heavy gym bag

stuffed with clothes, study guides for the trauma accreditation boards,

and toiletries.

“Hey, I’ll take that.” Ali quickly shrugged into her black wool

greatcoat and grabbed Wynter’s bag along with her own. “Come on, I’ll

walk you to your car.”

• 16 •

Trauma alerT

“You don’t have to do that.”

“My big plans for the evening got waylaid by TER-OPS. Besides,

I could use the exercise.”

Wynter gave Ali a look. “Since when? You’re like Pearce. You

never take the elevator—well, not unless I’m on rounds with you—and

I can tell it drives you crazy.”

“Not really,” Ali lied while keeping pace with Wynter to the

elevator. She would have preferred to run down the four flights of

stairs, but she’d seen the swelling in Wynter’s ankles. Their day had

started fifteen hours earlier with rounds in the TICU at six a.m. Wynter

had to be exhausted.

“Thanks.” Wynter leaned against the back wall as the elevator

descended. “So what’s TER-OPS?”

“Technical rescue unit. The Philadelphia Fire Department is

setting up two special units, one in each division, to respond to any kind

of mass casualty event. Bombings, biohazard contamination, natural

disasters. We’re one of the training centers for the paramedics. They all

need eighteen hours of recertification.”

“That sounds cool. Do they need any docs?”

“What? Why?” Ali laughed as they filed out into the lobby. “We

don’t keep you busy enough in the trauma unit?”

“I don’t know, there’s something really exciting about being out

in the field with no backup, no monitors, no X-ray machines. It’s all on

you, you know?”

“Wait until you’re an attending. You’ll feel that way every single

day.”

“I wish.” Wynter sighed. “I don’t get the feeling Ambrose wants

me to stay here.”

“Well, I do.” Ali gave Wynter a quick hug. “And so do all the rest

of us. We all get to vote. And I think you’re wrong about Ambrose. He

has to be harder on you. You’re married to his daughter.”

“Maybe. And maybe when I dazzle him with a grandchild, he’ll

forgive me for ruining Pearce’s career.” Wynter laughed.

“Pearce looks pretty happy to me.” Ali switched their duffels into

one hand and put her shoulder against the heavy lobby door to open it

for Wynter. Suddenly, she was looking into a familiar face.

“Here,” Beau Cross braced an arm on the door and smiled at Ali,

“let me get that for you.”

• 17 •

RADCLY fFE

Beau held the door wide as Wynter passed.

“Thanks.” Ali hesitated, caught by the heat in Beau Cross’s deep

blue eyes. The firefighter had donned her denim jacket and carried a

take-out coffee cup from McDonald’s in one hand.

“No problem. Enjoyed the lecture tonight,” Beau said.

“Did you.”

“Sure. I love a challenge.”

“I didn’t get the sense the material was too much of a test for you.”

Ali detected a hint of smoke and healthy perspiration, a surprisingly

appealing combination, and for an absurd instant had the impulse to

brush the soot smear from Beau’s cheek. The sensation was so foreign

she pushed her free hand deep into the pocket of her coat.

“I wasn’t talking about chest wounds,” Beau said, her voice

dropping. “If you’re not doing anything later, maybe I can make up

for being late. We could talk about pre-hospital emergency care over

a drink.”

Something about the cocky grin triggered Ali’s memory. She had

seen the firefighter before. On TV. “You were the one who went back

into that row house after the little girl last month.”

The rescue had been all over the news for days. A burning

building had been declared totally involved and fire crews were pulling

back when a hysterical woman had screamed her daughter was still

inside. The TV cameras had been rolling when a firefighter raced into

the structure through a wall of flames, seemingly on a suicide mission.

When the roof caved in, the building appeared to have become a fiery

crypt for child and firefighter. Moments later, the rescuer staggered out

to the street with the child in her arms, her own breathing mask over the

little girl’s face. The firefighter—Beau Cross—had escaped with minor

burns and minimal smoke inhalation.

Beau shrugged, her expression blanking. “Yes.”

“Remarkable rescue.” Ali meant the praise, although she’d thought

at the time that only a very brave—or a very crazy—person would have

run into certain death without the slightest hesitation. Having met the

firefighter in question, she added daredevil and glory hound to her list.

“Part of the job,” Beau replied automatically. “Now, back to the

important stuff. Drinks? Maybe something a little more excit—”

“No chance, but thanks anyway.” Ali smiled, but made sure her

tone conveyed she really wasn’t interested. Cross was attractive and

• 18 •

Trauma alerT

knew it. She was also exactly the kind of woman Ali had zero interest

in.

“Don’t be too hasty,” Beau called as Ali stepped outside to catch

up to Wynter. “Remember, first responders make hot company!”

Laughing despite herself, Ali shook her head and didn’t look

back.

“Who’s that?” Wynter asked.

“One of the paramedics in the TER-OPS course.”

“Wow, she’s seriously smokin’. Pun totally intended.” Wynter

tugged on Ali’s sleeve. “Did she just ask you out?”

“More like a really bad pickup line.” Ali slipped her palm under

Wynter’s elbow as they dashed across traffic on Thirty-third toward the

parking garage a block east on Spruce.

“So you said no?”

Ali gave Wynter a look. “She’s a wise-ass who thinks over-highly

of her charms. Of course I said no.”

“Gee, I don’t know. Her charms seemed kinda A-rated to me.”

“Not my type,” Ali insisted. “Only thing worse than a firefighter is

a cop. I wouldn’t date either one.”

“Uh-huh. Okay.” Wynter huffed. “Only boring women for you.

Got it.”

Ali didn’t respond to the well-meant teasing. She had her reasons,

devastatingly painful reasons, for avoiding women who willfully put

their lives at risk, whether for duty or just the thrill of danger. She

would fight like hell in the trauma unit to save them, but she would

never, ever love one again.

• 19 •

• 20 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer TwO

Sucking up to the teacher, Cross?” Bobby Sizemore jostled

Beau’s shoulder with a none too subtle smirk on his broad,

ruddy face. A head taller, twice as wide, and all muscle, he looked every

inch the college linebacker he’d once been. “’Cause you sure could use

some extra points after your entrance tonight.”

“Just being polite, Sizemore.” Beau steadied her coffee cup, its

hot contents threatening to spill out over her hand, and kept her eyes

on the street. Ali Torveau protectively shepherded the woman she’d left

the hospital with across the street and disappeared into the dark. For

half a second Beau contemplated going after her, maybe rephrasing her

invitation so it didn’t sound quite so much like she was angling for a

quick drink and a one-night stand. Somehow, her usual modus operandi

didn’t seem like the right approach for Dr. Ali Torveau. As soon as she

had the thought, she discarded it with a self-deprecating mental shake.

She hadn’t even gotten up to bat, let alone first base. For all she knew,

the intriguing surgeon could be happily married with a pregnant wife.

Either way, Ali Torveau wasn’t the live-in-the-moment, try-anything

once kind of girl Beau preferred when she wanted company for a night,

which wasn’t nearly as often as she let people think. When she did hook

up, she wanted a woman who ran hot and fast and loose, like her. Not

one whose eyes dissected her with calm, cool efficiency.

“Polite,” Bobby scoffed. “Is that what you call making a play

now?”

“Manners, Size Man. I call holding a door for a woman manners—

one of the many classes you probably missed.” Beau shot Bobby a grin.

He was her best friend. They’d gone through the EMT training program

• 21 •

RADCLY fFE

together, gotten their paramedic certifications at the same time, and

been assigned to the same field medic unit in the northeast division.

They’d even both transferred to the southwest division so they could

join the new TER-OPS unit together. She spent more time with him

than anyone else in her life, except Jilly. During a tour, they filled the

sometimes long hours between callouts playing video games, arguing

politics or sports, or just sifting through newspapers and magazines in

companionable silence. On rare occasions, they partied together. Bobby

had figured out pretty quickly which way she swung, and though he

razzed her about her sex life pretty much the same way he did any of

the guys, he never got out of line. When he let it get around that she was

a player, she didn’t bother correcting his perception. The image suited

her. Another layer of protection never hurt.

“Yeah, right,” Bobby said. “I noticed your sparkling manners

when you showed up late for the first session. Good thing we’re not

getting graded by the instructors. You’d be in deep shit already.”

“I don’t know,” Beau said as they walked outside. “I sort of

thought she liked me.”

Bobby hooted.

“What’s so funny?” Beau demanded. “She knows my name. More

than I can say for you.”

“Did you forget your APR on that last call? Because clearly you’ve

been breathing a little too much smoke if you think you’re on her hit

parade after your little show tonight.”

They stopped at the corner of Thirtyfourth and Spruce and Beau

slid her hands into her jacket pockets, hunching against the wind.

“She’ll come around to my charms sooner or later.”

“I bet you a hundred bucks you can’t get her to go out with you.”

Playing along, Beau asked, “Define go out.”

“Jesus, Cross. A date. You and her alone—and not a quickie in

some on-call room.”

“Hey!” Beau protested.

“Tell me you haven’t been there.”

“Well…” Beau tilted her head from side to side and grinned. “I

hate to lie to a friend.”

“Like I said. A date.” Sizemore shook his head in mock disbelief.

“You do date women sometimes, don’t you? I mean, besides just

fu—”

• 22 •

Trauma alerT

“Whoa, let’s not get personal.” Beau didn’t mind having a

reputation—it made her just one of the guys, even when some of the

guys were women. But she wasn’t going to go as far as pretending

women were just about sex to maintain her image. “I know how to

romance a woman.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it. If you can. But I’m betting she’s way out of

your class.”

Beau pretty much agreed. She still remembered the prickling

disappointment when Ali had so effortlessly dismissed her. She wanted

Ali to look again, and she didn’t know why. Ordinarily, she never

wanted anyone to look too close. Not even Jilly. Ali’s casual rejection

echoed in her mind. No chance, but thanks anyway.

“You’re on, Size Man. One date. One hundred dollars.”

“Good,” Bobby said. “I can use the extra dough. So you want to

go out for a beer?”

“I’ll take a rain check on that one.” She wanted to get home. Jilly

had been looking worn out lately.

“You got it. See you for first shift.”

“Tomorrow.” Beau walked west, bracing herself against the biting

chill. She’d taken Bobby’s dare because it gave her an excuse to talk

to Ali again, but she knew she’d just made a fool’s wager. Ali Torveau

was not going to go out with her. She’d read the swift assessment in

the surgeon’s probing gaze—Ali had pegged her as a player or an

all-around fuck-off, and she wasn’t interested. Beau had nothing to

complain about. She’d become so good at hiding who she really was,

she wasn’t sure herself anymore. Only the hollow ache that never left

seemed familiar.

v

Ali made the twenty-five-minute walk over the South Street

Bridge from the hospital to her three-story brownstone on St. James

Place in under twenty minutes. Her chest burned from the cold night

air but her blood pumped hot beneath her skin. Invigorated, she let

herself into the foyer and collected her mail. The brownstone retained

all its historic elements, with high stamped-tin ceilings in the halls,

dark wood wainscoting, carved trim on the doors and windows, and

polished walnut floors. A wide six-paneled door on the left opened

• 23 •

RADCLY fFE

into her apartment and straight ahead a short hallway led to the broad

staircase going up to her third-floor tenant’s apartment. She let herself

into her bi-level apartment. After swiftly leafing through the bills and

junk mail, she dropped the stack onto a side table and followed the

smell of chicken and apple pie down the hall and into the kitchen. Two

covered dishes draped in colorful dish towels sat on a central gray slate

cook island. She passed her hand over them. Still warm. Ralph always

seemed to know when she was on her way home, even when she was

three hours later than planned. The Littorai rested unopened in the wine

rack on a nearby counter where she’d left it that morning. She checked

the clock.

Going on ten p.m. The wine was not one to be rushed and would

have to keep for another night. She would, however, have something to

eat as soon as she took care of her nightly duties. She went back down

the hall, grabbed a fleece-lined windbreaker from a wooden coat stand,

and went out into the foyer. She climbed the stairs to the third floor and

tapped on the door.

“Ralph? It’s Ali.”

The door opened and a white-haired man of indeterminate age, his

craggy face a fascinating study of angles and planes, fixed her with a

stern gaze. “You’re late again.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I got held up—”

“Seems like you get held up more often than not these days.”

Ralph Matteo’s deep brown eyes swept her from head to toe critically.

“You’re getting skinny.”

Ali laughed. “How can you tell? I’m wearing a jacket. And besides,

I’m not.”

“You work too hard.”

“You’ve been saying that for the past eight years, Ralph.”

“And it’s been true the whole time.” He held out a leash and a fat

bulldog stumped out into the hall and nuzzled Ali’s leg. “Too much

work. Not enough good food. No fun. That’s a recipe for a life of

regrets.”

“Thanks for worrying, but you don’t need to.” Ali reached down

to scratch behind the bulldog’s ears. “Come on, Victor. Let’s take a run

around the block.”

“He doesn’t need to be out very long. Eat your dinner before it

gets cold,” Ralph called as Ali led the wheezing dog down the stairs.

• 24 •

Trauma alerT

Victor didn’t show much interest in being outside in the cold. The

instant he’d watered a lamppost he dragged her with surprising speed

back to the wide stone stairs of their building. She took him inside her

place while she ate the dinner Ralph had brought down. Victor lay on

the dog bed she kept for him in one corner of the kitchen, watching her

lugubriously as she ate at the butcher-block breakfast bar. The routine

was familiar. On the nights she wasn’t on call, Ralph cooked for her and

in turn, she undercharged him on the rent and helped take care of the

dog. The arrangement worked for both of them, but their relationship

was more than mutual convenience. Victor and Ralph were family.

She saw her biological family only rarely. Her parents had retired

to a gated community in California where they could golf year-round.

Her brother, who shared their parents’ social, economic, and political

values, lived close to them. She didn’t have much in common with any

of them and hadn’t felt part of their lives since she was twenty. Her

work, her friendship with Wynter, and her home with Ralph and Victor

gave her all the satisfaction she needed.

Victor snorted as if reading her mind and disagreeing.

“All right,” she murmured as she forked up flaky crust and tangy

apples. “I think about it once in a while.” She pointed her fork at Victor.

“But sex is a fleeting pleasure. And it’s very rarely worth the hassle.”

Ali looked away from the dog’s unblinking gaze to the black

squares of night outside her kitchen windows. She knew exactly when

she’d closed her heart away, but she couldn’t remember when she’d

stopped wanting the transient intimacy of sex. Heather had been six

months—no—almost ten months ago. Casual encounters weren’t her

thing, and she almost never slept with a woman she hadn’t seen socially

for a while. But when two adults were attracted to one another, a few

weeks of dating usually progressed to sex, and it did with her and

Heather. But somehow, what should have signaled a deepening of a

relationship had spelled the end for her. That was her pattern.

Ali pushed the tiny flakes of savory crust, all that remained of

Ralph’s homemade apple pie, into a straight line across the center of

her plate. If she were being honest with herself, she did miss sex. What

she didn’t miss was the inevitable anxiety that followed, the suffocating

feeling of someone getting too close that made her want to run. And

she did run, until she stopped putting herself in situations where she’d

have to.

• 25 •

RADCLY fFE

Maybe she should try something different. Maybe she should try

casual.

Beau Cross’s cocky grin and sexy eyes immediately popped into

her mind. She didn’t doubt for a single second that Beau’s offer of a

drink would have been followed by an invitation to bed. That wouldn’t

be so bad, would it? The woman was sin personified—young, hard

body; gorgeous mouth; broad, strong hands. Ali shivered as the image

became sensation. Hot slick skin sliding over hers, a sharp cry of

fulfillment, the wild pounding of another heartbeat in the dark.

Abruptly, Ali stood and carried her dishes to the sink. Beau Cross

was a reckless charmer who undoubtedly thought she was God’s gift as

well as being immortal. She was a heartbreak waiting to happen, and

Ali wanted absolutely nothing to do with her.

v

“Jilly?” Beau tossed her jacket over the back of the faded blue

sofa that had been in her family for at least two generations. She

wended her way around the comfortable overstuffed chairs and end

tables through the living room to the kitchen. Skirting around the wood

peasant table pushed under the windows facing the small backyard, she

opened the fridge and hunted around for a bottle of Red Dog. “Jilly?

Want a beer?”

“No thanks,” a soft voice behind her said. “I’m having wine.”

Beau edged the door closed with her hip and twisted off the bottle

cap. She was about to toss the cap into the trash when she caught her

sister’s raised brow and made a swift ninety-degree juke and dropped it

into the blue plastic container labeled “recycle.” Dark circles shadowed

Jilly’s green eyes, and her long curly hair, more red than brown—the

opposite of Beau’s—had lost its lustrous shine. Her long-sleeved

T-shirt hung loosely on her slender frame. She’d lost weight. Beau’s

chest constricted.

“How you doing?” Beau tried to sound casual as she tilted her

beer bottle back and took a long swallow.

“I’m fine. Stop worrying.”

“Hey, I’m not—”

Jilly smacked Beau on the shoulder. “Don’t play Ms. Cool with

me. You’re my baby sister, remember? I know all your tricks.”

• 26 •

Trauma alerT

“God, I hope not.” Beau grinned and Jilly laughed, the sparkle

returning to her eyes. Beau draped an arm around her older sister’s

shoulders and hugged her. Then she rested her cheek against Jilly’s hair.

“You sure?”

“I told you already. My tests are fine. It was the flu. Nothing

more.”

“I still don’t think you should have gone back to work—”

“Beau,” Jilly said gently as they walked into the living room

together. “It took me ten years to make partner. In case you haven’t

noticed, the economy sucks. Even if I didn’t love my job, I’d still need

to go to work.”

“I know, I know. But why be a partner and still work twenty-four

seven?” Beau dropped onto the sofa and patted her lap. Jilly stretched

out at the opposite end and plunked her feet into Beau’s lap. She let out

a groan when Beau started to massage her feet through her soft fuzzy

orange socks.

“Did you eat?” Jilly asked.

“I grabbed a burger and fries at the McDonald’s in the hospital.”

Jilly shook her head. “God, you’re going to kill yourself, the way

you eat.”

“Don’t worry, I burn it all off.” Beau grinned. “One way or the

other.”

“Now that you’re living here, I know you’re not fooling around

all that much.” Jilly bounced her heel on Beau’s thigh. “Am I cramping

your style?”

Beau continued rubbing her thumb over the arch of Jilly’s foot.

After a moment, she said, “Are you getting tired of having me around?

When I got the transfer to Southwest, I know I said I’d only be here for

a while and it’s been three weeks already. I can start looking for a—”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. I like having

you here. I’m asking if you’re not bringing women back here because

we’re sharing the house.”

“No. Well, I wouldn’t, but it’s not because of anything you did. I

just wouldn’t feel comfortable making—” Heat rose up Beau’s neck.

“Jeez, Jilly. Can we not talk about my sex life?”

“You’re not nineteen anymore, Beau. You’re twenty-eight. You’re

smart, beautiful, and caring—even if you don’t want anyone to know it.

You ought to have a real girlfriend, not a string of one-night stands.”

• 27 •

RADCLY fFE

Beau groaned and dropped her head onto the sofa back. “Can you

not sound like Mom, please? Besides, you’re almost forty. Where’s

your girlfriend? Or boyfriend, or whatever?”

Jilly’s face shuttered closed. “That’s not fair. You know why.”

“That’s bullshit.” Beau gently shifted Jilly’s feet aside, stood

up, and went to the kitchen for another beer. She returned and leaned

against the mantel above the small, neat brick fireplace. “There’s no

reason you shouldn’t have everything in your life you deserve.”

“Right back at you.” Jilly gave Beau a tender smile. “So what’s

your excuse?”

Beau turned the beer bottle in her hands, wondering how to explain

that she only felt alive when she was moving as fast as she could—from

one crisis to the next, one woman to the next. That if she stopped, she’d

lose it all. Again. She regarded her sister, her strong, brave, generous

sister who had far more reason to be angry at fate than she did.

“I guess I’m just not cut out for a relationship,” Beau said softly.

“You’re wrong. You just haven’t met a woman you can’t forget in

the morning. When you do, you won’t be able to help yourself.” Jilly

rose and kissed Beau’s cheek. “Want to finish watching Avatar?”

“Sure.” Beau followed her sister upstairs. Jilly knew her better

than anyone in the world, but she was wrong about one thing. Beau had

learned not to count on anything beyond the moment. And that included

love.

• 28 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer Three

The station house alarm rang just as Beau was about to store

her turnout gear. The last call had been for a forty-two-year

old runner who had collapsed while jogging in Fairmont Park. Now

the radio dispatcher announced: Engine 36, respond to multivehicle

accident at Thirty-third and Spring Garden off-ramp. She quickly

pulled her bunker pants back on, grabbed her coat, and sprinted

toward the medic unit. Bobby Sizemore caught up to her just as she

climbed into the cab. By the time she had her seat belt buckled, they

were rolling. When they went out on calls together, Bobby drove. She

preferred concentrating on the upcoming scene rather than the logistics

of getting there. For her, the job was all about the victims, and that was

the only thing she wanted to be thinking about.

“Not even eight o’clock yet,” Bobby said as he drafted in the wake

of the big engine just ahead. “Gonna be one of those days.”

“Looks like.” A hard rain streamed from a steely gray sky that

harbingered the advent of winter. Up ahead and to the right, a black

smudge obscured the outline of the art museum just across the Schuylkill

River. “Ah, hell. We’ve got a fire.”

Bobby’s jaw tightened and he picked up speed.

Beau’s pulse hitched and then settled as she took a deep breath

and readied herself. Vehicle fires were a dreaded consequence of multivehicle accidents. Smoke and flame were quick killers and left precious

little time to extract the victims. Often, firefighters and emergency

medical personnel had to work under the threat of imminent explosion

in and around unstable vehicles. These were the moments when every

• 29 •

RADCLY fFE

decision counted and there would be no second chances. These were

the moments Beau felt most alive.

Bobby positioned the squad in tandem with the engine already

parked diagonally across the twisting two-lane road that bordered the

river. Together the rigs barricaded the scene from oncoming traffic

and protected the firefighters during the rescue operation. A swarm of

firefighters pulled hoses and equipment from the engine. The incident

commander stood by the side of the truck with a radio in his hand,

giving the onscene report. A red SUV with oily black clouds pouring

from under the hood lay on its side in the middle of the roadway. Beau

scanned a trail of flattened shrubbery and torn-up grass adjacent to

the highway that led toward the water’s edge. The rear of a hatchback

protruded above the embankment.

“There’s another car in the water,” she told Bobby. “I’ll take that

one. You check the one in the road.”

“Don’t forget your life vest,” Bobby grunted.

“Yes, dear.” Beau jumped from the rig and unlocked the back. She

grabbed her gearbox, snagged a life vest, and ran across the chewed-up

ground to the second vehicle. The front end was already submerged

up to the windshield. From what she could see from the riverbank, the

rear seat of the midsize four-door hatchback was empty. The driver was

slumped against a partially deflated airbag. There might have been a

front seat passenger, but the airbag on that side hadn’t deployed. She

flicked on her radio.

“IC, this is Cross. One vehicle partially submerged and going under

rapidly. One victim confirmed in front driver side, a second possible in

front passenger side. We need tie lines down here now.”

“Cross, this is Incident Command confirming you need tie lines.

One victim, driver side. Possible second front-seat passenger.”

Protocol dictated she wait until the vehicle was secured before

she approached it, but in the scant seconds it had taken her to assess

the situation, the car had slid a few more feet into the water. In another

minute it would overbalance and go under completely. Beau yanked

off her turnout coat and pants. The heavy heat-retardant material was

worse than useless in a water rescue situation. Icy rain and glacial wind

whipped her long-sleeved uniform shirt around her body like a flag on

a pole. Bracing herself for the shock of the near-frigid water, she waded

into the river toward the driver’s door while pulling on the life vest over

• 30 •

Trauma alerT

her shirt. She slapped the Velcro straps down to secure the vest as frigid

water rose to her waist. A quick scan of the rear seat confirmed it was

empty. Moving into chest-deep water, she pulled on the driver’s door

handle while peering into the front passenger compartment. A woman

whose long blond hair was densely matted with blood slumped over the

steering wheel, her face obscured by the airbag. Beau could just make

out a motionless child of about six held upright by a seat belt on the

passenger side. Judging by the level of the muddy brown water inside

the car, the child would be underwater if the vehicle slid much more.

She keyed her shoulder mic.

“This is Cross. We have a second victim—an unconscious child in

the front passenger compartment.”

The driver’s door didn’t budge. Beau braced her leg against the

side of the vehicle and tugged harder. Arms and back straining, she kept

up the pressure with no success. She switched to the rear door where

the water had not yet reached the level of the window and prayed it

wasn’t locked. One sharp tug got it open and she leaned inside, quickly

feeling for a pulse in the driver’s neck. Thready and weak, but present.

She heard shouts from shore but didn’t bother to look back, knowing

other firefighters would be attaching cables to the rear of the vehicle.

The water had reached the child’s neck. She eased out of the vehicle.

Water swirled up to her shoulders and her boots slid on loose rock and

mud. She grabbed the roof to keep from going under.

“Throw me a cervical collar,” she yelled. Straining against the

current, she plodded a few feet back toward shore and caught the wide

padded collar as it flew through the air toward her. With her back

against the vehicle to keep her balance, she worked her way back to the

open rear door and secured the support around the woman’s neck from

behind. She needed to get to the child, but she couldn’t go around the

front of the submerged vehicle. If she tried slogging back to shore and

wading down the other side of the vehicle, she’d lose precious time.

She was slowing down and her legs were numb from the penetrating

cold. Her fingers weren’t working right either. If she was this impaired

so quickly, both victims must be severely hypothermic by now.

“Do you have the lines on?” she shouted.

“Getting ready to winch,” a firefighter responded.

“I’m going inside.”

“Give us another minute.”

• 31 •

RADCLY fFE

“Don’t have one,” she called and climbed all the way into the rear

seat, hoping her added weight wouldn’t plunge them all beneath the

surface of the river.

v

Ali sutured the subclavian line into the skin beneath the teenaged

gunshot victim’s collarbone and taped down a sterile dressing. She

checked to see that blood was flowing through the large-bore intravenous

catheter and cast an eye over the monitors. Pulse and blood pressure

stable. O2 sats excellent. He’d gotten lucky. One bullet fractured his

skull but didn’t penetrate his brain. Another passed through his thigh

without severing anything vital. He’d live to fight another day.

“Okay,” she said to the waiting trauma intensive care nurses. “You

can take him for a CAT scan and then up to the unit. I’ll tell neurosurg

where to find him when they get here.”

“Thanks, Ali,” the male member of the team said as he and the

second nurse pushed the stretcher toward the double sliding glass doors

of trauma admitting.

Ali pulled off her gloves, untied her impermeable paper cover

gown, and tossed everything into the trash. She’d gone from one trauma

alert to the next since she’d come on duty at 7:00 a.m. Considering it

was only Friday morning and she was on call until Saturday at 8:00 a.m.

and backup call on Sunday, it was going to be a very long weekend. She

sat at the narrow counter along one wall and quickly completed the

trauma admitting form as the unit clerk assembled the patient’s chart.

“Doing anything special on Thursday?” Tony Chang, the other

trauma fellow in Wynter Thompson’s year, inquired.

“I’m on call.” Ali had volunteered to work on Thanksgiving, as

she did most holidays. She couldn’t see any point to spending the day

at home when one of her colleagues could be spending it with family.

She’d be perfectly happy to eat leftovers with Ralph and Victor the next

day. “You?”

“Going up to my girlfriend’s parents’ place in Manhattan.”

“Nice.” Ali handed a stack of papers to the unit clerk, noting

that the pale young woman, whose spiky black hair was tinted with

random swaths of vibrant purple, had a new piercing in the corner of

her right eyebrow. At least Ali thought it was new. She might have

• 32 •

Trauma alerT

missed it among the impressive array of hardware adorning the girl’s

face. Absently, Ali wondered how in the world she managed to kiss

anyone without inflicting damage to herself or her partner. “Here you

go, Trish.”

“Thanks, Dr. T. I’m going for some coffee. You want?”

“Oh yeah, most definitely.” Ali fished a ten dollar bill out of the

pocket of her scrub shirt. “Here. Get something for Tony and Cass too.

My treat all around.”

Trish flashed Ali a sparkling smile. “You rock. Thanks.”

“Yeah, Ali, you rock!” Cassie Jones, a red-haired veteran trauma

nurse, stood restocking one of the crash carts on the far side of the

room. Small and buxom in baby blue scrubs, she wiggled sculpted

brows at Ali.

Ali rolled her eyes and grinned. “I’m going to head up to the unit

and—”

The base phone rang and Ali, who was closest, picked it up.

“Trauma admitting. Torveau.”

“Rescue 19 inbound with two patients from an MVA,” a female

reported. “ETA five minutes.”

“Go ahead, 19.” Ali grabbed a pen off the counter and pulled an

intake form from a file folder thumb-tacked to the wall by the phone.

“White female, approximately forty years of age, unresponsive,

hypotensive, with intermittent cardiac irregularities. Second patient

is a six-year-old male with a closed head injury. Unresponsive, vitals

stable. Both severely hypothermic.”

“Send me a cardiac rhythm strip on the adult,” Ali said. “What’s

their respiratory status?”

“We intubated the adult. O2 sats one hundred percent. Assisting

the child by mask. Pulse ox ninety-seven.”

“Fine. We’re standing by.” Ali hung up and quickly tore off the

cardiac rhythm strip sent from the remote terminal while she’d been

talking. Short runs of V-tach. Tony and Cass looked at her expectantly.

“Two on their way. Call respiratory and page neurosurg again. Both

have head injuries and are hypothermic. Cass, throw a couple of liters of

normal saline in the microwave and break out the warming blankets.”

“Got it.”

“Tony, call down to CAT scan and tell them they need to bring in

another tech. We’ll have two more for them in about twenty minutes.”

• 33 •

RADCLY fFE

Ali gowned up and pulled on her gloves just as the doors slid open

and a paramedic in the trademark navy blue cargo pants and polo shirt

pushed a gurney bearing a young child through the door.

“Status?” Ali directed the burly blond she recognized from the

TER-OPS session toward one of the three adjustable treatment tables

occupying the center of the large square room.

“The boy is stable,” he told her. “The mother dropped her BP

about a minute ago.”

“Tony, take the boy. Get Peds surgery to look at him.” Ali pointed

to the trauma table closest to her as the second stretcher bulleted through

the door. “I’ll take her over here.”

“You got it,” the medic guiding the stretcher said. “BP sixty palp.

Heart sounds distant. She’s got a hell of a contusion in the center of her

chest.”

Ali glanced up from the patient for just a second as the husky

voice struck a chord. Beau Cross’s face was flushed and her blue eyes

danced with excitement. Ali gave herself one brief second to appreciate

the very striking picture before blanking her mind to everything except

the woman on the stretcher. A five-inch diagonal laceration slashed

across her right upper forehead. Her face and hair were covered with

copious amounts of congealed blood. Face and scalp lacerations always

bled impressively, but there didn’t appear to be enough blood loss to

account for the profound hypotension. An ET tube protruded from her

mouth, connected to a small portable respirator that sat on the end of

the bed delivering oxygen from a cylindrical green tank. Ali ran her

stethoscope over the woman’s chest while the respiratory tech switched

the breathing tube over to a permanent ventilator.

“Heart sounds are muffled.” Ali looked up at Beau who stood at

the foot of the bed. “Diagnosis?”

“Closed cardiac contusion. Possible chamber rupture with

tamponade.”

“Good call. Cassie, roll the portable ultrasound over here.”

Beau edged closer, captivated by the way Ali directed the multiple

trauma alert with crisp, practiced efficiency. She’d seen plenty of

trauma surgeons work in the hospitals in the northeast division she’d

covered before. Most of them she liked and respected. She hadn’t seen

anyone as utterly and completely in control as Ali Torveau. She was

the calm in the center of the storm and everyone in her orbit seemed

• 34 •

Trauma alerT

anchored by her certainty. Even Beau felt grounded by her, enough that

she could ignore her own discomfort. Her feet and legs were so cold she

was having trouble maintaining her balance, but concentrating on Ali

helped block out the pain. The sensation was foreign but surprisingly

pleasant.

Ali took the probe the trauma nurse extended with one hand and

simultaneously squirted a dollop of ultrasound gel into the center of the

patient’s chest. “Cass, call upstairs to the unit and get a couple more

nurses down here.”

“Right away.”

“I can help,” Beau said. “Just tell me what you need.”

Ali glanced up, nodded once, and tilted her chin toward a closed

instrument pack on a nearby tray. “Open that tray and prep her chest.

I’m going to tap her.”

“Right.” Beau slowly folded back the flaps on the sterile tray and

then looked around for gloves. She found a pair of eights and, despite

the stiffness in her hands, managed to pull them on. She opened the

Betadine packs inside the tray. “Okay for me to go ahead?”

“Yes.” Ali connected a 16 gauge trocar to a 50cc syringe. The

alarm on the EKG sounded. The patient’s tracing fluctuated with ectopic

beats. Her blood pressure dropped to 40. “Time’s up. Let me in there.”

Since the only thing Beau could do was stay out of the way, she

divided her attention between studying what Ali was doing and stealing

quick peeks at Ali’s face. Ali’s dark eyes above her mask were intensely

focused and unwavering. She seemed totally calm and totally in control.

Beau found herself holding her breath as Ali guided the needle under

the patient’s sternum and into her chest, drawing back on the syringe

as she pushed the trocar toward the heart. Beau had to remind herself

to suck air in and push air out. She was getting light-headed. Tension

twisted her stomach into a knot. She probably ought to sit down and

catch her breath but she couldn’t leave. Ali might need her.

“Watch the EKG,” Ali said without taking her eyes away from the

patient’s chest. “If her rhythm gets worse, tell me.”

“On it.” Beau switched her focus to the EKG monitor, almost

afraid to blink in case she missed something. She heard more voices

behind her and then a woman moved up close beside her.

“What do we have?”

“Cardiac tamponade,” Ali said. “You want to take over here?”

• 35 •

RADCLY fFE

“Oh yeah.”

Beau recognized the pregnant woman she’d seen with Ali the night

before and eased farther out of the way. Ali Torveau didn’t need her help

anymore, and she had no excuse to stay. Her job was stabilizing the

victims in the field and getting them to the trauma unit. She and Bobby

needed to return to base and re-outfit their rig so they’d be ready for

the next call. This morning, though, she wasn’t in any hurry to leave.

She wanted to watch Ali Torveau work, but her dizziness was getting

worse. In the rush of stabilizing the patient, she hadn’t registered much

of anything else. She was cold. Really cold. She looked around for her

partner.

Bobby leaned against the counter, scribbling notes in their field

report for the patient charts. The young boy she had pulled from the car

just as the muddy water reached his chin was invisible within a ring of

emergency personnel.

“How’s he doing?” she asked, wondering if her voice sounded as

sluggish to him.

“Stable. How about yours?”

“Possible cardiac rupture.” The adrenaline high drained away, and

Beau shivered so violently her teeth chattered. She tried to cover it with

a laugh. “Good thing I paid attention in class Monday night.”

Bobby looked up from the clipboard and his eyes narrowed.

“Jesus, Cross. You’re soaking wet to your tits and your goddamn lips

are turning blue.”

“Yeah yeah,” Beau said, feeling the bone-deep chill more and

more each second. “Come on, Size Man, let’s collect our stuff and get

out of here.”

“Fuck that. I’ll get our stuff. You get some dry clothes on before

we head back. I bet if we took your temperature right now they’d put

you on one of the stretchers.” Bobby grasped the arm of a passing

resident. “Hey. Is there a locker room down here? My partner needs

some scrubs.”

“Across the hall. It’s marked.”

“Go,” Bobby said.

Beau knew arguing wouldn’t help once Bobby had his mind made

up. Besides, she wasn’t just cold. She was shaky, and she needed to get

her act together before she showed up back at base. “Right, fine. Keep

your shorts on.”

• 36 •

Trauma alerT

To her relief, the locker room was empty. Scrubs were stacked by

size in a narrow, open closet just inside the door. She dug out a pair of

larges and emptied the pockets of her uniform onto a bench that ran

down the center of the room. Her hands shook almost too much for her

to work loose the few buttons on her shirt, but she finally got it off and

stripped off her sodden undershirt. The effort was enough to wind her

and she leaned with one arm against the lockers to steady herself while

she caught her breath. Christ, she was dizzy. Just like that, her legs quit

on her, and she felt herself going down.

• 37 •

• 38 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer fOur

Nice job, Doc,” Ali said as Wynter aspirated blood from around

the patient’s heart. “Her blood pressure is coming up. EKG

looks good too.”

“Thanks.” Wynter, her satisfaction evident in her voice, threaded

a thin catheter through the trocar and into the pericardial space to

evacuate any further accumulation of blood.

“You got it from here?”

Wynter straightened and arched her back, sighing softly. “I’m

good.”

“You sure?”

“It’s just getting a little hard to get up to the table. I’m fine.”

“Okay then. She’s yours.” Ali turned to the second patient on the

adjacent table. Jeff Weinstein, the pediatric surgeon, was assessing the

boy with Tony. “Everything under control?”

“We need to warm him up and complete the neuro eval.” Jeff, a

rangy guy badly in need of a shave, wore rumpled scrubs and shapeless

tennis shoes. He peered through red-rimmed eyes at a chest X-ray on

the view box on the wall. “Haven’t found anything surgical. Looks like

they got him out of the river just in time, though. He’s still cold and

pretty shocky.”

“Tony,” Ali said to her trauma fellow, “you stick with Jeff until

this boy is ready to go to the PICU.”

“Okay.” Tony leaned down to murmur reassurance in the boy’s

ear. The patient didn’t appear to hear him, but no one really knew what

the unconscious mind absorbed.

• 39 •

RADCLY fFE

Satisfied things were under control, Ali looked around for Trish

and her much-needed coffee. With luck, maybe she’d get a few minutes’

break to finish up this batch of paperwork before the next round started.

She wanted to thank Beau for the assist too, but she didn’t see her

anywhere. The stab of disappointment surprised her, and she chalked

it up to the missed teaching opportunity. Her interest in the paramedic

was purely professional. She was a TER-OPS instructor, and Beau was

in her group. Nothing beat on-the-job training.

The other paramedic hadn’t left yet, and he didn’t appear happy.

He stood frowning into the hall, clipboard dangling from one hand.

“Problem?” Ali asked. The husky blond shook his head, but the

muscle jumping along the edge of his jaw triggered Ali’s bullshit radar.

“What’s going on?”

“Fucking Cross,” he muttered. “Always has to play the goddamn

cowboy.”

Ali’s chest tightened. “What are you talking about? Where is

she?”

“Locker room. She should have been out by now. Goddamn it, I

knew she wasn’t right.”

“Not right?” Ali hadn’t noticed anything wrong, but she hadn’t

really been paying much attention to Beau either. The tightness in her

chest escalated to alarm. The sensation was foreign and frightening. She

wasn’t used to being unsettled by any kind of crisis. “Is she hurt?”

“Didn’t look too steady. She was in the water a long time.”

“Stay here,” Ali snapped, keeping her voice low. “I’ll check her.”

Ali confirmed both patients were still stable, then hurried across

the hall to the locker room. She stumbled to a halt just inside the door,

unprepared for the sight of Beau, half naked and slumped on the floor

with her back to the lockers and her head on her knees. Ali’s pulse

spiked and she shot forward.

“Cross!” Ali knelt beside Beau and cupped the back of Beau’s

neck. Her hair was wet, her skin cold and clammy. “Jesus, you’re

freezing. Beau? Can you hear me?”

“Sorry.” Beau’s voice was slow and slurred. When she tried to

raise her head she sagged against Ali, her cheek coming to rest against

Ali’s shoulder. Her eyes were unfocused, her lips tinged with blue.

“Just…a little dizzy.”

“A lot more than a little,” Ali muttered, trying not to think about

• 40 •

Trauma alerT

the fact that she was on the floor with Beau Cross in her arms. Beau’s

breath against her neck was warm, in sharp contrast to her icy body.

Ali pulled her closer, instinctively wanting to warm her, and Beau’s

lips brushed her neck. Ignoring the flutter in her stomach, Ali rested

her fingertips against Beau’s throat. Her pulse was barely palpable,

her body wooden. She was freezing but she wasn’t shivering. She was

too cold even to shiver. Dangerously cold. Ali rubbed her palm up and

down Beau’s back. “We need to get you warmed up.”

“Just gimme a minute,” Beau said.

She looked and sounded lethargic. Nothing like the high-intensity

woman Ali had met earlier in the week.

“And then what?” Ali asked. “You’ll just get on your white charger

and ride on out of here?” Ali shook her head. Cops and firefighters.

Please, someone save her from the urban knights. She slid one arm

behind Beau’s shoulders and gripped the waistband of Beau’s trousers

with the other. The material was soaked. “Come on, let’s get you

standing. Put your arms around my waist.”

Beau draped an arm around Ali’s middle and Ali pushed upright,

tugging Beau with her. Beau swayed unsteadily, leaning into Ali and

resting her forehead on Ali’s shoulder. Ali couldn’t help but register the

press of Beau’s breasts against her chest and flushed hot as her nipples

tightened. Her body liked the contact—a lot—but her mind clanged

with a warning bell so loud her ears hurt. Gripping Beau’s shoulders,

she pushed her gently away. “You need a shirt and dry pants. Unzip.”

“Thanks, I’m sorry about this,” Beau said, fumbling with her fly.

“Fingers stopped working.”

Ali looked down involuntarily, and then fervently wished she

hadn’t. She’d seen hundreds, thousands, of naked bodies, and while

she might appreciate the aesthetics of a particularly beautiful form, her

appreciation was always distant and impersonal. Her reaction to Beau

Cross was anything but impersonal. Beau had an amazing body—golden

skin stretched over tautly etched muscles, the hard body softened by

the exquisite rise of firm oval breasts. Elegant hollows shadowed the

insides of her hipbones. She would have been artist model material

if it hadn’t been for the scars scattered over her chest and bisecting

her long, lean abdomen from just beneath her breastbone to below her

shallow navel. Scars were nothing new in Ali’s experience either, but

her stomach clenched as she evaluated these. Her guess was a gunshot

• 41 •

RADCLY fFE

wound, but regardless of the cause, Beau had been hurt once, badly, and

the thought of her being injured distressed Ali more than she could have

imagined. She tried not to make a sound, but the hitch in her breathing

was loud in the silent room.

Beau lifted her eyes to Ali’s. Her pupils were clearer now, the sea

blue irises a stormy gray. “Nobody knows.”

“No one will hear from me,” Ali whispered. She dragged her eyes

away from Beau’s and looked down again. She unbuttoned Beau’s pants,

being ever so careful not to touch her skin, but the backs of her fingers

inadvertently brushed over Beau’s abdomen. When Beau’s breath

caught and her stomach rippled, Ali fought to find the place in herself

that allowed her to care about—but remain unaffected by—another’s

tragedy. The struggle was harder than it should have been, especially

when she wanted to trace her fingertips along the length of the pale,

thick ridge of scar tissue, as if that might erase it and any memory of

the pain that had caused it.

She tugged on the zipper and had to bite her lip when Beau’s

stomach tensed again, the vertical scar tightening between vivid squares

of hard muscle. Even the damage could not diminish her raw beauty.

Delicately, Ali drew Beau’s zipper down, careful not to touch her again.

Then she picked up the scrub shirt from the bench. She didn’t look at

Beau when she held it out. “Put this on, and get out of those pants. I

want you in the treatment room next door.”

“I’m fine. Just got a little—”

“Save it. I want to take a look at you, and if you give me any flack,

I’ll get on the phone and call your station house.”

“Jesus, don’t do that. They’ll bench me.” Beau sounded panicked.

“I need to get back to work.”

“Then I need to make sure you’re safe, don’t I? Lives are at stake,

after all.” Ali didn’t add even if you don’t care about your own, because

she knew it wouldn’t matter. Beau obviously had a hero complex, and

while she undoubtedly was a brave woman, she was also reckless. She

didn’t know the meaning of the words safety margin. Her battered body

was proof of that. So much like Sammy it hurt to look at her. Ali walked

away. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Look, Ali—”

Ali didn’t stay to hear the excuses. She’d heard them all before.

• 42 •

Trauma alerT

v

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Beau yanked the scrub shirt over her head

and pushed down her pants. She had to sit to get them off. She was

still shaky. Goddamn it. She hated that anyone had seen her like that,

weak and vulnerable. But that Ali, a woman she wanted to impress,

had witnessed her looking so pitiful was humiliating. And Ali had seen

everything. Everything she worked so hard to hide. She glanced at the

closed door of the locker room. She could walk out and be in the rig

before anyone knew she was gone. If Bobby wasn’t outside waiting for

her, he could damn well get his own ride back to the station house. He

must have been the one to send Ali looking for her. In fact, she wouldn’t

put it past him to have pointed Ali at her on purpose, to try to force their

stupid bet along.

Beau tied the scrub pants, her fingers shaking so badly it took

her three attempts. She was a freakin’ mess. Hell, Ali had practically

had to undress her. She’d come close to embarrassing herself when Ali

unbuttoned her trousers. Her legs had gotten weak and she’d almost

dropped. That didn’t mean anything, though. Her body wasn’t working

right, that’s all it was. The trembling in her thighs and the ripple of heat

in the pit of her stomach, when everywhere else she was so cold, had

nothing to do with the sight of Ali’s head bent forward, strands of dark

hair caressing her cheeks, as she ever so carefully opened Beau’s fly.

Beau’s abdomen tightened again, imagining the brush of lips, the caress

of fingertips, on her flesh. A trickle of pleasure whispered through

her again, and Beau cursed. She just needed some time to get herself

together. She considered her options.

If she left without getting checked out, Ali might call the station

house, but then again, she might not. Ali knew she was a trained

professional. She’d probably give her the benefit of the doubt and trust

her judgment. Maybe. Or maybe not. Ali Torveau obviously played by

the rules, and Beau hadn’t seen anything to suggest that Ali let anyone

bend them. Just the same, Beau didn’t mind betting against the odds.

She’d been doing it all her life. So Ali would be pissed. Ali wouldn’t

be the first woman to get ticked off at Beau for not doing what she

wanted. She didn’t take orders well. She lived on the edge where guts

and willpower were all that counted.

• 43 •

RADCLY fFE

Beau rolled up her wet clothes and pushed her bare feet into her

boots. When she stood up her vision got blurry for just a second but

she quickly blinked the haze away. She made it all the way to the door

before she remembered the way Ali’s arm had felt sliding around her

body, strong and tender the way only a woman’s embrace could be.

Ali’s body against hers had warmed her, deeper than just skin and bone.

Ali had been careful with her. Beau hadn’t let anyone comfort her in

a very long time, hadn’t wanted anyone to. Her weakness had already

cost too much. Beau gripped the handle. She knew she was making a

mistake, but she couldn’t help herself.

v

Ali hesitated outside the locker room, resisting the urge to press

her palms to her face. She didn’t feel like herself, and she wanted to

be sure nothing showed before returning to the trauma bay. What was

it about Beau Cross that threw her so off course? Yes, sure, Cross was

attractive. More than attractive. Gorgeous. Sexy. Fine—no point in

arguing the obvious. But in thirty plus years, Ali had seen plenty of

sexy women. Not many as cocky and irritating as Beau Cross, however.

She just had to remember the cocky, irritating part and she’d be fine.

But God, she’d looked so damn alone huddled there on the floor.

Ali focused on what she needed to do. What she was feeling could

wait. Both patients were stable. The trauma nurses were packing up the

mother to take her to CAT scan. Jeff Weinstein and Tony conferred with

the neurosurgery fellow. The young boy, covered in warming blankets,

appeared to be waking up. The paramedic Sizemore, Ali recalled from

his name tag, was gone.

“Trish,” Ali said, picking up two cups of coffee from the cardboard

carriers Trish had placed on the counter, “I’m stealing one of these. Tell

Tony I owe him one.”

“Sure, whatever.” Trish didn’t bother to look up from the forms,

consult sheets, and scattered lab reports she was assembling with

practiced efficiency.

“I’ll be in two.”

Trish stopped what she was doing and quirked a brow at Ali. “We

have another patient I don’t know about?”

“Unofficial.”

• 44 •

Trauma alerT

“Cool.” Trish sipped some kind of caramel whipped cream

chocolate covered concoction that Ali doubted had any coffee in it at

all, and went back to what she was doing.

Ali carried the coffee into the hall and hesitated before the closed

curtain of the treatment room. Mentally she considered the odds, making

a bet with herself that Beau was not inside. She edged around the curtain

and found that she’d lost. Beau sat on the edge of the stretcher, gripping

the sides so hard her knuckles were white.

“Are you all right?” Ali asked.

“Yeah,” Beau said, sweat dripping into her eyes. She’d been

freezing a few minutes before. Now her heart was racing and her chest

was on fire. She knew what was happening. She wanted out of that

sterile, impersonal space where she was nothing. No one. Helpless and

powerless.

Ali put the coffee down on a stainless steel cart and opened the top

drawer. Extracting a digital thermometer, she pointed it toward Beau’s

mouth. “Open.”

Beau grimaced but obeyed. Ali held the thermometer in place with

one hand, her fingertips millimeters from Beau’s mouth. Beau’s lips

were no longer tinged with blue. They were blood red, a little puffy,

full and sensuous. Ali shot her gaze to the digital readout and stared

unblinking at the numbers on the small screen. When the monitor

beeped she frowned at Beau.

“95.2.” Swiftly, she set the thermometer aside and wrapped a

blood pressure cuff around Beau’s bicep, trying not to notice the hard

bulge of muscle or the small caduceus tattooed on her deltoid. “Seventy

over forty. You should have been on one of those beds in there, not

helping me.”

Ali knew she sounded angry. She was angry. Beau was suffering

from exposure and a degree of hypothermia that could easily have

resulted in cardiac irregularities and vascular compromise. She’d

fainted in the locker room. It might have been worse. Ali was angry at

herself for not having seen Beau’s condition, for not appreciating that

one of the emergency personnel had been compromised.

Beau jutted her chin. She didn’t need a lecture, and she sure as

hell wasn’t about to have someone else define her job or her limits.

Especially not Ali Torveau. “In case you didn’t notice, I had other

things to think about.”

• 45 •

RADCLY fFE

“Wrong, Firefighter Cross. Your responsibility ended when you

came through the door of my trauma bay. You had nothing to think

about then except ensuring that you were not impaired.”

Beau pushed off the stretcher, landing so close to Ali they were

almost nose to nose. “I’m not just a stretcher bearer.”

Ali thought she could actually see sparks flare in Beau’s eyes. The

woman had incredible eyes. She also had an incredible ego to go along

with them. “I know that. But reckless endangerment, even when it’s

your own life, is not acceptable in my unit.”

“Does everyone always follow your rules, Dr. Torveau?” Beau

whispered, those beautiful lips lifting into a taunting grin.

“In here they do.” Ali refused to look away, even when the

susurrant note in Beau’s voice stirred a ripple of heat in her belly. She

held Beau’s gaze a moment longer, just to prove she was unaffected by

Beau’s appeal. Then she deliberately turned aside to retrieve one of the

containers she’d set on the crash cart. “Here. Hot coffee. Drink it.”

Beau regarded her steadily, the grin never wavering. “Is that

another order?”

Ali blushed. “Yes.”

“All right.” Beau let her fingers skim Ali’s as she took the cup.

“I’ll let you win this round.”

“This isn’t a contest.” Ali backed up a step. “You should take a hot

shower before you go back outside. Use the one in the locker room.”

Beau sipped the coffee, captivated by the hint of dusty rose

climbing from the base of Ali’s throat. Christ, Torveau was hot. Beau

could imagine Ali’s breasts painted a similar hue as she approached

orgasm, could almost taste her unique flavor. Her throat went dry. “I

could use an assist this time.”

Ali snorted. “Thank you, but not a chance.”

“One of these days you’ll say yes.”

“No,” Ali said softly, “I won’t.”

“Are you ever wrong, Dr. Torveau?”

“Yes,” Ali replied, pulling the curtain aside, “but not about this.

Get warmed up. And be careful out there.”

• 46 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer five

Beau climbed into the rig and buckled up while Bobby pulled

out of the ER turnaround. They rode in silence for a couple

of minutes.

“You pissed?” Bobby finally said.

“Nope.”

“You score?”

“Not yet.” Beau replayed Ali coming into the locker room, helping

her up, holding her. Her defenses had been down and Ali had gotten

closer to her than most of the women she went to bed with. Even though

her head knew the whole scene had been completely professional, her

body had other ideas. The image of Ali opening her pants gave her

a rush and she silently cursed. The last thing she wanted was to be

horny all day in a station house full of firefighters. It wasn’t like she

could suddenly disappear to take the edge off, even though the way

she was throbbing she probably wouldn’t need more than a few wellplaced strokes. She couldn’t remember the last time just being around

a woman turned her this inside out. Hell, making a woman come didn’t

rev her up this much. Fuck.

“What?” Bobby asked.

“What what?” She was edgy and irritated, and goddamn it, she

didn’t like it.

“Fuck. You just said fuck.”

“Next time you feel the urge to get all motherly, just stuff it,

okay?”

“Okay. Okay.” Bobby pulled into the station at Sixtieth and

Woodland in West Philadelphia. “You feel all right?”

• 47 •

RADCLY fFE

Beau glared at him. “What’s next? You gonna want to have my

baby? I’m fine. Jesus.”

“How do you think that would work? The baby thing? I mean,

would you have to fuck me or—” Bobby laughed and jumped out

before Beau’s punch could land on his shoulder. “Man, you’re really

bitchy. She must have shut you down hard. You want to pay up now,

’cause you know you’re going to lose.”

“Give me two weeks,” Beau said with more confidence than she

felt. She couldn’t think of a good reason why Ali Torveau would want

to go out with her, but she couldn’t bring herself to give up. Not when

her body still hummed with the innocent touch of Ali’s fingers on her

skin.

v

“I see the hot studly one was back again,” Wynter said as she

joined Ali in the small staff lounge down the hall from the trauma

admitting area. She dropped onto the mustard yellow sofa, put her feet

up, and lay back with a groan.

“Who would that be?” Ali said, pretending to be engrossed in the

Journal of Trauma she’d been staring at for the last ten minutes without

registering a single word.

“Well, I suppose if I were of a different bent the big blond might

be an option, but since he’s not my cup of tea, that leaves the really

hunky one with the blue eyes.”

“Hunky? Did you really just use the word ‘hunky’?” Ali didn’t

want to have this conversation. She didn’t need any further reminders

of just how attractive Beau was. “What are we now, fifteen?”

Wynter smiled sheepishly. “What can I say. Hormones. My body

wants things it is incapable of doing anymore. It’s horrible. Poor Pearce.

One minute I’m bitching at her for just breathing too loud in bed, the

next I’m demanding she make me come immediately, no questions

asked.”

Ali laughed. “I bet she’s not complaining.”

“She probably doesn’t dare.” Wynter fixed Ali with a stern gaze.

“And you’re avoiding the question. That was her, wasn’t it? The one

who asked you out the other night?”

• 48 •

Trauma alerT

“Umm,” Ali said noncommittally, flipping a page in the journal.

“Just out of curiosity, why did you say no?” Wynter rolled onto

her side and pillowed her head on her arm. “I mean, I might be big as

a house and insanely happily married, but even I can appreciate her

virtues.”

“Virtues? We must not be thinking of the same woman,” Ali said.

“It takes a little more than a walking orgasm with gorgeous eyes to

interest me. Besides, I already told you. She can’t imagine anyone

saying no to her, because probably no woman ever has.” She flipped

another page. “Until today.”

“She asked you out again?” Wynter said.

“Umm.”

“Hey, Ali,” Wynter said gently. “What’s the real reason you said

no? You haven’t dated anyone in a long time.”

Ali finally looked at the woman she considered her best friend,

a woman with whom she’d shared countless late-night conversations

and celebrated triumphs and tragedies, both personal and professional.

And still, she’d kept so many secrets from her. The habits of a lifetime

were so hard to break, and right now, struggling with the unexpected

responses Beau had evoked, she couldn’t expose more of herself. Not

even to Wynter.

“She’d be perfect if all I wanted was sex,” Ali said lightly.

“That might not be so bad, once in a while,” Wynter teased.

“Besides, a date isn’t a proposal of marriage.”

“Definitely not with that one.” Ali tossed the unread journal

aside. “I’ve thought about it. Just having a little fling. No strings, no

expectations. It’s not my usual thing, and I’m not sure I’d be any good

at it.”

Wynter sat up. “What’s to be good at? You go out with her, and if

she’s interested and you’re interested, you get naked with her.”

“Yeah, right. Is that how it went with Pearce?”

Wynter colored, the pink hue to her ivory skin making her look

young and fresh and innocent.

“I almost kissed her the very first time I laid eyes on her. Thank

God I didn’t, because my next move would have been to rip her clothes

off. Or mine.” Wynter rolled her eyes. “And we were in a bathroom in

the campus center, for crying out loud. Talk about fifteen.”

• 49 •

RADCLY fFE

Ali laughed, but she instantly flashed back to the locker room and

Beau Cross’s naked torso. The scars still bothered her, made her ache

to undo whatever past hurts had caused them. That feeling she could

understand—she was a doctor, after all. She spent almost every waking

moment in a battle to save the fragile human body from destruction.

Desire was another thing altogether. She couldn’t pretend, even to

herself, that she wasn’t attracted to her, and she wasn’t happy about it.

She couldn’t ever remember wanting a woman she didn’t know at all.

But then all the women she had known, she hadn’t wanted—not truly

wanted—enough to risk letting them close.

“I’ll think about it, okay?” Ali said to make Wynter happy.

“That’s the spirit. Live a little.”

“You just want a vicarious thrill,” Ali grumped.

“True. And as your best friend, I expect all the little details.”

Wynter dropped her head back on the sofa and sighed. “And please

hurry, while I can still enjoy it.”

“Why don’t you grab one of the empty on-call rooms and take a

nap. I’ll wake you if we need you.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re giving me a backache just looking at you. Go. We’ve got

a long night ahead of us.”

“I will, if you promise to go out with…what’s her name,

anyhow?”

“Beau Cross, and that’s blackmail.”

“Uh-huh. It is. So is that a yes?”

“You’re relentless.” Ali sighed. “If she asks me again—I’ll think

about it.”

Wynter heaved herself up off the couch and kissed Ali’s cheek.

“Okay. That’ll work.”

Ali shook her head, wondering how Wynter had won that

concession. Hopefully, Beau had already moved on to greener pastures

and she wouldn’t be faced with the decision of whether or not to honor

her half-serious promise to Wynter. Thinking about Beau turning her

attentions elsewhere elicited a stab of disappointment. That was enough

of a warning to make her hope she’d seen the last of the dangerously

charming Beau Cross.

v

• 50 •

Trauma alerT

“Cross,” Captain Jeffries called from his tiny closet of an office

when Beau and Bobby rejoined the squad in the common room on the

first floor of the station house. “See you a minute?”

“Sure, Cap,” Beau called. “Let me just grab a cuppa coffee.”

The other five men and one woman on duty with her sprawled on

the sofa and overstuffed chairs in front of the big screen TV mounted on

the wall. The scene was as familiar and comfortable as a night at home

with Jilly. Until she’d moved in with Jilly three weeks before, this room

or one just like it had been more home for her than her apartment. That

had just been a place to crash and store her clothes when she wasn’t

working or spending the night with someone. She loved her parents

and her brothers, and she adored Jilly most of all, but they didn’t know

her life the way these people did. They hadn’t shared the exhilaration

of risking their lives to save someone or the tragedy of failing. They

didn’t know what it was like to ride the edge. They didn’t know her. She

paused as she reached for the coffeepot in the tiny kitchen in the corner

opposite Captain Jeffries’s office.

Her fellow firefighters knew her as far as their common

experiences allowed, and her sister knew her from the history they

shared, but no one knew all of her. Moving in with Jilly made her

realize how effectively she’d partitioned her world into safe, neat little

compartments. Sometimes those compartments seemed to close in on

her, reminding her just how alone she really was. Shrugging away the

unfamiliar melancholy, she poured her coffee and dumped artificial

creamer into it until the oily black turned a pasty yellow, just the way

she liked it. Her life was like that too—just the way she liked it, and

that’s how she wanted it to stay.

Sipping her coffee, she tapped on the half-open door to the eightby-ten room where Jasper Jeffries, a thirty-year man, presided over

Station House 38. Jeffries regarded her from his seat at a cluttered desk

in one corner of the jam-packed room, his smooth, dark features serious.

Beau didn’t know him well yet, but from his expression she sensed she

was being appraised. “Captain? You wanted to see me?”

“Come in and close the door, Cross.”

While procedure around the station house was usually pretty

relaxed, Beau quickly set her coffee on a nearby file cabinet, closed the

door, and came to attention in front of his desk.

“That was a nice save out there today,” Jeffries said.

• 51 •

RADCLY fFE

“Thanks, but I had a lot of help. If the squad hadn’t gotten lines on

that vehicle as quickly as they did, we might’ve lost them both.”

Jeffries folded his hands on his desk. A heavy gold ring on his

right hand glinted with the Marine Corps insignia. His graying black

hair was still military-short and his posture was as straight as if he were

standing on the parade ground. “Might’ve lost you too.”

“I had that situation under control, sir,” Beau said.

“No way you could have made the extraction without going in?”

His gaze locked on hers. “Couldn’t have waited another minute for

them to winch the vehicle onto land and secure it?”

Beau knew what he was questioning and why. Water rescues, like

most other rescue scenarios, were supposed to follow a set pattern. In

the case of a victim in the water: reach, throw, row, and go—meaning

extend or throw the victim a lifeline or use a boat to reach them. Actually

entering the water— go—was a last resort. “In my opinion, the victims

were in imminent danger. That boy would have drowned in another

thirty seconds. I had to go in.”

Jeffries nodded. “Captain Lambert says you’re an exemplary

firefighter.”

Beau stiffened. If Jeffries had called her previous captain, he

must have doubts about her. “Are you unhappy with my performance,

Captain?”

“Charlie Lambert says you’re fearless.”

Beau didn’t say anything. Sooner or later, Jeffries would make his

point.

“I just want to be sure fearless doesn’t turn into foolhardy,”

Jeffries said. “A reckless firefighter puts everyone in danger. Another

few minutes in forty-five-degree water and we’d have been rescuing

you. You still look a little blue around the edges.”

Beau clenched her jaw and swallowed a curse. She’d guessed

wrong. Torveau had called the station house and turned her in after

all. So much for thinking she’d detected a spark of interest from the

surgeon. Torveau might have helped her out, but she had only been

doing her job. There was nothing personal in her attention. But goddamn

it, she’d played by Torveau’s rules, and what had it gotten her? Not a

thing. Beau felt like an idiot, and she had no one to blame but herself.

She should have known better.

• 52 •

Trauma alerT

“I would never do anything to put a civilian or a firefighter at

risk,” Beau said tightly.

“Good. Damn cold out there today.”

“Yes sir.”

“You get warmed up?”

Beau still wore the scrubs she’d changed into after taking a hot

shower at the hospital, so denying she’d been both wet and freezing

was pointless. “I’m fine, yes. I grabbed dry clothes at UHop.”

“Why don’t you take a pass on the next few calls. Grab something

to eat. Make sure everything is copacetic.”

“Yes sir.” Beau couldn’t argue. She recognized an order couched

as a suggestion when she heard one. She couldn’t believe Jeffries was

sitting her down as if she weren’t capable of doing her job. “Anything

else, Captain?”

He shook his head. “Like I said, nice work out there today.”

“Thank you,” Beau said automatically, although the praise felt

empty. She’d have to work harder to prove herself now. But then, what

else was new. She’d been proving she could measure up most of her

life.

Beau carefully settled her expression into one of unconcern as she

retrieved her coffee cup and stepped out of the captain’s office. After

dumping the coffee in the sink, she strode straight through the common

room and down the hall to the locker room. She changed into navy blue

uniform pants and a dark T-shirt, but instead of lacing on her boots, she

pulled her gym shoes from the bottom of the locker. She rummaged

through an equipment closet by the back door, found a basketball that

miraculously still had air in it, and went out into the parking lot behind

the station. Like every other firehouse she’d ever been to, this one had

a basketball hoop bolted to the back of the building. She dribbled away

from the hoop for fifteen feet, spun, jumped, and pumped the ball at

the hoop. The ball dropped through cleanly and she caught it on the

bounce, dribbled, cut, spun, pumped. Sank another one. Head down,

she drove around invisible opponents, cut away from blockers, jumped

and shot through the outstretched arms of the defense. Her breath left

tiny clouds of white in the chill air. Her shirt stuck to the center of her

back when she broke a sweat.

She dropped twenty baskets before she could get the image of Ali

• 53 •

RADCLY fFE

Torveau out of her mind. Another ten before the edge of her anger, and

beneath it, burning disappointment, even started to abate. Why hadn’t

Ali trusted her? Why hadn’t she respected her judgment?

“Goddamn it,” she muttered, cutting left toward the basket, driving

underneath, and leaping to dunk the ball. When she came down, Bobby

grabbed the ball and dribbled backwards away from her.

“You’re pretty short to be dunking like that,” he said, taking a

shot. The ball rolled around the rim and finally dropped through.

Beau retrieved it, passed it back to him, and caught his missed

shot on the rebound. “Always been a pretty good jumper.”

“Better than pretty good. How come you never play pickup? Hey,

you could play on the league team. We could use a forward like you.”

“I don’t like team sports.” Beau tossed the ball to him and started

toward the building.

“What’s got you steamed up?” Bobby asked, catching up to her at

the brown metal door.

“Nothing.”

Bobby leaned an arm against the door, preventing Beau from

pulling it open. He leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Bullshit.”

“Leave it, Bobby.”

“I’ve known you, what—almost three years? I’ve never seen you

lose your cool. Hell, I didn’t think there was anything that could get to

you.”

“Nothing’s getting to me.”

“That’s why you’ve been pounding the blacktop out here for half

an hour.” He opened the door and held it for her.

“Just needed a little workout.” She shouldered her way inside and

he followed.

“Hey,” Bobby said softly. “If you’ve got a problem, I’ve got a

problem. We’re partners, remember?”

Beau stopped, took a breath, and turned around to face him.

“Torveau reported me to the captain. She told me if I let her check me

out, she wouldn’t do it.”

“How do you know?”

“What?”

“How do you know she called?”

“Well why the fuck else would Jeffries get on my case about going

in after those civilians?”

• 54 •

Trauma alerT

“Everybody saw you, partner.”

Beau wasn’t convinced. She hadn’t done anything unusual—not

for her. “He wants me to pass on the next call.”

Bobby frowned. “So you take a break. Jesus, no shame in that.

That was a tough rescue out there.”

“I don’t need a break. I didn’t do anything I haven’t done every

day on the job for the last three years.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” Bobby said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You volunteer for every extra shift, you’re always the first one on

the truck and the last one to leave the scene. If there’s a tough rescue,

you’re in first. What do you think you have to prove?”

“You wouldn’t be saying this to me if I were a guy,” Beau said,

although she didn’t really believe it. Bobby had never treated her like

anything other than an equal, but the suggestion would distract him

from pushing the conversation places she didn’t want to go.

“What the fuck?” Bobby glowered. “You’re nuts if you think

that.”

“It’s done, okay? Let’s just forget it.” Beau turned her back on her

partner, afraid he might be one of the few people other than Jilly who

could actually read the truth in her face. She didn’t want him to know

about the specter of defeat that haunted her or the voice in the back of

her mind telling her all the things she couldn’t do in her life. She had

plenty to prove, more to herself than anyone else. “If the Cap says I sit

the next one out, I sit it out. I might as well catch some rack time while

I can.”

The cramped sleeping quarters outfitted with four bunk beds

was empty, as she expected it would be in the middle of the day. She

climbed onto a top bunk and stretched out on her back, staring at the

ceiling a few feet above her head. She hated being sidelined. Her job

was more than just a job, it was daily proof she had some purpose in her

life. Some reason for being.

She was angry that Ali Torveau might have cast a cloud over her

competency by making that call to her captain, but what hurt was that

Ali hadn’t trusted her. She cared about that most of all, and she really

really didn’t want to.

• 55 •

• 56 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer six

Ready? One…two…three.” Ali and Manny Cameron, the

trauma night nurse, slid the middle-aged woman from the

treatment table onto a gurney. The patient had been struck by a truck

right in front of the hospital after exiting a cab. “Mrs. Hanley, you’ll

be going up to the intermediate care unit soon. Dr. Danvers, one of

the orthopedic surgeons, will see you later tonight or first thing in the

morning and talk to you about what needs to be done for the fractures

in your leg. Everything else looks good. Okay?”

The woman, whose makeup and hair had been flawless when she’d

first been brought in mere moments after the accident, now had smudges

of mascara under her eyes and her skin had taken on the faint yellow

cast of the ill. Groggily, she reached for Ali’s hand. “My husband?”

“I talked to him on the phone a few minutes ago. He’s on his way.

By the time you get upstairs, he’ll be here.”

“Will you tell him…tell him…” The patient’s voice caught

and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, further destroying her

carefully applied face. Neither privacy nor dignity survived the ravages

of serious trauma. “He’ll be so worried.”

“I’ll tell him you’re going to be fine. Believe me.” Ali squeezed

the patient’s hand and glanced at Manny. “Vital signs still okay?”

“Looking good,” the small, muscular man said.

“Great. Pack her up for transport and let the ICU know she’s

coming.”

While Manny moved IV bags, a portable EKG machine, the pulse

oximeter, and other equipment onto the stretcher with the patient, Ali

• 57 •

RADCLY fFE

finished her admitting note. She documented Mrs. Hanley’s condition

and vital signs on arrival, outlined the steps taken in the resuscitation,

noted lab and X-ray reports, and listed the treatments rendered. She

checked to see that the nurses’ notes reflected the times various consults

were called. Satisfied the events were accurately recorded, she passed

the chart along with the preliminary lab results to the clerk who had

relieved Trish at three thirty. “Make sure those X-rays go upstairs with

her, will you? Ortho will need them.”

“Sure, Doctor.” The clerk, a premed student by day, gathered the

forms and folders and tucked them under the monitors at the foot of the

stretcher. When Manny and the ICU nurse wheeled the patient out, he

said, “I thought I’d get dinner while it’s quiet.”

“Go ahead.” Ali briefly thought about grabbing something to eat

herself, but the prospect of another hospital cafeteria meal effectively

killed her appetite. She closed her eyes and rubbed her face, trying

not to think about what the next twelve hours might bring. When she

opened her eyes, Wynter, looking exasperated, settled onto a stool next

to her at the counter.

“You said you’d wake me up if things got busy,” Wynter chided.

“It’s almost six and I’ve been sleeping all afternoon.”

“I guess you needed it.”

“Surgical residents always need it. That’s not the point.”

Wynter’s tone was gentle, but Ali could tell she was upset. Despite

having one child at home, another on the way, and a partner who was

also a busy surgeon, Wynter never complained about the long hours or

frequent call. She epitomized the mythical modern woman who could

juggle family and career with humor and grace. Just the same, Wynter

was a pregnant woman who didn’t need to be on her feet all day just

to prove she could do her job. Ali was probably being overprotective,

but Wynter reminded her of Sammy sometimes. They didn’t look

anything alike, and they certainly were nothing alike in terms of what

they wanted out of life or how they went about getting it, but they both

stubbornly insisted they could do anything, and handle everything, that

came their way. Maybe it was just that she cared about both of them,

and she hadn’t been able to help Sammy. “We weren’t really busy, and

nothing came in that you haven’t seen a dozen times before.”

“You still shouldn’t be first call. I’m your fellow, after all. I’m here

to make your life easier.”

• 58 •

Trauma alerT

Ali shrugged. “I was conserving my resources. I wanted you fresh

for tonight, so I can go to bed and leave the unit to you.”

“Oh, that I really want to see.” Wynter leaned close, her shoulder

touching Ali’s. “You’re really very chivalrous, you know. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Ali rolled her pen between her fingers,

wondering why she’d been thinking of Sammy so much recently. That

had been so long ago. Some hurts never healed, but it had been years

since the pain had felt so fresh.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Ali said quickly. “Sorry, just drifting.”

“You look tired. Maybe you should try for a nap.”

“Sure. Maybe.”

Wynter shook her head, clearly not believing her. “It’s Ken and

Mina’s anniversary next Saturday night. We’re farming out all our

children to Mina’s sister Chloe for the night, and we’re having a party.

I want you to come. You need a break.”

“Ah—”

“No excuses. It’ll be mostly people from here and some of Mina’s

friends.” Wynter shook her head. “Probably pizza. I wanted to have

something catered, but Pearce and Ken outvoted me.”

“Pizza is always a good choice.” Ali smiled, considering the

invitation. She liked Ken, an anesthesiologist, and his wife Mina, who

lived in the other half of Wynter and Pearce’s Victorian twin. An evening

with friends might purge the sadness that seemed to be plaguing her.

“Maybe you could even bring a date,” Wynter said oh-so

casually.

When Ali immediately thought of Beau, she mentally backpedaled.

“I’ve got a training thing all day on Saturday. It might run late, and I’ll

have reports to fill out after.”

Wynter frowned. “What training thing? I’m not signed up for

anything.”

“Not for the surgery residents. For the TER-OPS paramedics. It’s

a field simulation session. Part of the course I’m involved in.”

“Oh, you mean where you stage some kind of mass casualty

situation and they have to triage and all that?”

“That’s it.”

“Where is it going to be held?”

“The university gym on Walnut.”

• 59 •

RADCLY fFE

“What’s the scenario?” Wynter asked.

“A campus shooting.”

“Sad something like that is becoming so common we’re training

for it now.”

Ali nodded. “The one after that will be a subway bombing.”

“Need any help?”

Grinning, Ali looked pointedly at Wynter’s belly.

“Oh come on. So I’m pregnant. I can still waddle around. Besides,

it sounds like fun. Pearce is off on Saturday and she can watch Ronnie.

I bet you need someone to observe, take notes, that kind of stuff.”

“Tell me you really want to spend your day off watching a bunch

of firefighters resuscitate plastic dummies and med students doused in

fake blood.”

“Come July,” Wynter said fiercely, “I want to be a trauma attending

right here. Maybe I’ll be running one of the sections next fall.”

Ali laughed. “Maybe you’ll have my job in another few years

too.”

Wynter’s eyes sparkled. “There’s a thought.”

“Okay, come if you want to. If you get tired you can always lie

dow—”

The bio-phone rang and Wynter picked it up. “Trauma admitting.

Thompson.” She grabbed a pen and paper. “Uh-huh. Do we know

what’s burning? Uh-huh. How many?”

She pushed the paper toward Ali. She’d written four words and

underlined the last two. Refinery explosion. Multiple victims. While

Wynter continued to gather information, Ali used another phone to call

the trauma unit and request extra nurses. Then she called the ER to have

them hold several empty rooms for overflow from trauma admitting. All

the less severely affected patients would be shunted to the emergency

room. Those with acute inhalation injuries or cutaneous burns would

come to the trauma unit.

As soon as Wynter hung up, Ali said, “How many?”

“At least six. Some civilians, some firefighters. Petroleum fire.”

“Call respiratory and have them bring four more ventilators down

here. If we’ve got hydrogen sulfide toxicity, we’ll need to intubate

them.” Ali ran a mental checklist. “What’s the ETA?”

Wynter looked at the clock. “Under ten minutes.”

• 60 •

Trauma alerT

“Find out which surgery residents are in the house and tell them to

get their butts down here.”

“On it.”

Ali pictured the acres of refineries, their flaming towers rising

against the skyline like a scene from a postapocalyptic movie. They

were only a few miles away. Civilians and firefighters, Wynter had said.

Ali wondered if Beau’s unit had responded. If Beau was one of the

rescuers-turned-casualty. Twenty-five percent of the fatalities from fires

like these were first responders. For a second, an unfamiliar sense of

fear swirled through her stomach. She had hoped never to feel anything

like that again. Another very good reason to stay away from women

who lived on the edge.

v

Beau was in the midst of transporting a twenty-year-old woman

with multiple facial fractures to a local ER when the first call for the

refinery fire went out. She and Bobby had gotten split up when she’d had

to sit out part of the shift, so she wasn’t in the first wave of responders

with him. She didn’t arrive on scene until the second and third alarms

went out. By then it was pretty much controlled chaos with engines,

ladder trucks, and ambulances everywhere. She didn’t see Bobby but

found Jeffries, who sent her to the medical command center to triage.

A few of the civilian refinery containment personnel had major flame

injuries, and those she routed directly to the burn units at Crozier and St.

Agnes Hospital. Many of the firefighters, despite their protective outer

gear and SCBAs—self-contained breathing apparatus—had enough

exposure to high concentrations of chemical agents that they were

exhibiting early signs of toxicity. She triaged anyone with evidence

of neurologic compromise or respiratory insufficiency to UHop. When

the line of injured trickled to a halt, she left the cleanup to several other

paramedics and checked in with her squad.

“What’s the status?” she asked Jeffries, watching nearby firefighters

spraying flame retardant foam over areas of chemical spills.

“We’re pretty much contained.” Jeffries completed a few more

status checks, then said to her, “You can head on over to the hospital

with the next ambulance. I’ll be there as soon as we close this down.”

• 61 •

RADCLY fFE

“What for?” Beau asked, a bad feeling creeping through her

chest.

The captain’s expression grew solemn. “A couple of our first-onscene guys got a big dose of that crap.”

“Bobby?” Beau asked, but she already knew.

“Reports are sketchy, but it sounds like he had some kind of

seizure. He’s at U—”

Beau didn’t hear the rest. She didn’t need to. Her partner was in

trouble, and she needed to be with him. She should have been with him

all along. She should have had his back, and if she hadn’t been forced to

miss part of the tour, she would have been with him. This was her fault.

She couldn’t shake the monkey on her back that made her put the ones

she cared about the most in danger.

v

Ali left the nurses to apply sterile saline-soaked dressings to the

burns on the chest and shoulders of a thirty-year-old man. He was stable,

and a general surgery resident was on the way to admit him. She moved

to the next patient, a firefighter, identifiable by the yellow bunker pants

he still wore. His face was obscured by an oxygen mask.

“Manny—get his clothes off,” she said while she quickly

scanned the flimsy chart. “Bobby? How are you feeling? How’s your

breathing?”

“Not…so good…Doc.” His voice was weak, his breathing labored,

his skin gray.

“Kash,” she called to the clerk seated at the tiny workstation in the

corner, “do you have his blood gas back yet?”

“Just a second.” Kash pulled a sheet from the printer and hurried

over, the paper in an outstretched hand. “Just got it.”

Ali scanned the printout. O2 sats in the red zone. The CO2 was

climbing and he was acidotic, hovering on the brink of respiratory

collapse. She set the report aside and did a quick peripheral neural exam.

His reflexes were depressed, sensory levels altered. All consistent with

central nervous system toxicity. She leaned over the table so he could

see her face.

“We may need to intubate you—give your breathing a little assist

until your body can clear the chemicals.”

• 62 •

Trauma alerT

He nodded, too breathless to speak.

“If I paralyze you to put the tube in, you’ll still feel the tube in

your throat. It’ll be a little irritating, but you’ll feel a lot better when we

can get some oxygen into you. Okay?”

He closed his eyes, then slowly opened them. “Where’s…my…

partner?”

Ali frowned and checked the chart again. She didn’t see a contact

person listed. “Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

Bobby shook his head and pulled his mask aside. Struggling for

another breath, he gasped, “Beau.”

“Oh,” Ali said, ignoring the frisson of anxiety that shot along her

spine when she recognized Beau’s partner from that morning. “Was

Beau in trouble out there? Is she hurt?”

“Don’t know. Can we…wait?”

“I’m sorry, Bobby. No. We need to do this now.”

Bobby nodded wearily.

Straightening, Ali motioned to Manny. “Let’s set up to intubate.

And get an amp of Pavulon. If he figh—”

“Bobby!” Beau barreled through the doors, skidded to a stop next

to the stretcher, and gripped Bobby’s shoulder. “Hey? What the fuck,

man. Can’t I leave you for a minute?”

The tightness in Ali’s chest eased a little. Beau still wore her bunker

pants, the suspenders stretched over the subtle swell of her breasts

beneath her dark, sweat-stained T-shirt. A faint indentation creased her

forehead where her helmet had rested. Her hands were smeared with oil

and soot. Despite her disheveled state, she was breathtaking.

Bobby tried to speak, but his words died on a rattling gasp and his

body shook violently.

“Okay, that’s it. Let’s go,” Ali said sharply, striding to the head of

the table. She opened a curved metal laryngoscope and cupped Bobby’s

jaw, pressing down with her thumb to open his mouth. She slid the flat

edge of the half-inch wide blade over his tongue and swept it aside so

she could visualize his vocal cords. “There’s a lot of edema. I can’t see

the cords at all. Let me have a number eight. I’ll have to go blind.”

“Here you go,” Manny said.

“Watch his O2 sats.” Ali struggled to keep the small window of

larynx in view. “If I don’t get it after a try or two, we’ll have to trach

him. Find Wynter.”

• 63 •

RADCLY fFE

“I’ll page her,” Kash called. “She answered the code in X-ray.”

“Never mind, then.” Ali slid the endotracheal tube into the

posterior pharynx and advanced it in the general direction of the vocal

cords. When she felt resistance she pushed gently, hoping the swelling

hadn’t progressed to the point that the airway was completely occluded.

She felt a little give and waited for the resistance to ease. Pink frothy

fluid bubbled up around the tube.

“Hand me the suction.” Ali held out a hand and Manny passed

the thin catheter to her. She cleared the fluid from the back of Bobby’s

throat. It didn’t help. “Can’t see a thing.”

“Sats are falling,” Manny reported. “Eighty-five. Eighty-three.

Seventy-eight.”

The cardiac monitor went off, signaling a decline in the heart

rate.

“Open the trach tray.” Ali looked across the table into Beau’s

distress-filled eyes. “You might want to wait outside.”

“No,” Beau said hoarsely, gripping Bobby’s shoulder harder

to hide the shaking. Torveau must have nerves of steel, and balls of

the same. But if Torveau could tough it out, so could she. She wasn’t

leaving Bobby, no matter what. “I’m staying.”

The heart rate dipped.

“Last chance,” Ali whispered, but Beau didn’t think she was

talking to her any longer. “Give him the Pavulon.”

The nurse pushed the drug and a few seconds later, Bobby stopped

breathing. Ali’s eyes were hot, boring down on the tube still sticking

out of Bobby’s mouth. With the gentlest of grips, she grasped the tube

and slowly finessed it deeper into Bobby’s throat.

Beau held her breath. Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears she

could barely hear the scream of the pulse ox warning of dangerously

low levels.

“Go, baby.” Ali’s voice was soft, coaxing, tender. “Just a little

more. Come on now.”

Beau’s stomach did a back flip and she tasted bile in the back of

her throat. Please.

“BP is sixty,” Manny said in a calm, steady voice.

“Almost there,” Ali murmured.

Beau couldn’t look at the monitors, all of which were going off in

a cacophony of warning beeps and tones. She couldn’t look at Bobby.

• 64 •

Trauma alerT

The sight of him so gray and lifeless tore her heart out. The only safe

place she found was Ali’s face. She focused on her intense dark eyes, the

strong line of her nose, the utter stillness in her expression. Immovable,

unshakable. She knew the moment it happened. Ali’s eyes widened just

a little bit and heat sparked in her midnight irises. She glanced up for

a fraction of a second, fixing Beau with a triumphant expression that

showed in her eyes even though the mask covered her mouth.

“We’re in,” Ali said, reaching for the connection to the respirator.

“Listen to his chest.”

Manny quickly moved his stethoscope over Bobby’s torso. “Breath

sounds are good on both sides. BP and O2 are coming up.”

Ali straightened and pulled her mask down. “Start him on a nitrite

drip and add an amp of bicarb to his IV. Tell respiratory to make sure

they use a bronchodilator.”

“Thanks,” Beau said, knowing the word was inadequate but not

knowing what else to say. What she was thinking she definitely couldn’t

say. You’re amazing. You’re incredible. You’re beautiful.

Ali smiled fleetingly and inclined her head toward the hall. “You’re

welcome. Would you mind letting your people know he’ll be in here a

few days, but his prognosis is good.”

Now Beau registered the barrage of voices that she’d been too

caught up to hear earlier. A blur of blue and yellow surged outside

the doors to the trauma admitting area. Firefighters and paramedics

crowding around, needing to know the fate of one of their own.

“I’ll tell them.” She tentatively brushed her fingertips over Bobby’s

hair. “Sorry, partner.”

Ali frowned. “Problem?”

“It’s my fault he’s in here,” Beau said flatly, remembering now

that the crisis had passed exactly what had led up to this moment. “I

would have been with him, except the captain took me off the line this

morning. But I guess you already knew that.”

Ali gave her a confused look. “I’ve got patients waiting. I should

go.”

“Right.” Beau backed up a step. “Like I said. Thanks.”

• 65 •

• 66 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer seveN

Hi,” Jilly whispered, slipping around the curtain that enclosed

Bobby’s bed in one corner of the trauma intensive care unit.

She smoothed her hands over Beau’s shoulders and leaned down to kiss

her on the cheek.

“Hey!” Beau started to rise, planning on giving Jilly the metal

folding chair she’d been perched on for the last two hours.

“Stay there.” Jilly pressed both hands onto Beau’s shoulders and

gently kneaded the tense muscles. “You look exhausted.”

“How’d you get in here?”

“I worked my connections. One of my partners is married to a

doctor here. I dropped a few names. It wasn’t that hard.”

“What are you doing here?”

“The fire has been all over the news for the last four hours. My

sister is a firefighter. Reports are that firefighters were injured.” Jilly

shook her head, her smile both fond and frustrated. “Then you call and

leave a message that you don’t know when you’ll be home because

your partner is in the intensive care unit and I shouldn’t worry.”

“I’m sorry,” Beau muttered. “I figured you’d know I was okay if

I called.”

“There are all kinds of okay, honey.” Jilly ruffled Beau’s hair.

“How’s he doing?”

“Not much change. They said he might not wake up for a while.”

Beau leaned her head back against Jilly’s middle. She’d been staring at

the array of monitors over Bobby’s bed, at the tube connecting him to

the ventilator, at the IV bags, and at his still, frighteningly fragile profile

• 67 •

RADCLY fFE

for so long her eyes ached. Her chest burned. Every breath hurt. She

hated this place. Hated the smells, the hushed voices, the dim lights and

flickering dials. Everything about it was alien and threatening. In here,

names were replaced by diagnoses, lives were distilled into numbers

on a chart, and the future was reduced to a prognosis. She knew how

quickly humanity fled in the face of relentless tragedy and death, and

she wasn’t going to let Bobby become a faceless statistic.

“You all right being here, baby?” Jilly asked.

“I’m okay. I’m good.” Beau tilted her head farther back so she

could see her sister’s face, knowing the real reason Jilly had come. Not

to allay her own fears, but Beau’s. Jilly, always taking care of her. She’d

never be able to repay her. “I want to be here when he wakes up. You

should go home.”

“I can stay a while.”

“No, really. I’m okay. I’ll feel better if I know one of us is getting

some sleep.” Beau grasped Jilly’s hand and brushed her lips over Jilly’s

knuckles. “Thanks. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

v

Ali skimmed the curtain aside and stopped abruptly, caught off

guard by the intimate scene. A striking redhead in a stylish suit and what

looked like a cashmere coat whispered endearments to Beau Cross,

who held the woman’s hand against her cheek. Ali had seen all kinds

of displays of affection during highly emotional moments, including a

few overzealous physical ones accomplished in precarious positions on

narrow hospital beds, but the mixture of vulnerability and tenderness

in Beau’s face as she looked up at the woman beside her made Ali both

envious and inexplicably jealous.

“I’m sorry,” Ali said, noting Beau’s fingers automatically entwine

with the redhead’s. Her temper spiked, something completely unlike

her.

“Hi.” Beau stood quickly.

“We generally try to restrict visitors, especially this late,” Ali said,

more abruptly than she intended.

“I was just leaving,” Jilly said. “I apologize for bending the

rules.”

• 68 •

Trauma alerT

“The nurses said I could stay,” Beau said. She hadn’t expected to

see Ali again so soon, and the surge of relief at just having her near, the

immediate sense of rightness, was unexpected. She’d spent most of the

day pissed off that Ali had compromised her at work, but tonight when

everything in her world seemed to be tilting out of control, all she had

to do was catch a glimpse of her and she felt better. The uncharacteristic

reaction made her edgy and defensive.

Jilly skimmed her fingers down Beau’s arm. “Call me in the

morning?”

“First thing.”

Ali stepped aside, allowing Beau’s companion to pass. She hadn’t

considered that Beau might have a girlfriend. Beau’s invitations to get

together hadn’t been the least bit subtle, so she’d mistakenly inferred

that the offers meant Beau had no attachments. Foolish of her to assume

that other women were serial daters, like her. Why wouldn’t a goodlooking young woman like Beau have multiple women in her life? Beau

undoubtedly approached relationships the same way she appeared to

approach everything else, aggressively and without much in the way of

boundaries. She needed to remember that.

“You ought to go home too.” Ali focused on the flowcharts spread

out on the narrow table at the foot of the bed. She didn’t look at Beau as

she spoke. “There’s nothing you can do here tonight.”

“I don’t want him to be alone.”

Beau’s voice was hoarse, and the undercurrent of pain pulled

Ali’s attention to her. Beau’s eyes held the same haunted look Ali

remembered seeing in the trauma bay during those few seconds when

Bobby’s life had hung precariously in the balance. Beau was exhausted

and worried about her partner, and Ali was embarrassed at her own

irrational reaction. Beau didn’t deserve her censure or her anger, no

matter how many women might be in her life. That was Ali’s problem,

not Beau’s. Taking a breath, Ali gestured to the paperwork.

“His vital signs are stable. His blood gases are improving. All his

lab work is normal. He’s doing well. Go home. Get some sleep.”

Beau’s jaw set. “Are you throwing me out?”

Ali wasn’t sure how it was possible, but even with dark circles

under her defiant eyes and sweat-streaked smudges on her neck, Beau

was still more attractive than anyone in recent memory. And Ali had

no reason to take her frustration at being unable to ignore just how

• 69 •

RADCLY fFE

attractive she was out on her. She looked at her watch. “It’s almost

midnight. Have you eaten?”

“What?”

“Dinner. Have you had any?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Yes, you are. Let’s go get something to eat.” When Beau started

to protest, Ali gripped her arm and spun her toward the curtain. She put

her hand in the center of Beau’s back and gave her a tiny nudge. “I’ll

tell the nurses to call me if he shows any signs of waking up. You’ll be

here, I promise. Don’t make me get tough with you.”

Ali registered Beau’s back vibrating beneath her hand. Beau was

laughing silently. Ali let her hand linger longer than she should, enjoying

the heat and the unexpected pleasure of muscles rippling beneath her

fingertips.

v

“What do you recommend?” Beau asked as she got into line

behind Ali in the staff cafeteria. No one was in attendance at the steam

tables—apparently the last meal of the night was a help-yourself-to

the-day’s-leftovers situation. Most everything was identifiable.

Ali scanned the offerings. “Stick to plain and simple. The meat

loaf, lasagna, fried chicken—they’re all good.” She shook her head.

“It’s a wonder we all don’t have coronary artery disease by the time

we’re forty.”

“You look like you’re in pretty good shape.” When Ali stiffened,

a faint blush coloring her neck, Beau said, “Sorry, I can’t seem to say

anything to you that doesn’t sound like a pickup line.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll try to resist.”

“You seem to be doing pretty well so far,” Beau muttered, scooping

mashed potatoes, meat loaf, and a token spoonful of very bright green

broccoli onto her plate. She gestured at the florets with the spoon. “Is

that real?”

Ali laughed. “I don’t know how they get them to be that color.

There may actually be some nutrients in there but I can pretty much

guarantee it will be tasteless.”

“How many times a week do you eat dinner here?” Beau asked.

• 70 •

Trauma alerT

“Four or five.” Ali led the way to a small table away from the

clumps of residents talking loudly to stave off stress and weariness.

Beau sat down and realized she was hungry. She tried the meat

loaf, which tasted safe enough. “Thanks. You’re right. I needed this.”

“You need a little more than food,” Ali said quietly. “You had a

rough morning, and tonight has been hard in another way. I can find you

an on-call room where you can get some sleep if you insist on staying

here all night.”

Beau studied the woman across the table. She didn’t understand her.

One minute she was distant, cool, apparently completely uninterested.

The next, she was concerned and caring. Beau never got involved

with complicated women. She didn’t do intimacy and attachment,

she did easy and detached. She didn’t want the burden of someone

caring for her, and she didn’t want to worry about hurting anyone. She

very carefully sought out women who really meant it when they said

they weren’t interested in anything serious. Ali Torveau didn’t fit that

profile, but even if she had, there was the little matter of her disregard

for Beau’s judgment.

“You don’t need to worry about me. What you did for Bobby

today was enough,” Beau said, meaning it. Whatever problems existed

between them personally, she owed Torveau. “I…thanks for taking care

of him.”

“You don’t have to thank me. That’s what I’m here for.” Ali put

down her silverware and tried to decipher what she saw in Beau’s face.

She wasn’t easy to read, her carved features taking on a sharp edge

that might have been anger or simply exhaustion. “Something on your

mind?”

“You broke our deal,” Beau said after a minute, inexplicably more

hurt than angry.

“What deal was that?” Ali asked quietly.

“I stuck around this morning. I let you poke and prod me.” Beau’s

eyes grew hot. She couldn’t believe she’d allowed anyone to do that to

her again. “I even took a goddamn shower because you wanted me to.

You said if I did that, you wouldn’t file a report.”

“What happened?”

“Jeffries—my captain—he pulled me off duty so I could recover

from the water rescue.” Beau clenched her fist on the table. “Bobby is

• 71 •

RADCLY fFE

lying up there half dead because I wasn’t with him. I should’ve been

there. I should’ve been the one to go in first. Not him.”

“You’d be happier if you were the one in the ICU connected to the

ventilator right now, wouldn’t you.”

“Damn right,” Beau said immediately.

“Then you’re a fool as well as wrong.” Ali knew she sounded

cold and unfeeling, because she felt cold and numb inside. The episode

resulting in hypothermia that morning had been a red flag, a warning

that Beau was reckless when it came to her own safety, but now Ali

grasped just how little Beau cared what happened to her. The thought

that she might have considered for even a moment getting involved

with Beau, even superficially, was terrifying.

“I know you think I’m a fool. Why else would you…” Beau blinked.

“What do you mean, wrong? You didn’t call the station house?”

“No. That’s not how I handle patients.” Ali leaned back in her

chair, needing distance between them. What she really wanted was to

get up and leave the room, but the urge to flee wasn’t about Beau. She

wanted to obliterate the memories Beau stirred up. But as much as she

wanted to keep Beau at arm’s length, she also wanted her to know the

truth. “Do you think I would have let you return to duty and endanger

yourself, just because you don’t give a good goddamn what happens to

you? If I had thought you were in any physical danger, I would have

insisted you be admitted.”

“So I leave the hospital, walk into the station house, and my

captain instantly sidelines me—and that’s all a coincidence?”

“Apparently so,” Ali said dryly. “You weren’t officially a patient.

Even if you had been, I wouldn’t have informed your employer of your

status. If you’d been stupid enough to sign out AMA, which—by the

way—is the only way you would have left my trauma unit if I thought

you needed hospital care, I still wouldn’t have called the station

house.”

“You said if I didn’t let you examine me…What was that? A

bluff?”

Ali lifted a shoulder. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Beau closed her eyes, took a long slow breath, and met Ali’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. I jumped to conclusions. I was wrong.”

“You were under a lot of physical stress. I can see where you might

have thought I called.”

• 72 •

Trauma alerT

“I should have just asked you.”

“Well,” Ali said, finding it impossible to hold on to her annoyance

when Beau looked so contrite, “that’s what you’re doing now, isn’t

it?”

“That’s a generous way of putting it. I feel like an idiot.”

“I’m not arguing.”

Beau’s brows rose and then she laughed. “You’re hell on my

ego.”

“I doubt that.”

“You should let me take you out to dinner so I can apologize

right.” Beau indicated their unfinished meals. “Save you from whatever

damage this diet is doing to you.”

“You don’t quit, do you?”

“Back before I decided you’d ambushed me, I told you I wasn’t

going to.” Beau grinned.

“Why?” Ali regarded Beau curiously.

“Why what?” Beau sipped her coffee, which even cold, turned out

to be pretty good.

“Why be so persistent? You can’t be lacking for dates.”

Beau carefully set down her coffee cup, rested her hands on the

sides of her tray, and leaned forward, making sure Ali was looking

at her. She wanted Ali to see what was in her eyes. “I asked you out

because I want to go out with you. Specifically. Not just anyone with

breasts.”

Ali’s expression remained completely unchanged for so long, Beau

began to worry she was going to walk. Then the corner of her mouth

flickered. Jesus, even with her lips pressed into a tight line, she had a

beautiful mouth. Then her lips parted and she laughed. Beau’s breath

caught in her chest. Not just a beautiful mouth, a gorgeous mouth. A

gorgeous laugh.

“You can’t possibly know anything more about me than the fact

that I do have breasts.”

“Not true,” Beau said without taking time to think about what

she was saying. “I happen to know you’re really good at what you

do—not just because you’re smart and capable, but because you take

it personally. It’s not about beating death, it’s about saving lives. You

fight for something, not against something. I know you’re stubborn

and tough.” Beau swallowed, watching Ali’s eyes darken with surprise

• 73 •

RADCLY fFE

and then slowly become impenetrable, as if a heavy curtain had been

pulled across a window to block the sunlight. She’d gone too far and

she wasn’t sure why, but she figured she might as well go all the way.

“I know you’re beautiful. Really beautiful.”

“You’re slick, Firefighter Cross,” Ali said. “I don’t imagine many

women can resist you.”

“Other women have nothing to do with this.” Beau had absolutely

no idea what the hell she was doing. All she knew was that she couldn’t

stop herself. She was in the midst of stripping naked in a public place,

emotionally speaking—something she would never do even with a

woman she was about to get literally naked with—and she couldn’t

stop. “Go out with me. Give me a chance.”

“I don’t think so,” Ali said, carefully sliding her chair away from

the table. “You’ve had one hell of a day. I appreciate your compliments,

but I’m not who you think.”

Beau stood up as Ali picked up her tray and turned to leave, but

she didn’t follow her. She made sure her words did, though.

“Maybe I’m not, either. Why are you afraid to find out?”

• 74 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer eighT

Ali dumped her tray on top of the pile stacked on the conveyor

belt leading to the cafeteria kitchen and didn’t look back to

see if Beau was behind her or not. She had at least eight more hours of

work ahead of her, and the last thing she needed was more of Beau’s

unsettling presence. She took the stairs two at a time up to the first floor

and was halfway down the block-long hallway to trauma admitting

before she realized she needed to settle down before her colleagues saw

her. Wynter especially was far too perspicacious not to notice she was

upset, and she doubted she could lie effectively enough to convince her

otherwise. Not now, not when she’d looked across that small table at

Beau, with her irresistible smile and cocky attitude, and seen Sammy.

God, Sammy. Her eyes burned and to her horror, she felt moisture on

her skin when she brushed the back of her hand across her face. Those

could not be tears. She did not cry, had not cried for years. Abruptly,

she made a right turn and hurried outside into the enclosed courtyard

between the Rhoads Pavilion and the medical school library.

A few ground-level lights illuminated small shrubs in concrete

planters, but the flagstone courtyard was otherwise dark and deserted.

Stone benches ringed the square and she settled onto one, willing the

shadows to swallow her memories. The night air was so sharp and cold

she could almost see ice particles in the hazy clouds of condensation

that slowly drifted away after each of her ragged exhalations. Bracing

her elbows on her knees, she dropped her head into her hands and

concentrated on taking a few deep breaths, appalled by her lack of

control. She had absolutely no explanation for the sudden barrage of

emotion. Sammy was a constant in her life—a cherished presence,

• 75 •

RADCLY fFE

even though she might go days, weeks, without thinking of her. While

remembering always hurt, she would never want to lose a single moment

they had shared, and she never allowed the pain to unnerve her.

“You’re wearing scrubs and a lab coat,” Beau said quietly, sitting

down on the stone bench beside Ali. “You’re going to freeze.”

“At least I’m not in the river,” Ali said without looking up. She

should be cold. She wasn’t.

“I had more clothes on this morning.” Beau shrugged out of

the Philadelphia Fire Department windbreaker she’d been wearing

when she arrived at the hospital to see Bobby and draped it over Ali’s

shoulders.

“I told you I’m not cold,” Ali protested, while automatically

pulling the jacket closed over her chest. The remnants of Beau’s body

heat wrapped her in a warm embrace, and for a fleeting second she

imagined a strong body against her back and protective arms enclosing

her. Her stomach quivered with sudden expectation. Bewildered, she

retreated to the safety of irritation. “Now you’re going to freeze.”

“I’m used to working outside. And I’ve still got more clothes on

than you do.”

Ali rested her cheek in her palm and gazed at the woman beside

her. Beau leaned back, arms braced behind her and legs stretched out

with her ankles crossed, her head canted toward Ali. Her profile by

starlight might have been drawn from a textbook on classic features.

Strong forehead, angular jaw, deep-set eyes, and straight nose. Her

nondescript regulation shirt and trousers did nothing to detract from

her form. Ali recalled quite vividly that Beau had the body to match her

striking face.

“Are you following me?” Ali challenged, needing to block out the

vision of Beau’s sculpted nude torso. Sleek and beautiful—and scarred

from whatever peril she had put herself in.

“Not intentionally. I was going back to Bobby’s room when I saw

you go outside. I thought something might be wrong.” Beau swiveled

around on the bench, straddling it, her knees grazing Ali’s hip and thigh.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Why ‘of course’? Aren’t you allowed not to be all right?”

“What?” Ali asked, disturbed on so many levels. Beau had bothered

her from practically the first moment she’d seen her, when she’d arrived

• 76 •

Trauma alerT

late for the TER-OPS class with a whole lot of attitude that said all she

needed to do was smile and all would be forgiven. Right now, Beau

was inside her personal space, way inside. In the operating room, Ali

spent hours with her body pressed against the other surgeons and OR

techs, their limbs entwined as close as those of lovers, and it never

bothered her. There was no intimacy, only efficiency, in their closeness.

The slight press of Beau’s body against hers made her pulse race. Ali

edged away from the contact. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You said ‘of course’ as if there was no possibility that anything

could be wrong.”

“You’re trying to create something out of a nonissue.”

Beau laughed. “You’re sitting out here in the dark in the middle

of the night in near-freezing weather. You tell me who’s creating a nonissue.”

“Are you always this annoying?”

“No.” Beau reached over and brushed her thumb over Ali’s cheek.

“Do you know that your tears sparkle like diamonds in the moonlight?

If I didn’t know they were caused by something hurting you, I’d think

they were incredibly beautiful.”

Ali jerked back. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Probably. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…I…” Ali rubbed her face, eradicating the traitorous

evidence. “I have to get back to work.”

Beau stood when Ali did. “Did I do something? Say something

back there to…cause this?”

“No.” Ali started away, then realized she still wore Beau’s jacket.

It was cold outside. More than cold. Freezing. Beau had come after her

because she was concerned about her. A generous and kind gesture.

She’d gallantly offered her jacket so Ali wouldn’t be cold. Beau wasn’t

responsible for Ali’s lack of control. Sighing, she stopped and turned.

The moon chose that moment to come out from behind the clouds,

illuminating Beau in a shaft of silver light. She stood with her hands in

her pockets, a pensive expression on her face. Why did she have to be

so damn beautiful?

“Look,” Ali said abruptly. “It’s not you. You remind me of

someone. Caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

“Why were you crying?”

“I wasn’t. Not really. I don’t want to talk about this.”

• 77 •

RADCLY fFE

“Okay.”

The easy acquiescence caught her off guard, and she should have

been relieved, but she felt oddly disappointed. Shaking her head, she

said, “Good night, Beau.”

“Good night, Ali,” Beau said softly.

Ali turned to go.

“What was her name?”

The question floated gently to Ali on the midnight air. She could

pretend she hadn’t heard. She could keep walking away, keep her

silence, as she had so many times before when she might have told

someone she trusted more than this stranger. Easing Beau’s jacket

from her shoulders, she pivoted and held it out, intending an end to a

conversation she wasn’t going to have.

Beau was so still she might have been a statue, and when the moon

slipped back behind the clouds, her figure blurred and disappeared into

the shadows. Suddenly, Ali feared she might disappear forever.

“Sammy. Her name was Sammy,” Ali said, her voice so hoarse she

barely recognized it.

Beau stepped near, closing one hand on the jacket Ali still held.

“Did she break your heart?”

Ali laughed shakily. “Every damn day for almost twenty years.”

“Long time to be hurting.”

“Oh, she didn’t hurt me. She was the best thing in my life.” Ali

pushed the jacket into Beau’s hands. “Thanks for this.”

“You’re welcome.” Beau pulled it on, her eyes never leaving Ali’s

face. “I’m listening.”

Maybe because she didn’t push. Maybe because she was willing

to stand outside in the dark as if she had all the time in the world.

Maybe because she had no reason to care but seemed to anyhow.

Maybe because she was safe and Ali could walk away from her when

it was over.

“I was only ten months older than Sammy, which made me the big

sister.” Ali smiled wryly. “I don’t know if it’s because I was older, or

just the way I’m put together, but I was the responsible one. Always did

my homework, always in by curfew, never colored outside the lines.

We were practically twins, but somehow I got the parent role because

ours weren’t in the picture much.”

“The good girl,” Beau said. “I take it she wasn’t?”

• 78 •

Trauma alerT

“Completely the opposite. Life was a game.” Ali half-smiled.

“God, she only had one speed—full out. Everything was about the

ultimate experience—boys, drugs, sex. She was wild, gorgeous, so full

of life.”

“What happened?”

Ali was grateful for the dark. She didn’t want to see compassion

or tenderness, not for a loss that was all her fault. “All I wanted was

to keep her safe, but I failed. She got mixed up with a boy a few years

older than her. A biker. I came down hard on her, tried to convince her

he was bad news. All I accomplished was to push her deeper in with his

crowd. Nothing mattered to Sammy but the moment. Right up until the

moment somebody decided her boyfriend and his biker buddies were

cutting in on their territory. She was with him when he got ambushed.

She would have been twenty in a few days.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yes, so am I.” Ali shook her head. “I don’t know why I told you

all that.”

“Maybe because I was here.”

“Maybe. But I’m sure about this—I get plenty of adrenaline

junkies in my trauma unit every day. I don’t want them in my personal

life. Good night, Beau.”

“Good night, Ali.”

This time, when Ali walked away, Beau did not follow.

v

“Hey, Size Man, I’m back.” Beau settled into the chair by Bobby’s

bed. Everything was just as she’d left it less than an hour ago. Bobby

was in the same position, the monitors beeped along steadily, the

hushed voices of the night staff still murmured in the background.

Nothing had changed, except her. She raised her jacket to her face and

breathed deeply. The fragrance was faint and she closed her eyes, trying

to capture it. Vanilla and cedarwood. Clean and strong, like Ali.

She balled the jacket into her fists and propped her elbows on her

knees, resting her chin on the garment as she looked at Bobby. “You’re

gonna win your bet, bud. I’m the last person she wants around.”

Beau turned sideways in the chair, trying to find a comfortable

position on the impossibly uncomfortable furniture. She pushed her

• 79 •

RADCLY fFE

jacket between her cheek and the hard frame and stared at her silent

partner’s profile. She wished he’d wake up so he could tell her to find

her balls, to pull out the old charm and convince Ali a night with her

was just what she needed to chase the ghosts away. Trouble was, her

heart wasn’t really in it. She’d seen Ali’s sadness, heard her pain. She

already knew she fell into the same live-for-now category as Ali’s sister,

and Ali knew it too.

End of story. Just as well.

Beau closed her eyes and waited for Bobby to wake up.

v

“I thought you went to bed,” Wynter said when Ali returned to

trauma admitting.

“I took a quick walk through the unit and then got something to

eat.”

“Isn’t Tony in the unit?” Wynter pushed to her feet. “I’ll go check

on things up there.”

“Stay put,” Ali said, motioning Wynter back down. “Everything

is quiet.”

“Then what are you doing here? I thought the deal was I slept all

afternoon so you could get some sleep tonight.”

“You know it’s almost the witching hour. One o’clock and the bars

will close. We’re going to get busy, and I’m worse off if I have only

an hour of sleep than if I have none.” Ali sat at the narrow counter and

pulled a stack of charts in front of her. She needed the mindless routine

to ground her in the present and banish the past to the recesses of her

mind where it belonged. “Besides, I’ve got dictations to do.”

Wynter slapped her hand down on the top of the pile. “They’ll

keep.” She looked over her shoulder at Manny, who had his feet on the

counter and a newspaper in his lap. “We’ll be in the lounge.”

He waved his fingers at them and Wynter grabbed Ali’s sleeve.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

“What—”

Wynter leaned close. “Don’t argue.”

Admitting defeat, Ali got up and followed. The lounge was empty

and she walked directly to the coffeepot, only to discover it was empty

too. Muttering curses under her breath, she rinsed the pot and filled the

• 80 •

Trauma alerT

coffeemaker, emptied the prepackaged generic grounds into a paper

filter, and set it to brew. When she turned around, Wynter was ensconced

on the mustard yellow sofa again, regarding her with narrowed eyes.

“What?” Ali asked in exasperation.

“You’re not yourself.”

“Who would I be?”

“Don’t obfuscate.”

Ali laughed. “Been doing crossword puzzles again?”

“Yes, in between my knitting.” Wynter hooked her clog around the

metal leg of one of the molded plastic chairs flanking the round table in

the center of the room and pulled it toward her. “Sit. Talk to me.”

Not knowing how to escape, Ali obeyed. She automatically drew

Wynter’s feet into her lap. “Your ankles are swollen.”

“There isn’t any part of my body that isn’t swollen.” Wynter made

a face. “Fortunately having a child makes you forget how miserable it

is producing one. Ronnie is the most amazing kid, and I can’t wait for

Pearce and me to have a baby together. She’s so good with Ronnie. But

this pregnancy stuff just sucks.”

“I think you’re amazing,” Ali said.

“Thanks.” Wynter’s expression softened. “So tell me. What’s got

you sad?”

“I’m not.”

“Your eyes don’t lie, Ali. I spend as much time looking into yours

as I do Pearce’s. It’s the only place you can really tell what women like

you are feeling.”

Ali half smiled. “Women like us? Pearce and me?”

“Uh-huh. The kind who never admit anything hurts.”

“You know,” Ali said, feeling oddly unrestrained, “I’ve always

thought I wanted to find a woman just like you.”

Wynter blushed. “Wow. Thanks.”

“Well.” Ali stared at the floor, wondering how what had started

out as an ordinary day had become so fractured. How she had been

tossed so far beyond her comfort zone she didn’t know how to begin

resurrecting the walls that kept her life in order. “Sorry. I think that

might have been inappropriate.”

“No, it was actually really nice. I’m not sure I agree with you,

though.”

Ali looked over quickly. “Why not?”

• 81 •

RADCLY fFE

“Because we’ve been friends for what—going on four years? And

we’ve spent maybe a hundred hours a week together, almost every

week for the entire time?”

“Something like that,” Ali said uneasily.

“I’m not even sure I spend that much time with Pearce—in fact,

I know I don’t. But I still don’t know where you go when you get that

faraway look in your eyes. And it’s been there a lot lately.”

“I…” Ali felt her face get hot, as if she’d been caught in a lie when

it wasn’t that at all. But if she kept pretending nothing was wrong, it

would soon become one. “I don’t know why I’ve never told you about

Sammy.”

Wynter watched her, her expression calm and expectant.

“I don’t actually even know what to say,” Ali said, wondering how

in the world she could have this conversation again.

“Who is she?”

“My sister.”

Wynter frowned. “You don’t talk about your family very much,

but I don’t ever remember you mentioning her.”

“Probably because we were the invisible ones. My brother is five

years older, the heir apparent. Growing up, everything revolved around

his activities. Sports, academics, the girls he went out with—and got

into trouble.”

“Where were you in the chronology?”

“Technically in the middle.” Ali eased Wynter’s legs onto the

sofa and went to retrieve her coffee. While she busied herself finding

a cup, searching out creamer, mixing and pouring, she gave Wynter an

abbreviated version of what she’d told Beau moments before. When she

braced her hips against the counter and sipped her coffee, she finally

met Wynter’s eyes. “I was responsible for her, and I let her down.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Ali sighed. “I just loved her so damn much and when it mattered,

I failed her.”

“Okay, I’m going to cry. I’m sorry,” Wynter said, tears streaking

her cheeks. “I can’t help it, I’m pregnant.”

Quickly, Ali put her mug down on the table and settled next to

Wynter on the couch. She put her arm around Wynter’s shoulders, and

Wynter cuddled close to her.

• 82 •

Trauma alerT

“I’m supposed to be comforting you.” Wynter tilted her cheek

against Ali’s shoulder.

Ali rested her chin on top of Wynter’s head. “You are.”

“It’s so hard when there’s nothing you can do to fix it.”

“I know.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

“You’re welcome.” Ali closed her eyes, grateful Wynter hadn’t

asked her why she was thinking about Sammy so much now. She didn’t

want to answer. She didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about, how

Beau had somehow gotten her to unlock the door where she’d kept the

memories of Sammy hidden away. She especially did not want to think

about how much Beau reminded her of Sammy, and how devastating

losing her had been.

• 83 •

• 84 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer NiNe

Beau jerked upright as someone walked into the cubicle.

Blinking in the sudden wash of fluorescent overhead lights,

for a few disorienting seconds she thought she was back in the glassedin room covered in stiff, sterile sheets, surrounded by strangers in

masks.

“Sorry,” the pregnant woman she’d seen with Ali the other night

whispered. “I didn’t realize you were in here.”

“That’s okay,” Beau said, her voice gravelly and her pulse racing a

million miles an hour. She attributed the sick feeling in her stomach to

her night of interrupted sleep and the aftereffects of hospital meat loaf.

Rising, she rubbed her face and looked at Bobby. Her heart leapt. His

eyes were open. She reached over the metal railing, searching for his

hand among the tubes and lines on his bed. She knew how terrifying

it was to be tied down, locked inside a body you couldn’t control. “Hi,

partner.”

Bobby’s eyes shifted to the woman next to Beau.

“I’m Dr. Thompson,” the pregnant woman said. “You’re in the

trauma intensive care unit. I’m going to draw some blood for a blood

gas, and if the results are as good as I think they’re going to be, I’ll take

that tube out of your throat.”

Bobby’s eyes closed for a second, then he nodded. Beau felt

Bobby’s fingers grip hers. He had to be scared.

“Damn,” she said. “It was so peaceful and quiet for a while too.

Now I’ll have to listen to him whine.”

Bobby released her hand and weakly lifted his middle finger.

• 85 •

RADCLY fFE

“Yeah. I love you too,” Beau said mockingly, but her voice broke

and she quickly looked away.

Wynter finished drawing the blood sample. “I’ll be back in just a

few minutes.”

Beau slipped her arm through the rails to hold Bobby’s hand again.

“So it’s no big deal, getting the tube out. It stings like a bitch for about

a minute, but nothing close to catching cinders on the back of your

neck or getting a hand jammed in the winch. Of course, if you want to

cry like a baby, you go right ahead. For a hundred bucks, I won’t tell

anyone.”

At the sound of quiet laughter, Beau turned her head and her

stomach took another nosedive, but for really different reasons. Ali

stood with her arms folded across her chest, a half-amused, half-chiding

expression on her face. She was pale and smudges of fatigue bruised

the hollows beneath her dark eyes, but she still looked great. Just seeing

her got Beau stoked like no other woman ever had.

“Blackmailing my patients?” Ali asked, one eyebrow cocked.

“Just negotiating terms,” Beau said.

Ali’s gaze traveled to Beau’s fingers entwined with Bobby’s and

her expression softened. She moved to the bed and lightly clasped his

shoulder. “Good morning. You remember me? I’m Dr. Torveau.”

Bobby nodded.

“You’re doing fine. We’ll have you out of here in a day or so.”

Bobby lifted the hand joined with Beau’s.

Ali smiled. “Oh, and your parents are on their way.”

Bobby’s eyes widened and he tried to raise his head, his frantic

gaze shooting to Beau. Several monitors shrilled as his blood pressure

jumped and the ventilator tubes strained.

“Whoa, easy.” Ali pressed on his shoulder, holding him still.

“Don’t worry,” Beau said quickly. “I’ll talk to them.”

“Problem?” Ali asked.

“Not really,” Beau said. “Families tend to get overexcited about

minor stuff, and it’s better if one of us kind of interprets for them. If

you don’t mind.”

“You’re welcome to explain how the injury came about and any

of the technical issues you think they should know about that. The

medicine is my territory.” A muscle jumped in Ali’s jaw and she fought

a surge of irritation. These two were just like so many of the cops she

• 86 •

Trauma alerT

treated—holding the line against anyone who wasn’t on the inside,

downplaying the danger, living on luck and bravado. “I promise not to

scare them when I discuss the injuries. Minor or otherwise.”

“Sure, thanks.” From the way Ali’s expression had shuttered

closed, Beau figured she’d just racked up more negative points on Ali’s

scorecard, although how there could possibly be room for more she

didn’t know.

Wynter Thompson reentered the cubicle and handed Ali a printout.

Ali scanned it, set it aside, and rested her elbows on the top of the bed

railing. She was so close her shoulder touched Beau’s, and Beau caught

the scent that had lingered in her mind all night long. Ali had left her

lab coat somewhere, and her arms were bare below the short sleeves of

her scrub shirt. Her forearms were tight and lean, like the rest of her,

and her long, tapering fingers looked strong and steady. The muscles in

Beau’s stomach tightened when she thought of the way those fingers

had brushed low on her belly. As if reading her thoughts, which Beau

prayed she couldn’t, Ali looked up into her eyes.

“We’re going to extubate him,” Ali said. “You want to stay?”

“Sure,” Beau said. “I’ve got money riding on this.”

Ali knew Beau’s bravado was covering fear, and she squeezed her

arm at the same time as she said to Bobby, “There’s nothing to this.

There’ll be a very brief interval when it will feel like you can’t breathe,

because we will be pushing air down the tube as we take it out to clear

your airway. You ready?”

He blinked and nodded.

“Go ahead,” Ali said to Wynter.

Wynter carefully worked her way between the stands holding

various monitoring devices into the cramped space at the head of the

bed. After pulling on gloves, she efficiently removed the tape around

the tube in Bobby’s mouth, disconnected the lines from the ventilator,

and attached an inflatable Ambu bag, which she squeezed rhythmically

to deliver air into his lungs. After thirty seconds, she slid a thin suction

catheter into Bobby’s mouth and removed any secretions.

“Okay,” Wynter said, grasping the tube. “Here we go.”

Beau gripped Bobby’s hand tighter, noting Ali looked calm and

relaxed. She’d be a good person to have at your back going into a tough

call.

Wynter smoothly and rapidly extracted the tube and immediately

• 87 •

RADCLY fFE

Bobby jerked and coughed, his face turning deep red. Ali handed Wynter

a plastic oxygen mask, which Wynter placed over Bobby’s mouth.

All the monitors that had been beeping crazily for the last minute

quieted. The silence, broken only by Bobby’s raspy breathing, fell

heavily around Beau. She wasn’t by Bobby’s bedside any longer, she

was back in that surreal world of pain and disorientation and soulchilling fear that never seemed very far away. A tide of memory pulled

at her, and she gripped the bed rail with both hands to steady herself.

“Nice job, Dr. Thompson,” Ali said. “I’ll leave the paperwork to

you.”

Wynter laughed. “Not a problem.”

Ali placed her hand low in the center of Beau’s back and murmured,

“Let’s take a walk.”

Beau barely managed not to stumble, her legs wooden, as she

walked beside Ali out of the unit into the corridor. Hospital personnel

hurried through the halls, some pushing gurneys and equipment,

everyone looking like they were late. The stark tan walls, gray tile

floors, and flat white light made everyone look pasty, as if they never

saw the sun. Ali’s palm warmed her back even as icy sweat trickled

down her neck.

“Do you want to sit down?” Ali asked.

“No.” Beau leaned against the wall. “I’m okay.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“More than you.”

“You’re very good at evasion.” Ali cupped Beau’s chin and studied

her face. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” Beau said, her voice hoarse.

“Fair enough. Then I suggest you have breakfast and go home.”

Ali moved her fingers and Beau wanted to grab them and bring

them back to her face. The touch centered her, grounded her in a way

she hadn’t needed in years. She drew an unsteady breath and forced

herself back to the present.

“Is Bobby going to be okay?”

“I think so, yes.” Ali smiled ruefully. “Considering the minor

injuries.”

Beau straightened, the challenge in Ali’s voice dispelling the

last disquieting images. “It doesn’t help anyone to scare people

unnecessarily.”

• 88 •

Trauma alerT

“No, and downplaying the danger makes it easier for you to keep

risking your life for the hell of it. All the thrills you want and no one to

be accountable to.”

“Is that how you see it?” Beau couldn’t believe Ali was dismissing

her job with the same casual disregard as she’d dismissed her the first

night they’d met. “Jesus. We’re not playing games out there.”

“Are you sure?” Ali said. “I know how important the job is. I

respect you and every other firefighter for doing it. But tell me you

don’t love the high.”

“Oh come on, who are you to judge me for that? Sure, I love

putting it all out there, going up against the big one and winning.” Beau

had come too close to losing it all not to revel in the win. “But Jesus,

don’t be a hypocrite. Tell me you didn’t love it last night when you

were right out there on the edge with Bobby, just you in a fight to the

death. I saw it in your face. You were riding the high too.”

“The difference,” Ali said, not even sure why it mattered so much,

“is that if I fail, I don’t die.”

“No?” Beau stepped close, her face an inch from Ali’s. “Try

pretending some part of you doesn’t die every time you lose one.”

Ali gasped. Death and loss, the twin specters in her life she tried so

hard to ignore. She saw Sammy. Beautiful, vibrant, wonderful Sammy

lying on a slab in the morgue, a sheet drawn up to cover her young

breasts, a bullet hole in her throat, another in her chest, her eyes vacant

and empty. A huge part of Ali had died as she’d stood looking at the

one person she’d loved completely. If Sammy had been her own child,

she couldn’t have loved her more. And every time she failed to save

someone else’s child, someone else’s lover, someone else’s life, another

piece of her disappeared. She knew it, but she accepted the risk. No one

she loved suffered from her failures. Not anymore.

Beau recognized the second Ali’s pain eclipsed her anger. Her

eyes, as hard and hot as black granite a moment before, flickered and the

fire in them died. Beau would take the fire and the anger over the pain

any day, and she knew she’d pushed too hard. She’d pushed because

Ali shut her out, as she had every right to do. Was probably smart to do.

Because Ali was right. She loved her job for a lot of reasons, but one

huge reason was she loved the rush. She loved putting it all on the line

to prove she was alive and that being alive mattered.

“I’m sorry,” Beau said. “That was way out of line.”

• 89 •

RADCLY fFE

“No,” Ali said quietly, stepping back. “I owe you the apology. I

don’t know you. I respect what you do tremendously, and I hope you’re

always safe doing it.”

When Ali turned to walk away, Beau grasped her shoulder.

“Wait.”

Ali hesitated. She’d left the unit wanting to comfort Beau. Beau

hadn’t just been frightened for her partner, she’d been shaken, upset

in a way Ali had never seen her before, even when she’d been on

the verge of collapse. The tough, cocky firefighter was gone, and in

her place was a vulnerable woman with her own secret torments.

Now Ali’s sympathy had segued into ire at Beau’s selfish, egotistical

disregard for her own well-being. Too busy chasing the next adrenaline

high, risk-takers like Beau never stopped to consider the devastation

they left behind. Couldn’t she see, didn’t she care, that she’d destroy

someone else’s life, break someone’s heart, if she casually threw her

own away?

“You and I see the world differently,” Ali said without looking

back. “Let’s just accept that and move on.”

“You’re right,” Beau said. “That’s exactly what we should do.”

“Good,” Ali said, annoyed at her own disappointment. “Now

you’re making sense.”

“But I don’t want to.” Beau stepped close behind Ali, lowering her

voice so that those passing by wouldn’t hear. She whispered into Ali’s

ear. “You stir me up. One minute I want to kiss you, the next I want to

strangle you.”

Ali laughed, hoping the instant and totally unwanted flood of

pleasure didn’t show in her face. “That’s where we differ. I just want

to strangle you.”

Beau grinned. She’d seen the faint flush climb the ivory column

of Ali’s neck. She couldn’t remember what she’d been pissed off about

a minute before. She couldn’t recall why she’d thought letting Ali walk

away was a good idea. Her body, her instincts, her every impulse said

otherwise. “I owe you dinner. You promised.”

“I did not,” Ali said, starting to walk.

“You did,” Beau said, catching up to her. “Last night over meat

loaf you agreed that I could take you out for a decent meal to pay you

back.”

• 90 •

Trauma alerT

Ali stopped and stared at her incredulously. “That is entirely not

true. You completely fabricated that.”

“Wish fulfillment, then. Say yes. Just dinner.”

Ali wanted to say yes. Insanely, irrationally, ridiculously, she

wanted to say yes.

“Absolutely not. No.”

“You don’t mean that. You said you didn’t know me. Now’s your

chance.”

Ali smothered a smile that threatened to emerge against her will.

“Does that kind of thing usually work?”

“What?”

“The persistence. The way you have of making it seem as if it

really matters.”

Beau caught her breath. What the hell was she doing playing with

this woman? She opened her mouth to toss out another smart line, and

what came out stunned her. “It matters.”

Ali had to look away from the sincerity in Beau’s eyes. Flippancy,

ego, cockiness she could discount. The undisguised honesty she

couldn’t. “I’ve got rounds, and Bobby’s parents will be here soon. Are

you going to stay?”

“Yes. The captain switched my schedule so I’m off the next few

days. Bobby’s sister is in Afghanistan, and his parents are elderly. I

want to be here while he’s in the hospital to help them out.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“He’s my partner.” Beau hurriedly fell into step as Ali headed

purposefully for the unit. “If you have dinner with me, I promise no

sex. In fact, no sex for six dates.”

Ali laughed. “You’re unbelievable. What in the world makes you

think I want to have sex with you?”

A nurse striding by stutter-stopped, did a double take, and then

with a shake of her head, walked away chuckling. Ali glowered and

punched in the code to open the ICU doors.

“Look, I’m just setting the ground rules so you’ll be comfortable,”

Beau said. “No risk. What have you got to lose?”

“My sanity, for one thing.”

“When is your next night off?”

“Tonight, and no.”

• 91 •

RADCLY fFE

“I’ll probably be here with Bobby, anyhow.”

Ali frowned, preventing the door from swinging closed again with

her hip. “You need some rest. It won’t help him if you wear yourself

out.”

“I’m used to working twenty-four hours on, twenty-four hours off

for four days in a row. I don’t need much sleep.”

“This is a different kind of stress. Trust me on this one.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Go home. I mean it.”

“You didn’t say no,” Beau called after her.

Ali escaped into the ICU, wondering why she couldn’t say no to

Beau Cross and mean it.

• 92 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer TeN

After Ali finished rounds in the trauma unit, she met with

Bobby’s parents in a small room next to the visitors’ lounge

down the hall. The trim, white-haired couple both looked exhausted.

“Did you just fly in from somewhere?” Ali asked after they were

all seated around a small unadorned conference table in an otherwise

barren room.

“Fort Lauderdale,” Bobby’s father replied. “We retired there a

number of years ago. How’s our son?”

Ali explained why Bobby had been admitted and reported his

current status. “He should be moved to the step-down unit later this

afternoon. That’s an intermediate intensive care unit where he can still

be monitored, but he’ll have a regular room and you’ll be able to spend

more time with him. I suggest you both say hello to him now and then

check in to your hotel and rest until tonight. He’s going to be sleeping

most of the day anyhow.”

“He loves his job, you know,” Bobby’s mother said, “but we

worry. It’s so dangerous.”

“They’re all very well trained for what they do,” Ali said, thinking

of Beau. Had Beau not been sidelined earlier in the day, she would have

been with Bobby, and Ali had no doubt Beau would have been in the

forefront of the operation. Beau would have been the one rolled into the

trauma bay instead of Bobby. Just imagining it made Ali’s gut clench

and reinforced her intention to stay far far away from Beau. For some

reason, she couldn’t seem to resist her face-to-face.

“Both our children are braver than us,” Bobby’s father said, his

voice choked.

• 93 •

RADCLY fFE

“I doubt that. That kind of integrity is learned at home.” Ali stood

up. “I’ll take you to the unit, and the nurses will let you know when you

can see him. In the meantime, his partner is here, and I know she’d like

to speak with you.”

“Oh good,” Bobby’s mother said. “Bobby mentions her so often.

Sometimes I think he might be a little sweet on her.”

Ali smiled, wondering if Bobby knew of Beau’s sexual orientation,

guessing that even if he did, Beau’s charisma would be hard to ignore

up close every day. “If you’ll come with me.”

Ali saw her as soon as she stepped out into the hall. The

immediate ripple of anticipation that whispered down her spine sent

off huge warning klaxons, but she indulged in the pleasure of looking

at her unawares just the same. Beau leaned against the wall outside

the intensive care unit, talking to an African American man in a white

shirt and dark trousers. He had a gold badge pinned on his left chest

and looked imposing and professional. Beau, on the other hand, was in

the same rumpled uniform shirt and pants she’d worn the day before.

Her hair was tousled, making her look young and vulnerable. She’d

rolled up her shirtsleeves and unbuttoned the top few buttons of her

shirt, probably while trying to sleep in the chair next to Bobby’s bed,

baring a patch of pale skin between her breasts. These glimpses of

Beau’s unwitting softness in contrast to her hard, muscular body were

disturbingly attractive. Ali wanted to look away but before she could,

Beau looked up and saw her staring.

Beau’s blazing smile shot a bolt of heat straight to Ali’s core, and

she instantly schooled her expression to hide her response.

“Dr. Torveau,” Beau said. “This is Captain Jeffries, our station

commander.”

“Good to meet you.” Ali shook the captain’s hand and introduced

Bobby’s parents. Bobby’s mother gazed at Beau as if she were a holy

apparition.

“Bobby speaks so highly of you,” Mrs. Sizemore said. “Thank

you so much for looking after him.”

Beau blushed and looked uncomfortable, her blue eyes growing

dark and stormy. “I’m sorry I let him get hurt, but Dr. Torveau and her

team are taking really good care of him.”

Captain Jeffries interjected, “You can be sure the Philadelphia Fire

Department will see that he gets everything he needs.”

• 94 •

Trauma alerT

While Beau and her captain consoled and reassured the family,

Ali backed away and used the wall phone to call in to the unit. “Hi, it’s

Ali. Tell Mary Ann that Bobby Sizemore’s parents are out here. She can

come and get them whenever she’s ready.”

She hung up and took one last look at the small group. Beau

watched her, her expression brooding. Breaking away from that intense

perusal took effort. She felt Beau’s eyes follow her all the way to the

stairwell, and as soon as the door closed behind her—severing their

connection—the world became instantly flat and flavorless. Ordinary.

Routine. Normal.

You stir me up, Beau had said.

Ali understood exactly what Beau meant. Beau incited all kinds

of reactions she wasn’t usually susceptible to. Swift shocks of pleasure.

Flashes of anger. Longing. Arousal. All dangerous, all unwelcome.

She was looking forward to getting out of the hospital and away from

any further interactions with Beau. A nice quiet day of reading the

newspapers, walking Victor, and dinner with Ralph would get her back

on track.

She headed directly to the locker room, waving to Manny as he

left for home.

“Hi,” Ali said to Wynter, who was in the process of changing

already. Going through the motions that were so practiced she didn’t

even think about them, Ali opened her locker, stripped out of her scrubs,

and reached for the shirt hanging on a hook inside.

“Do you need a ride?” Wynter asked.

“No, I’m walking. It helps me clear out my head.”

“Pearce is picking me up and we’re going out to breakfast. Want

to come?”

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

Wynter paused, holding a green cableknit sweater in both hands.

“She was on call Thursday night and they had a ruptured aneurysm,

so she never came home. I was on call last night. We left at different

times yesterday morning.” She pulled her sweater over her head and

tugged it down over her round belly. “Wednesday night when we went

to bed?”

“Right. Almost three days, and you want company for breakfast?”

Ali tucked in her pale blue cotton shirt, buttoned her jeans, and sat

down to put on her boots.

• 95 •

RADCLY fFE

“We’re having breakfast, not sex.” Wynter grinned. “Not at the

same time, anyhow.”

Ali snorted. “I appreciate it, but I need to walk off the night.”

“Okay.” Wynter sat next to her. “So I hear the sexy studly one

asked you out.”

Ali stared. “What are you talking about?”

“Jen Rosen was telling Mary Ann Cipriani that she heard the two

of you—”

“Oh, no,” Ali moaned. “Tell me the nurses are not discussing my

private life.”

“Ali, honey.” Wynter laughed. “You’re kidding, right? This is a

hospital. Everyone discusses everyone else’s private life. Why should

you be exempt?”

“Because there’s nothing to talk about.” Ali clipped off each word

between clenched teeth.

“Did you really ask Beau what in the world made her think you’d

want to have sex with her?”

Ali closed her eyes.

“Because Mary Ann apparently thinks you’re crazy.”

“Mary Ann is totally straight,” Ali said, eyes still closed. “To

hear her talk, she can’t get enough, and her tastes definitely run to the

Y-chromosome variety.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve heard some of her play-by-play accounts.

Just the same…” Wynter jostled Ali’s shoulder mischievously. “She

told Jen that for someone as hot as Beau, she’d be willing to switch

teams for a night. Especially if Beau looked at her the way she looks

at you.”

Ali groaned. “Nothing happened.”

“Just tell me. Did she ask and did you really say that?”

“Yes and yes. And no,” Ali said, standing to pull her coat from her

locker, “we don’t have a date.”

No sex for six dates. Beau’s voice teased through her mind. Beau

had no way of knowing she never had sex on a first date, or the third

date, or sometimes not even the sixth.

“Wouldn’t be a hardship for me,” she muttered, but her fingertips

tingled with the memory of rippling muscles and soft skin.

“What wouldn’t?” Wynter asked.

“What?”

• 96 •

Trauma alerT

“What wouldn’t be a hardship?”

Ali shook her head. “Nothing. Have a great weekend. Say hi to

Pearce for me.”

“Not so fast.” Wynter grabbed Ali’s hand and climbed to her feet

with a sigh. “I thought you said you were going to consider going out

with her. Just for fun. Just fun, Ali. Remember the concept?”

“Don’t be a pest.” Ali tossed her black wool greatcoat over one

shoulder and grabbed Wynter’s overnight bag.

“I promise, this’ll be the last time and I’ll never mention it again,”

Wynter said, hooking her arm through Ali’s as they walked through

the hospital toward the main lobby. “But tell me again what you have

against spending time with a smart, goodlooking woman who’s

obviously interested in you?”

“Absolutely nothing. Just not her.”

“Because…” Wynter raised a brow.

Ali draped her arm around Wynter’s shoulders and hugged her. “I

already told you. I want a girl just like you.”

“All right. I concede defeat. After all, how can I argue with that?”

Wynter’s face lit up. “Speaking of sex on a stick, here comes mine.

Yum yum yum.”

Ali spotted Pearce Rifkin, looking rangy and lean in black jeans

and a black turtleneck, her coal black hair windblown and her equally

dark eyes zeroing in on Wynter with a decidedly hungry sparkle. Ali

burst out laughing. “Oh yeah, and you wanted me to come to breakfast

so I could watch the two of you nibble on each other?”

“What’s so funny?” Pearce Rifkin asked, taking Wynter’s bag

from Ali as she leaned in to kiss Wynter’s cheek. “Hi, baby. How was

your night?”

“Hi, sweetheart.” Wynter wrapped her arm around Pearce’s waist.

“It was fine. How’s Ronnie?”

“Elbow-deep in pancake syrup right about now. Ken’s making

breakfast for the tribe.” Pearce stroked Wynter’s hair. “Still want to go

out to breakfast?”

“Well, if we’ve got the house to ourselves…” Wynter’s gaze

slowly softened and she rubbed her cheek on Pearce’s shoulder.

“Okay,” Ali said briskly, unable to smother a grin as they walked

outside together. “I’ll be taking off now. You two have a marvelous

morning.”

• 97 •

RADCLY fFE

“Good to see you again, Ali,” Pearce said, shifting her attention

from Wynter with apparent reluctance. “Wynter told me you had to fill

in for my father the other night. Sorry about that.”

“No problem. Happy to do it.”

Pearce grinned. “Uh-huh. See you next week at our place for the

party?”

“I’ll try to make it.”

“Great. Everyone will be there.”

Ali shot Wynter a look. “A small gathering?”

Wynter shrugged sheepishly. “You know how hospital parties are.

Word gets around. You already said you’d come, so you can’t back out

now.”

“I said I’d try.” Ali waved good-bye as Pearce and Wynter, still

arm in arm, headed in the opposite direction. Maybe the party would be

exactly the diversion she needed to put Beau out of her mind. She might

even meet someone to help with that.

v

Beau watched Ali leave the hospital with Dr. Thompson and

another woman who, from the way they’d been looking at each other

as if they couldn’t get enough, had to be Dr. Thompson’s partner.

Apparently domesticity hadn’t dampened their interest any. She’d

never given a serious relationship much thought, other than to know

one wasn’t for her. She didn’t really spend any time with couples, gay

or otherwise. Her friends were her fellow firefighters, and she rarely

saw them with their families—those who had one. Mostly she spent

time with the other single firefighters. She never missed being part of a

couple. Families were too much work. Sometimes, too much sacrifice.

She walked outside and watched Ali cross the street in long, strong

strides, her calf-length coat whipping around her body in the wind. She

wondered what Ali would do for the rest of the day. She wondered what

she would do without work until she could see Bobby again. Ordinarily,

she hated her days off and volunteered for as many extra shifts as she

could get. If she was working, she was moving, and if she was moving,

she was happy.

She was still thinking about Ali, trying to imagine how she would

spend her time or who she might spend it with, when she walked into the

• 98 •

Trauma alerT

house. Jilly, wearing maroon flannel pj’s, was ensconced in a recliner

reading a book with a handsome man and sexy woman on the cover.

She looked up and smiled when Beau dropped her gear in the hall just

inside the front door.

“I was starting to worry,” Jilly said. “I expected you home a long

time ago.”

“I was waiting for Bobby’s parents.” Beau collapsed onto the sofa

and propped her feet on the coffee table.

“Boots,” Jilly said automatically.

With a groan, Beau leaned forward and unlaced her boots. She

tossed them on the floor and swiveled around with her head facing Jilly

and her sock-clad feet on the couch. “Okay?”

“Much better. Did you get any sleep?”

“Some. Did you eat breakfast?”

Jilly shook her head. “I was waiting for you. How’s Bobby?”

“Better. They extubated him this morning.”

“That’s great.”

Beau sighed. “Ali says he’s going to be fine. They’re transferring

him to the step-down unit later today.”

“Ali. She’s the doctor from last night who wanted to toss me out,

right?”

Beau grinned. “That would be her.”

“You like her? You trust her?”

“Absolutely.” Beau absently rubbed her fingers over the scar on

her chest. An old habit that cropped up when she was tired or troubled.

“She’s amazing.”

Jilly drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees,

regarding Beau pensively. “Amazing, huh?”

“Yeah.” Beau tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling. “Can

I ask you something?”

“Like after all this time you need permission?”

Beau turned her head and regarded her sister. “If back when I

was sick, things hadn’t worked out. If I’d died. Would you blame

yourself?”

“God, Beau.” Jilly laced her fingers tightly together. “You don’t

ask easy questions, do you?”

“I’m sorry. Never mind.”

“No. It’s okay.” Jilly bit her lip and stared past Beau out the front

• 99 •

RADCLY fFE

window. “I would have known in my head somewhere that it wasn’t

my fault, but I don’t think I would have been able to convince my heart

of that.”

“You don’t sometimes think it might’ve been better, or maybe

just—right?”

Jilly’s face flushed. “Are you out of your mind? Of course I don’t

think that. Not once. Ever. You’re my sister. I love you. If anything

happened to you—”

“Hey,” Beau said quickly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what the fuck

I’m talking about. I just must be really tired. Forget it, Jilly. I’m a

jerk.”

“You’re a lot of things, Beau, but a jerk isn’t one of them.” Jilly

moved over to sit on the coffee table and took Beau’s hand. She cradled

it in hers and held it in her lap. Fixing Beau with an intense unwavering

gaze, she said, “Have you been wondering about this all these years?

Feeling responsible? Is that what this is about?”

“Come on, Jilly,” Beau said. “I am responsible. If it weren’t for

me, you wouldn’t be sick now.”

“That wasn’t your fault. When are you going to believe that?”

Jilly lifted Beau’s hand and brushed her lips over her knuckles. “Where

is all this coming from?”

“I don’t know.” Beau sat up and pushed an errant strand of Jilly’s

hair behind her ear. “Ali was telling me about her sister last night. She

was killed—murdered.”

Jilly murmured, “That’s horrible.”

“She feels responsible. It still hurts her a lot.”

“So Ali—Bobby’s surgeon—told you this.” Jilly ran her finger up

and down Beau’s forearm. “It sounds like you know her kind of well.”

“Not really. I just met her about a week ago, but we’ve had a few

conversations.” Beau grinned crookedly. “More like a few run-ins. I’m

not her favorite person.”

“She’s really attractive.”

“Understatement.”

Jilly’s eyes sparkled. “You like her.”

“Hard not to.”

“No, I mean really like her.”

“Not the way you’re thinking.” Beau nudged the book Jilly had

• 100 •

Trauma alerT

been reading with her toe. “You’re the romantic. I don’t read this kind

of stuff. Brave bold heroes and beautiful damsels and all that.”

“That shows you how much you don’t know, smarty-pants. That

happens to be a romance about a female firefighter and a single father.

If anything, she’s the brave, bold hero and he’s the soft, nurturing one.”

Jilly narrowed her eyes. “And you are trying to change the subject.”

“I guess I just wanted to say thanks,” Beau said quietly. “And I

love you.”

Jilly’s eyes filled with tears. “I love you too, and I don’t ever want

you to say thank you again. I don’t even want to think about how I

would feel without you around.”

Beau grinned. “So, that being the case, I was thinking we might

make this living arrangement permanent.”

“You pay half the mortgage, half the groceries, and do half the

cleaning.”

“I pay half the mortgage, all the groceries, and we hire someone

to clean.”

“Agreed. You going to tell me about Ali now?”

“Nothing to tell.” Beau stood. “I’m going to make breakfast.

Omelettes and bacon?”

“Absolutely.”

Beau headed into the kitchen, feeling more at home than she had

in years. As she took food from the refrigerator and dishes from the

cabinets, she wondered what Ali liked for breakfast. The last time she’d

had breakfast with a woman other than Jilly had been in a hotel in

Atlantic City. She’d gone down with some of the guys to gamble and

party and had picked up a cocktail waitress. They’d had room service

in between rounds of sex. She tried to picture having a quickie with Ali

somewhere and couldn’t. Ali didn’t fit in any of the pictures she was

used to when it came to women, and she had no idea what that meant.

• 101 •

• 102 •

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chapTer eleveN

Ali took a shower, changed into loose khaki chinos and a red

V-neck sweater, leafed through the last three Sunday editions

of the New York Times, considered cleaning her apartment, and finally

headed upstairs to collect Victor. She’d caught a couple hours’ sleep

between four and six that morning, and probably should have tried to

get more, but she couldn’t settle.

Ralph answered her knock and regarded her with a faintly chiding

expression. “You’re early. You should be in bed.”

“I slept last night. Where’s the prince?”

As if knowing he’d been summoned, Victor chuffed his way around

the corner, his log-like body rolling from side to side on his stumpy legs.

He carried his leash in his mouth, snorting with enthusiasm. Laughing,

Ali hooked the lead to his collar.

“You want me to pick up anything for dinner?” Ali asked.

“If you’ve got plans tonight, I can leave you something downstairs

in the kitchen,” Ralph said. “You don’t need to spend Saturday night

with an old man and a dog.”

“No,” Ali replied. “No plans. And I like having dinner with you,

so stop trying to get rid of me.”

“Pick me up some fresh arugula, then,” Ralph said with a shake

of his head.

“You got it. Come on, Victor, let’s go shopping.” Ali was grateful

that Ralph hadn’t pushed. She knew he worried about her being alone

and couldn’t understand why she didn’t. She loved Ralph as much as

anyone in her life, but she couldn’t explain to him that being alone,

• 103 •

RADCLY fFE

even when loneliness sometimes plagued her, was a choice she’d made

and she didn’t regret the consequences.

Outside, she was greeted by the kind of early winter morning she

loved. The sun shone brightly, contrasting dramatically with air so cold

and crisp her skin tingled with the bite of it. Despite her fatigue, her

pulse quickened and a bolt of restless energy shot through her. She

walked Victor to the riverfront park a few blocks away. From the

jogging path at the water’s edge, she could see the medical center rising

above the other university buildings across the river, the main hospital

buildings and sprawling annexes forming their own insular community.

She wondered if Beau was there, at Bobby’s bedside, or if she’d left for

home. She thought about the woman she’d seen with Beau the night

before, the one who had touched Beau with familiar ease. The woman

Beau said she would call this morning. Maybe they were together right

now. Victor tugged at his leash, drawing her attention away from the

hospital. Apparently, he was determined to get some precious object

from under a wooden bench and all she could see was his rear end

wiggling as he scrabbled for it.

“If you get stuck under there, buddy, we’ll need a crane to get

you out.” Ali bent down and retrieved a soggy tennis ball for him,

then resumed walking. Wherever Beau was, whoever she was with,

was no concern of hers. Hell, the redhead was probably just one of her

girlfriends. She wondered how Beau’s girlfriends felt about her seeing

other women. She’d never dated more than one woman at once, or ever

even dated a woman who was seeing other women. She thought about

Heather, and Ellen before her, and—God, was it really going back

over two years?—Donna. They’d all been bright, interesting, attractive

women whose company she enjoyed. She didn’t feel the slightest bit

of jealousy when she considered they might have been seeing other

women while dating her. In fact, she’d rarely thought about them

between dates. When she was with them, she had a good time. When

the interludes ended, she’d gone back to her life with something close

to relief.

She sat on a bench and stretched her legs out in front of her,

Victor’s leash wrapped around her right wrist, her hands in the pockets

of her pants. She studied the toes of her brown leather boots. Mary Ann

Cipriani, an enthusiastically straight woman, thought Beau was worth

• 104 •

Trauma alerT

a night on the other team. The redhead in the unit thought nothing of

touching her in a proprietary way. Hell, even her male partner apparently

had a crush on her. Who needed a woman who ignited the libido of

anyone in sight?

“Not me,” she muttered. Victor tilted his head from side to side

and she laughed. “Sorry, boy. My mind has gone off the rails for some

reason.”

You stir me up.

Beau didn’t seem to mind admitting that, or maybe that was just

another practiced come-on. Ali had to admit, though, the line had gotten

her attention. The way Beau looked at her, her eyes all storm blue and

broody, made her breath catch. Damn it, the woman was just too sexy

to be safe. Ali spent nearly every waking moment trying to impose

order on chaos, trying to preserve reason in the face of insanity. What

she needed in her personal life was someone calm and steady, someone

who wouldn’t threaten the careful restraint she kept on her emotions.

Like Heather, or Ellen, or Donna.

“Yeah,” she sighed, getting up to go in search of arugula for Ralph.

“Because they worked out really well.”

v

“You sure you don’t mind stopping by to see Bobby on the way?”

Beau asked as she helped Jilly into her coat.

“Honey, you’re the one escorting me to this damn cocktail party at

the last minute. And on no sleep, at that.”

“I slept enough.” She was exaggerating, but she didn’t think her

sister really needed to know about her rocky afternoon. She’d tossed

and turned, half asleep, drifting between icy terror as murky water

closed over her head to hot, hazy erotic visions of her and a darkhaired

woman tangled together, struggling toward a climax that never came.

Finally, more exhausted than she had been when she’d lain down, she’d

stumbled into the shower and stood under a scalding spray until she

banished the lingering images of being pulled into the river with the

vehicle and its unconscious occupants. She’d had to settle her body with

a too quick, not too terribly satisfying orgasm of her own making. She

was still edgy, a coil of tension throbbing in the pit of her stomach.

“I promise, we’ll just make a quick appearance and then sneak

• 105 •

RADCLY fFE

out.” Jilly hesitated. “I really could go by myself, you know. Brad and

I were only going together to keep each other from being trapped and

talked to death by some of our colleagues.”

“I can run interference.” Beau wrapped her arm around Jilly’s

shoulders as they walked to Jilly’s Lexus. “Besides, I don’t feel like

sitting around the house and Bobby doesn’t need my company tonight.

He’ll probably be sleeping anyhow. I just want to check on him for a

minute.”

“What about a date? Did you see the message I left on your dresser

from Cynthia? She called while you were in the shower.”

Call me. We can have fun. Beau grimaced. “I got it.”

“Do I know Cynthia?”

“Ah…no.” If Beau were the superstitious type, she might think

she had prompted the call from Cynthia because she’d been thinking

about her earlier that morning. “She’s someone I met in Atlantic City.”

“I guess it wasn’t a long-term thing, huh?”

“Not really.” Beau grabbed the keys out of Jilly’s hand. She wasn’t

going to tell her sister anything further about the cocktail waitress and

their single night of wild sex. “I’ll drive.”

“You know,” Jilly said as she buckled up in the passenger seat,

“I’m not sure I could have an orgasm with someone I just met. Do you

think casual sex is easier with another woman than it is with a guy?”

“Jesus, Jilly,” Beau protested. “How would I know?”

“I don’t think I ever asked. Have you ever been to bed with a

guy?”

“No,” Beau said, trying not to grind her molars. “It’s always been

women for me. Can we not talk about sex?”

Jilly laughed. “Why not? We’re both adults.”

“Yeah, but you’re my sister.”

“Do you talk about sex with your firefighter friends?”

Beau pulled out and drove through West Philadelphia toward

the hospital. “Not in detail. You know, just offhand kind of stuff.

Bullshitting, mostly.”

“Is that another way of saying bragging?”

“I don’t talk about women that way,” Beau muttered, which was

true, technically speaking. She didn’t contradict the guys when they

made assumptions about her scorecard, but she didn’t get into specifics.

Briefly, she thought of Ali and flushed with a surge of anger at the

• 106 •

Trauma alerT

thought of any of her buddies talking about Ali the way they sometimes

did about other women.

“Why are you scowling?”

“No reason.” Beau turned into the parking garage adjacent to the

hospital and cut the engine. Swiveling in her seat, she regarded her

sister. “What’s going on?”

“I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday afternoon,” Jilly said very

quietly.

Beau sat absolutely still as a giant hand squeezed down on her

heart so hard it hurt to breathe. She’d lived in fear of this moment for

her entire adult life, and even though she thought about it every single

day, she still wasn’t ready. “You didn’t tell me you were going.”

“I know. I knew you’d worry.”

“Jilly,” Beau murmured, “when are you going to let me take care

of you?”

“That’s not how it works. I’m the big sister, remember?” Jilly

smiled and then rubbed Beau’s thigh. “Besides, you had enough to

worry about with Bobby.”

“You come first, Jilly. Don’t you know that?” Beau took a breath,

steeling herself. “What did Dr. Lawrence say?”

“My viral count is undetectable. Not just in the plasma, Beau. In

the mononuclear cells too.”

“Oh, fuck,” Beau gasped, her eyes flooding. She covered her face

with one hand, shaking as tears coursed down her cheeks. “God, why

didn’t you tell me right away?”

Jilly reached across the console and stroked the back of Beau’s

neck. “It took me this long to convince myself I wasn’t dreaming. I half

expected them to call and say they made a mistake. It’s too soon to be

sure there won’t be blips, but…”

Beau dropped her hand and gripped Jilly’s shoulders. “Don’t say

that. This is great news. This is the best news. Oh, God. Jilly!”

“I don’t want to say anything to Mom and Dad right away, okay?”

Jilly said shakily. “Just in case, you know.”

Beau brushed Jilly’s cheek with her fingertips. “I’d give anything—

anything at all—for you to be all right. Really all right.”

Jilly pressed her fingers to Beau’s lips. “I am all right. I’ve been all

right all along.” She smoothed the tears from Beau’s face. “When are

you ever going to believe that?”

• 107 •

RADCLY fFE

“I’ll work on it,” Beau said, not wanting to dampen Jilly’s

happiness. She doubted she’d ever be able to stop blaming herself, but

that was her burden, not Jilly’s. “Come on, let’s go see Bobby so we

can get to your shindig.”

v

“You don’t really look like a lawyer,” said a blonde in a red suit

buttoned over a sheer white camisole as she joined Beau at the far edge

of the noisy crowd.

Beau compared her black pants and plain white shirt to the tailored

pantsuits and skirts and jackets of the other women in the room. “I

guess I didn’t get the memo on the dress code.”

Laughing, the blonde held out her hand. Her fingers were slender

and tipped with red nails the exact color of her suit. Beneath the hem

of her skirt, her legs were long and shapely. Her champagne blond hair

was shoulder length, framing an oval face set off by deep green eyes

and full red lips. She was stunning.

“I’m Fiona Webster.”

“Beau Cross.” Beau took her hand and registered the slow arc of

Fiona’s thumb as it swept rhythmically over the top of her hand. The

invitation was subtle and refined. Her body registered the contact with

a twitch of appreciation.

“So are you?”

“Am I what?” Beau asked. Interested? I’m breathing, so the

answer is yes.

“A lawyer?”

“No. I came with one.”

Fiona pretended to pout, making no pretense of not flirting. “Don’t

tell me I’ve missed out on the highlight of the evening.”

Beau grinned. “My sister.”

“Oh, good. She’s not with Ambler and Smith, is she?”

“No. Why?”

“Because that’s my firm, and I don’t like to play in my own

backyard.”

“Very wise. Are we playing?”

Fiona moved closer, angling her body to hide her hand as she drew

her fingers down Beau’s abdomen. She caught one of the buttons on

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Trauma alerT

Beau’s shirt between her fingertips and tugged it lightly. “I certainly

hope so. I’m single, bi, safe, and currently without a date.”

Beau sipped her whiskey on the rocks and took a quick look

around. No one was watching them. “I am unattached and like it that

way.”

“Perfect.” Fiona deftly undid the button on Beau’s shirt and slipped

her fingers inside. When Beau’s stomach tightened she murmured in

approval. “Will your sister be terribly upset if I steal her escort?”

“I don’t think so.” Beau glanced down and watched Fiona’s hand

stroke her abdomen through the opening in her shirt. Her stomach

happened to be one of her hot spots, and she never failed to get excited

when a woman touched her there. She was getting excited now, her

clitoris tightening reflexively. Fiona’s fingertips skated over the scar

that bisected her stomach from top to bottom, but she seemed not to

recognize it for what it was. Even after so many years, the tissue was

hypersensitive, but Beau was used to the discomfort. She wasn’t used

to having a hard time getting her head in the game when a beautiful

woman was coming on to her. Her body was responding but her mind

kept drifting away. She felt Fiona’s fingers but she saw Ali’s. She’d

never in her life thought of one woman when she was with another. She

had always been in the moment, focused on making the most of shared

pleasure.

Closing her hand over Fiona’s, she gently drew Fiona’s fingers

from inside her shirt. “You can do better than me tonight.”

Fiona’s mouth quirked into a smile and she searched Beau’s face

curiously. “You sure?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be. Can I give you my number?”

“Sure,” Beau said. “Thanks.”

Fiona took a card from a small purse that hung from a linked chain

over one shoulder, scribbled something on the back with a fountain

pen, and pushed it delicately into Beau’s pants pocket. “If the timing is

ever better, I’d love to finish this.”

“Good luck tonight.”

“Thanks. I don’t think I’ll need it.” Fiona brushed a light kiss over

Beau’s cheek and disappeared into the crowd.

A second later Jilly appeared by Beau’s side. “Am I imagining

things or was she trying to pick you up?”

• 109 •

RADCLY fFE

“You got the picture right.”

“How do you do it? I mean, is it some sort of chemical that just

floats in the air around you, like catnip for women?”

Beau laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe I just look easy.”

“What you are is too goodlooking for your own safety. Are you

interested?”

“No.”

“Then I’m ready to go home, make a huge bowl of popcorn, and

watch back-to-back episodes of Fringe until I can’t keep my eyes open.

Want to join me?”

“Yeah,” Beau said, resigned to a night of unrequited arousal but

oddly not minding all that much. “I do.”

• 110 •

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chapTer Twelve

We’re in the middle of a cocktail reception,” Beau whispered

urgently when Fiona dragged her into the bathroom.

“Don’t worry,” Fiona gasped, leaning back against the closed

door. She grasped her skirt, pulled it midway up her thighs, and yanked

Beau forward by her belt. She pressed her center against Beau’s thigh

and grabbed a handful of Beau’s hair in her fist. “When two women go

into the bathroom together, no one ever thinks anything of it. And this

won’t take long.”

Her tongue invaded Beau’s mouth, hot and firm and hungry. She

made urgent sounds in the back of her throat as her fingers trembled

against Beau’s neck. Beau braced both arms on the gray metal door

to steady herself against the onslaught. The demanding thrust of

Fiona’s hips and the crush of her hard-nippled breasts triggered every

one of Beau’s switches and she got wet and hard and brainless in a

heartbeat.

Still leaning on one arm, Beau slid her hand inside the red

jacket and under the flimsy camisole to palm smooth, soft flesh. Fiona

whimpered and jerked Beau’s shirt out of her pants. When Beau found

Fiona’s nipple and squeezed, Fiona arched and her head banged back

against the door.

“Do you want me to come?” Fiona whispered, her eyes closed

and her expression almost pained.

“Yes.”

Fiona’s features swam across Beau’s hazy vision, disorienting and

confusing her. She closed her eyes when Fiona grabbed her wrist and

• 111 •

RADCLY fFE

pulled her hand down between them, pushing Beau’s fingers between

her thighs and inside her. Fiona jerked in her palm.

“Tell me to touch my clit,” Fiona urged, her nails digging into

Beau’s wrist.

“Stroke it,” Beau said in a voice that she didn’t recognize.

Fiona’s fingers flew between her legs. Her head rolled from side

to side, the muscles in her neck taut and quivering. She moaned and

tugged at her lower lip with her teeth, brilliant white against blood red.

Her hips lurched and her eyes blinked open, dazed and beseeching.

“Tell me not to come. Hurry.”

“Don’t come yet.”

“Oh, but I want to.” Her wrist was a blur. “I want to come, I want

to. I can’t wait.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can’t !” Fiona climaxed violently in Beau’s hand. When the

shudders stopped, she laughed and opened her eyes lazily. “Did you

enjoy that?”

Beau didn’t answer.

“Did you get nice and hard watching me come?” Fiona slid her

hand under Beau’s shirt, drawing slow circles on her belly with her

nails.

Beau twitched and her left arm, still planted against the door,

trembled.

“Do you need to come right away?” Fiona’s fingers teased lower,

under the waistband of Beau’s pants. “Shall I play with you a little? Or

shall I make you do it for me?”

Beau was so close to going off she could barely focus, but

something wasn’t right. She didn’t want Fiona to make her come.

Groaning, she looked down at the red-tipped nails scoring her flesh.

They were all wrong. Everything was wrong. Wrong voice, wrong eyes,

wrong hands.

“You know you want to come for me.”

“No. No, I don’t.”

Beau jerked upright, her gaze searching frantically in the semidark

room. Her bedroom. Her bed. Alone. She fell back into the sweatsoaked sheets. “Fuck.”

• 112 •

Trauma alerT

She slid her hand down her slick belly, cupped herself, squeezed.

A few firm strokes of her thumb and she exploded. Panting, she stared

at the ceiling. Two fucking mornings in a row. This was nuts. She hadn’t

been this hair-triggered since she was sixteen years old. She needed to

get back to work. She needed to burn off all this adrenaline and pent-up

sex before she burned alive.

She dragged herself out of bed and shambled into the adjoining

bathroom on shaking legs. Five in the morning. Time to see Bobby

and then call the captain and tell him she was ready to get back on the

line. She leaned against the shower wall, hot needles blasting her chest

and stomach. A persistent heaviness in her loins signaled she wasn’t

satisfied by the perfunctory morning orgasm, or the one the night

before, or the one before that. The dream replayed in her head, but

wide-awake she recognized it for what it was. She hadn’t thought about

the sexy blonde since the cocktail party, and she knew damn well she

hadn’t been dreaming about Fiona Webster. She knew whose hands

she’d wanted on her, whose body she’d wanted beneath her palms. Ali

Torveau had her well and properly twisted around, and she didn’t know

what in the hell to do about it.

v

The nurses in the intermediate intensive care unit bent the rules for

cops and firefighters, so when Beau showed up at seven in the morning

no one objected. She peeked into Bobby’s room and saw that he was

propped up on his pillows, awake.

“Hey,” he croaked when he saw her.

“Morning.” Beau grabbed a chair, pulled it over next to his bed,

and dropped into it. Bobby seemed better than the night before, but his

breathing was still labored. His color was a pretty good match for the

gray-green walls. “You look perky.”

He squinted at her. “You don’t.”

“Thanks. I’m really glad to see you too.”

“Is it Sunday?” Bobby frowned.

“Monday morning.”

“Damn, I lost a couple of days somewhere. I know you were here

last night and so were my parents.” He grimaced. “Can you get my

• 113 •

RADCLY fFE

folks to go home? I’m fine and I don’t want them staying up here in a

hotel any longer.”

“I talked them into booking a flight back tomorrow morning.”

“How did you work that?”

Beau hesitated. “I told them you’d be staying with me when you

got out.”

“Yeah, right. Like you’re a regular Florence Nightingale.”

“You wound me, Sizemore.”

“Hey, I don’t care what you had to tell them. Thanks. I owe you.”

“I was serious,” Beau said. “There’s an extra room at my sister’s

place. You can crash there for a few days until you’re a hundred

percent.”

Bobby stared at her. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah.” Beau shrugged. “You don’t have a steady girlfriend to help

you out, and I sure as hell am not gonna root around in your bedroom

looking for clean sheets. So you’ll stay with us a couple of days. It’s a

done deal.”

“Your sister’s okay with this?”

“Jilly’s cool.”

“Yeah, I remember. Okay,” Bobby said after a long moment, his

voice rougher than it had been. “So when am I getting out of here?”

“The nurses told me you’ll probably get transferred to a regular

room today, then one more day of observation. You ought to be out of

here before Thanksgiving.”

He dropped his head against the pillow and sighed. “Man, it can’t

be too soon. I can’t wait to put on a pair of pants.”

Beau grinned. “Tired of flashing your tackle at all the medical

personnel?”

“It’s downright humiliating having all these goodlooking women

completely ignore my stellar assets.” He looked at her hopefully.

“Maybe they’re all lesbians.”

“I think that’s statistically unlikely, partner.”

“Speaking of hot lesbians—”

“Maybe you want to give your imagination a rest until you recover

a little more.” Beau was pretty sure she knew the direction his mind

was headed.

“So, Dr. Torveau,” Bobby said, ignoring her warning. “We’re sure

about her—interests, right? Because she can definitely give me a—”

• 114 •

Trauma alerT

“Don’t go there,” Beau warned lightly. If it had been any guy

other than Bobby she might’ve been tempted to throttle him just for

mentioning Ali’s name with that smirk on his face. “If you weren’t

an invalid, I might be tempted to put you and your equipment out of

commission.”

“Hey, I’m just saying. She’s hot.”

“Good to see your brain survived intact.”

“Don’t worry. All my important stuff—” Bobby coughed, his

breath catching and his face turning red.

Beau quickly got up and filled a Styrofoam cup with ice water

from the plastic jug on the table at the foot of his bed. She leaned over

and supported his head with one hand while holding the straw with the

other so he could drink.

“I told you not to go there until you’re recovered,” she teased.

Bobby released the straw and sagged back, his chest heaving

under the thin cotton gown. Sweat dotted his brow. “You score on that

front yet? I’m still waiting for my hundred bucks.”

“Hey, the bet was two weeks,” Beau protested automatically,

glancing at the monitors above Bobby’s bed. The EKG was jumping all

over the place and he didn’t look as solid as he had when she’d walked

in. She kept talking, wondering if she should call a nurse. “I’ve still got

almost a week before I have to pay up. She has yet to appreciate my

many…attributes, but I’m working on it.”

“Uh—”

“Sometimes you have to warm them up a little bit before you make

a move.” Beau put the cup down on the table as she spoke, watching the

blood pressure curve dip and roll. “You feeling okay?”

“Uh—”

“Breathing bothering you?” Beau asked, trying not to appear

alarmed.

“Behind you.”

Beau closed her eyes for a second, then turned, knowing what

she’d find. Ali leaned in the doorway, a chart tucked under her arm,

regarding Beau with a flat, closed expression.

“Fuck,” Beau whispered.

“Good morning,” Ali said quietly. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting

outside, I need to examine him.”

“Sure.” Beau’s throat was desert dry. She’d been hoping she’d see

• 115 •

RADCLY fFE

Ali this morning, but this wasn’t the way she’d pictured it. She didn’t

even bother to search for an excuse. She squeezed Bobby’s leg. “I’ll see

you later. Get some rest.”

“Will do,” Bobby said, shooting her a sympathetic glance.

Beau started toward the door and Ali sidestepped her, not even

sparing her a glance as she went to Bobby’s bedside. Perfect. Just a

perfect ending to an already crappy morning.

v

After finishing rounds, Ali went directly to the nurses’ station to

write orders and notes on the patients in the unit. She was due in the OR

in an hour to triple tube a nineteen-year-old boy who’d been thrown off

his ATV the afternoon before and broken his neck. He was paralyzed

from the shoulders down and in all likelihood would remain so for the

rest of his life. Before that, she needed to stop in trauma admitting

where Wynter was evaluating a patient with multiple facial fractures.

Beau leaned with her back to the wall a little ways down the hall

from Bobby’s room, and Ali angled her body so that she didn’t have to

see her. The last thing she needed was to see Beau again. Today. Any

day. The very fact that she’d spent any time at all thinking about her

during her weekend off infuriated her. And she’d spent way too much

time thinking about her. She didn’t intend to expend one more drop of

energy on the woman.

“Ali,” Jeffrey Chang, one of the unit nurses, called. “Could you do

renewal orders on Williams? His meds are going to outdate today.”

“I don’t have time. Page one of the residents,” Ali snapped, closing

one chart and reaching for another one. A second later, she put down her

pen and looked up into Jeffrey’s surprised face. “Sorry. Can you take a

verbal order to renew the meds and I’ll make sure someone comes by

to review the rest of his orders?”

“Sure, Ali. Thanks.”

Ali quickly scrawled progress notes in the other four charts,

entered essential orders into the computer, and scanned the most recent

lab reports waiting to be filed. Then she squared her shoulders and

started down the hall toward the elevator.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Beau said, pushing away from

the wall as Ali drew nearer.

• 116 •

Trauma alerT

“I’m sorry, I’m late. Your friend is stable.”

“It’s not about Bobby.” Beau hurried to keep pace with Ali. “Look,

I know you’ve got work to do and I don’t want to keep you, but—”

Ali stopped so abruptly Beau bumped into her shoulder. “Please

don’t say it isn’t what I think. You’re an ass, Cross, and how I ever

let myself forget that for even a day I will never know. Now if you’ll

excuse me—”

“You’re right,” Beau said to Ali’s back. “I’m a complete jackass.

A total jerk. Not worth a second of your time.”

Against her better judgment, against every functioning brain cell

that she still had left, Ali slowed, waiting for the punch line. When none

came, she pivoted and raised one eyebrow. “And? So far we agree.”

Beau walked toward her, looking better than any woman had a

right to look in low-slung faded blue jeans that clung to her narrow hips

and a long-sleeved navy Henley unbuttoned to between her breasts. Ali

didn’t want to acknowledge the totally reflexive clutch of her stomach,

so she folded her arms under her breasts and steeled herself against any

further reaction.

“Bobby bet me after class that first night that I couldn’t get you to

go out with me. I figured he was right, but I didn’t want to admit it. So

I took the bet and played along.”

“You’ve obviously had a lot of practice playing,” Ali said, hating

that it hurt even a little that Beau had been pursuing her to score points

on her partner. “I hope you won’t be out too much money.”

“Ali,” Beau said, Ali’s dismissal twisting through her chest like a

dull knife. “I don’t want you to go out with me because of the bet. I’m

sorry about that bet and I’m sorry you heard us talking about it, but I

can’t change it.”

“Can we just let this drop,” Ali said wearily. “I’ve got a lot of work

to do. You probably do too.”

“I know you have to go. I just—I can’t stop thinking about you.

Okay? It’s driving me a little bit crazy.”

Ali had never been the focus of such intense attention from

anyone. The undisguised want in Beau’s eyes was intoxicating. She

didn’t even recognize her own reaction, but she knew—the way an

animal senses danger—that she could easily drown in those deep blue

pools of yearning and desire. She backed up. “Is this the part where you

warm me up before making your big move?”

• 117 •

RADCLY fFE

Beau winced, grateful Ali couldn’t know she’d been starring in

every one of Beau’s fantasies for days. Christ, just standing next to her

had her hot and hard. “No, this is the part where I grovel. The warm-up

part is supposed to be more pleasant.”

Ali laughed despite herself. Beau was so damn hard to resist. “I

really have to go.”

“Can I call you? Please, can I just call you?”

“You can call.” Ali heard the words come out of her mouth and

wondered who had taken control of her rational senses. “I don’t know

if I’ll answer.”

“You will,” Beau called after her, “because I know you don’t want

me to suffer.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Ali replied as the elevator doors

slid closed, but she was smiling. Just a little.

Beau sighed in relief as the tension drained away and anticipation

curled through her belly. She didn’t have a win, but she had a chance.

Suddenly, a chance with Ali seemed more exciting than anything she

could ever remember.

• 118 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer ThirTeeN

Iknow you don’t want me to suffer.

Ali watched the light above the elevator doors flicker from

five to one, Beau’s disarming grin and teasing words following her all

the way down to the first floor. She didn’t want Beau to suffer, but she

wished she could hold on to her anger for a little while all the same.

Knowing she had been the object of a puerile, testosterone-fueled bet

between Beau and Bobby should have been enough to permanently

banish Beau from her thoughts. At the very least, she ought to be

infuriated and turned off.

She wasn’t. The remorse in Beau’s eyes had seemed genuine, as

if Beau’s regret was about more than just being caught out. Of course,

she could be deluding herself because Beau’s interest was so damn hard

to ignore. Maybe what she’d thought she’d seen in those bedroom eyes

had only been wishful thinking on her part, and she just didn’t want to

accept that Beau’s flattering and disturbingly pleasant attention was all

a ruse.

“Pathetic,” Ali muttered, striding rapidly down the hall to trauma

admitting. A scruffy-looking man in a tattered canvas barn coat nearly

knocked her over as he stormed away from the reception window

opposite the ER nurse’s station, cursing audibly. Ali jumped out of his

way, vowing to stop worrying about Beau’s intentions and her own

paradoxical reactions. She didn’t have room for personal distractions

now.

She hit the red button on the wall to open the metal doors that

separated trauma admitting from the rest of the ER, hung her white

• 119 •

RADCLY fFE

coat from a peg on a wall rack, and continued down the hallway into

the trauma bay. Only one of the treatment beds was occupied. A blond

female lay partially exposed with a sheet across her midsection, EKG

leads attached to her limbs, a breathing tube in her throat, multiple

intravenous lines coiled around her arms, and a urinary catheter snaking

from underneath one thigh to a clear plastic collection bag on the floor.

The monitors indicated a steady pulse and blood pressure. Wynter stood

in front of an array of facial CT scans hanging on a view box, her folded

arms resting over the swell of her belly.

“Morning,” Wynter said as she glanced over at Ali.

“Hi,” Ali said, checking the name on the scans. Trina Campbell.

Age: 28. “What do you have?”

“This is her third trip to the emergency room in four months. The

first time she had a fractured wrist. The second a nondisplaced nasal

fracture. This time she has bilateral orbital fractures, a mandibular

angle fracture, and intracranial contusions.”

“Mental status?”

Wynter shook her head. “She was comatose on arrival, Glasgow

seven.”

“Family?” Ali studied each frame, all the while suppressing her

outrage. A Glasgow coma scale of seven indicated severely depressed

brain function. Someone had beaten this woman, and not for the first

time. And this time she might not recover.

“A neighbor saw the apartment door open, went in, and found her

on the floor in the bedroom. The husband hasn’t been located.”

“What about the police?”

“The paramedics called it in. No one has come in for a report

yet.”

“Okay,” Ali said. “Where do we stand with neurosurgery?”

“The fellow was by and said he’d make sure his attending saw

the films before they started their first case. I think Barnett is on call.

The fellow thinks they’ll need to put in a bolt for intracranial pressure

monitoring, but they can do that at the bedside between cases.”

“Is the unit ready for her?”

“Not yet,” Wynter said. “They were just giving report when I

called. We weren’t pushed down here, so I thought—”

“That’s fine. We can keep her here a while longer. Do you want

• 120 •

Trauma alerT

Tony to scrub with me on the triple tubes or let general surgery take

it?”

“Tony needs to do the debridement on that kid with the shotgun

blast. Why don’t I take the general surgery resident through the triple

tubes?” Wynter suggested.

“Are you sure? You’ve done plenty of them already and you’ll

save your legs for later in the day.”

“I got plenty of rest this weekend.” Wynter glanced across the

room at Nancy Carpenter, one of the day nurses, and lowered her voice.

“In between marathon bouts of sex, that is. I can do it.”

“Go ahead, then.” Ali smiled. “Seeing how you’re rested.”

“How about you?” Wynter said casually as she took the films

down off the view box. “Do anything fun over the weekend?”

“Peace and quiet. Just what I wanted.” Ali didn’t think walking

Victor, paying bills, catching up on back issues of the Journal of

Trauma, and wasting time thinking about a woman whose shelf life was

shorter than ice cream in August qualified as “fun” in Wynter’s book.

Wynter gave her a look but must have seen that Ali didn’t want

to talk about her weekend, because she didn’t poke at her. “I guess I’ll

head up to the OR, then.”

“I’ll be down here,” Ali said. “Any problems, let me know.”

“Should be routine,” Wynter said as she walked to the automatic

sliding doors that separated the trauma bay from the hall outside.

As the doors whooshed open, Ali heard shouting. “Nancy, are we

expecting a patient?”

“We didn’t get an alert,” the petite African American replied.

“Maybe one of the rescue units had radio problems and just

decided to come on in.” Ali walked out into the hall and caught the

tail end of a string of curses. Her shoulders tightened. Wynter stood

white-faced in front of the locker room, staring back down the hall with

a stunned expression. Ali followed her gaze and recoiled as if someone

had struck her in the face.

The man in the dirty canvas coat stood just inside the secure area

with his arm outstretched, holding a handgun aimed at Wynter.

v

• 121 •

RADCLY fFE

Beau hurried through the lobby and out to the street, planning to

take the subway-surface car to the station house to talk Captain Jeffries

into putting her back on rotation. She heard the sirens before she reached

the sidewalk. An engine, a medical unit, and three police cars careened

around the corner and stopped in front of the hospital. She recognized

her squad and jogged over to one of the firefighters climbing down

from the truck.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure,” Davey Wallace said, leaning on the rig while

Captain Jeffries talked into a radio. “We got called as support.”

Police cruisers, light bars flashing, blocked the street in both

directions. A van bristling with antennae pulled up. Mobile command

post. The back doors burst open and a SWAT team in full gear jumped

out and ran down the driveway toward the emergency room entrance.

Beau watched them go with a sinking feeling. Something bad was going

down. She pushed her way through the crowd up to Jeffries.

“Captain! Do you know—”

“Gunman,” he said tersely. “Hospital’s on lockdown.”

“Where?” Beau asked, turning cold inside.

“A nurse in the ER called it in. What are you doing here?”

“I was upstairs with Bobby.” Beau hesitated, checking out the

security guards blocking the lobby doors she’d just exited and judging

her chances of getting back into the hospital if it was locked down.

Some maniac had a gun in the ER. Ali might be there somewhere.

Jeffries must have seen where she was looking, because he got up in

her face.

“Don’t even think about it. No heroics today. Understand?”

She grabbed his arm. “Look—I’m TER-OPS. I want in on this.”

He gave her a hard look. “First team is standing by to follow

SWAT in. Get geared up and report to Risa Santos.”

“Yes sir,” Beau said, then paused. “Thank you.”

v

“Don’t move,” the gunman shouted. His voice quivered and his

eyes flickered wildly from Wynter to Ali.

“Whatever you need, I can get you,” Ali said calmly. All she could

• 122 •

Trauma alerT

think about was protecting Wynter and her baby, and that meant keeping

his attention on her. “She can’t help you, but I can.”

Her words had the desired effect. He swung his gun away from

Wynter and toward Ali. She raised her hands, holding his attention.

“I’m in charge here. I’m the one you want.”

As she spoke, she slowly crossed the hall until she was between

the gunman and Wynter. Keeping her eyes on him, she said to Wynter

in a low voice, “Go into the locker room, lock the door, and don’t come

out until the police arrive.”

“Ali,” Wynter whispered from somewhere behind her.

“What is it you need?” Ali called to the man at the far end of the

hall. “Go, Wynter. The door is just to your right. All you have to do is

step through.”

“Hey!” he shouted when Wynter disappeared. He took a step

forward, his gun arm trembling.

“It’s okay,” Ali said quickly. “I can help you.”

“Where’s my wife?”

“What’s her name?” Sweat trickled down the middle of Ali’s back.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nancy pushing equipment carts in

front of the glass door to the trauma bay, barricading herself inside. She

must have heard what was happening. The security camera mounted

above the main doors right behind the gunman swiveled slowly and

Ali tried not to look at it. Someone was watching them from outside

the double doors that separated the trauma wing from the rest of the

ER. Help was on the way. She just had to keep him engaged until the

police arrived. She wasn’t frightened. Wynter was safe, that’s all that

mattered. She wouldn’t lose her.

v

Beau gripped the field trauma kit and edged closer to the ring of

SWAT officers bunched around a video monitor someone had propped

on a metal folding chair. SWAT had set up a mobile command post

around the corner from the main doors to trauma admitting. She couldn’t

see the entire screen, but she saw enough to make sweat run down her

sides and nausea roll in the pit of her stomach. Ali stood alone at the far

end of a deserted corridor, facing a man whose back was to the camera.

• 123 •

RADCLY fFE

His face was obscured but the weapon in his hand was plain enough,

and it was pointed directly at Ali.

“Can we get audio?” The SWAT team leader clamped a hand on

the shoulder of a technician, who was fiddling with the video feed, and

bent to stare at the screen. “Blind canyon in there. One way in, one way

out.”

“We’re lucky to have video. We can’t risk drilling. He’ll hear

that,” the tech said, “and he looks pretty jumpy. We’ll have to snake a

line down the hall and under those doors. That’ll take a few minutes.”

“What about calling whoever is still in the trauma bay?” Beau

said. “Ali can’t be the only one down there.”

The SWAT commander shook his head. “I don’t want him to hear

the phone ringing. He looks like the type to spook.”

“What about the radio dispatch,” Beau insisted. “The one we use

in the field. He won’t hear that.”

“That’s an idea,” the SWAT commander said, turning to Risa

Santos, who squatted next to Beau. “You have the frequency set?”

“Here,” Risa said, handing him her radio. “Channel one.”

Beau half listened as SWAT spoke to someone in the trauma bay

and ascertained the number and location of hostages. Her gaze was

riveted to the monitor. Ali was talking to the gunman and seemed

remarkably—almost eerily—calm. Beau was afraid to take her eyes

off her, but standing by doing nothing, helplessly watching the gun

centered on Ali’s chest, made her feel like she was coming out of her

skin. She had to figure a way to get through those doors and down that

long empty hallway to shield Ali from this fucking maniac. Amped on

adrenaline, she quivered like a racehorse restrained inside the starting

cage, so wired she was sick with frustration.

“He’s getting pretty agitated, Captain,” one of the SWAT officers

reported urgently.

“Let’s hope she can talk him down, because if we have to go in it’s

going to get messy,” the SWAT commander replied.

v

“What’s your name?” Ali asked.

“Martin Campbell. Where’s my wife?”

• 124 •

Trauma alerT

For a second, the name didn’t register, then she put it together with

the comatose patient inside. Trina Campbell.

“Is Trina your wife?”

His face twisted angrily. “Yes, goddamn it. And someone took her.

Right out of our house.”

“She needed medical attention. She’s here getting taken care of.

Why don’t you put the gun—”

“I want to see her now. Now.” He paced back and forth, gripping

his head with one hand. The gun swung in wild arcs, the trajectory

sweeping across Ali’s chest. “What did she tell you? Lies, all lies.

Where is she?”

“Mr. Campbell, I’ll be happy to take you to your wife as soon as I

can. Will you please put down—”

“No,” he shouted, grabbing the gun with both hands. “No, no no

no. I’m not doing anything to help you! This is all your fault! Your

fault.”

Ali heard a sharp crack and her head exploded with white-hot fire.

She lost her balance and fell, trying to keep her body in front of the door

to the room where Wynter hid.

• 125 •

• 126 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer fOurTeeN

The SWAT commander shouted Go go go and Beau leapt to

her feet, pushing to the forefront of the first wave of armed

officers through the gray metal doors. The SWAT team swarmed the

gunman but she catapulted over the pile of flailing bodies and raced

down the hall. Ali lay on her side, one hand covering her face. Blood

streamed between her fingers, down her forearm, onto the floor.

“Ali,” Beau shouted, dropping to her knees next to her. “Ali, can

you hear me?”

“Wynter,” Ali gasped, dizzy from the pain in her head and fighting

not to vomit. Her stomach revolted when she tried to get to her knees

and she slumped down. “See about Wynter.”

Beau’s heart rate dropped out of the stratosphere the instant she

heard Ali’s voice. “The police will take care of her. Let me look at

you.”

“Beau?” Ali swiped at the blood in her eyes. “Beau?”

“Yes.” Beau yanked a blood pressure cuff out of her kit and

wrapped it around Ali’s arm. Shouts of Clear echoed in the hallway. BP

100 over 60, but she was bleeding at a good clip. She’d need fluid. Beau

whipped a tourniquet around Ali’s bicep, ripped the plastic sleeve off an

IV catheter, and threaded the needle into a vein beneath the smooth skin

of Ali’s forearm. She secured it with tape and connected the tubing to

a saline bag, all the while scanning Ali’s body for more signs of blood.

Had there been only one shot? More than one? “Where are you hit?”

“My head.” Ali squinted as the light stabbed into her skull. She

had diplopia. “Bit of a concussion, I think. Wynter’s in the locker room.

Make sure she’s all right.”

• 127 •

RADCLY fFE

“In a minute,” Beau muttered. She poured saline onto a gauze pad

while a SWAT officer pounded on the locker room door and announced

Police. “You’re sure you’re not hit anywhere else?”

“No…oh…Damn. I’m going to vomit.”

“Okay. It’s all right.” Beau quickly slid a small plastic basin close

to Ali’s face. Then she held Ali’s hair back with one hand and pressed

the gauze to a long gash in her left temple with the other. She supported

Ali’s head as Ali’s stomach emptied.

“God,” Ali gasped. “I hate doing that.”

Beau laughed. “Me too.”

“Help me sit up.”

“Not a chance, Doc. You need to stay down until we can get you

onto a stretcher.” Beau looked around and saw an African American

woman in scrubs hurrying out of the trauma bay in their direction.

“Bring a gurney over here, will you?”

“Yes, right away. I called a trauma alert but they’re not letting

anyone down here. Where’s Dr. Thompson?”

“Right here,” Wynter said, emerging from the locker room. When

she saw Ali, her face drained of color and she stumbled to a halt. “My

God, Ali!”

“I’m all right,” Ali said.

“Status?” Wynter said, her eyes on Beau.

“GSW to the head,” Beau said. “Vitals are stable. Alert and

oriented. We need a stretcher over here, somebody!”

The nurse and a firefighter pushed a stretcher over and Beau, still

supporting Ali’s neck, lifted her with their help.

“I’m fine.” Ali gripped Beau’s arm and tried to sit up on the

stretcher.

“You’re going to be fine, but you need to lie still until we look at

you.” Beau motioned for the nurse to hold the gauze on Ali’s forehead

while she kept her hand on Ali’s shoulder and pushed the stretcher into

the trauma bay. She looked down into Ali’s dark eyes, so relieved to

see them crackle with sharp intelligence and a little bit of temper that

she brushed the backs of her fingers over Ali’s cheek. “Try to be a good

patient.”

Ali’s lips parted in surprise, her eyes searching Beau’s. “I don’t

have time for this.”

• 128 •

Trauma alerT

“I know it’s hard,” Beau murmured. “Just hang on for a little

while.”

When they reached the trauma bay, Wynter sidled up to the

stretcher next to Beau. “Let me look at her.”

“No, page a resident,” Ali said. “Then call Pearce and have her

come and get you. Go home.”

“Ali. Don’t be ridiculous.” Wynter pulled on gloves and removed

the gauze. “You’ve got a twelve-centimeter open wound that needs to

be cleaned out and sutured. And you’re going to need a CAT scan. I’m

not going home.”

“Actually, Dr. Thompson, you are,” a deep male voice from behind

them said. “I’ll see to Dr. Torveau.”

“Ambrose,” Wynter said, clearly shocked.

“You’re all right, I take it?” His gaze swept from Wynter’s face

down her body.

“Yes,” Wynter replied.

“Pearce is on her way,” he said. “I suggest you lie down somewhere

until she arrives.”

“I’m fine—”

Ali grabbed Wynter’s hand. “Do it for me, sweetheart.”

Wynter closed her eyes and took a long breath. “All right. For

you.”

“Nurse,” the man said. “Please see that Dr. Thompson lies down.

Then prepare a suture tray for me. Size eights.”

“Of course, Dr. Rifkin,” the nurse replied.

Beau straightened as the man finally focused on her.

“I’ve got this now,” he said.

“That’s all right. I’m staying.”

His eyebrows rose minimally. “I see.”

Beau doubted that he did, but she didn’t care what he thought.

She didn’t recognize the patrician man in the expensive three-piece

suit, but his demeanor suggested he was used to being obeyed without

discussion. The nurse had called him Dr. Rifkin, so she figured he must

be the chief of surgery. Whoever he was didn’t matter to her. She wasn’t

leaving until she was certain Ali was all right.

“Beau, what are you doing here?” Ali asked.

“I was in the neighborhood, remember?”

• 129 •

RADCLY fFE

Ali smiled. “The last time I saw you, you weren’t on duty.”

“I like to be where the action is, and this is definitely the happening

place.”

Ali winced as Dr. Rifkin injected lidocaine into the edges of the

gouge along her hairline. Beau reached for her hand and held it, hiding

her own grimace of pain when Ali squeezed down hard on her fingers.

The bullet had torn through Ali’s scalp down to the bone, but apparently

had not penetrated intracranially. If it had, she would be dead. Just like

that, Ali would be gone. The few moments of communication outside

the elevator, the tenuous connection they had just begun to weave,

might have been destroyed. And the bright promise of what they might

have shared would have been obliterated forever. The thought of losing

the possibility of knowing Ali hit her hard, and she trembled.

“Beau,” Ali whispered. “Hey. Are you all right?”

Beau shook off the dark vision and forced a grin. “I’m not the one

lying on the stretcher. I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to stay,” Ali said.

“Nope, I don’t. But I’m going to.” Beau checked the surgeon’s

progress. He worked quickly and efficiently, cleansing the wound,

snipping away the tattered edges of muscle and subcutaneous tissue

that had been burned from the heat of the bullet’s passage. He handled

the instruments with deft, precise, rapid movements. He was good, and

she was glad.

The trauma doors slid open and the brunette Beau had seen with

Dr. Thompson in the lobby ran in. She wore maroon scrubs and looked

both disheveled and frantic. “Wynter! Where’s Wynter?” She skidded

to a stop next to the stretcher. “Oh, Jesus. Ali. Is Wynter—”

“Fine,” Dr. Rifkin said coolly. “Dr. Thompson is fine. Lying down.

I suggest you take her home.”

“Pearce,” Ali said steadily. “She’s absolutely perfect. She was

never in any danger. All the same, she’s going to be stressed. Keep an

eye on her tonight.”

“Dad,” Pearce said, appearing calmer now, “do you need a hand

here?”

“I think I can handle it.”

Pearce glanced at Beau, who was still holding Ali’s hand, then

leaned down and kissed Ali’s cheek. “How are you doing?”

• 130 •

Trauma alerT

“I’ve got a bitch of a headache, but otherwise I’m okay. Go find

Wynter. Take her home.”

“You sure? We can stay until you’re ready to leave. You can come

home with us.”

“No, thanks,” Ali said immediately. “You two just take care of

each other. I’ll be fine.”

“We will be admitting Dr. Torveau for observation,” Dr. Rifkin

said.

“No, we won’t,” Ali said. “I don’t need to be admitted. I wasn’t

unconscious. I’ve got a scalp wound. For God’s sake, Ambrose.”

“I can see that Ali gets home,” Beau said.

“I’m afraid that isn’t satisfactory,” Dr. Rifkin said. “A gunshot

wound produces significant concussive—”

“Concussive force waves that can cause tissue damage at a

distance from the wound itself. Yes, I know,” Beau said. “There’s a

small, but not insignificant, possibility that cerebral edema can result

from non-penetrating gunshot wounds to the cranium. There’s also a

risk of delayed bleeding. Therefore, the patient should be observed

with regular neuro checks for the first twenty-four hours. Which is why

I’m going to take her home and do that.”

“You most certainly are not,” Ali said.

“Very good. You’re a paramedic?” Dr. Rifkin asked, nimbly

snipping the end of the running suture he had used to close the superficial

layer of Ali’s scalp.

“That’s right. I’m in the new TER-OPS program.”

“Good. Then I’ll assume she’ll be in capable hands.” He snapped

off his gloves, dropped them into a red-lined wastebasket, and removed

his suit coat from the IV stand where he’d hung it before he had begun

work on Ali’s forehead. He addressed Pearce. “I’ll be here most of the

evening if there’s any problem. I can have the chief of OB come in to

see Wynter if need be.”

“Thank you, sir,” Pearce said, raking her hand through her hair.

She glanced at Ali one more time. “You sure you don’t want me to

stay?”

“Please,” Ali said. “Find your wife and take her home.”

Pearce smiled crookedly. “Yeah. I’ll do that.” She focused on

Beau. “You’ve got this?”

• 131 •

RADCLY fFE

“No problem.”

Ali sighed in exasperation. “I’m suffocating under a cloud of

testosterone.”

Beau grinned at Pearce. Pearce laughed.

“I have to report in with my captain,” Beau said to Ali. “I’ll catch

up to you in CAT scan.”

“You don’t have to do this.” Ali kept her voice low so that Ambrose

wouldn’t hear the conversation. “We both know I’m going to be fine.

And you’re absolutely not spending the night with me.”

“I’m taking you home,” Beau said. “We’ll figure out the rest of it

later.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“No, you probably don’t.” Beau smiled wryly. “But I’m going to

anyhow.”

v

Ali gripped the door handle of the taxi so hard her hand ached, but

at least the pain distracted her from her desire to vomit. She’d only just

gotten rid of the sour aftereffects of the first round with half a bottle of

hospital-issue Scope, and she wasn’t about to go through another bout.

Cool fingers slipped beneath her hair and circled the back of her neck.

She closed her eyes and let Beau draw her head down to her shoulder.

“Not much farther,” Beau murmured.

“I never realized how many potholes there were between Thirtyfourth and Twenty-second.”

The cab swung around the corner and Ali moaned quietly. Every

bump, every sway and swerve of the cab, every lurch and stop made

her feel as if her head were being severed from her cervical spine with

a dull machete. The only thing keeping her from vomiting in Beau’s

lap was her refusal to admit that she needed Beau’s help getting home.

Walking was difficult when the slightest bit of light felt like ice picks

being driven into her eyeballs, and objects swam and multiplied in front

of her. She definitely had a concussion.

“Tell him to stop,” Ali said urgently. “Beau, I’m going to—”

“Breathe deep. Slow and easy. Hold on.” Beau gently massaged

Ali’s neck and called to the cabbie, “Hey, buddy. Even it out a little bit,

will you.”

• 132 •

Trauma alerT

Ali kept her eyes closed and wrapped her arm around Beau’s

middle to counteract the movement of the cab. Beau was solid, and

as tender as she was strong. The fingers on Ali’s neck grounded her as

much as they soothed her. And Beau smelled good. She hadn’t closed

her jacket, and the soft cotton beneath Ali’s cheek smelled like a snowy

morning. Crisp and clean and fresh. And beneath that, a teasing scent

of musk and smoke, like a fire burning in a hearth on a deep winter’s

night. She clung tighter, fighting down another wave of pain and nausea,

and when she tilted her head, her mouth brushed Beau’s neck. Beau’s

stomach jumped beneath her arm.

“Sorry,” Ali murmured.

“It’s okay.” Beau moved her hand from Ali’s neck and curled her

arm around her shoulder. “Here we go. Ready?”

“God, yes. Get me out of this torture chamber.”

At the temper in Ali’s voice, Beau laughed softly and barely

managed not to rub her cheek against the top of Ali’s head. Ali felt

so damn good curled up against her. She couldn’t remember the last

time she’d held a woman, really held one. She could remember sex but

she couldn’t remember feeling this satisfied even after an orgasm. Ali’s

body was every bit as tight and beautiful as her sharp, strong mind. And

oh, Christ, her skin was so soft. Beau’s fingertips tingled from the light

caresses on her neck, and the electricity streamed all the way down to

the ache between her thighs.

“Wait here,” Beau said, hoping Ali couldn’t hear the hoarseness in

her voice. “I’ll come around and help you out.”

“Thanks,” Ali said faintly. “I’ll take you up on that. Changing

positions is not my strong suit at the moment. Be careful getting out.”

“Yes ma’am.” Beau handed the cab driver a twenty dollar bill, slid

out on the street side, and hustled around to the rear passenger door.

She opened it and leaned inside. “Ready?”

Ali edged carefully to the end of the seat and wrapped her arm

around Beau’s shoulders. “Ready.”

Beau slowly stood, looping her arm around Ali’s waist to steady

her. Ali leaned into her and gripped her hips. They were nearly facing

each other, their mouths kissing close. Beau swallowed, pleasure

thumping in her belly. “Okay?”

“Yes,” Ali said, anchoring herself in Beau’s steady gaze. “You’re

good at that.”

• 133 •

RADCLY fFE

“Thanks.”

Ali closed her eyes against the midday sun. “What, no smart

remark about how good you are at everything?”

“Not today.” Beau slowly guided them to the steps of the building

Ali said was hers. “I’ll wait until you’re feeling better so you can fully

appreciate my charms.”

Ali squeezed Beau’s hip. “Just get me inside and you’ll be relieved

of your duties.”

“I’m staying, and you’re in no shape to fight me,” Beau said.

“Keys?”

“Right-hand pocket of my coat.”

Beau slid her hand into Ali’s pocket, found the keys, and unlocked

the front door, all the while keeping one arm around Ali’s waist. She

wanted to steady her. And she just wanted to keep touching her.

“The door on the left,” Ali said.

Beau sorted through the keys, found the right one, and opened the

apartment. It was much bigger inside than she’d anticipated, and oldworld elegant. “This place is gorgeous.”

“Thanks.” Ali opened her eyes to soothing shadows and released

her hold on Beau. When she started to remove her greatcoat, Beau

gently caught her hands.

“Let me get that for you.” Beau lifted the coat from Ali’s shoulders

and hung it on a wooden coat rack inside the door. “Where’s your

bedroom?”

“I think I’ll just take the couch in the parlor.”

Beau cupped Ali’s elbow. “Okay. Where to?”

Ali rested both hands on Beau’s shoulders. “I really appreciate

everything you’ve done. When I realized it was you with me after I got

shot—that helped a lot. And when you stayed with me in the trauma

unit, bringing me home—all of it. But I’m all right now. And I need

you to go.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Ali,” Beau said softly. “Not for

anything I did back there in the hospital or just now. But your balance

is off, you’re photophobic, you’re nauseated and in pain. You need

someone. It might as well be me.”

Ali hesitated. Beau was right—she wasn’t going to be functioning

at full power for a few days, but tonight was the only real danger period.

She was stubborn, not stupid. She could call her friend Catherine, ask

• 134 •

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her to do a phone check every few hours. But if she did that, Catherine

would insist on coming over. She couldn’t call Wynter. Asking Ralph

was out of the question.

“No strings,” Beau said.

“I hope you mean that.”

Beau nodded. So did she, because Ali Torveau really needed to

come with a warning sign. Caution: This Woman May Be Hazardous

to Your Heart.

• 135 •

• 136 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer fifTeeN

Beau checked her watch. Twenty more minutes and she would

need to wake Ali. She’d given her a couple of Tylenol right

after they arrived back from the hospital, even though they both knew

Tylenol wasn’t going to touch her headache. With the possibility of

head injury, anything stronger was out of the question. After a while, Ali

had fallen asleep on the sofa while Beau sat nearby in a big overstuffed

chair.

The parlor had gradually grown darker as the afternoon had worn

on, but she hadn’t bothered to turn on a light. Surprisingly, she wasn’t

bored. Inactivity usually made her agitated and out of sorts, but she

found watching Ali sleep restful. Realizing the room had grown cold,

she got up and retrieved a multicolored wool throw from the back of the

sofa. Carefully, she covered Ali, who was still in the scrubs she’d worn

home from the hospital. Beau’s chest tightened at the sight of Ali’s pale

face and shadowed eyes. A purple bruise spread from the laceration on

her left temple down the side of her face. She looked vulnerable and

alone, and Beau had the overwhelming urge to stroke away the small

lines of pain that furrowed her brow.

As she leaned over, Ali opened her eyes.

“Beau?”

“Hey,” Beau said softly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Ali shifted, groaning at the crick in her neck and the pounding in

her head. “What time is it?”

“About six, I think.” Beau reached up to the fabric shade–covered

lamp on the end table. “Close your eyes. I’m going to turn this light

on.”

• 137 •

RADCLY fFE

A moment later, Ali opened her eyes and braced her arm on the

sofa, trying to push herself up. “I should fix you something to eat.”

“I don’t think so.” Beau gently clasped her arm, restraining her. “I

appreciate the offer, though. Are you hungry at all?”

“God, no.” Ali pressed a hand to her stomach. “Although I do feel

a little better in that regard.”

“Good. If you don’t mind me poking around in your kitchen, I can

find myself something to eat.”

“Ah, that might be a problem. I don’t do a lot of cooking.”

“I’ll order pizza, then. Will that bother you?”

“No, of course not.” Ali frowned. “You must be bored.”

“Not really. I thought I’d take a look in your library, if that’s okay

with you. I don’t get much of a chance to read. At the station house, it’s

pretty much TV, cards, or video games.”

Ali smiled wryly. “Sounds a little bit like a frat house—without

the beer and girls.”

Beau squatted down by the sofa so that Ali wouldn’t have to crane

her neck to see her. The move put them at eye level, and when she

folded her arms on the seat of the sofa and leaned forward, Ali’s eyes

were all she could see. Even filled with pain, they were beautiful. “I

suppose it is, a little. Definitely not a place for alone time.”

“You’re not the only woman, are you?”

“No, although there still aren’t many of us. About five percent of

firefighters are women.”

“You love it, though, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.” Beau thought about exactly why, something she

rarely did. She lived, she didn’t examine. “The group is tight—like

family. The work is important.” She grinned. “And fun.”

“How did you get to me so quickly today? They weren’t even

letting the trauma team in.”

Beau shrugged. “I came in with SWAT. That’s normal for medical

first responders in that kind of situation.”

Ali reached out and touched Beau’s Henley. She remembered the

softness of that shirt beneath her cheek and the panoply of scents she

now associated with Beau. She remembered too her fear for Wynter

and the pain in her head and the comfort of realizing Beau was there.

“Shouldn’t you have been wearing a vest?”

“Not standard issue,” Beau said gruffly. Ali’s fingertips might have

• 138 •

Trauma alerT

been hot cinders, because her chest was on fire from the light touch.

Her nipples tightened, tenting the body-hugging cotton. She took care

to breathe shallowly. If she took a deep breath, Ali’s fingertips would

brush her nipple, and if that happened, she might very well go insane.

As it was, it took all her willpower not to whine pathetically.

Ali couldn’t look away from the hard tips of Beau’s breasts. She’d

seen Beau’s breasts. She knew they were beautiful—from a distant

aesthetic perspective. But knowing her touch had caused this response

filled her with unexpected awe and wonder. She barely stopped herself

from rubbing her thumb over a nipple. “You were good in a crisis. I’m

not surprised.”

Beau had lost track of what they were talking about. She was

watching Ali’s face, watching her lips part and her eyes soften with

shades of arousal. She was turned on and Ali knew it, and Ali liked it.

Beau’s thighs trembled and she rocked forward onto her knees, catching

herself with one hand against the arm of the sofa. Ali’s palm brushed

her nipple and Beau bit back a groan.

“Sorry,” Ali whispered. Beau was breathing hard. So was she. She

had no business touching her at all and she yanked her hand away.

“You ready for some more Tylenol?” Beau asked, wondering if

she could marshal enough strength in her legs to stand up.

“That would probably be a good idea.”

Beau stood, clenching her jaw as her jeans chafed against swollen,

hypersensitive body parts. She was worse off than she’d been when she

used to come just from making out with her first girlfriend. She’d been

fifteen then, so she’d had an excuse. She didn’t have one now.

“Be right back,” Beau said.

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Beau entertained the idea of making a quick stop in the bathroom

to take the edge off. A minute would probably be more than enough

time. But she didn’t really want to. She’d had enough of disembodied

orgasms the last few days. Weird, how wanting someone to the point of

pain could feel so damn good.

She headed for the kitchen but a soft knock on the hall door brought

her up short. She glanced back at Ali, who lay on the couch with her

eyes closed, breathing unevenly. What the hell had just happened with

them?

The knock came again and Beau opened the door. A handsome

• 139 •

RADCLY fFE

white-haired man and an ugly bulldog stood in the hall. He was holding

something in a covered dish that smelled so good Beau’s mouth

immediately started to water.

“Hi,” she said.

“This is for Ali,” he said, handing her the casserole dish.

She automatically accepted it and stepped out into the hall, letting

the door close almost completely behind her. She lowered her voice.

“She’s resting right now.”

“I saw on TV about the trouble at the hospital. She’s all right?”

“She’ll be all right. She just needs to take it easy for a bit.”

The man appraised her steadily. The bulldog nudged her pants leg

with his flat, wet nose. Beau waited, sensing some kind of important

inspection was taking place.

“You work with her at the hospital?”

Beau shook her head. “Firefighter.”

“That’s hard work.”

“Sometimes.”

“You’re taking care of her tonight?”

“I am,” Beau said.

“She works too much. Doesn’t sleep enough. Forgets to eat.”

Beau lifted the casserole. “I don’t see how, not with something

like this around very often.”

He smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Beau.”

“I’m Ralph. That’s Victor.”

“Hello, Ralph. Nice to meet you.”

“Same here,” Ralph said. “We’ll be upstairs. Third floor. If you

need anything.”

“If I do, you’ll be the first one I call.”

Ralph nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned away. The bulldog

waddled after him. Beau went back into Ali’s apartment.

“You just had a special delivery,” Beau said when Ali slowly rolled

over and opened her eyes.

“Ralph is my tenant,” Ali said. “And my friend.”

“I figured that.” Beau indicated the casserole. “Does he do this

often?”

“Whenever I’m home.”

“You are one lucky woman.”

• 140 •

Trauma alerT

“Is Ralph all right?” Ali asked. “He…worries too much.”

“Seems fine,” Beau said. “He knows what happened. He said he

saw it on TV.”

“TV? That can’t be, can it?”

“I suppose someone could have bootlegged a copy of that

surveillance tape and sent it to the stations.” Beau frowned. The last

thing she needed was more publicity, and Ali would hate it. “I hope it’s

just a short clip. Why don’t I put this in the kitchen and we can check

the news.”

“If you don’t mind giving me a hand to my room, I’d like to take

a shower and wash my hair. Get some of the blood out.”

Beau flinched, remembering the blood running into Ali’s hair,

streaming down her face, dripping onto the floor. So close, God, that

bullet had come so close. The memory of what had happened, and the

thought of what might have been, made her shudder.

“Beau?”

“Absolutely,” Beau said quickly. “A shower is just what the doctor

ordered.”

v

Ali hesitated at the foot of the polished wooden staircase leading

to the bedrooms on the second floor. She wasn’t going to be able to

manage the stairs without help. She had just enough vertigo to make

her dangerously unsteady. As if reading her mind, Beau circled an arm

around her waist.

“Put your arm around my shoulders,” Beau said. “We’ll take it

slow.”

Ali hated being dependent on anyone, especially Beau. The last

thing she wanted was to appear vulnerable and needy to someone she

was trying to keep at a safe distance. She could hardly deny the physical

attraction between them—she was too old to lie to herself about her

own reactions and Beau hadn’t made any secret of her interest. Even

feeling half dead and seriously contemplating finishing the job herself

if the headache didn’t let up, she’d gotten aroused at the sight of Beau’s

arousal. Usually it took more than a woman’s nipples getting hard to

excite her, but that wasn’t the case with Beau Cross. Hell, just seeing

her eyes smolder was enough to make her wet.

• 141 •

RADCLY fFE

But falling down a flight of stairs because she was too stubborn

to put her arm around Beau was just plain idiocy. Besides, she wasn’t a

teenager. She could control herself, even if her pounding head couldn’t

override her libido.

“Thanks.” Ali looped her arm around Beau’s shoulders. They

ascended one step at a time. Her breast fit smoothly against Beau’s, and

goddamn it, her nipple instantly became erect along with every other bit

of erogenous tissue in her body. Beau must secrete more pheromones

than any other woman in the known universe.

“Okay?” Beau asked when Ali stumbled on a step.

“Fine.” Ali hissed through clenched teeth. “My bedroom is the

first door on the right.”

Beau pushed the door open. “Here we go. Bathroom?”

“In the back on the left. I can take it from here.”

“I’ll turn the shower on and then wait out here until you get in. The

heat might make you dizzy. I don’t want to leave you in there alone.”

“You’re not coming in the shower with me, Cross.”

Beau grinned at the snap in Ali’s eyes. “While the idea is really

tempting, I don’t think today is the right time.”

Ali laughed despite herself. “You mean there’s ever not a good

time for you?”

“When I get naked with you,” Beau said with total seriousness, “I

don’t want to have to hold anything back.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Ali said softly.

“Pretty sure of what I want,” Beau answered, even though she

wasn’t sure at all. She wanted Ali, she knew that. She just wasn’t certain

what else she wanted.

Ali had never seen a woman look at her the way Beau looked at

her. As if she were the only woman in the world, and the only woman

who would satisfy her. For one crazy insane instant she wanted to be

the only one who could satisfy that dark edge of desire in Beau’s eyes.

She backed up a step.

“I’m going to take that shower.”

“Good idea.” Beau stepped around her and walked into the

bathroom.

Ali heard the shower come on a few seconds later and followed

her. The bathroom was large for a house of this vintage, but hardly

• 142 •

Trauma alerT

spacious. Even with Beau leaning her hips against the vanity, they were

within touching distance.

“I can take it from here,” Ali said.

“I’m going to come back in after you’re in the shower. If you get

dizzy it’s not going to do any good if I’m in the other room. You can’t

afford to fall.”

“I know. I’ll call you when I’m in the shower.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me to close my eyes when I come back

in?”

“I’m hardly modest. Besides, would you?”

Beau grinned. “I’m hardly that honorable.”

“Get out. I don’t want to use up all the hot water.”

Laughing, Beau backed out of the room. Ali undressed, careful not

to bend over and risk getting any more dizzy. The last thing she wanted

to do was end up on the bathroom floor naked. She stepped into the

shower, closing the glass doors behind her. They fogged immediately,

affording her some degree of privacy.

“Okay,” she called above the rushing water. A few seconds later

she saw a shadow move in the bathroom. Beau. Despite the mist on the

glass, she was sure Beau could see the outline of her naked body. “Eyes

closed?”

“No.” Beau’s voice was hoarse.

“You’re right. You have no honor.”

“How do you feel?” Beau asked.

How did she feel? The events of the last eight hours ricocheted

through her mind—the soul-numbing horror of seeing a gun pointed

at Wynter, the terror of imagining another woman she loved being cut

down, the helpless fury at the senseless deaths she lived with every

day. She saw Sammy, laughing with joy while regaling her with tales

of some new adventure. She saw Sammy, cold and still on a steel table.

She could have lost Wynter, but she hadn’t. She might have died herself,

but she didn’t. She was alive, and she’d won, and she felt reckless and

free. Ali pumped bath gel into her hand from the receptacle built into

the tile wall and turned to face the glass door. She smoothed the gel

over her breasts and belly. Beyond the glass, she could just make out

the image of Beau’s broad shoulders and narrow hips but her features

were hazy, as if in a dream.

• 143 •

RADCLY fFE

“All things considered, I feel very good,” Ali finally said. She

cupped her breasts, working up a frothy lather. “You can probably

leave. I think I’m all right.”

“I’d rather not.” Beau’s voice shook. “You look beautiful in

there.”

Ali flushed at the unmistakable arousal in Beau’s voice. She liked

knowing she excited her, and she didn’t have the energy or strength to

pretend otherwise. Her nipples pebbled and she brushed her thumbs

over them. “I rather like having you out there, actually.”

“Do you know I’m watching?”

Ali cradled her breasts, squeezed gently. Her stomach fluttered.

“Yes.”

“Do you know what that’s doing to me?” Beau asked.

Ali leaned back against the shower wall, her thighs suddenly

softening. She didn’t want to think about Sammy or the senseless fickle

unfairness of life. She didn’t want to relive those seconds when she’d

imagined losing Wynter and her baby. She couldn’t bear the pain in

her heart and her mind and her body one instant longer. All she wanted

was to be free of sorrow for just a few merciful moments. Was that too

much to ask?

“Before I ask you to tell me,” Ali said, knowing she sounded

breathless, “I think you’d better leave.”

“Would that be so bad? If I told you?” Beau said roughly, as

if hearing Ali’s thoughts instead of her words. “For me to say I’m

imagining my hands where yours are right now? That I’m caressing

your breasts, rubbing my thumbs over your nipples?”

Ali’s hands tightened on her breasts, her fingers finding her nipples.

When she realized what she was doing, she dragged in a shaky breath.

“If one of us doesn’t stop, we’re going to regret this.”

“Why?” Beau stepped closer to the shower and pressed her palm

against the glass. “I won’t open this door, I promise.”

Ali fit her hand over Beau’s on the opposite side of the glass,

astonished and shocked to see her fingers shaking. “I believe you. I’m

just not sure I won’t ask you to.”

Beau’s hand disappeared. “I’m going into the other room. You

need to recover from today. And the first time I touch you, I don’t want

there to be any regrets.”

• 144 •

Trauma alerT

“Beau,” Ali whispered, not sure what she wanted to say. I’m sorry.

I want you. Go. Stay.

When Beau’s shadow flickered and vanished, Ali’s disappointment

was mingled with relief. She was in no shape to entertain sex. But as

she soaped her stomach and thighs, her body tingled and throbbed. She

began to think Wynter might be right. Fun. Just fun. She could handle

that, couldn’t she?

• 145 •

• 146 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer sixTeeN

Beau sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the mattress with

both hands, and listened to the shower run in the other

room. Walking out of there had been harder than walking into a

burning building. She was used to running toward danger, lived for the

adrenaline rush of facing life-threatening peril and making it through

in one piece. The resulting high was close to sexual and the satisfaction

often greater. She’d learned to counteract uncertainty and fear and

vulnerability by taunting death and winning, day after day. Ali Torveau

was more dangerous than a five-alarm fire. She was inside her head,

under her skin, burrowing deeper inside her every day—challenging

everything she thought she wanted and needed. Making her hungry in

a mindless, wild animal kind of way.

Seeing the outline of Ali’s body through the water-streaked glass

had been like viewing a living work of art. The fall of her breasts,

the curve of her hip, the sensuous glide of her limbs had been nearly

mystical, but Beau’s reaction had been anything but ethereal. She’d

had plenty of experience with women—wild romps and marathon lost

weekends and even a few slow tender nights, but she’d never wanted to

touch a woman so bad the ache in her belly brought tears to her eyes. If

she’d opened the shower door, she doubted she could’ve lasted through

a kiss. She either would have lost control completely and come just

from touching Ali or taken her too hard and too fast. That wasn’t the

way she wanted it to happen, even when Ali was whole and healthy,

but she couldn’t seem to muster her usual command. She was used

to setting the pace, judging how fast and how hard—or slow—to go,

but everything got away from her when she just looked at Ali. She

• 147 •

RADCLY fFE

definitely couldn’t risk touching her now, not when Ali was injured.

She was too close to meltdown.

Christ, what the hell was the matter with her? Why was she even

thinking about touching her? She’d come home with Ali to take care

of her. Not fuck her. She dropped her head into her hands and dug her

fingers into her scalp, trying to force some reason back into her lustclouded head.

When her cell rang, she slid it out of her pocket and, head still

down, eyes closed, said, “Cross.”

“That was you on the television, wasn’t it? Right in the middle of

some kind of gun battle?” Jilly sounded half angry and half frantic.

“It wasn’t a gun battle—”

“You didn’t think to call me?”

Beau stopped herself from making an excuse. “I’m sorry.”

“You know what, Beau, sometimes that’s just not good enough.

Just because you don’t want anyone to care about you, doesn’t mean

we don’t.”

“Jilly,” Beau sighed wearily. Her sister so rarely was truly angry

with her, and even when she was, the anger almost always stemmed

from hurt. “I don’t mean to hurt you, but haven’t you spent enough of

your life worrying about me?”

“It doesn’t stop, Beau. Don’t you get it? When you love someone,

the caring and the worrying don’t stop.”

“Maybe I’ve had my fill of being worried over for a lifetime.” Beau

was completely twisted up in knots. She was aroused and frustrated and

exhausted from worrying about first Bobby and then Ali. And now she

was hurting the one person she never wanted to hurt again. “Maybe one

of these days you’ll realize I’m not worth worrying over.”

“Beau, damn it—”

“I’m sorry, Jilly. I’ll talk to you later.” Beau disconnected the call

and rubbed the phone against her forehead, wondering if she’d made a

mistake moving into Jilly’s house, into Jilly’s life again. She’d missed

being close to her, but the distance she’d cultivated over the years,

using her job as an excuse, was easier than the guilt.

“Are you all right?” Ali said from the doorway, although it was

pretty obvious that Beau wasn’t all right. She looked and sounded

stricken. Whoever Jilly was, she was more than just a casual girlfriend.

Ali tightened the sash on her terry-cloth robe, as if the thin cotton barrier

• 148 •

Trauma alerT

would insulate her from a truth she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

But she’d promised herself when Sammy died, she’d never hide from

the hard truths again. “You should go, Beau. Take care of…your life.”

“I owe you an apology,” Beau said, sliding the phone into her

pocket. “I was way out of line in there.”

Ali sat down next to Beau but didn’t touch her. “I’m trying to

figure out what you’re apologizing to me for, but I’m not coming up

with anything.”

Beau shot her a sidelong glance. Damp dark tendrils of hair curled

along her neck. Even in the dim light cast by the bedside lamp, Beau

could tell she was bone white. The purple bruise extended almost to her

jaw. Rising, she pulled back the covers. “You should be in bed.”

“Answer the question first.”

“You were shot this morning, for Christ’s sake,” Beau grated. “I

brought you home so you could get some rest. I stayed to make sure

you were going to be all right, and I ended up trying to seduce you.”

“Who was on the phone, Beau?”

“What?”

“The phone call. Just now. Who were you talking to? The woman

I saw you with in the hospital? The redhead?”

“Yes, but—”

“From the sound of it, you need to be somewhere else right now.

I told you, I’m fine.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. How did we get

from what happened between us a few minutes ago to talking about my

sister?”

“Your sister?” Ali did a quick mental reconstruction of the redhead.

The light in the ICU had been dim, and she hadn’t studied her carefully,

but recollecting the shape of her face, the angle of her jaw, the cant of

her nose—she could see it. An older, slightly softer version of Beau.

“Your sister.”

“Jilly. Right. What about her?”

“From what I overheard of your conversation, she’s upset.”

Beau sighed. “She saw something on television about the shooting

and recognized me. I should’ve called her, but I didn’t. If I’d known

they were going to keep showing that damn tape, I would have.”

“Is there anyone else you should have called?” Ali asked.

Beau looked her in the eye. “No.”

• 149 •

RADCLY fFE

Her sister. Ali smiled inwardly and carefully stood up. She really

wasn’t ready to be ambulatory, and even being upright was a strain.

“You’re right. I should be in bed. I’m going to take this robe off. Close

your eyes, turn your back, or don’t. Your choice.”

“Jesus,” Beau whispered, and quickly turned her back. She heard

the rustle of covers and envisioned Ali’s long, naked legs sliding

between the white sheets. She imagined cool cotton and warm flesh,

conjured the faint mist of excitement and scent of arousal. She twitched

with a full body shudder.

“Safe now.”

Beau shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans but kept her

back turned. Safe? Not even a little bit. “I’m going downstairs to have

some of whatever Ralph brought. Are you hungry?”

“No, thanks.” Ali patted the mattress beside her. “Sit down for a

minute, before you go.”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“What are you afraid of?”

Beau half turned. Ali lay propped against the pillows, the sheet

tucked beneath her arms. The swell of her breasts beneath the thin white

fabric was unmistakable. The twitch became a series of sharp electrical

shocks. She was surprised Ali couldn’t see her shivering. “I just think

we need a time-out.”

Ali laughed. “All right. You take a time-out and I’ll talk.”

“Fine,” Beau said, but she remained standing.

“For starters, you weren’t doing the seducing while I was in the

shower. Secondly, when I said we should stop, you not only did, you

left. All points to you. No apologies needed.”

“We shouldn’t have gotten to the point where you had to say stop,”

Beau said.

“Well, that was my choice. Not yours.” Ali shrugged. “If I hadn’t

known that my body wasn’t up to anything vigorous, I don’t think I

would have stopped.”

“I was about a heartbeat away from going through that door,”

Beau said darkly. “I was hanging on by a thread.”

“Really,” Ali said casually, feeling anything but casual. She knew

for certain she’d never threatened any woman’s control. She was

fairly sure that the women she’d been with had been satisfied by the

experience. She recognized an orgasm when she was in the presence of

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one, but her mutually pleasant physical experiences with other women

had been—well, pleasant. She wasn’t ignorant of her motives. She

avoided intimacy. Mostly that was her choice, but maybe she’d been

cheating herself by restricting her physical intimacy just because she

didn’t want an emotional connection. Beau was completely different

than any woman she’d ever been involved with. Volatile, intense,

physically hypnotic. When Beau lost control, the result would be a

conflagration. “I think, under the right circumstances, I’d like to see

that thread snap.”

Beau felt the blood drain out of her head and pound between her

legs. “What happened to I’m never going to sleep with you, no matter

what, come hell or high water?”

“Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

Beau narrowed her eyes. “Let me get this straight. Now you want

to have sex with me?”

“Apparently, yes.” Ali struggled not to smile. Beau was darkly and

a little frighteningly seductive, but her obvious consternation made her

seem younger, almost innocent. If she could have moved her head from

the pillow without fear of increasing the cannon barrage beating against

the back of her eyeballs, she would have grabbed a handful of that

teasingly tight shirt and pulled Beau down next to her. She wanted to kiss

her. She wasn’t usually the aggressor in sexual situations. She wasn’t

passive in bed, but she just didn’t think about sex enough to initiate an

encounter with her dates. Once aroused, she’d carry through. But to be

motivated by her own desire was something new and fascinating.

“I think definitely yes,” Ali repeated.

“Well, you know what?” Beau felt as if she’d tripped and fallen

down the rabbit hole. “We’re not changing the rules now. I promised

you no sex for six dates. And we haven’t had even one yet.”

“And you’re going to tell me you’re serious?” Ali raised a brow.

“You’ve got less than a week to win your bet.”

“I don’t care about the damn bet.” Beau ran a hand through her

hair, frustrated and completely off balance. She should have been

happy. The woman she’d been thinking about nonstop for days, who

was starring in her dreams and her waking fantasies, who’d gotten her

so hot she wanted to come in her jeans still, was telling her she wanted

to have sex with her. So why wasn’t she planning how to get Ali into

bed the minute she had a clean bill of health? Instead, she was standing

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here arguing with her, telling her that they had to date first. And not just

one date, but six!

Beau’s discomfort was apparent, and Ali had a moment of clarity.

She might not have taken any narcotics, but her judgment was definitely

askew. The entire day had a surreal quality to it. She’d faced down a

man with a gun who was threatening one of the most important people

in her life. She had not feared death, preferring oblivion to another

intolerable loss. Now she was practically soliciting sex from a woman

who was exactly the kind of woman she avoided getting involved

with. Diagnosis: she was having a paradoxical reaction to a near-death

experience. Half joking, she said, “Obviously, my head injury is worse

than I thought. I apologize for my inappropriate overtures. Let’s just

agree that whatever happened in there was mutual, harmless, and best

forgotten.”

Beau shook her head. Some genies were not so easy to put back

into the bottle. “Pretending nothing happened is not that simple.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“When you’re recovered,” Beau said, “I want to take you out to

dinner or dancing or a movie. Whatever you’d like.”

“You’re serious. You’re asking me for an old-fashioned date?” Ali

hadn’t expected Beau to take the traditional approach. She was sure

casual, and brief, was Beau’s usual modus operandi. While that wasn’t

Ali’s usual style, in this particular case, that MO was exactly what she

wanted.

“Yes, I’m asking you for a date. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“I’m not looking for anything complicated,” Ali warned, wanting

to be totally transparent about her motives.

“Dinner isn’t usually a complicated affair,” Beau said. “Does Thai

work for you?”

“Yes, but—”

“I start back on rotation tomorrow,” Beau said. “I’ve got B shift

this week. Twenty-four hours on, twenty-four hours off until Sunday.

I’m off Friday night. If you’re feeling all right by then, I’ll pick you up

at seven.”

“I should be back to work in a day or two, and I’m off Friday

night.” Ali frowned, wondering how she had ended up agreeing to a

date with a woman she’d sworn she would never consider seeing. “How

much is your bet with Bobby?”

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“Can we please forget about the bet?”

“How much?”

Beau ground her teeth together. “A hundred bucks.”

“You can buy a very nice bottle of wine for that,” Ali noted.

“Since you will be collecting and it’s really my idea, I expect to share

the spoils.”

“I’ll be sure to make Bobby pay up before Friday, then.” Beau

walked to the bedside lamp. “I’m going to turn this off so you can get

some sleep. I’ll wake you in a couple of hours.”

“I think you can safely go home,” Ali said.

“Is your headache gone?”

“Almost.”

“Define ‘almost’ on a scale of one to ten, ten being a headache

severe enough to require narcotics—even though you can’t have any—

and one being pain free.”

Defeated, Ali closed her eyes. “Go have dinner, then.”

“Still a ten, huh?”

“Afraid so, but my stomach is better.”

“Good, that’s progress.” Beau switched off the light. The hall

light beyond the bedroom door cast shadows cross the floor. Ali’s face

disappeared in shadow and Beau instantly felt lonely. She wanted more

than anything in the world to lie down next to her. To hold her, to watch

over her while she slept, to soothe away her pain. Instead, she lightly

caressed Ali’s cheek with her fingertips. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

Ali turned her face into Beau’s hand. Her strong, cool fingers felt

good against her cheek. “All right. And, Beau?”

“Yeah?” Beau said softly.

“Thanks for being here.”

“My pleasure.” Beau stood still, feeling Ali’s light breaths caress

her palm. When she was sure Ali had fallen asleep, she carefully left the

room. Leaving her was just about the hardest thing she’d ever done.

• 153 •

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chapTer seveNTeeN

You don’t know anything about him, Ali,” Sammy said with

a dismissive wave of her hand. “So he rides a motorcycle,

so what? Just because you don’t approve—God, you act like Mom

sometimes.”

“Maybe I don’t happen to think motorcycles are the safest mode

of transportation—”

Sammy’s laughter filled the bedroom. “Mode of transportation?

Can you hear yourself?” She flopped back on her bed, arms spread

wide. Her tank top pulled up, exposing her smooth tanned stomach and

the bejeweled piercing in her navel. A death’s head tattoo stretched up

from the waistband of her dangerously low-cut jeans. “I know you’ve

decided you’re going to be a doctor, but do you have to sound like one

of Mom and Dad’s uptight country club friends already?”

“Come on, Sammy, that’s not fair. I know Eddie rides with the

Warriors. They’re a biker gang.”

“He only rides with them on the weekends—for fun. He’s got a

regular job at the paper mill.”

“I saw his bike outside the Pit Stop last night. You were with him

there, weren’t you? That’s a Warrior hangout. Everyone knows it.”

“I don’t believe you. What did you do, follow me?” Sammy jumped

up off the bed. “I’m not a kid and you are not in charge of my life. I am

over eighteen, you know.”

“Well, you don’t act like it. Can’t you think about what you’re

doing once in a while? Instead of just doing what feels good?”

“You know what, Ali? Maybe you have such a hard time seeing

me with Eddie because you’re too scared to go after what you really

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want.” Sammy snatched her jacket and stormed toward the door. “If

you weren’t so afraid of feeling anything at all, you might actually have

a good time once in a while.”

“Sammy!”

…“Sammy!”

The gun swung in a slow arc, zeroing in on Sammy. Ali raced across

the endless expanse of shimmering blacktop, screaming for Sammy to

get down. Her words blew back in her face and her legs wouldn’t move.

Sammy’s long black hair, a veil of silk, whipped about in the wind. Her

face tilted upward to a cerulean sky and she was laughing, vibrant

and beautiful. Ali stretched out her hand, her pleas strangling in her

chest. Scarlet blossomed on Sammy’s throat and her smile faltered. She

turned her head slowly in Ali’s direction, her eyes wide and wounded.

Frightened and in pain.

“Sammy! Oh, God, Sammy!”

Ali jerked awake, the agony in her heart far greater than the pain

in her head. She moaned softly.

“Easy. It’s okay now.” Beau sat on the edge of the bed and stroked

Ali’s hair. “I’m going to turn the light on.”

“No, don’t do that.” Ali scrubbed at her face and the tears that wet

her cheeks. “Please.”

“Okay,” Beau said softly, her chest hurting with the echoes of Ali’s

anguish. She wanted to do something, anything, to comfort her. “Can I

get you some water? Some more Tylenol?”

“I’m all right. Just a bad dream.” Ali sensed Beau hesitate in

the dark. The dream-Sammy became Wynter, and as the events of the

morning replayed, the terror she hadn’t allowed herself to experience

rose to choke her now. In the next breath, she was back in the morgue,

identifying Sammy’s bullet-ridden body. The anguish was just as fresh

as it had been that day. Every breath hurt. She concentrated on Beau’s

hip pressing against her arm. The heat and weight of Beau’s presence

offered quiet comfort.

“If you want to talk about it…” Beau said.

“Sammy and I argued that afternoon. She left angry at me,” Ali said

into the silence. “She was supposed to be on her way to the admissions

office at the community college to confirm her fall semester courses.

That’s not where she went.”

• 156 •

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“What did she do instead?” Beau asked.

“She hooked up with her boyfriend—Eddie. We lived in California

then, outside Sacramento. They rode out into the hills to a biker bar that

was supposed to be in neutral territory. I guess it wasn’t.”

“That’s where she was shot?”

Ali shivered even though the room was warm, and she pulled the

sheet up to cover her breasts. Her skin felt hot, but inside she was ice.

“In the parking lot outside. Eddie and Sammy along with two other men

and one woman. A rival gang cut them down like cattle. Sammy, the

other girl, and one of the guys died at the scene. Eddie had a shoulder

wound, nothing serious. The other guy died in the hospital a few days

later.”

Beau found Ali’s hand in the dark and held it. “I’m so sorry.”

“She shouldn’t have been there. If we hadn’t fought, she wouldn’t

have been.”

“She might have hooked up with Eddie and ended up there

anyhow,” Beau suggested gently.

“I shouldn’t have pushed her. I didn’t believe she really cared

about the guy. I thought she was just going out with him to piss off our

parents.” Ali laughed. “Pissing off the parents was one of Sammy’s

favorite pastimes.”

“She sounds like a handful.”

Ali laughed. “Oh, she was. Totally the opposite from me. I just

wanted to get by unnoticed until I could get through college. Then I

figured I’d just keep going and never look back. There was nothing

there for me, except Sammy.”

“So you didn’t leave home when you started college?”

“No. I turned down a couple of pretty good scholarships, to my

parents’ great disapproval, but I wanted to stay around until Sammy got

her life on track.” Ali closed her eyes. “She would have, I know she

would have. She was smart and talented. Except she didn’t have time.

God, what a waste.”

Beau didn’t think she would have had the strength at eighteen or

nineteen to sacrifice something she wanted for someone else’s welfare.

Ali amazed her, and it hurt to know she was hurting. Hoping to convey

her support, she carefully switched around on the bed until her back

was against the headboard. She curled her arm over the top of Ali’s

pillow, but she didn’t touch her or try to pull her closer. The covers kept

• 157 •

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their bodies effectively separated, but when Ali shifted and her cheek

brushed Beau’s chest, Beau let her fingertips rest on Ali’s left shoulder.

Ali draped her arm over Beau’s middle in a move so automatic, Beau

doubted Ali even knew what she was doing. The contact was so

unexpectedly good, Beau stiffened in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” Ali murmured, pulling her arm away. “Is it still

sensitive?”

Beau grasped Ali’s wrist and drew her arm back across her

stomach. “Is what still sensitive?”

“That scar.”

“How did you—oh, that morning in the locker room.” Beau’s

initial reaction was to ignore the subject. She’d worked very hard to

keep her past from influencing her present. Most of the time when she

went to bed with women, if she even got to the point where she was

naked, her bedmates didn’t ask or didn’t really want to know about

her scars. Not that she ever actually told them the truth, when she did

explain. But this wasn’t like those other times. She wasn’t about to have

sex with a stranger. This wasn’t even about sex.

She was lying with Ali in her arms, surrounded by darkness and

nothing between them but a thin layer of covers and a decade of secrets.

Maybe she wanted to answer because Ali had just told her about Sammy,

or maybe because the secrets had gotten too heavy to carry. Maybe she

just wanted Ali to know some small truth about her. She didn’t know.

“It’s weird. It doesn’t exactly hurt, but sometimes if someone touches

it a certain way or my bunkers rub against it, I get this twisty feeling in

my stomach.”

“Hyperesthesia.” Ali kept her arm still. “Is it all right now?”

Beau pressed Ali’s arm more firmly against her belly. “It’s fine. I

like the way you feel.”

“How long has it been? Eventually, the scar should become

desensitized.” When Beau didn’t immediately answer, Ali said, “Sorry.

I didn’t mean to get personal.”

“I think I was hoping we could get a little personal,” Beau said.

Ali chuckled softly and rested her cheek on Beau’s shoulder. “You

can’t help yourself, can you?”

“You think everything I say is a line, but it isn’t,” Beau whispered,

brushing her fingertips up and down the smooth contours of Ali’s arm.

Her shoulder was warm where Ali’s head rested. She could smell her

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shampoo and the sweet tang of her skin and all the fragrances unique

to her. She never lingered in bed with a woman. Beds were for sex,

and after the sex, she slept alone. But right now, she couldn’t think of

anything she wanted more than to stay right where she was with Ali in

her arms for the rest of the night and the next day and as long after that

as she could. She wanted to make love to her, and her belly tightened

at the thought. She shifted her legs to ease the pressure that pulsed

between her thighs.

“What just happened?” Ali asked, circling her hand on Beau’s

stomach. “You’re hard as a board right now.”

“You might not want to do that,” Beau said tightly.

“Hurt?”

“Christ, no,” Beau said through clenched teeth. “Just the

opposite.”

“Ah.” Ali stilled her motion. She wasn’t a tease, and she was in

no condition to follow through. “Are you going to tell me how you got

hurt?”

Wanting to direct the conversation away from her impending

arousal-induced heart attack, Beau said, “It was a long time ago. Ten

years, just about.”

“That long,” Ali said. “You must’ve been young. Someone shot

you when you were a teenager?”

“Shot me?” Beau shook her head. “What made you think that?”

“Turn on the light,” Ali said.

“Are you sure? Your headache—”

“Never mind my headache. I’ll survive.” Ali gave Beau a light

squeeze. “Go ahead, turn on the light.”

After she did, Beau cupped Ali’s jaw in her palm, tilting her face

so she could see her. “What’s going on?”

“Incisions like the one in your abdomen are almost always done

under emergency conditions. When you have to get in really fast.

Usually, that equals gunshot or stab wound. I hate thinking about

anyone harming you that way.”

“That’s not what it was.” Beau had to look away from Ali’s dark,

unwavering gaze. She wanted to tell her everything, but she knew

better. She didn’t want pity, and she especially did not want absolution.

But she couldn’t turn away from her completely. She pulled her shirt

out of her jeans and guided Ali’s hand beneath it, pressing Ali’s palm

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to the ridge of scar tissue in her abdomen. The heat of Ali’s flesh bored

into her and she caught her breath.

“Tell me,” Ali said, as if knowing that Beau needed permission.

“I got elbowed during a basketball game my senior year in high

school. Ruptured my spleen.”

Ali tensed. “You had a splenectomy?”

“Yep.”

“It’s pretty hard to rupture a normal spleen with direct trauma,”

Ali said, keeping her voice neutral.

Beau should have known Ali wouldn’t take the explanation at face

value. Hell, she was talking to a trauma surgeon. “My spleen wasn’t

normal. It was enlarged. A lot.”

“Hey. Look at me.”

Beau’s blue eyes were stormy, conflicted, pained.

“Whatever you tell me isn’t going to change how I think about

you,” Ali said.

“You think?” Beau shook her head angrily. “It has with just about

everyone else in my life.”

“I’m a doctor, Beau.”

“Hell, that makes it even worse.”

Ali smiled. “I’ve got a pretty good idea what you’re going to tell

me. There just aren’t that many things—in a, what, seventeen-year-old

female?—to cause splenomegaly so severe a direct blow would cause

a rupture.” She flinched inwardly, knowing how great the likelihood

was that Beau could have bled to death from that kind of injury.

And there had to have been something much more serious going on.

“Leukemia?”

“Close.” Beau hadn’t told anyone. Bobby didn’t know. None

of her squad knew. She couldn’t stand to be seen as physically weak

or, worse, someone who needed to be protected in the field. But she

believed Ali, had to believe her, because she had to tell her. “Hodgkin’s.

I had Hodgkin’s disease.”

Ali had been prepared for the answer, but she reflexively spread

her fingers over the scar on Beau’s abdomen, trying to protect the

fragile, vital organs within. Mentally, she categorized and calculated

and prognosticated. The Hodgkin’s had to have been advanced to

present the way it had. The thought made her a little nauseous, and she

pushed away the picture of Beau so ill. Beau needed to know she saw

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her strength, not her illness. “How could you possibly still have been

playing basketball?”

“Everyone thought it was mono, and I was on track for a basketball

scholarship at Stanford. I needed to play. I wanted to play.” Beau

laughed a little raggedly. “No one could’ve kept me from playing.”

“I can’t believe you kept going that long,” Ali murmured. “You

had to have been in severe pain.”

“I’m pretty stubborn. Pain doesn’t bother me much.”

“I’ve noticed that. What happened to basketball and your

scholarship?”

“I was sick for a while. A couple of years.” Beau’s mouth twisted

before she blanked her expression. “By the time I was ready to think

about college, I’d already lost any chance at a sports scholarship. I

hadn’t played in almost three years and it took me a few more after

that to get back into shape. I decided if I wasn’t going to play college

basketball, I could get everything I needed at City College. As soon as

I finished, I joined the PFD.”

“I suppose you couldn’t think of anything more physically

demanding or dangerous to do?” Ali knew she sounded critical but she

couldn’t keep the edge out of her voice. Even if Beau’s cancer was

cured, and Ali had to believe it was—the thought of anything else was

too impossible to even consider—with no spleen, Beau was at lifelong

risk for overwhelming sepsis from relatively minor infections. Her

immune system would never be normal. The constant physical stress,

risk of toxic chemical exposure, and sheer danger of her job would be

a strain on anyone. For her, the risks were multiplied. “What are you

trying to prove?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with me,” Beau said stiffly. “I

can do whatever I need to do.”

“I’m sorry, I know you can.” Ali’s fear and anger evaporated

as soon she recognized the pain underlying Beau’s defensive pride.

God, Beau had lost so much at such a young age—her sports career,

her college dreams, not to mention the assault on her body. Ali ached

to comfort her and didn’t think about what she was doing when she

brushed a kiss over the underside of Beau’s jaw. She caressed Beau’s

stomach with the hand that still rested beneath Beau’s shirt.

Beau groaned at the exquisite touch of Ali’s fingers on her skin,

and when she turned her head, Ali’s mouth was there. She couldn’t not

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claim a kiss. With a quiet sigh she sank into the heat of Ali’s mouth,

gently slipping her tongue inside, stroking softly as Ali arched into her.

Even with the covers between them, Beau felt Ali’s thigh slide onto

hers. She twisted to face her, body to body, and Ali’s leg pressed against

her crotch. When Ali’s fingernails scratched light circles on her belly,

a torch ignited in her loins and her hips jerked. She pulled her mouth

away from the kiss.

“Ali, stop,” Beau gasped.

“What’s wrong?” Ali murmured, captivated by the softness

of Beau’s lips, the sweet taste of her mouth. Kissing her was better

than any narcotic—she couldn’t feel her headache, she couldn’t feel

the terror of almost losing Wynter, and she couldn’t feel the agony of

Sammy’s death. She couldn’t feel anything at all except pleasure, and

she didn’t want to think about why kissing Beau was different than

kissing any other woman she’d ever been with. For one of the few times

in her life, she didn’t want to think at all.

“We can’t do this now.”

“Just a kiss,” Ali whispered against Beau’s mouth, teasing Beau’s

lips with her tongue. She rose up slightly on her elbow and smoothed

her hand up and down Beau’s abdomen, feeling the muscles twitch

and jump beneath her fingers. “Mmm, the big bad firefighter likes that,

doesn’t she.”

“God, Ali.”

Mercilessly, Ali kept up her steady caresses, listening to Beau’s

breathing turn into shallow pants. Feeling, hearing the power she had

over her was unbelievably exciting. She liked this place of no thinking,

just feeling. “A kiss. That’s all, I promise.”

Beau wasn’t strong enough to say no, not with Ali’s mouth gliding

over hers, not with Ali’s fingers dancing on her skin. But she couldn’t

let herself forget that Ali was hurt, and no matter what Ali wanted, no

matter how painful the ache, she couldn’t give in. “Just one more.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Ali tugged on Beau’s lower lip with her teeth, then

licked the swollen surface. “Then we’ll have to make it special.”

Ali pushed away the covers and slipped her hand back under

Beau’s shirt, then slid naked into Beau’s arms. Her breasts pressed

into Beau’s chest, her nipples hardening against the equally tight

points of Beau’s breasts. She turned her hand downward and edged

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her fingers just under the waistband of Beau’s jeans, massaging her

lower abdomen with the heel of her hand. Beau’s pelvis jerked and Ali

murmured her approval.

“Christ, Ali, what are you—”

Ali silenced her with a deep, sultry kiss. She stroked and sucked

Beau’s tongue, sighing when Beau rolled her crotch against her bare

thigh. The denim was hot and damp on her skin. She rocked her thigh

between Beau’s legs. Beau groaned into her mouth and started to

shake.

“Ali, we have to stop,” Beau gasped.

“I know,” Ali whispered, reading in Beau’s hazy eyes how close

she was to the edge. She reluctantly stopped caressing her abdomen

and stroked her damp hair instead, careful not to move her thigh, still

trapped between Beau’s legs. “Beau, if you need to—”

“Don’t say anything.” Beau tilted her forehead against Ali’s and

closed her eyes, her chest heaving. “Just give me a minute here.”

“I didn’t mean to get you quite so excited.”

Beau choked out a laugh and caressed Ali’s face with trembling

fingers. “My fault. I shouldn’t have let this get started.”

“I kissed you first.” Ali dimly registered the headache still

resonating at the base of her skull, but not hammering with the intensity

it had a few hours before. “I’m not usually so insistent.”

“I’m not complaining.” Beau pulled her body away. “But I need

to stop distracting you so you can get some sleep. That means I have to

get away from you.”

“You’re leaving?” Ali hated to sound needy, but she didn’t want to

stop touching her. And she didn’t want her to go.

“No. I noticed an empty bedroom across the hall. Guest room?”

“Yes.” Ali hesitated. “I’d invite you to stay in here, but I can’t

promise there wouldn’t be a repeat of this.”

“I think you’re right,” Beau said. “We still have a couple of dates

before we’re ready to go there again.”

Ali groaned. “We’ll discuss that in the morning.”

“I like the sound of that.” Beau climbed out of bed, covered Ali,

and kissed her forehead. “I’ll leave the door open in case you need

anything. Go to sleep. Sweet dreams.”

Ali lay in the dark, listening to Beau move around in the room

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across the hall. After only a few minutes, the light went out and almost

immediately she detected the faint rhythmic creak of the wooden bed

frame. Her heart lurched when she heard a muffled groan, and she

imagined Beau masturbating—the way her stomach would tighten and

her hips lift as she climbed toward her climax. She held her breath until

a low moan signaled Beau’s release. Her own sex throbbed and she

clasped herself gently, but she didn’t try to orgasm. Thinking of Beau,

recalling her taste and scent and the sounds of her pleasure, she drifted

off on a torporous sea of arousal and expectation.

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chapTer eighTeeN

When Ali wakened the next morning, her internal clock told

her it was close to seven a.m. The amount of sunshine

slanting through the east facing windows confirmed it. She never

slept past six, and rarely so deeply. She hadn’t dreamed, not after the

fractured dream about Sammy. The dream that ended with her waking

up with Beau next to her. God, Beau.

With a rush of heat to the pit of her stomach she remembered

falling asleep the night before while fantasizing about Beau and what

she was doing in the other room. The warmth climbed into her chest

and flooded her face. What had she been thinking? She’d practically

accosted her. She didn’t even want to think about the number of times

Beau had tried to say stop. She not only hadn’t listened, she’d proceeded

to play with her until Beau was so wound up she’d had to… With a low

groan, Ali threw her arm over her eyes, as if that would somehow erase

the memory of Beau’s muffled moans. Just thinking about Beau being

aroused and needing to come—because of her—made her instantly wet

and aching. Jesus, she was completely out of control.

Carefully, she pushed herself upright and sat on the side of the

bed, taking stock of her body. She needed to restore some order to her

life, and her emotions would follow suit. She didn’t need to fall flat on

her face. The entire left side of her face was swollen and the wound in

her scalp pulled and twinged when she cautiously opened her mouth,

but all of that was manageable. The headache persisted but was several

orders of magnitude less intense than it had been the night before. Her

stomach was still in revolt. Gripping the nightstand, she stood up. No

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dizziness. Her vision seemed fine. Nothing too serious, then. In another

day she ought to be able to work.

With a sigh of relief, she headed for the bathroom. She needed

another shower. She needed to wash Beau’s lingering scent from her

skin and maybe then she’d be able to think clearly again.

v

Ali found Beau leaning against the counter in the kitchen, a mug

of coffee in her hand. Her hair was wet and carelessly slicked back

from her face, as if she’d finger combed it, and she wore a pair of Ali’s

maroon scrubs that were a little too tight in the chest and thighs. Her

eyes were contemplative as she watched Ali sit down at the table in the

center of the room.

“Morning,” Ali said, feeling awkward and turned on all at once.

When she’d seen the guest room was empty, she’d assumed Beau had

gotten up early and left. The wave of disappointment that followed was

so powerful she’d been stunned. Now here Beau was in the kitchen,

looking all relaxed and sexy with her hard body displayed to perfection

in a pair of her scrubs. God, was this clash of reason and libido why

people avoided morning-after encounters?

“I noticed the stack of these in the closet in the guest room,” Beau

said, fingering the front of the shirt. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not.” Ali averted her eyes. She would not think

of Beau pulling up the shirt, touching her bare skin, stroking lower…

she absolutely would not. “I see you found the coffee. I think there are

some bagels in the freezer if you want to try the microwave.”

“I’m okay with this,” Beau said, lifting her coffee cup. “How are

you feeling?”

“Better.” Ali leaned back, folding her hands on the tabletop.

“Much better. Thanks. You were a big help last night.”

Beau smiled crookedly. “Was I. Good.”

“Now would probably be a good time for me to apologize,” Ali

said wryly.

“I thought you might.”

Ali frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“I thought you might regret what happened last night, but I should

• 166 •

Trauma alerT

be the one apologizing. I didn’t come here for that reason. And I should

have been the one to put the brakes on.”

“I can see we’re going to disagree on this.” Ali rubbed the bridge

of her nose. “I was hardly impaired last night, Beau. I knew exactly

what I was doing.”

“No argument there,” Beau said with a soft chuckle.

Ali felt herself blushing. She had never in her life had sex on the

brain to the extent that she appeared to now. It helped not to look at

Beau’s far-too-appealing face, so she kept her gaze on the window

overlooking her back deck. “We’re both adults and there’s certainly no

reason to make a big deal out of a moment’s indiscretion. But I don’t

think it’s a good idea for us to take this any further.”

“Uh-huh.” Beau rinsed her coffee cup and turned it upside down

in the sink.

“I don’t even mind if you collect your bet from Bobby,” Ali said.

Maybe if she made light of the whole situation they could both just

forget it. “I think our little episode qualifies as—”

“The bet actually stipulated a date, not a heavy make-out session,”

Beau said conversationally. “So, technically speaking, I can’t collect.”

“Well, he doesn’t have to know the details,” Ali said irritably. She

waved her hand in the air. Why was it so difficult to have a simple

conversation with this woman? All she wanted to do was make it clear

that she didn’t want to get any further involved. “And why are we even

discussing some stupid bet?”

“Because you liked kissing me, and that worries you.”

Ali gaped at Beau, who’d moved next to her while she’d been

pretending not to look at her. “You have got to be the most arrogant,

egotistical, unbelievably—”

“Friday night. Seven o’clock.” Beau leaned down and softly, but

quite definitely, kissed Ali on the mouth. “If you need me before then…

for anything…call me. I programmed my number into your cell phone.

It’s on the table by your front door. But don’t worry, I didn’t look at any

of the other numbers.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I know,” Beau called over her shoulder as she walked through the

house to collect her jacket. “Maybe that’s why you like kissing me.”

When the soft thud of the door closing signaled Beau’s departure,

• 167 •

RADCLY fFE

Ali remained at the table, trying to make sense of her jumbled feelings.

The house was suddenly too quiet and too empty. She’d pulled on an

old sweatshirt and a loose pair of jeans after her shower, and she rubbed

her arms against an unexpected chill.

You liked kissing me, and that worries you.

Arrogant ass. Of course she liked kissing her. Who wouldn’t?

She was gorgeous, with a sinful mouth and the most amazing body.

She was exquisitely responsive, powerful, and passionate. Her arousal

was the most arousing thing Ali had ever experienced. She closed her

eyes and rested her forehead in the palm of her hand. Maybe she just

needed to give herself a break. The last twenty-four hours had been

a nightmare roller-coaster ride, starting with panic and pain at the

hospital and ending with a nearly altered state of consciousness when

she’d surrendered to completely foreign desires. Of course she wasn’t

thinking clearly. That had nothing to do with kissing Beau Cross. And

just because she wanted to keep her life on an even keel, without adding

the complication of a woman who was guaranteed to create havoc,

didn’t mean she was afraid.

If you weren’t so afraid of going after what you really wanted, you

might be happy.

Sammy’s challenge taunted her. Sammy had been wrong, but of

course Sammy couldn’t imagine waiting for anything she wanted. Ali

had been going after what she wanted—she wanted the freedom and

independence that a career could give her, and the satisfaction of doing

something that mattered. Maybe she had avoided coming out to her

parents because she wanted to prevent the drama such an announcement

would create. She could wait to date girls until she wasn’t living at

home anymore. She wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed when she realized

she liked girls, but she also knew that having a lesbian daughter was not

in her parents’ plans. Sammy had guessed she was a lesbian just about

as soon as Ali figured it out. Sammy could always read her, even when

others couldn’t. Beau was a lot like Sammy that way.

Ali shivered again. Beau was far too like Sammy in far too many

ways. Ali’s fingertips tingled and she remembered the ridge of scar

tissue bisecting Beau’s abdomen. She could hardly stand to think about

Beau’s beautiful body being assaulted by a malignancy, by Beau’s

young dreams being shattered. What if she had a recurrence? Unlikely,

• 168 •

Trauma alerT

Ali’s rational mind asserted. Devastating, Ali’s heart cried. And if that

weren’t bad enough, Beau risked her life daily, even beyond the dangers

inherent in her job. Everything about Beau screamed danger, and if she

was going to see her again, she had to be very sure to keep her wits

about her and her heart off-limits.

v

Beau caught the subway-surface car into West Philadelphia and

headed to Jilly’s. Her home now. She needed the comfort of the familiar

for a few hours before she reported for her tour. Walking out of Ali’s

house like she hadn’t a care in the world had been hell, but she’d done it.

Ali wanted her gone—that was plain to see. And she needed to be gone

too—precisely because she’d wanted to stay so badly her gut ached.

She wasn’t used to wanting a woman the way she wanted Ali. If that

weren’t enough to twist her around, she’d told Ali about the Hodgkin’s.

She never ever did that. She didn’t even know why.

I am so fucked.

When she let herself into the house, she heard movement

upstairs.

“Jilly, it’s me!” She hung up her jacket on a hook just inside the

door.

“I’ll be down in a second. Pour me some coffee?”

“On it.” Beau prepared two cups and, mug in hand, stood at the

kitchen window looking out into the courtyard behind the house. Like

almost all of the houses in the area, Jilly’s was an attached Victorian

twin. Her backyard was separated from the house next door by an alley

and from the adjoining twin by a wooden fence.Agray flagstone path led

to a small garden bench in one corner. The azaleas and rhododendrons

were winter-bare now. She pictured Jilly sitting out there in the summer,

surrounded by greenery, perhaps reading on that bench. She couldn’t

remember ever sitting still that long, anywhere. She raced through life,

trying to absorb every bit of excitement and sensation. Sometimes she

feared if she stopped running, it would all simply end.

“Beau?” Jilly said quietly from the doorway.

Beau worked up a smile as she turned to greet her sister. To her

relief, Jilly looked better. The smudges of fatigue under her eyes were

• 169 •

RADCLY fFE

gone and her hair sparkled with copper highlights. Her hunter green suit

made her eyes stand out even more dramatically than usual. “Morning.

You look great.”

Jilly colored, her expression pleased. “You’re a charmer.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Beau said wryly. “Your coffee’s on the counter.

Kind of late to be going to work, isn’t it?”

“I had a conference call this morning, so I took it from home.” Jilly

pulled out a chair at the table and sipped her coffee, her eyes studying

Beau contemplatively.

“What?” Beau said.

“I’m trying to figure out how to phrase this without sounding like

I’m mothering you.”

Beau laughed. “Oh boy. Just spit it out.”

“Since we’re going to be living together, I’d like to determine

where the appropriate boundaries are.”

“Jilly, don’t lawyer me to death, please.”

Jilly smiled. “Last night is the first time since you’ve been living

here that you didn’t come home. I knew you weren’t working, and I

was worried about you.”

“Oh.” Beau wasn’t used to being worried over, not anymore. She’d

seen to that by moving out of her parents’ house as soon as she was well

enough to get a part-time job and live on her own. After two years

of being the focus of her family’s worry and attention, she couldn’t

take being watched all the time. She saw her parents and siblings for

family dinners and during the summer for backyard barbecues, but she

kept her private life private. Of all the people she didn’t want worrying

about her, Jilly was probably the most important. “Damn. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry, sweetie. You didn’t do anything

wrong. You’re an adult and you have every right not to come home. I

suppose I really shouldn’t worry, it’s just my nature.”

“I’ll try to remember to let you know if something comes up. I

work a lot of last-minute extra shifts, so you can’t count on me coming

home even when I say I will, though.”

“Were you working last night?”

Beau immediately pictured Ali naked in her arms and the instant

flood of arousal was so strong she grit her teeth. “No. How much did

you see about what happened at the hospital? I never saw the news

clip.”

• 170 •

Trauma alerT

“They kept showing the same sequence over and over again—you

know how they do that. It was only a few seconds, but I saw the SWAT

team and you running toward someone lying on the floor.”

“That was Ali,” Beau said, her throat tight.

“Oh. My God. Dr. Torveau? Bobby’s doctor?”

Beau nodded. “A bullet grazed her.” She swallowed around the

pain in her throat. “A head wound. Luckily, not too serious, but she

needed to be watched.”

“So you stayed with her.”

“Yes.”

“That was really nice of you. How is she?”

“Better this morning. She just needs to rest for a couple of days.”

Beau grimaced. “If she will. You know medical people make terrible

patients.”

“You don’t look like you slept very much yourself,” Jilly said

gently.

Beau hoped nothing showed in her face because she couldn’t help

thinking about her night in the guest room. The orgasm hadn’t had its

usual effect. She hadn’t fallen asleep right away. Instead, she’d lain

as quietly as she could, straining to hear any sound from the bedroom

across the hall. Her body had vibrated with a nearly irresistible

compulsion to get up and go back to Ali’s bed. She’d broken into a

light sweat thinking about holding Ali, kissing her again. She didn’t

have to imagine anything more than that to get painfully excited, but

she didn’t bother trying to relieve herself a second time. The result was

barely worth the effort.

She had finally fallen asleep only to awaken at dawn, agitated

and unsettled. Almost on autopilot, she had come again in the shower,

barely registering the physical relief while she prepared herself for

Ali’s reaction to their kiss of the night before. Their encounter had been

a few moments out of time, the result of a terrifying experience that had

left them both raw and vulnerable. She didn’t regret wanting Ali, didn’t

regret needing to feel a connection to her, but she was pretty certain that

Ali would. Ali had been the aggressor, and just thinking about the way

Ali had handled her got her stoked all over again. She’d been surprised,

very pleasantly surprised, but she bet Ali would want to discount what

happened between them. Ali would probably hate letting Beau see any

kind of need.

• 171 •

RADCLY fFE

“Are you okay?” Jilly asked.

Beau started to give her automatic reply and then stopped. “Not

really.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“I’m not sure what I’m doing yet. Probably making a big

mistake.”

“Is it Dr. Torveau?”

Beau chewed on her lip. “Ali. Yeah, it’s her. I’ve really got a thing

for her.”

“It doesn’t sound like that makes you happy.”

“I guess it should, shouldn’t it?” Beau ran a hand through her hair

and rubbed the back of her neck. “Mostly it scares me. I know how to

seduce women. I don’t know much about anything else.”

“How does she feel?”

“I don’t think she considers me the devil’s spawn anymore, so

that’s progress.”

Jilly laughed. “You mean she hasn’t immediately fallen for your

charm?”

“That would be an understatement. I’ve barely managed to get her

to agree to a date.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing. That she’s immune to your considerable

sex appeal.”

Beau frowned. “And how do you consider her busting my balls a

good thing?”

“Because maybe if she doesn’t fall for your image, she’ll actually

fall for you.”

“I’m not even sure what that means, Jilly,” Beau said quietly.

“And I’m even less sure that I want it.”

“Is she the first woman who’s ever made you feel this way?”

“Yes.”

“That’s got to mean something. You’ll figure it out.” Jilly got up,

put her cup in the sink, and kissed Beau’s cheek. “Don’t be scared,

sweetie. Just follow your instincts.”

“Thanks. Love you.” Beau gave Jilly a quick hug. She didn’t think

her instincts were going to be too helpful, because right now they were

mostly screaming for her to run.

• 172 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer NiNeTeeN

Ali stared at the ceiling in her living room, praying for the

return of her sanity. After an hour of only her own thoughts

for company she was crawling out of her skin. She couldn’t read

without making her headache worse, and the television was just so

much annoying white noise. No matter where she directed her mind,

it ricocheted back to the previous night, and Beau. When she tried to

recall ever feeling quite the same way about a woman before, all she

could come up with was Nadine Templeton, a girl for whom she’d

had an undying and unrequited crush her senior year in high school.

Petite, blond, somewhat helpless Nadine was nothing like Beau, but the

constant craving, the obsessive fantasies, and the aching unremitting

arousal seemed very much the same. How embarrassing, to be behaving

like a seventeen-year-old at twice the age.

She grabbed her cell phone and speed-dialed Wynter.

“Thompson.”

“Hi, it’s me,” Ali said with relief. “How are things?”

“Hi. I would have called you already, but I thought you might be

sleeping.”

“No, I’m awake and completely bored. How are you?”

“I want to go to work, but Pearce insisted I call in sick today. She

stayed home and she’s waiting on me like I’m some kind of invalid.”

“She probably needs to be sure you’re all right. Let her take care

of you. Besides, taking a day off is probably not a bad idea.”

“Ali, nothing happened to me yesterday. You were the one who

got shot. God, I can’t believe you just walked out into the hall when he

was standing there with a gun—”

• 173 •

RADCLY fFE

“Hey, it’s over now.” Ali didn’t want to relive that moment again.

“We’re both fine.”

“You’re not exactly fine. You were shot.” Wynter hesitated, and

when she continued, her voice shook. “I don’t know how to thank you

for what you did yesterday.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Ali closed her eyes. She could hardly tell

Wynter that losing her would be like losing Sammy all over again, that

she’d rather be shot herself than go through that horror.

“You made yourself a target instead of me. I’ll never forget that. If

we have a girl, I’m going to name her after you.”

Ali laughed. “That might be above and beyond the call. But I’m

honored that you would think of it.”

“How are you feeling really? Do you need anything? I can have

Pearce drop by—”

“I’m honestly much better, and I’m all set. Ralph brought me tea

and toast a few minutes ago and watched me like a hawk until I ate.”

“Pearce said that Beau was taking you home last night. How was

that?”

“Fine. It was fine,” Ali said quickly. “So I’m planning on going in

tomorrow, but I won’t be doing any operating for at least another—”

“That’s called misdirection, and you’re not getting away with it.

How long did she stay?”

Ali hesitated.

“Ali,” Wynter said.

“She left this morning.”

“She stayed all night? Were you having a rough time? Damn it,

Ali, you should have called us.”

“No, all I had was a little headache and some nausea. She just

took the whole observation thing very seriously. I couldn’t get her to

leave.”

“She strikes me as being stubborn,” Wynter said. “In addition to

all her other yummy attributes.”

“I kissed her.”

Wynter sucked in a breath. “And you’re just getting around to

telling me that now?”

“I’m still trying to decide how I feel about it.”

“Ali, honey, a kiss is not something you think about. It’s

• 174 •

Trauma alerT

something you experience—hopefully with really good replays. Are

there replays?”

“Endless,” Ali muttered.

“I’m kind of surprised. Not about the replays—she looks the type

to inspire many happy reruns. I’m surprised you made the first move. I

sort of thought you weren’t interested.”

“Trust me, you’re no more shocked than me. It sounds trite, I

know, but it just happened. We were talking and she got a little upset.

She was hurting and I just—I just wanted to take it all away.”

“Wow. So it wasn’t just lust.”

“Well, of course it was lust. What else would it be? You’re the

one that keeps calling her yummy like she’s some obscenely decadent

chocolate dessert.”

“I can see that. Triple chocolate mousse cake.” Wynter laughed.

“So. Can she kiss?”

“Like there’s no tomorrow.”

“No wonder you’re feeling better today. She’s a prescription I can

really get behind. Or in front of, under—whatever, really.”

Ali groaned. “Does Pearce know that you drool over other

women?”

“Pearce knows I’m madly in love with her and can’t get enough

of her body, and any appreciation I might entertain for other women—

purely hypothetically, of course—just means she’ll need to take care of

me more oft—”

“Okay! I get the picture.”

“She likes my fertile imagination,” Wynter said with a playful note

in her voice. “You, on the other hand, strike me as being the possessive,

territorial type. That can be very sexy too.”

“I have nothing to be possessive or territorial about. And if I had I

wouldn’t be, and besides that, Beau would be the totally wrong choice

even if I were and wanted to be.”

Wynter’s laughter interrupted her. “You’re babbling.”

Grumpily, Ali finished, “Fortunately, that’s never going to be an

issue.”

“Uh-huh. When are you seeing her again?”

“Friday—maybe. Sort of. I’m not sure.” Ali couldn’t believe she

was hearing herself waffle like some first-year medical student. She

• 175 •

RADCLY fFE

was never ever indecisive, but somehow she’d let Beau talk her into a

date, and then talk her out of breaking it. How did the woman do that?

“We’re having dinner on Friday. She was nice enough to help me out

yesterday. It’s just a friendly dinner.”

“I think that’s great,” Wynter said gently. “Really. I’m glad she

was there yesterday at the hospital, and last night too. She seems to

like you.”

“Well.” Ali was glad they were talking on the phone, because she

knew she was blushing. Thank God she didn’t blurt out that she liked her

too. Then she really would feel like a teenager again, even though it was

true. She did like her. Despite her attempts not to be charmed, Beau’s

cocky attitude was appealing. Knowing what Beau had endured, and

what she’d lost, only enhanced the attraction and made Ali respect her

all the more. In the moments when they were alone, Beau’s gentleness

and genuine kindness had touched her and made her feel safe, when

she’d never been aware she needed that. Oh yes. She liked her.

“Don’t think so much,” Wynter said. “Just go with it.”

Ali considered that advice. She didn’t live her life by chance. She

didn’t trust fate. She always knew what she was doing and accepted

the consequences of her decisions. Maybe just this once she could

color outside the lines. A brief affair with Beau Cross would only be a

temporary case of insanity, and it might be fun.

“All right, my doctor friend, I’ll take your prescription under

advisement.”

v

“You look like shit,” Bobby said when Beau finally found his new

room on the eighth floor. He’d been transferred to a regular surgical

floor from the step-down unit overnight. The other bed in his new room

was empty and Beau plopped down on the edge.

“Thanks. So do you.”

Bobby gestured to his face. “No more oxygen.” He held up one

arm. “No more IV. I’m scheduled for a set of PFTs this afternoon. If my

lung function is okay, I’m out of here tomorrow.”

“About time,” Beau said, a huge weight lifting from her heart.

Bobby was still hoarse and he had to pause every few words to catch

his breath, but his color was better and he really did sound as if he’d

• 176 •

Trauma alerT

turned the corner. “I’m off at two tomorrow. I’ll come by and pick you

up on my way home.”

“You sure about me staying with you for a few days? Because I

think one of the nurses might be willing to make a house call.”

Beau rolled her eyes. “If she did, I think she might end up

disappointed. You’re going to need a few more days before you can

entertain. Besides, the day after tomorrow is Thanksgiving. You have to

stay with us until after that.”

“Aren’t you going to go to your parents’?”

“No. I’m working B shift, so we’ll have an early dinner before I

go in. It’ll work out fine.”

“You’re not cooking, are you?” Bobby said.

Beau laughed. “I’m doing whatever Jilly tells me to do. If you

know what’s good for you, you’ll pretend to be sicker than you are and

keep your ass on the couch, or you’ll be peeling potatoes too.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” Bobby fished around on the side of

the bed for the hand controls and cranked up the back until he was

sitting nearly upright. “So what’s the deal with the shootout yesterday?

Everybody around here’s talking about it but no one will give me any

details. And two of my doctors are MIA this morning. Did Dr. Torveau

really get hit?”

Pain zinged through Beau’s stomach as if she’d been punched.

Then she remembered. Ali was okay, she was fine. “She did, and

she was lucky. Just a graze. She might even be back before you’re

discharged.”

“Good. Because the guy who replaced her probably knows his

stuff, but he doesn’t give me a bo—”

“Whoa. Whoa. I told you about that before,” Beau said. “Do not

go there, Bobby.”

Bobby’s eyebrows shot up. “Touchy. I’m just saying, she’s a lot

nicer to look at.”

“That goes without saying. The rest of it you can keep to

yourself.”

“Looks like she’s given somebody else a—”

“Bobby,” Beau snapped.

He laughed. “I just wanted to see if you were really going to go

caveman about her.”

“Moron.”

• 177 •

RADCLY fFE

“So? What’s the story?”

“No story.” Beau worked her shoulders to ease the tension that

was starting to coalesce into a ball of pain at the base of her skull. She

loved Bobby, but she didn’t like him even thinking about Ali in the

same breath as his dick, let alone talking about her as if she were…a

really hot woman. Which she was, and only a fool wouldn’t notice. She

realized Bobby was studying her with a glint in his eye and wondered

what he’d seen in hers. “You owe me a hundred bucks.”

“You’re fucking kidding me. Torveau said yes?”

Beau nodded, unable to hide her smirk of satisfaction.

“To a date? As in go-out-together-somewhere date?”

“Yes, Bobby. Jesus. Don’t you think I’m capable of interesting a

woman in anything besides sex?”

“No.”

“Well, you lose. Pay up by Friday.”

“I’m not paying until after it happens, because she could still

change her mind.”

Beau worked to keep her grin in place. She was afraid Ali would

change her mind, and she didn’t know how to keep that from happening.

She wanted Ali to want to see her. It was stupid, maybe, but she did.

Besides, she’d already pushed about as hard as she thought she could.

Ali wasn’t the kind of woman who took being pushed well.

“She’s not going to back out.”

“You hope,” Bobby teased.

“Yeah,” Beau said quietly. “I really do.”

• 178 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer TweNTy

Ali placed several prescriptions on Bobby’s bedside table along

with a copy of his discharge instructions.

“One of these is for an inhaler,” Ali said. “I don’t expect you’ll

need it very long, but if your chest feels tight and you get short of

breath, use it. If you find that after a few minutes you’re not getting any

relief, wait half an hour and try again. If you’re still having problems,

you need to come back to the emergency room.”

“Okay,” Bobby said.

“Is that Okay I hear you and I’ll do what you say, or Okay, I hear

you and I’m going to ignore you because taking medication is a sign

of weakness?”

Bobby grinned. “You’re kind of scary with that mind reading and

all.”

“That’s what I thought. Don’t be a macho moron about this,”

Ali said nonchalantly. “You do want to get back to work soon, don’t

you?”

“You really know how to get a guy’s attention,” Bobby said,

bestowing her with a particularly charming smile. “And here I’ve

already gone and lost my heart to you.”

Ali shook her head. “I never thought I’d find a harder bunch to deal

with or a group of individuals more cocky than cops, but firefighters

definitely win.”

“Of course we do,” Beau said as she walked past Ali to the foot

of Bobby’s bed. She gave Bobby a two-fingered salute and Ali a slow,

smoldering smile. “What are we talking about? Because whatever it is,

I’m sure we win.”

• 179 •

RADCLY fFE

“The biggest pains in the ass contest,” Ali said over the racing of

her heart and the low roar in her ears. Beau looked sexy as usual in her

paramedic uniform, a radio clipped to one hip, instruments protruding

from the pockets of her dark cargo pants. She had a swath of red skin

on the side of her neck that looked like a first-degree burn. Ali barely

restrained herself from moving closer to examine it.

“Oh yeah, we’re definitely all over that one.” Beau laughed and

patted the sheets over Bobby’s leg. “So, partner, they’re really letting

you out of here today, huh?”

“I haven’t actually signed off on his discharge,” Ali said. “Bobby

and I need to come to an understanding about some things.”

Beau’s expression was instantly serious. “I’ll make sure he’s a

good boy.”

“Yeah,” Bobby said, “you and whose army?”

“Oh, as if I couldn’t handle you with—”

“Like I said—”

“Children,” Ali said, although it was hard to put an edge in her

voice while the two of them bickered like siblings. They so obviously

meant more to one another than just colleagues. “Bobby, I want to see

you in the clinic on Monday afternoon. Your pulmonary function tests

are normal, but I suspect there’s some decrease in your lung capacity

and I want to repeat them. If everything looks good then, I’ll release

you to go back to duty.”

“What about the TER-OPS field training this weekend?” Bobby

asked.

Ali shook her head. “That’s going to be five hours of rigorous

activity. You’re not ready for it.”

He winced. “If I miss this, I’m going to get pushed back to the

next qualifying section, aren’t I?”

“Probably. I’m sorry.”

“Look,” Bobby said with a hint of desperation in his voice. “Could

you maybe look at me on Friday, and if I’m doing okay let me try to do

the training session?” He glanced at Beau. “We’re scheduled to partner,

and hell—if she does it and I don’t, she’s gonna get bumped up ahead

of me.”

Ali smiled. “And we certainly can’t have that, can we.”

Beau turned from Bobby to Ali. “Bobby is staying with me and

• 180 •

Trauma alerT

my sister for the next couple of days. I’m off Friday afternoon and I can

bring him in. Whatever time you say.”

“I’ll see if I can move his PFTs from Monday.” Ali gave Bobby

a look. “But I won’t approve you for the training session if they aren’t

where I expect them to be.”

“I got it. I’ll take the medicine.”

“Good. You can leave anytime. Your discharge papers are already

with the nurses.”

Bobby shot Beau an outraged look. “She bluffed us!”

“Yeah, she did.” Beau smiled into Ali’s eyes. “She’s all over us.”

Ali tucked Bobby’s chart under her arm and spun away. She

couldn’t be caught looking at Beau the way she feared she might be,

especially considering the way she was feeling. Being in the same room

with Beau had started a hungry ache that was completely unfamiliar.

She wanted to touch her. Hell, she wanted to kiss her. Instead, she

hurried from the room. She made it partway down the hall before she

heard footsteps behind her.

“Ali,” Beau said. “Hey. Do you have a minute?”

“I—” Ali was about to say she had to finish rounds, but the hopeful

look in Beau’s eyes stopped her. That, and her own surge of pleasure. “I

was about to grab a cup of coffee.”

“I’ll keep you company. Bobby will be a while with the paperwork.

Besides, he can’t leave without me.”

Ali led the way to the stairwell. “You’ve got a burn on your

neck.”

“What? Oh—a little bit of flashback. It’s nothing.”

“You should put some ointment on it.”

Beau pushed ahead and opened the stairwell door for Ali. “I

will.”

“What was the call?” Ali asked as she stepped into the empty

stairwell. Professional. If she kept it professional, she’d be fine.

“Some idiot drove out of a gas station with a hose still in their

tank. Sparked a fire and a couple of the tanks blew.” Beau grasped Ali’s

arm just as she reached the stairs. “How are you—”

At the touch of Beau’s hand,Ali turned abruptly, slipped her fingers

around the back of Beau’s neck, and kissed her. Just as she remembered,

Beau’s mouth was soft and incredibly warm, her lips a sensuous flow

• 181 •

RADCLY fFE

of hot silk. When the tip of Beau’s tongue swirled around hers, a fist

of arousal punched between her thighs. She gasped and pulled back.

“Okay, that’s enough of that.”

“I don’t think so.” Feeling dazed, Beau backed Ali into the metal

railing enclosing the stairwell. She cradled Ali’s jaw in one hand, taking

care to avoid the dark purple bruise on the left side of her face, and took

her mouth in a longer, deeper kiss. Except when she’d actually been in

the field and completely engaged, she hadn’t stopped thinking of Ali for

more than a minute in the past twenty-four hours. Every time the Zetron

sounded a call, she sighed in relief because she could stop torturing

herself for a while with memories of lying next to Ali, of Ali’s hands on

her body and Ali’s skin beneath her fingertips. The worst time had been

just before dawn, when she couldn’t sleep and there was nothing she

could do about the relentless urgency in her body while she was lying

in a narrow bed in the dorm with five other firefighters.

“I’ve been going crazy thinking about you,” Beau muttered against

Ali’s mouth.

“I don’t want you thinking about me when you’re working.”

Ali trailed her fingers down Beau’s throat. The burn on Beau’s neck

was minor, but it was the danger it represented that terrified her. She

brushed her palm over Beau’s chest, envisioning the long scars beneath

both collarbones. They were from chemotherapy ports, she knew now.

Past threats, future dangers. Life was nothing but uncertainty. “God,

Beau.”

“What,” Beau said, resting her pelvis against Ali’s, her thighs and

lower abdomen molding to Ali.

Ali kept her demons to herself. Beau didn’t need to be reminded of

what she’d gone through, and Ali was certain Beau would hate knowing

she was thinking about her illness. She understood a patient’s need to

discount illness and disease when faced with their own mortality. For

a teenager, for whom mortality was a foreign concept, acceptance of a

life-threatening illness was practically impossible. All that remained

for a young woman faced with what Beau had gone through was anger

and denial. Was it any wonder Beau taunted death? Or perhaps, courted

it. Ali kissed her again, less out of passion now than from a deep desire

to ease that long-ago hurt.

“What are you thinking, hmm?” Beau asked when they stopped to

• 182 •

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catch their breath. She feathered her fingers through Ali’s hair. “What’s

bothering you?”

“Is there some reason being kissed makes you think a woman has

a problem?” Ali asked tenderly.

Beau grinned and tapped Ali’s lower lip with her fingertip.

“Ordinarily, no. How many times have you ever kissed a woman in the

stairwell?”

Ali nipped at Beau’s finger. “Never.”

“You make my point.”

“I like the way you kiss,” Ali said with a shrug. She needed to

make light of what was happening, for both their sakes.

“I like kissing you.” Beau dipped her head and kissed Ali’s neck,

then slid her hands along Ali’s sides and clasped her hips. She cleaved

more tightly to her. “You feel great.”

Gently, Ali flattened her hands against Beau’s chest and pushed

her back. “So do you. Time for coffee.”

“I’m off tonight, how about you?”

“I’m off. I’m working tomorrow.”

“Come to dinner at my place tonight. I can’t wait until Friday.”

When Beau saw the flicker of hesitation in Ali’s eyes, she added quickly,

“Besides, Bobby won’t pay up until we have a date. He wants proof.”

“So it’s all about the money, is it?” Ali teased.

“Absolutely.” Beau grasped Ali’s hand and rubbed her thumb

over Ali’s knuckles. “Please. Nothing fancy. Just me and my sister and

Bobby.”

“I don’t know, Beau. It’s pretty short notice, and your sister…”

“Jilly will be fine. And I’ll make Bobby behave.” Beau kissed her.

“Please.”

“Has any woman ever said no to you?” Ali asked, having a hard

time pulling herself out of the depths of Beau’s eyes. Her intense gaze

had a way of making Ali feel both incredibly desirable and incredibly

desirous.

“Lots and lots.” Beau couldn’t seem to keep her cool where Ali was

concerned. She said more than she meant to, felt more than she wanted

to. And she couldn’t stop. “But I need you to say yes. Otherwise, I’m

going to have a very bad day. I already had a very bad night.”

Feeling breathless, Ali asked, “Oh?”

• 183 •

RADCLY fFE

“I couldn’t sleep. I keep thinking about being with you. About the

way your body felt curved against mine. How soft your skin was. How

amazing it felt when you stroked my stomach. You made me so hot, Ali.

So hot I…” Beau stopped, blushing. “Sorry, I must sound—”

“I like knowing I excite you,” Ali murmured. “And you sounded

amazing.”

Beau jerked. She hadn’t been the only one lying awake at Ali’s

that night. Ali had heard her make herself come. “Uh, well—there goes

any chance I had of being cool.”

Ali skimmed her mouth over Beau’s ear. “Believe me, your cool

credentials are fine. You know what I’ve been thinking about since

yesterday?”

“What?” Beau swallowed hard.

“Wishing I could have watched.”

Beau’s legs turned to jelly. “Jesus, Ali.”

“So maybe next time.” Ali quickly kissed her and slid out of the

space between the railing and Beau’s body. If she lingered any longer

she would have to touch her again. Kiss her again. And they’d already

been in the stairwell too long. She didn’t want anyone to walk in on

them, and she needed a minute to put her senses back in order.

“Tonight?” Beau asked, grabbing Ali’s hand to keep her from

heading down the stairs.

Ali lifted an eyebrow.

“Dinner. I was talking about dinner. I can pick you up here or at

your place. Just say when.”

Ali knew exactly what she should say. Instead, she replied, “Six

thirty should be good. I’ll meet you out front.”

v

Jilly knocked on the open door to Beau’s room. “Hey. Can I come

in?”

Beau turned away from the closet, buttoning her shirt. She tucked

the open collared slate-gray silk shirt into her charcoal trousers. “Sure.

What’s up?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Jilly gently closed the

door and leaned back against it. “You look nice.”

• 184 •

Trauma alerT

“You think?” Beau frowned and looked down, smoothing her

hand over the front of her shirt. “This looks okay?”

Jilly smiled. “Beau, sweetie, you’re devastating. Are you

nervous?”

“No!” Beau caught Jilly’s look. “Okay. Maybe. Yes.”

“I think that’s cute.”

Beau groaned. “Cute and sexy are oxymorons.”

“Not true. Now, granted, I haven’t seen you get ready for very

many dates. In fact, I can only remember seeing you get ready to go

out carousing with the guys, but I don’t ever remember seeing you

nervous.” Jilly sat on the end of Beau’s bed. “Tonight’s different, isn’t

it?”

Beau grabbed the cane-backed chair that she usually draped her

clothes over, spun it around, and straddled it. Folding her arms over the

top, she rested her chin on her forearms. “It’s not a date, exactly. I just

invited Ali over for dinner.”

“Like one friend invites another friend?”

“Not exactly that, either.”

“Bobby mentioned something about a bet.”

Beau jumped up, catching the chair just before it toppled. “I’m

going to kill him.”

“Actually, I think he’s embarrassed about it. After you told us

Dr. Torveau was coming to dinner, he said she probably thinks he’s a

horse’s ass because of some bet he forced you into.”

“It was dumb, but Ali already knows about it and Bobby has nothing

to worry about. She thinks we’re both horses’ asses because of it.” Beau

told Jilly about the first time she’d seen Ali and how Bobby had ended

up betting her she couldn’t get Ali to go out on a date with her.

“But that’s not what this dinner is about, is it,” Jilly said when

Beau finished.

“No. I meant it when I told you yesterday I kinda have a thing for

her.”

“That’s what I thought. You’ve never brought a girl to Mom’s, you

know. Not a single holiday event or even a weekend barbecue.”

Beau grimaced. “Bringing a girl to meet the family is a big deal.

When you do that, they sort of expect…Jesus, I’m starting to sound like

one of the guys.”

• 185 •

RADCLY fFE

Jilly laughed. “Starting to? If I didn’t know how sweet you are on

the inside, I’d be giving you a lot harder time about your attitude. So

she’s special?”

“She could be.” Beau took a deep breath, and admitted what she

wasn’t sure she was ready for. “She definitely could be.”

“So—how much does she know about…us?”

“Nothing.” Beau sighed. “Almost nothing. She knows about the

Hodgkin’s.”

Jilly’s eyes widened. “You told her?”

“She sort of guessed. She saw my scars.” Beau saw the flurry of

questions cross Jilly’s face. “Long story. But we were…close, and she

saw and she mostly guessed. So I told her.”

“I guess there’s no reason to go into the rest of it. But if you wanted

to, I don’t mind.”

Beau got up, pushed the chair back against the wall, and strode to

the window. She couldn’t see anything outside in the dark. “Remember

I told you about her sister dying? That Ali blames herself for that?” She

spun around. “She’s still so torn up about it she has nightmares. How

can I tell her that I was responsible for almost killing you?”

Jilly looked stunned. “Beau. You are not responsible for me having

a drug reaction. You’re not responsible for me needing a transfusion.

It’s not your fault that I got contaminated blood.”

“If not me, Jilly, then who? I was the one that fucked up everybody

else’s life for more almost three years, and yours forever. If I’m not

responsible, who is?”

“Beau—”

Beau slammed out of the room. She didn’t stop, even when she

heard Jilly call her name again. Ali would have sacrificed anything

for her sister because she was tender and loving and brave. Ali was

everything she wasn’t. She must be out of her mind to think she had

anything to offer her.

• 186 •

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chapTer TweNTy-ONe

At exactly 6:30, Ali walked out of the hospital and scanned the

cars double-parked all along the block. She hadn’t asked what

Beau was driving, and she tried to guess. Her first thought was a classic

muscle car, then a pickup truck. She hadn’t considered a motorcycle

until she saw one careen around the corner. With a sinking feeling, she

watched the big bike pull into the curb in front of her. She wasn’t going

to be able to get on it. Not even for Beau. Especially not for Beau.

“Hey,” a husky voice said at the same time as she registered a

slight pressure on the small of her back. “I’m parked down this way.”

With a sense of relief, Ali turned away from the motorcyclist to

find Beau beside her. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?” Beau asked, her hand still on Ali’s back.

“Yes. Sure. I’m fine.”

Beau frowned and glanced at the curb where a leather-clad figure

climbed off the Harley. “Did you think that was me?”

“For a second. I don’t know why, I just…you do seem the type.”

“I do have a bike. I mostly ride it up in the mountains during the

summer with a bunch from the station.” Beau took Ali’s hand. “I’m

careful. And I would never expect you to ride with me.”

“That’s thinking rather far ahead, isn’t it? Considering we haven’t

had our first date yet?”

“Probably.”

“I’m sorry, I’m being bitchy because I don’t like being caught off

guard,” Ali said. Neither of them wore gloves and she liked the warmth

of Beau’s palm against hers. She let her fingers thread through Beau’s.

• 187 •

RADCLY fFE

“It’s nice of you to realize I’d be uncomfortable about the motorcycle.

Thank you.”

“Yeah, that’s me all right. Nice and thoughtful and considerate.”

Ali studied Beau’s profile as they approached a Ford Thunderbird.

She vaguely registered that she’d been right about the muscle car, but

she was more focused on Beau. She’d never seen her quite this way

before. Unlike her usual irrepressible cockiness, Beau sounded bitter

and her expression was stark. Before she could ask about it, Beau

unlocked the passenger side door and held it open for her. She slid

into the bucket seat while Beau skirted around the front and got behind

the wheel. She waited while Beau started the car, checked over her

shoulder, and pulled out into traffic.

“You seem upset,” Ali said once Beau had maneuvered between

the uneven rows of double-parked taxis and cars and turned west.

“I’m fine.”

“If something’s come up, we can do this another—”

“No!” Beau rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry. I just—I want you

to come to dinner.”

“Okay. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Instinctively, Ali rested her

hand on Beau’s thigh. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Ali said, realizing how much she meant it. She’d liked

having Beau nearby when she’d been so shaken after the shooting,

maybe liked it a little too much. She wanted to spend time with Beau

when neither of them was in the middle of a crisis or recovering from

one. She wasn’t feeling one hundred percent recovered, but she’d

gotten through the day at work with just a slight headache. At least

tonight, Beau wouldn’t be her caretaker, and that was important to her.

“But I know the invitation was last minute, so if something’s come up,

I understand. We could do it another time.”

Beau slowed and pulled into a space on a quiet residential block

of three-story Victorian twins not far from the medical complex. She

turned off the engine and sat staring ahead, both hands on the wheel.

Part of her, a big part of her, wanted to tell Ali things she hadn’t told

anyone, but she was embarrassed. And ashamed. And fearful of what

Ali would think of her.

“I just had a lot of old stuff come up. Things I’m not proud of,”

Beau finally said.

• 188 •

Trauma alerT

“I don’t mind listening,” Ali said softly, wishing she had better

words. She comforted the injured and the ill and the dying every single

day of her life. She consoled those left behind and gave hope to those

with none. Beau was so very clearly troubled, but all she could do was

let her know she wasn’t alone. She rubbed Beau’s thigh lightly and

when Beau reached down and covered her hand, the tentative touch

was so very vulnerable, her heart ached. She pressed her hand a little

harder against Beau’s leg. Beau dropped her head back against the seat

and stared at the ceiling. Headlights from the occasional passing car

illuminated her face. Her sadness cut through the shadows.

Ali shifted closer and caressed Beau’s cheek. “What is it?”

“I want you to know something about me,” Beau said hoarsely,

still not looking at Ali.

“All right.”

“When I got sick, my whole family practically came unglued. I’m

the baby—by a lot—and I guess I was pretty spoiled.”

“The babies in the family usually are.” Ali started to pull her

hand away but Beau grabbed it and clutched it as if it were a lifeline.

Their fingers linked again, as naturally as if they’d been holding hands

forever.

“I was really, really angry when I got sick. I didn’t care that

everyone else was scared and suffering. I didn’t care that my parents

almost broke up because they were so stressed. All I cared about was

my whole life going down the toilet.”

“It must have been a horrible time for you. What you went through

was devastating.”

Beau turned her head toward Ali. “Sure. It was. But it wasn’t easy

for the rest of my family either, and I didn’t care about that.”

“Beau, you were a teenager with a terrifying and painful

disease.”

“Yeah.” Beau heaved a sigh. “The Hodgkin’s was advanced and

I didn’t respond well to chemo. Everything made me sick, and I didn’t

go into remission the way the doctors anticipated. I kept getting worse.

It was spreading fast.”

Ali’s chest tightened and she tried hard not to show how much

Beau’s words affected her. She couldn’t let her ghosts or her fears

prevent her from hearing what Beau needed to say. “What happened?”

“They finally decided to get super-aggressive since there really

• 189 •

RADCLY fFE

wasn’t much to lose. They pretty much totaled my immune system with

chemo and radiation and I got a stem cell transplant from my sister.”

“And that worked.” Ali couldn’t contemplate any other answer.

She just couldn’t.

“Better than anyone expected. A complete remission.” Beau lifted

Ali’s hand and rubbed Ali’s fingers against her cheek. “I’m officially

considered cured.”

“You strike me as being completely healthy and incredibly strong

now.”

“Yes, I am,” Beau said, and the bitterness was back in her voice.

“What nobody told me for almost a year after the transplant was that my

sister Jilly had a reaction to one of the drugs they gave her to stimulate

her bone marrow. Some kind of weird hemolytic toxicity. She got so

anemic she needed to be transfused.”

Ali felt the breath stop in her chest.

“Jilly got HIV from the transfusion. I got cured and she got a death

sentence.”

“Oh, God, Beau. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Beau blew out a breath. “She’s never once

complained.”

“No, I don’t imagine she would. She’s your sister. She must love

you very much.”

“You know what really sucks,” Beau said, her voice choked. “If I

knew then what might happen to her, I think I still would have wanted

her to do it. I didn’t care about anybody except me. I didn’t want to

die.”

Ali couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t bear Beau’s pain. She circled

Beau’s shoulders and pulled her across the narrow space between them.

With her lips pressed to Beau’s temple, she murmured, “Of course you

didn’t want to die. You don’t know what you would have decided, and it

doesn’t matter. Your sister made a choice, the one she needed to make.

I’d bet everything I have that was the only choice she could live with.

That’s all that matters.”

Beau buried her face in the curve of Ali’s neck, clutching her as if

she were drowning. When her shoulders began to tremble, Ali realized

she was crying.

“Oh, hey,” she whispered. Barely able to breathe through the

crushing need to console her, she wrapped Beau as firmly as she could

• 190 •

Trauma alerT

within the circle of her arms. She slid one hand underneath Beau’s jacket

and rubbed her back through her shirt. Feeling incredibly inadequate,

she stroked Beau’s hair with her other hand and kissed her forehead.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Oh man,” Beau mumbled against Ali’s throat. “This is so not

cool.”

When Beau tried to pull away, Ali tightened her hold. “Stay. I need

to hold you.”

Beau flinched, then relaxed and let herself be comforted. She

didn’t believe she deserved the solace, but she needed it so much. Ali’s

breath was warm against her cheek and the familiar scent of vanilla and

cedar calmed her. When Beau brushed her lips over Ali’s throat, she

tasted the sharp sweetness of winter air. She tightened and throbbed

and her sadness transformed into something more urgent and raw. She

edged her hand beneath Ali’s wool greatcoat and skated her hand over

Ali’s chest. Ali wore a silk shirt and when Beau lightly brushed the

swell of her breast, Ali’s nipple tightened against her palm.

“Beau,” Ali groaned. “No.”

Beau jerked her hand away and pulled free of Ali’s embrace. “I’m

sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Ali pushed both hands through her hair,

drawing in a deep breath to steady herself. “I am just so incredibly

sensitive to the slightest touch from you, I lose all control.”

“Christ,” Beau banged her head against the back of the seat.

“Ditto.”

Ali smiled shakily. “Ditto? That’s what I get after admitting I

practically combust when I’m anywhere near you?”

Beau tilted her head, grinning wryly. “If you want to know the

truth, I just need to think about you and I want to come. I haven’t spent

this much time masturbating since I was fourteen years old. Before I

fall asleep, when I wake up, in the shower, in the—”

“Stop that,” Ali groaned again. “We have to go inside and we can’t

look like we want to rip each other’s clothes off.”

“So it’s not just me?”

“It’s definitely not just you.” Ali risked skin-to-skin contact and

took Beau’s hand. “Are you all right?”

Beau blew out a breath. “Better. Sometimes I get really angry at

Jilly, and I know she doesn’t deserve it. I’m really angry at myself.”

• 191 •

RADCLY fFE

“I’m a surgeon, Beau,” Ali said. “My world is a lot more black

and white than a lot of people’s. I don’t see that you had any choice

at all in what happened. I don’t know your sister, but if she’s anything

like you, I’m sure she’s strong-willed and clearheaded, and she made

the decision to do what she did for her own reasons. No one could

have foreseen what happened. It’s tragic, but no one’s fault. I bet that

doesn’t help you at all, and if I were a psychiatrist I’d probably be

saying something entirely different and a lot more helpful.”

“Actually, I’ve seen a couple of psychiatrists. Obviously, their

approach wasn’t all that effective.”

Ali traced her fingertip along the edge of Beau’s strong jaw.

“Maybe the timing was bad. Maybe you should think about it again.”

“Maybe. Yeah.” Beau tapped the steering wheel lightly. “So, do

you want to come to dinner and meet my sister?”

“Yes, I really do.”

Beau came around the car and met Ali on the sidewalk. She looped

her arm around Ali’s waist and led her up to the small porch. Stopping

by the leaded-glass paned front door, she gripped Ali’s shoulders lightly

in both hands and kissed her.

“Thank you,” Beau said.

Ali traced the sweeping arch of Beau’s cheekbone with her

fingertips. “Thank you for telling me.”

“It’s really lousy first-date conversation,” Beau said with a shake

of her head.

“I think we’re past that already. We might have to count this as

date number three or four.”

“That’s sneaky.” Beau drew Ali closer. When Ali wrapped her

arms around Beau’s waist, she fit perfectly against Beau’s body. They

were nearly the same height, and this close, the slightest turn of either’s

head and they would be kissing. Beau fought not to move. “If I didn’t

know better, I’d think you were hot to get me into bed.”

Ali grazed Beau’s neck with her teeth. “Hot does not describe it.”

“You do know you’re killing me, right?” Beau said gruffly.

“Good. I’d hate to be the only one suffering.”

“Maybe we should skip—”

The front door opened and Beau’s sister stepped to the threshold.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t break this up except dinner’s ready, and I’m a

• 192 •

Trauma alerT

little bit worried you’re going to freeze out here.” She held out her hand

to Ali. “Hi. I’m Jilly. We met briefly at the hospital.”

“I remember,” Ali said, taking Jilly’s hand. When she started to

move away from Beau, Beau’s arm tightened around her waist. She

decided she liked the possessive gesture and wondered at herself. She’d

never had a woman behave that way toward her before. “Ali Torveau.

It’s good to meet you.”

“Yes, you too.”

Jilly’s gaze went to Beau, and Ali read love in her eyes. For just

an instant, she wondered if she’d ever looked at Sammy with such total

acceptance, and feared that she hadn’t. She’d always been so busy

trying to act as a buffer between her parents’ oppressive rigidity and

Sammy’s wild exuberance, she’d rarely taken the time to let Sammy

know how amazing and beautiful she was. She doubted she’d ever stop

regretting not having the chance to say so many things she’d wanted to

say. Beau’s fingers, warm and strong, clasped the back of her neck and

squeezed gently, drawing Ali from the past. Ali leaned against Beau’s

side and shamelessly luxuriated in her strength.

“Come in,” Jilly said. “We’re eating in the kitchen. Nothing

formal.”

“I appreciate you adding a guest at such late notice.” Ali followed

Jilly into the small foyer. After Beau helped her off with her coat, she

stepped into the living room and was instantly at ease. This was a home

that was lived in—warmly and comfortably furnished. “Something

smells wonderful.”

Jilly gave her a pleased smile. “I can’t claim all that much credit.

There’s not much you can do to ruin a roast chicken and vegetables.

Bobby is already upstairs asleep, so it will just be the three of us.”

“I came right from work,” Ali said. “I’m sorry I didn’t have a

chance to pick up any wine.”

“Oh good, a wine drinker,” Jilly said, leading the way to the

kitchen. “Beau is such a heathen, I can’t get her to drink anything

except beer.”

Beau groaned. “You’re not going to spend the whole night

exposing my faults, are you?”

“I just might.” Jilly smiled mischievously. “I so rarely have the

opportunity. If you brought women ho—”

• 193 •

RADCLY fFE

“So, I’m starving,” Beau said hastily. She pulled out a chair at the

table for Ali. “Relax. I’ll get the wine. I do know how to open the bottle.

Is red okay?”

“Red would be great.” Ali brushed Beau’s arm as she sat down.

Since she had decided to throw caution to the winds and enjoy an affair

for the first time in her life, she might as well surrender to Beau’s charm.

And after all, she couldn’t seem to resist her. “Absolutely perfect.”

• 194 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer TweNTy-TwO

Ali enjoyed Beau and Jilly’s playful sparring during the meal.

The sisters displayed the automatic connection siblings

seemed to share without conscious effort, but Ali discerned friendship

and mutual respect too. She was surprised at how different the two

were. Jilly exuded steadiness and calm. Beau was all restless energy

and excitement. Although both women were intelligent and attractive,

Jilly was the type of woman she had always dated and imagined herself

being with, when she imagined a relationship at all. But it was Beau she

couldn’t stop looking at, couldn’t stop wanting to touch. All through

dinner Beau’s thigh pressed lightly against hers and when Beau,

seemingly completely unconsciously, reached down and squeezed her

leg, a responding tremor shot straight to her core.

By the time the meal was finished she was a mass of seething

hormones.

“Beau,” Jilly said, rising from the table. “Would you mind

collecting the trash and taking it out front to the curb while I clear up in

here? Tomorrow’s trash day.”

“Now?” Beau gave Jilly a pathetic look that made Ali smile.

“Would you rather rinse dishes and load the dishwasher?”

“I’ll take trash over dishes any day.” Beau circled Ali’s shoulders

and leaned near. “Don’t let her put you to work. I’ll be right back.”

Beau’s lips were so close to her neck, her breath so warm, Ali

shivered. She curled her fingers over Beau’s thigh and rubbed her leg.

“Go do your chores. I’ll be fine.”

“See you in a minute.” Beau kissed a spot below Ali’s ear and

laughed when Ali’s breath caught sharply.

• 195 •

RADCLY fFE

“God, you’re bad,” Ali murmured.

“Good bad, though,” Beau whispered, nuzzling Ali’s neck. “Tell

me to stop if you don’t like it.”

“Stop,” Ali said, her face warming as she glanced toward Jilly,

who graciously pretended to ignore them. “Go away. I’m not going to

encourage your already inflated ego.”

She knew she didn’t sound convincing and when Beau laughed

again, she couldn’t help but smile. Beau was just so damn…sexy. Ali

waited until Beau bagged the kitchen trash and took it outside, then

carried her plate over to the sink. “Is there something you wanted to

ask me?”

Jilly chuckled. “That obvious, huh?”

“I recognized the ploy, having used similar ones myself. I doubt

Beau noticed.”

“Don’t worry,” Jilly said. “I just wanted a chance to tell you I’m

really glad you came to dinner.”

“So am I. And?”

“And I know I’m Beau’s sister, but she really is very special. I

hope you don’t mind me saying that.”

“I don’t.” Ali smiled and slid her plate into the dishwasher, then

held out her hand for another one. Jilly began passing her the dinnerware.

“I agree with you.”

“She’s never brought anyone home before,” Jilly remarked.

Ali paused, then resumed arranging the dishes in the rack. “She’s

something out of the ordinary for me too.”

“I haven’t seen her cry since she was a teenager. She looked like

she’d been crying when she came in tonight.”

“You didn’t let on you knew.”Ali closed the dishwasher and focused

on Jilly. “That was nice of you. She would have been embarrassed.”

“Most people can’t read her that easily.”

“Oh, there’s nothing easy about her,” Ali said, “but about this—I

see tough guys like her every day. I know what it costs her to constantly

maintain that kind of invulnerability. I missed it with her at first, but not

now. She’s far more sensitive than she wants anyone to know.”

“Is she all right?”

“She’s very strong. But I’m not telling you anything you don’t

know.”

• 196 •

Trauma alerT

Jilly sighed. “I’m being overprotective, aren’t I? Nosy too.”

“Believe me, I don’t mind. I had…” Ali thought about all the

boyfriends she’d interrogated and the lectures she’d given Sammy.

These gentle questions were mild in comparison. “If she were my

sister, I’d be concerned too, and probably thinking all the same things

you are.”

“Well, thank you for indulging me.” Jilly glanced toward the back

door. “I’d be a lot more worried about whatever’s bothering her if I

hadn’t seen her with you tonight. I’ve never seen her look so happy.”

“Jilly,” Ali said carefully, her heart suddenly thundering in her

chest, “I wouldn’t want you to think that we were headed toward

anything serious. This is sort of our first date.”

“Oh, I understand.” Jilly gave Ali a long, steady look. “It’s funny,

how disorderly life can be sometimes. You’re having your first date,

and she’s already told you things she’s never told anyone.”

Ali couldn’t argue with that. She’d told Beau about Sammy, when

it had taken her years to tell Wynter. She’d said and done things and

wanted things from Beau she’d never allowed herself to say or do or

want before. They’d already broken whatever relationship rules might

exist.

“Disorderly is a very good word for it.”

The back door swung open and Beau came in, stamping her feet.

Her auburn hair glittered with what looked like liquid diamonds. “You

won’t believe it. It’s snowing out there. It’s really coming down.”

Ali automatically reached down and checked her pager. “I’m on

backup call tonight. This kind of weather always means more traffic

accidents.”

“I should take you home,” Beau said. “If you might get called

later, you should probably try to get some sleep.”

“I can get the trolley,” Ali said. “Then you won’t have to dri—”

“No,” Beau said.

“Absolutely not,” Jilly echoed.

“Okay,” Ali said, holding her hands up in surrender. “Jilly, thanks

again so much for dinner.”

“Anytime. Come back soon.”

Beau slid her arm around Ali’s waist. “Good idea.”

“How can I resist you both?” Ali said with a laugh.

• 197 •

RADCLY fFE

Outside on the porch, Ali took in the street. At least an inch of

snow already covered the sidewalks and parked cars. The air was hazy

with large fat snowflakes falling in dense sheets.

“This is amazing,” Ali exclaimed.

“When was the last time you saw this in November?” Beau kept

her arm around Ali’s waist as they walked down the steps and stopped

on the sidewalk. She was captivated by the snowflakes clinging to Ali’s

lashes and dusting her dark hair. “You’re so beautiful you make my

heart stop.”

Ali’s lips parted in surprise. “You say the most incredible things.

If they’re well-practiced lines, you need to stop. If they’re not, you still

need to stop.”

Beau grinned and touched her tongue to a snowflake caught on

the edge of Ali’s lip. Then she pressed closer and kissed her. Ali’s arms

lifted to her shoulders and suddenly there was no space between them

at all. Ali’s tongue slid into her mouth and she groaned.

“God, Beau,” Ali murmured, finally pulling away. “I feel like I’m

addicted to you.”

Beau slanted her mouth down Ali’s throat and kissed the hollow

between her collarbones. The storm, the night, the world coalesced

into a single moment, a solitary sensation. Ali. Ali was everything and

everywhere and all she could feel. “The addiction is contagious.”

Ali threaded her fingers through Beau’s hair. “I think you’d better

take me home.”

“I think you’re right.” Beau fumbled her keys out of her jacket,

still holding Ali against her. The contact was too sweet to give up. “I

can’t seem to get enough of you. God, you feel good.”

“The car,” Ali gasped when Beau kissed her neck again.

Still exploring Ali’s throat with her mouth, Beau edged them over

to the car, reached down by feel, and worked her key into the lock.

She opened the door and with her mouth against Ali’s ear, whispered,

“You’re in charge.”

“I doubt that,” Ali said shakily, backing out of Beau’s embrace.

She dropped into the car and closed her eyes.

Beau got into the other side, started the engine, and carefully

pulled out. Ali stared straight ahead, her hands fisted on her thighs.

“Are you all right?” Beau asked.

“As long as you don’t touch me, I will be.”

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“Don’t know if I can do that.”

“Try. Because I can’t promise not to accost you while you’re

driving.”

“What if I like being accosted?”

“You’re asking for trouble, then.” Ali leaned over, pressed her

hand between Beau’s legs, and squeezed. “Because I can’t seem to keep

my hands off you.”

Beau stiffened, her ass lifting from the seat. “Oh yeah. So damn

good.”

“I want to have sex with you,” Ali muttered, “but not while you’re

driving in a snowstorm.”

“Then move your hand,” Beau said, her jaw tight. “I’m so close

I can’t stop you, and this isn’t where I want to come with you the first

time either.”

Ali dragged her hand away and flopped back in her seat. “Somehow

I didn’t think you’d be the one to put the brakes on. Sorry.”

Beau shot her an incredulous grin. “Uh—you don’t need to

apologize for making me so hot I want to cry.”

“I’ve never been a tease, and I feel like that’s all I do with you.

Usually when I’m making—”

“I don’t think I want to hear about you with other women,” Beau

said.

Ali smiled, inordinately pleased at Beau’s possessive growl.

Another atypical reaction. “Well, it’s not my intention to make you

uncomfortable.”

“Please,” Beau whispered, “torture me all you want.”

Ali shuddered with a vicious twist of desire, but kept herself in

her seat and her hands in her lap until Beau pulled into a space near her

house. “Will you come in?”

Beau turned in her seat and brushed Ali’s cheek. “I don’t think

that’s a good idea.”

“Why is that?” Ali knew she wasn’t misreading the desire in

Beau’s eyes.

“I promised this wouldn’t be about sex, remember?”

“Beau,” Ali said, “you’re not the one pushing for sex. I am. As to

the promise, I’m not holding you—”

“I know. But I’ve done casual more times—”

“Ah, I think I can safely say I don’t want to hear the details.”

• 199 •

RADCLY fFE

Beau grinned. “You’re different. I want to do this differently.”

Ali almost asked, What are we doing, Beau? but she held back.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. Outside her window,

snow continued to fall heavily. “If you’re going to go, you should. The

roads will get worse fast in this.”

“Okay.” Beau caressed the back of Ali’s neck. “Are you mad?”

“God, no. Of course not. I want you.” She leaned over and kissed

Beau. “But I can wait. Maybe not graciously…”

Beau laughed. “I must be nuts for saying no. Hell—I am nuts.”

“I like nuts,” Ali murmured against Beau’s mouth. “Call me when

you get home. Just so I know you’re okay?”

“Before or after I finish what you started?” Beau whispered.

Ali closed her eyes and rested her forehead on Beau’s, trying to

gather enough breath to answer. “Surprise me.”

v

Beau waited until Ali unlocked her front door and disappeared

inside before pulling away from the curb. At a little after ten on

Thanksgiving Eve, the streets were nearly deserted. She circled Ali’s

block and headed toward the South Street Bridge into West Philadelphia.

Thick snow covered the roads and a curtain of the stuff muted the red

light up ahead to a hazy pink glow.

She smiled to herself, remembering the tender snowy kiss that

quickly escalated into an all-out grope session in the front seat of her

car. She loved the way Ali played with her, the aggressive way she

touched her. So different than the way most women were with her,

content to signal their desire with softly murmured instructions or the

subtle guidance of her hand to the places they wanted pleasured. Ali’s

kisses equaled hers in fervor, her touch was just as demanding, and

unlike others, Ali took pleasure in caressing her. Hell, whenever they

got started, Ali was all over her. Beau cupped a hand between her legs

and squeezed, enjoying the building pressure in her already tense and

throbbing sex. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told Ali she was

close to coming in the front seat of her car. If she worked at it a little

bit she might still be able to, but she’d rather finish herself off stretched

out on her bed, her eyes closed, remembering the fierce expression in

• 200 •

Trauma alerT

Ali’s eyes when they kissed and imagining Ali’s tongue in her mouth,

Ali’s fingers teasing her.

“Fuck,” Beau whispered when her clitoris jumped. Quickly, she

shifted her hand back to the wheel. She hadn’t been this hair-triggered

since she used to make out with Suzy Gleason junior year in high school

in Suzy’s rec room after basketball practice. Suzy used to think it was

funny to push her hand down Beau’s pants while they were kissing

and play with her until she made Beau come. She was just a kid and

had zero control and could hardly last a minute once Suzy started in

on her clit. She’d whine and try to warn Suzy to stop, but Suzy would

just laugh and boom, she’d pop. Suzy Gleason. She ended up marrying

some guy she met freshman year in college. Moved to Utah or Idaho or

someplace like that.

Grinning at the memories, Beau figured she wasn’t doing much

better now. Ali got her so wound up with a few kisses she’d probably

embarrass herself the first time Ali got anywhere near her clit. The

thought of Ali stroking her made her vision fuzzy.

Beau started to slow her T-Bird half a block before the red light and

then let up on the brake when the light turned green. She was already

into the intersection when she saw headlights shooting through the wall

of snow off to her left. Whoever was coming, they weren’t going to

stop. With the bridge directly ahead, she had nowhere to go except

forward or over the side into the river. Adrenaline surging, she hit the

gas as the oncoming vehicle headed straight for her door.

• 201 •

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chapTer TweNTy-Three

Ali gave up pretending to read a three-week-old copy of

Newsweek, tossed the magazine aside, and checked her watch.

Less than five minutes had passed since the last time she’d checked.

Beau had dropped her off almost two hours before. She’d obviously

forgotten to text or call to let her know she’d arrived home. Probably

checking in with a not-girlfriend with whom she hadn’t even had one

date wasn’t high on her list of priorities.

Except Ali didn’t believe that Beau would say she would do

something and not do it. Maybe she had car trouble. Except her car

was obviously lovingly cared for and sounded like a perfectly tuned

machine. Maybe she’d gotten called in to work an extra shift—the

weather might have kept some people from showing up. But if that

were the case, Beau still would have found time to call. Something

was wrong. Ali knew it instinctively, the same way she knew when a

patient was getting into trouble. There might not be any outward signs

of impending disaster, but she sensed when something was off. When

the rhythm of all the parts working together was just a little bit out of

sync. Beau should have been home a long time ago, and she should

have called to say so.

Ali sat down on the edge of the sofa and rubbed her temples with

her fingertips. She could wait for someone at some point to tell her if

something had happened to Beau. Or she could do what she did best.

She could search out the facts and deal—somehow—with the truth. Her

hands trembled. If something had happened to Beau, she might not be

able to help her any more than she had been able to help Sammy. And

• 203 •

RADCLY fFE

she could lose her just as quickly. That was a truth she wasn’t sure she

could face.

She moaned softly, and the sound of her own voice in the stillness

forced her eyes open, forced her to her feet. She would not wait helplessly

for the phone to ring and a stranger to deliver the devastating message

or, as had happened with Sammy, for a knock on the door——

The ringing of her doorbell was like a pistol shot streaking straight

to her heart. She gasped, and for one brief instant, considered not

answering. But she knew from long experience denial would not alter

the truth. Steeling herself, she went out into the hall to the foyer. All

she could make out through the wavy glass was the indistinct figure of

someone standing on her front landing. She pulled the door open and

froze as her mind struggled to reorder expectation with reality. Beau’s

hair lay in wet strands on her forehead and clung to her pale cheeks.

Her jacket was gone and her gray shirt was so wet it looked black. She

wore no gloves and her pants appeared to be soaked to the knees. She

was shivering.

“Beau? Are you hurt?”

“I’m sorry, I—” Beau shook her head as if she’d forgotten what

she meant to say. “I’m not hurt.”

“You’re soaking wet. Come inside.” Ali grasped Beau’s hand and

drew her into the foyer out of the wind and snow. Her fingers were ice.

She framed Beau’s face, brushed the damp hair off her forehead. Beau’s

eyes were a little cloudy and confused. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

“I just needed to come back. To see you.”

Ali wanted to pull her close, to assuage her own fears with the solid

reality of Beau in her arms, but Beau seemed so uncharacteristically

fragile she held back. Beau needed caring for. “Let’s get you warmed

up and into some dry clothes.”

“I’ll get your floor all wet.”

“Do you think I care about that? I was really starting to worry

about you.” Ali shut the door behind them and led Beau by the hand

into her apartment. “How did you get so soaked?”

“I walked.”

“Where’s your car?” Ali asked as calmly as she could. Beau was

safe, but she wasn’t all right. “What happened?”

“Car accident. A woman in a minivan ran a light. Tagged my rear

• 204 •

Trauma alerT

end. Didn’t do much damage to me, but the van jumped the curb and

flipped.”

Ali’s jaw tensed. “What are you doing walking around? Why

didn’t someone take you to the hospital?”

“Me? No, I’m all right. Hell, my car was barely dinged, but I hit

the curb pretty hard when I spun around. I think the rear axle’s bent. I

didn’t want to try to drive it, so I had the police arrange for a tow.”

“Did you lose consciousness? Were you examined at the scene?”

“The crew had enough to do with the mother and four kids inside

the van.” Beau absently rubbed the side of her neck. “Little bit of a seat

belt burn. Nothing else.”

“We’ll see.” Ali slid her arm around Beau’s waist. “Upstairs. I

want to have a look at you.”

“None of the kids were belted in,” Beau said, her voice hollow. “I

couldn’t even get to the ones in the back. I tried. Couldn’t get the side

door open. Glass everywhere. I didn’t get a scratch.”

Ali pushed open her bedroom door, switched on the bedside lamp,

and guided Beau over to the bed. “I need you to undress. Can you do

that?”

Beau methodically unbuttoned her shirt, pulled it from her pants,

and shrugged it off. The thin dark silk T-shirt underneath was wet and

molded to her chest and abdomen. “The first responders were on scene

in less than five minutes. Five minutes doesn’t seem like a very long

time unless you’re standing by helplessly, doing nothing.”

“I know.” Ali gently tugged Beau’s T-shirt from her pants. “This

too. And your pants. You can leave your briefs on.” She kept her gaze

averted and pulled down the covers on her bed. “Slide in here when

you’re done. I want to get my bag.”

Beau grasped Ali’s arm. “I’m okay. Can you just stay here? Just…

stay.”

Ali stroked Beau’s cheek. “I’m not leaving. I promise. I just want

to be sure you’re not hurt.”

“I’m not.” Beau swiped at the wet hair on her face. “I couldn’t do

anything, Ali. No equipment. No meds. Nothing.”

“None of us can do much in the field without support.” Ali doubted

her words would make any difference to Beau. She understood Beau’s

need to do, to act, to banish pain and suffering. But right now, her only

• 205 •

RADCLY fFE

desire was to be certain that Beau was not an unwitting victim. “Pants

off. In bed. Now.”

Beau nodded and removed her trousers. Ali lifted the covers and

held them up until Beau climbed into bed. She’d seen Beau in various

stages of undress before. She’d never seen her so close to naked. Her

body was one long tight gorgeous expanse of hard muscle softened by

the subtle curves of her breasts and slight flare of her hips. Her low-cut

black briefs drew Ali’s eye to the mound between her thighs, and her

throat tightened painfully.

Beau stretched out on her back and looked up at Ali. “I’ll get

warmer a lot faster if you get in here with me.”

“Try to behave for at least a minute,” Ali said thickly. Then she

covered her, leaned down, and kissed her. “I’ll be right back.”

Ali hurried to the hall closet and retrieved her emergency medical

bag. By the time she returned to the bedroom, she had her unruly body

under control and her mind focused. She sat on the side of the bed and

tilted the lampshade to get a little more light onto Beau’s face. The left

side of Beau’s neck just above her clavicle was red and faintly abraded.

Drawing down the covers, Ali checked Beau’s chest and abdomen for

any sign of seat-belt bruising. Other than a slight discoloration over

her left upper chest, she didn’t see any evidence of deceleration injury.

Nevertheless, she was acutely aware of all the things that could have

happened that might not reveal themselves until later. Intestinal tears,

aortic dissections, hepatic ruptures.

“Are you having any pain anywhere at all?” Ali asked, gently

palpating Beau’s abdomen and watching her face for signs of tenderness.

All that surgery. If the internal scars had torn loose… “No abdominal

pain? You’re sure?”

“No, none.” Beau tried not to respond to Ali’s hands on her body

and failed. What Ali was doing was perfectly appropriate, but every

touch made her quiver inside. When Ali’s fingertips brushed over the

scar in the center of her abdomen, heat shot deep into her belly. She felt

herself stiffen and swell.

“Neck pain? Headache?”

Beau grasped Ali’s wrist, pressing Ali’s hand flat against her

abdomen and holding it there. Each time Ali gently probed her abdomen,

the pressure in her groin ratcheted up another notch. She was afraid she

• 206 •

Trauma alerT

was going to whimper at any second. “I’m really okay. I just…when

I saw that van flip, and then I couldn’t get into it…A couple of the

kids were crying, but one of them, a little girl, just looked like she was

sleeping. I was going crazy trying to get in to her.”

“I’m sorry.” Ali feathered the fingers of her free hand through

Beau’s hair. “Are they all going to be okay?”

Beau half unconsciously guided Ali’s hand in slow circles over

her abdomen. The firm warmth of Ali’s hand comforted and steadied

her. “A couple of them had pretty serious head injuries. I almost went

with them, but everything was so crazy and all I could think was to get

back here.”

“I’m so glad you did.” Ali gently extracted her hand from Beau’s

grip. Maintaining any kind of professional distance when she touched

her was difficult enough without Beau encouraging her caresses. “Let

me just finish looking you over. Then you need to call Jilly.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Beau tried to sit up but Ali held her back with a hand

on her shoulder.

“You can call her in just a minute.” Ali retrieved her stethoscope

from her bag and quickly checked Beau’s heart and lungs. Finally, she

was satisfied and the hard ball of tension lodged beneath her breastbone

began to dissolve. “Where’s your cell phone?”

“Damn it. It’s in my jacket and I used that to cushion the mother’s

head while they were getting her out. It’s probably still in the van.”

“You can use mine to call Jilly and to let the police know about

your jacket.” Ali got her cell phone off the dresser and gave it to Beau.

“I’m going to make you some tea. You’ve still got goose bumps and

you’re cold, even if you don’t know it.” When Beau grabbed for her

hand again, Ali caught hers and kissed the bruised knuckles Beau must

have hurt trying to get into the van. “I’ll be right downstairs. And I’ll

be back in five minutes.”

“I can ask Jilly to come and get me,” Beau said quietly.

Ali braced her arms on either side of Beau’s shoulders and leaned

over her. “You’re not going anywhere tonight. I want you right here

where I can see you.” She kissed her on the mouth. “And feel you.

Make your calls.”

v

• 207 •

RADCLY fFE

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Jilly asked for the fifth time.

“I’m okay. Not a scratch,” Beau repeated. She could hear Bobby

in the background asking questions. “I thought he was sleeping.”

“I woke him up when you didn’t come home and didn’t answer

your phone. I wasn’t sure what to do. Ali’s number isn’t listed or I

would have called her before now.”

Beau heard Jilly say in a muffled voice, “I’m not going to ask her

that. God, you’re worse than she is.”

“What did he say?” Beau pushed herself up on the pillows and

tucked the covers in around her waist. The bedroom door opened and

Ali came in carrying a tray with two mugs on it. She paused inside the

door and gave Beau an odd look. Beau grinned at her and mouthed

Jilly.

“You don’t want to know,” Jilly said with a huff.

“Tell him to behave or I’m going to kick his ass.”

“That’s not necessary. I am quite capable of kicking his ass

myself.”

Beau grinned when she heard Bobby laughing in the background.

His laughter sounded good. So did Jilly’s when she joined in. Stunned

to feel her eyes filling, Beau quickly covered them and leaned her head

back against the pillows.

“So anyhow, I’ll see you in the morning,” Beau said hoarsely.

“Ask Ali to come to dinner tomorrow,” Jilly said.

“She’s working,” Beau replied.

“Then tell her I expect her to come by for leftovers this

weekend.”

“Okay. I will. See you tomorrow.” Beau disconnected and set the

phone on the bedside table. She rubbed her palm over her eyes and

looked around the room for Ali. She stood at the dresser across the

room, her back turned. “Hey.”

“You might want to cover up,” Ali said, her voice low and husky.

Beau glanced down at her nakedness. “You have seen it before.”

“Not quite in this context.” Ali turned, her eyes dark and glittering.

“You look good in my bed.”

“I feel good in your bed.” Beau made no move to pull the covers

higher. Instead, she twitched them aside, exposing her legs and the

empty place beside her. She patted the mattress. “I’ve been keeping a

spot warm for you.”

• 208 •

Trauma alerT

Ali carried a mug across the room and held it out to Beau. “I had

every intention of getting in with you too, but I’m reconsidering.”

“Why is that?” Beau took the mug and sipped the tea, watching

Ali’s face. When Ali’s mouth curled into a sensuous smile her thighs

clenched. She traced her hand down the center of her chest and over

her abdomen. When Ali’s eyes followed her movement, her hips shifted

restlessly. “I love the way you look at me.”

“You’re gorgeous,” Ali muttered. She shook her head, hoping to

shake some sense into it. When she’d walked into the room and first

seen Beau propped up against the pillows, bare to the waist and every

inch beautiful, every ounce of good sense and reason had fled. “It’s the

middle of the night, you’ve just had a frightening experience, and we

both have to work tomorrow. What you need is to get some re—”

“What I need,” Beau said, her voice oddly tight, “is you next to

me.”

Ali’s protest died on her lips when she caught the glitter of tears

on Beau’s lashes. Tears were the last thing she expected and her heart

twisted. She sat down on the side of the bed and cupped Beau’s cheek.

“Hey. Are you all right?”

Beau covered Ali’s hand and kissed her palm. “Yeah. I wasn’t

scared. I got used to the idea of dying a long time ago. But I can’t get

used to the idea of standing by and letting other people die.”

“Oh, Beau.” Ali kicked off her shoes and slipped into bed, pulling

Beau into her arms as she did. When Beau turned into the curve of

her body and pressed her face to Ali’s shoulder, Ali stroked her hair

and held her tightly. “You save people every single day. You’re a hero,

sweetheart.”

“I don’t think so.” Beau kissed Ali’s throat and pushed up on one

elbow. She grasped the bottom of Ali’s T-shirt and tugged on it. “Will

you please get naked?”

Ali skated her palms over Beau’s shoulders and down her arms,

her eyes following the path of her hands. The taut muscles in Beau’s

arms quivered under her fingertips and Beau’s nipples tightened, her

breasts lifting with each quick breath. She wanted to look at her, touch

her, taste her—everywhere. There might be a million reasons to say no,

but she couldn’t think of a single one. She couldn’t think of anything at

all. She’d never been quite as terrified, or as exhilarated, in her life.

“Maybe you should undress me,” Ali whispered.

• 209 •

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chapTer TweNTy-fOur

Beau gathered Ali’s T-shirt in both hands. “Lift up.”

Ali raised her arms and Beau drew her T-shirt over her

head, letting it fall over the side of the bed onto the floor. The room was

warm but her nipples instantly pebbled. She focused on Beau’s face,

anchoring herself in Beau’s deep blue eyes. When she reached for her,

Beau caught her hand and gently placed it back on the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Ali whispered.

Beau’s mouth quirked. “Not a thing. I want to go slow, and if you

touch me right now, slow is not going to be possible.”

Ali smiled, loving the effect she had on Beau. She had never

enjoyed making a woman want so much before. She slipped Beau’s

grip and caressed her chest, brushing the inner curve of Beau’s breast

with the backs of her fingers. “Maybe I want fast.”

“Maybe you do.” Beau braced her arm on the bed next to Ali’s

shoulder and leaned over her, rubbing her lips lightly over Ali’s mouth.

Almost a kiss, but not quite. “Maybe we’ll do fast the next time.”

Ali’s stomach clenched and the insistent beat between her thighs

escalated. She had no idea what to expect next. She’d somehow lost

control and she didn’t want it back. “We’ll do it your way, then. For a

little while.”

“I’m going to make you forget all about time.” Beau didn’t want

to miss a single sigh, a sole flicker of Ali’s lids when she caressed her.

Every small sound of pleasure cut through her like a hot blade, the edge

of arousal so sharp she had to be bleeding. Beau skimmed the tip of

her tongue over Ali’s lower lip and dipped into her mouth for a small

• 211 •

RADCLY fFE

taste. When Ali’s tongue teased hers, she groaned and delved a little

deeper. Ali arched against her, gripping her shoulders, and their breasts

meshed. The first brush of Ali’s nipples over hers sent desire arcing

through her. Ali moaned and Beau caught fire. She needed more. So

much more.

“Your sweatpants,” Beau gasped. “They’re in the way.”

“You know what to do about it.” Ali slanted her mouth down

Beau’s throat and sucked at the soft skin undulating to the beat of her

heart. Beau’s skin was hot and salty, as searing as a naked flame. “I love

the way you taste.”

Beau shuddered. “I love that you want me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.” Ali set her teeth to Beau’s

neck, not caring if she marked her. In some utterly foreign part of her,

wanting to.

Beau’s fingers shook as she loosened the tie on Ali’s sweats. Ali’s

hands were all over her, stroking her back, her sides, the curve of her

breasts. When Ali skated her palm onto her abdomen, sliding lower,

Beau stopped her.

“I’m wound too tight for you to do that,” Beau said. “I’m not

going to come before I even get you naked.”

Ali licked the mark she’d left on Beau’s throat. “Then you’d better

get to work, because I can’t stop touching you.”

“Lie back. Let me do this.”

“If that’s what you want,” Ali said, feeling her skin heat in

anticipation.

“Oh, it’s definitely what I want.” Slowly, as if exposing a fragile

treasure, Beau guided the pants over Ali’s hips, down her thighs, and

off. Kneeling, she took Ali in for the first time. Ali was more slender

than her, toned where she was hard, sleek where she was angular. Ali’s

breasts were fuller, softer, the tight nipples a richer, darker hue. When

her gaze met Ali’s, she saw questions in her hooded eyes. Instinctively,

she held out her hand and Ali laced her fingers through hers.

“I don’t have the words to describe what looking at you does to

me,” Beau whispered. “I feel like crying, I want you so much.”

“Those words are perfect.” Ali released Beau’s hand and ran a

fingertip inside the waistband of Beau’s briefs. “Off.”

Wordlessly, Beau stripped away the last barrier. Still kneeling

by Ali’s hips, she brushed her hand over Ali’s abdomen and let her

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fingers trace the underside of Ali’s breast. Ali made an almost wounded

sound deep in her throat that made Beau’s sex tighten with exquisite

pleasure.

“Cover me with your body, Beau,” Ali breathed, grasping Beau’s

wrist and pulling her down. “I need you everywhere.”

Beau’s legs tangled naturally with Ali’s as she stretched out on

her. Ali groaned at the first press of Beau’s thigh against her center.

“Oh, that’s good.”

“Don’t move,” Beau whispered against Ali’s mouth, her clitoris

pulsing against Ali’s leg. Ali’s eyes were hazy and she knew hers were

too.

“I can feel you throbbing. God, Beau, you’re so beautiful,” Ali

murmured. “So wet and hot.”

“Stay still. Just…stay still. If you rub against me now you’ll make

me come.”

“I know.” Ali stroked Beau’s face and her eyes held a deep, deep

hunger that made Beau ache. “I’ve been dreaming of making you come.

Can I?”

Beau closed her eyes, afraid the desire in Ali’s gaze would push

her over. “Slow, baby, remember? Kiss me slow.”

Ali wrapped her arms around Beau’s shoulders, her nails scoring

Beau’s back as she opened and drew Beau deep into her mouth. Beau

felt herself sinking, drowning in her, and she never wanted to surface.

Her breasts ached, her nipples so tender they burned. The muscles in

her ass clenched and she fought not to move against Ali’s leg.

“I can’t—” Beau trembled and pulled away from the kiss. “Never

been like this before.”

Ali slid her hands down to Beau’s ass and dug her fingers into the

tight muscles, holding Beau in place as she raised her thigh between

Beau’s legs. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I want to feel you come.”

“Oh fuck,” Beau groaned, her head snapping back. She pumped

her hips, painting Ali’s skin with her excitement. Chest heaving, she

let herself get right to the edge and then straight-armed herself up,

breaking contact.

“You’re so close,” Ali said, caressing Beau’s rigid abdomen.

“Sweetheart, don’t hold back.”

“It’s good, so good,” Beau gasped. “Not…ready yet.”

Before Ali could protest, Beau was between her legs, pressing her

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open with her palms against the inside of her thighs. Ali raised her head,

needing to keep Beau in her sight. Needing the connection. Beau kissed

the soft skin in the bend of her thigh and Ali caught her lip between her

teeth. When Beau rubbed her cheek over her, hot skin sliding over her

wetness, she couldn’t hold back a whimper of pleasure.

“You make me so excited I can hardly stand it,” Ali said.

“Incredible,” Beau muttered, her mouth poised over Ali’s clitoris.

“You’re so lovely. So goddamn beautiful.” She kissed the pulse beating

between Ali’s thighs and Ali’s hips lifted against her mouth.

“Beau,” Ali warned, her throat tight. “I’ll come.”

“Mmm,” Beau rumbled, easing away a fraction of an inch,

exploring with her tongue and her lips and a tease of teeth. She followed

the rhythm of Ali’s breathing, the tenor of the muscles quivering in her

thighs, the cadence of the moans escaping her throat. She sucked her

clitoris until she was hard, then left her wanting to delve lower, deeper…

waiting until Ali begged to give her the light kisses and teasing strokes

where she needed them most.

“I can’t hold on, Beau.” Ali threaded her fingers into Beau’s hair,

holding her head still, crushing herself against Beau’s mouth. She didn’t

recognize her own voice when she pleaded, “I need to come. Please,

Beau. Please, sweetheart, I need you.”

Beau reached up, found Ali’s breast, and captured a nipple between

her fingers. Ali bucked beneath her, a startled cry ricocheting through

the room. She took Ali between her lips, plucking her nipple in time to

the slide of her mouth over Ali’s stiff flesh.

“That’s it, oh my God.” Ali clamped her hand hard on the back of

Beau’s neck. Her torso jerked with a whiplash of pleasure. “Oh no. No.

Too much. God. God, Beau.”

Ali came in Beau’s mouth and Beau almost came with her. Beau’s

thighs tensed, her hips pumping impotently against the bed. She cradled

Ali in the sanctuary of her mouth, easing her down with soft gentle

strokes of her tongue until Ali’s rigid muscles slowly relaxed. Then she

kissed Ali’s quivering thighs and rested her cheek on Ali’s abdomen.

“You destroy me,” Beau whispered.

Ali’s fingers trembled against Beau’s face. “My line. My line,

sweetheart.”

Beau grinned, liking the way Ali said sweetheart. Liking it a lot.

She closed her eyes, content to feel Ali’s heart beating beneath her palm,

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to listen to the sound of her breathing. She loved the way Ali played

with her hair, the feather-soft glide of Ali’s fingertips both comforting

and exciting. She pressed a kiss to Ali’s stomach and when Ali’s hips

tensed, she kissed her way lower. She wanted her again. She wanted to

hear those sounds of pleasure, the startled cries of surprise, the ultimate

paean of release. She wanted to be the one, the only one, she realized

suddenly, to give Ali that pleasure. She kissed Ali’s swollen clitoris and

the hand in her hair tightened.

“No,” Ali murmured. “Not again. Not yet.”

“I want you,” Beau insisted, sliding one arm around Ali’s waist to

hold her still while she covered her with kisses.

Ali groaned and tugged at Beau’s hair. “I need a little longer before

I can come again. And I need you now.”

Beau would have been helpless to deny her, even if her body

hadn’t been screaming for release. She moved until she was lying on

her side next to Ali and kissed her lazily, taking her time, captivated by

Ali’s glazed expression and knowing she’d put that look on her face.

“I love making you come,” Beau whispered. “I feel ten feet tall

right now.”

Ali laughed and nipped at Beau’s lower lip. “You’re easy to

please.”

“No,” Beau said seriously. “I’m not. Not the way you please me,

not deep inside where I feel you.”

“You nearly make my heart stop with the things you say.”

“I want you so much,” Beau said.

“How much?” Ali caressed Beau’s chest and cradled her breast,

stroking her nipple with the pad of her thumb. She smiled when Beau’s

lids drooped and her lips parted in pleasure. “How much, sweetheart?”

“More than anything.” Beau gasped and rested her forehead

against Ali’s, unable to control her muscles as heat spread through her

belly. “God, Ali. You make me want to come so bad.”

“Do I?” Ali traced her nails down the center of Beau’s abdomen,

watching her eyes lose focus. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Beau shivered. “You make me so wet when you do that.”

“Are you very excited, sweetheart?” Ali brushed her mouth over

Beau’s, barely breathing herself.

“My clit’s pounding so hard. I’m about to burst.”

“Don’t do that. All right?” Ali turned her hand and pressed the heel

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low on Beau’s belly, massaging the hard muscles, letting her fingertips

graze the very top of Beau’s sex. “All right?”

“I want to come so bad right now,” Beau groaned.

Ali slid one finger lower and caught her breath. “You’re so hard,

Beau. So incredible.”

“Feels so good.” Beau’s legs shook and she closed her eyes tightly.

“Please. Please can you stroke me?”

“Like this?” Ali pressed down and massaged in slow deep circles,

rolling the shaft of Beau’s clitoris beneath her fingertips. “Do you like

that, sweetheart?”

“You’re going to make me come,” Beau mumbled.

“Yes, I am.” Ali’s heart swelled with triumph as Beau’s eyes

opened wide and she gave a shocked shout. Beau pumped against her

hand, her jaws clenched in a rigor of pleasure. Ali could barely absorb

how beautiful Beau was in that moment, gloriously open and vulnerable.

She didn’t want the moment to end. Beau’s pleasure inflamed her. Ali

turned Beau onto her back and straddled her thigh, pushing deep inside

her at the same time.

“Oh God,” Beau cried. “Ali. Ali, I need…”

“I know what you need,” Ali said fiercely, massaging Beau’s

distended clitoris with her thumb as she filled her, deeper and harder

with every stroke.

Beau arched off the bed, her arms rigid at her sides, her hands

clutching the sheets. “Ah, God, don’t stop. Make me come again. Make

me come.”

Her agonized look of need pierced Ali’s heart, and fire surged

between her legs. She rocked her hips in long, tense thrusts on Beau’s

hard thigh. Beneath her, Beau shivered and broke with wave after wave

of orgasm. The sight of her pleasure was too much for her, and Ali came

with a shuddering cry.

Beau surfaced from the undertow of satiation when Ali collapsed

on top of her. Beau wrapped one arm around Ali’s shoulders and guided

Ali’s head to the curve of her neck. She smiled when Ali muttered

something unintelligible while burrowing deeper against her throat.

Ali was still inside her, held fast by the lingering contractions of her

orgasm. She’d never held a woman so intimately, never wanted anyone

so close. If she could have gotten Ali closer, deeper, she would have.

“I love you,” Beau whispered.

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Ali didn’t move, her breathing so deep and regular she had to be

asleep. Beau was just as glad. She knew the time wasn’t right for Ali

to hear her. She could wait. For the first time since she’d been given a

second chance at life, she wasn’t in a hurry.

• 217 •

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chapTer TweNTy-five

Ali opened her eyes to the unfamiliar sensation of a warm

body molded to the curve of hers. She didn’t remember

turning onto her side and pulling Beau against her, but she must have,

because Beau’s back was pressed firmly against her breasts, and Beau’s

ass nestled in the hollow of her pelvis. Her arm was wrapped around

Beau’s middle, her hand cradling Beau’s breast. Beau’s nipple was a

small, hot stone in the center of her palm, and as she registered the

new and wondrous phenomenon of Beau wrapped in her embrace, she

instantly quickened. Murmuring in surprised pleasure, she nuzzled the

back of Beau’s neck.

“Hey,” Beau whispered, stroking Ali’s forearm where it curled

across her stomach. “Sleep well?”

“I think you’d call that being unconscious.” Ali kissed the back of

Beau’s shoulder. “Have you been awake long?”

“A while.”

“Are you all right?”

“Mostly.”

Ali’s heart stuttered but she was good at hiding worry and fear.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been lying here quite a while, and I didn’t want to wake you

up. So I’ve been thinking about last night.”

“What about it?” Ali wondered if Beau regretted what had

happened, or maybe she was just uncomfortable spending the night

with anyone after a sexual encounter. Beau had murmured We’ll go fast

the next time, indicating there would be a next time, but maybe that had

been premature. Or just a seductive line she used to keep the control

• 219 •

RADCLY fFE

Ali had so willingly given her. She should probably let go of her—give

her some space, but she couldn’t bear to break their connection so soon.

She loosened her hold but Beau grasped her arm and pulled it back

around her. “Beau?”

“I keep thinking of how you taste, how you throb in my mouth

when you come. I need you again so damn bad right now everything

hurts.”

So relieved she felt dizzy even lying down, Ali closed her eyes and

pressed her face against Beau’s back. “I woke up wanting you too.”

“It’s almost five. When do you need to leave for the hospital?”

“An hour or so.”

“Ah, hell, we can’t…”

“Wait.” Ali slid her hand from Beau’s breast over her abdomen.

Beau sucked in her breath, her stomach muscles dancing under Ali’s

fingertips. “Let’s see how much time we need.”

“Ali,” Beau whispered. “I don’t think—”

“Shh.” Ali delved lower. Beau was slick and full, and when Ali

stroked her clitoris her ass tightened with a jerk. “Oh, not too much

time at all.”

“You just touch me and I want to come,” Beau gasped, dropping

her head back against Ali’s shoulder. “I’m usually better than this.”

“I don’t see how you could be any more beautiful.” Ali wanted

nothing more than to bring Beau to a shattering orgasm. She’d never

taken such pleasure in pleasuring a woman before. She’d always

enjoyed it, more than her own orgasm even, but this—this was a hunger

that went beyond simple need. She craved her. “I want you.”

Beau clamped her hand over Ali’s. “Stop. You’re going to make

me come.”

Ali laughed. “Problem with that?”

“I want it to be good for you.”

Ali heard uncertainty in Beau’s voice and couldn’t believe Beau

didn’t know how much she loved touching her. Making love with her

was so much more than anything Ali had ever experienced, or ever

expected. She had to find a way to let her know how special she was.

She relaxed onto her back and pulled Beau around to face her. She

kissed her, searching her face. “What would make you happy right

now?”

• 220 •

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“I want to make sure you never forget tonight,” Beau said.

Ali almost smiled at the absurdity of that statement. Every

moment of the past few hours was indelibly printed on her soul. But

she understood Beau’s need to give—as if Beau’s beautiful body and

unguarded responses had not been miracle enough. Taking didn’t come

easily to her—so much easier to give. But Beau had been so unselfish,

so willing to be vulnerable. She couldn’t deny her now. Didn’t want to

deny her anything, which was so unsettling she pushed the realization

firmly aside. “Believe me, I won’t forget anything about tonight…but

there is one thing.”

“Anything.”

“I can’t stop thinking about how you sounded that night when

you were across the hall and you made yourself come.” Ali skated her

tongue over Beau’s lower lip, smiling when Beau teased back with

hers. “You were so damn sexy.”

Beau grinned lazily. “You want me to do it again?”

“Yes.” Ali rubbed her thumb over Beau’s mouth. “And I want to

watch. Can you do it if I’m watching?”

“Just knowing you want me to do it has me so hard already, I’ll

have trouble not coming.” Beau leaned her head on one hand and rubbed

her palm over her chest and down the center of her belly. Ali’s avid

gaze stoked her higher. She flicked her clitoris and her hips jumped.

“Oh, no trouble at all.”

“Wait.”

Beau raised a brow. “What?”

Ali pushed another pillow under her head. “Kneel over me.”

“Oh man.” Beau’s eyes turned to midnight. “I won’t last more

than a minute like that.”

“I don’t care. I just want you.”

Beau knelt on either side of Ali’s shoulders, poised just above her

mouth. She looked down, her eyes narrowing at the hungry expression

on Ali’s face. She touched her clitoris and her thighs trembled.

“You’re beautiful,” Ali whispered, brushing her hands up and

down Beau’s thighs. She reached behind Beau and cupped her ass. “I

love how your ass flexes when you get excited.”

Beau’s fingers glided up and down in slow teasing strokes. “You

like?”

• 221 •

RADCLY fFE

“Oh my God. I can’t even tell you…” Ali raised her head and

kissed between Beau’s legs, on her fingers and her clitoris and her sex

as she fondled herself.

“You’re gonna make me come doing that,” Beau warned

breathlessly.

“I’m sorry. I can’t get enough of you,” Ali gasped, nearly

overloaded with need. She wanted to watch Beau’s face dissolve

with pleasure. She wanted to watch her hands, so strong and sure,

trembling on her ready flesh. She wanted to watch her stomach hollow

as the storm gathered inside. She wanted to be inside her, over her,

everywhere. “God, God, I want you.”

“Good,” Beau panted, bracing an arm against the wall. She

groaned when Ali licked her.

“Are you close? You look close.” Ali worked her fingers into the

hard muscles of Beau’s ass, feeling her tense suddenly. “Beau? Are you

going to come?”

Mumbling a yes, Beau dropped her head onto the arm she had

planted on the wall. Her hips rocked closer and closer to Ali’s mouth.

And then Ali’s hands were moving her fingers away, Ali’s lips were

closing around her, and she was coming in Ali’s mouth, one shattering

beat after another. When her thighs gave way, Ali caught her. Caught

her and held her.

“Thank you,” Ali whispered.

Totally wasted, Beau tried to protest but could only manage to

press her fingers against Ali’s mouth. “Wanted to do that. Like to please

you.”

Ali blinked away tears. Beau was so incredibly open and brave.

She was humbled. And more than a little frightened. She’d expected

Beau to be a skilled lover—Beau did everything with passion and she

was so sexy Ali could barely look at her without burning. But she hadn’t

expected her to be so tender and so terribly, terribly trusting. A huge

surge of protectiveness welled up inside her, and she wrapped her leg

over Beau’s and her arms around Beau’s shoulders, wanting to shield

her, as if that were even possible. She knew better than anyone that it

wasn’t. Even her heart’s blood would not be enough to protect her, and

that knowledge was nearly crippling.

“You’re shaking,” Beau whispered.

“You knock me out.”

• 222 •

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“Not yet.” Beau brushed a line of kisses over Ali’s breast until she

reached her nipple. She slicked her tongue over it and Ali stiffened.

“But I’m going to.”

Ali massaged the back of Beau’s neck, rubbing her nipple harder

against Beau’s mouth. “God, that feels good. And that’s all we’re going

to be able to do. I need to go to work.”

“Just a few more minutes.” Beau bit down on Ali’s nipple and Ali

cried out.

“Beau,” Ali protested weakly. But when Beau moved lower,

trailing kisses down the center of her body, she opened to her, and when

Beau took her into her mouth, she gave herself to her.

v

Ali wrapped a bath towel around her chest and walked into the

bedroom, half expecting Beau to be gone. But she wasn’t. She’d dressed

while Ali was in the shower and now leaned against the window frame

across the room, her hands tucked into the pockets of her dark trousers.

Her gray silk shirt was wrinkled, the snow that had soaked it having

dried overnight. Even rumpled with thin smudges of fatigue under

her eyes, she took Ali’s breath away. And instantly aroused her. Even

though Beau had made her come twice with her mouth just a short

while before, moisture quickly pooled between her thighs.

Ali had to look away. She was out of time and a little—no, more

than just a little—disconcerted by the hunger that rose in her every time

she was near Beau. This need, this physical ache, wasn’t her.

“Do you have time for coffee?” Beau asked. “I could make it

while you get dressed.”

“I’m going to have to hurry—I’ll get something at the hospital.

Thanks, though.” Ali busied herself pulling a shirt and pants off hangers

in her closet. She pulled on plain black cotton panties and sorted through

her drawer for a bra. She tried for a laid-back morning-after tone. “You

don’t have your car. I’ll walk with you to the trolley.”

“Okay. When can I see you again?”

“Why don’t you check with me tomorrow?” Ali suggested as

casually as she could, considering her body was screaming at her to

walk across the room and kiss her. Just a taste. God, she was totally out

of control. “I know we had planned to go out, but—”

• 223 •

RADCLY fFE

“Last night didn’t change that,” Beau said immediately. “And I

can’t wait until tomorrow night. If I hadn’t known you needed to get to

work, I would have joined you in the shower.” Beau walked up behind

Ali, put her hands on her shoulders, and kissed the back of her neck.

“Just thinking about you in there, remembering the way your body

looked with the water running all over it, got me so excited I had to

come again. Took about thirty seconds.”

“You’re going to break something if you don’t stop that.”

Beau laughed. “Not if you kiss it and make it all better.”

Ali closed her eyes tightly and arched her neck, a silent offer for

Beau to keep kissing her. She trembled when she felt teeth graze her

throat. Spinning around, she drove her hands into Beau’s hair and kissed

her hard, tasting the hot wild flavor that was uniquely Beau. “You’re

driving me crazy.”

“Ditto,” Beau gasped, skating her hands down Ali’s back and

cupping her ass. She pulled Ali tight against her crotch and sucked on

Ali’s lower lip. “I want to make love to you again right now.”

“You have to wait.” Ali pressed her palms against Beau’s chest

and pushed her away. “I have to get some clothes on and you have to

stay far away from me.”

Beau grinned. “Don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust myself,” Ali muttered, amazed that it was true and

more than a little frightened by the thought.

v

When Ali walked into the trauma bay at 7:00 a.m., Wynter was

inflating a tourniquet on the right arm of a middle-aged man whose

hand was swathed in bloody bandages. Although the other treatment

tables were empty, both instrument stands held used suture packs and

the floor was streaked with blood.

“Good morning,” Wynter said with a weary smile. “Happy

Thanksgiving.”

“Busy night?” Ali asked as she donned a cover gown.

“Nonstop,” Wynter said.

“You should have called me,” Ali chided.

Wynter shrugged. “Nonstop but steady. We kept up.” Her eyes

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went to the laceration on Ali’s temple. “I figured you could use the

downtime. How are you feeling?”

Ali knew she was blushing and quickly turned away to pull on

gloves. How did she feel? Like she’d woken up in someone else’s body.

Hell, maybe even in someone else’s life. Even now, with ninety-nine

percent of her concentration focused on what she needed to do for this

patient, she could still recall the heat in her breasts pressed against

Beau’s back. Still taste Beau. Still feel her in every cell. She hoped

her reaction was a temporary response to some very excellent sex and

would diminish once the physical uniqueness wore off, because she

was feeling damn uncomfortable. “I’m fine. What do you have?”

“Snowblower,” Wynter said, carefully peeling back the gauze

covering the heavily sedated man’s hand. Three of his four fingers had

been cleanly amputated just below his knuckles.

“Probably the first of many of these,” Ali said softly. Every time it

snowed, they got two or three cases just like this one. “Who’s on hand

call?”

“Plastics. They’re on their way.”

“Do we have the digits?”

“Two out of three.” Wynter indicated a plastic container of iced

saline on the counter. “The small finger is in pieces. The other two are

in pretty good shape.”

“Do we know what he does for a living?”

“Not yet. We’re trying to locate his wife. Apparently she’s out of

town.”

“Okay,” Ali said, re-bandaging the hand. “We’ll let plastics decide

to replant or not.”

Wynter grabbed the patient’s chart, rapidly scribbled a note, and

passed the paperwork to the clerk at the workstation. Then she said

to the trauma nurse, “We can hold him here until the replant team

evaluates him.”

“Sure,” the nurse said, placing a pillow under the patient’s arm.

“Why don’t you head home,” Ali said, tossing her gloves into the

biohazard trash container. “I’ll make rounds in the unit by myself.”

“Pearce is picking me up at eight. I might as well tag along until

then.”

“Sure? You look a little tired.”

• 225 •

RADCLY fFE

“I’m good.” Wynter retrieved her lab coat from the wall rack just

outside the door and waited while Ali found hers and put it on. As they

started down the hall, she said, “How are you really feeling? You’re

looking a little tired yourself.”

“Really, I’m doing fine,” Ali said self-consciously.

“I know something’s wrong. Headache? Are you having problems

with your vision?”

Ali punched the wall button to open the double doors into the

main part of the hospital and, once they were through, drew Wynter

out of the mainstream of foot traffic. Checking to be sure no one was

close enough to overhear, she said, “I didn’t get much sleep last night.

Nothing to do with the head wound, so don’t worry.”

Wynter narrowed her eyes. “You’re being awfully cagey.”

“Damn it,” Ali sighed. “I spent the night with Beau.”

“Hold it. Back up a step.” Wynter’s eyes glinted madly. “You spent

the night—as in spent the night in bed—with the woman you refused

to even admit was hot?”

“I never said she wasn’t hot,” Ali muttered. “I’ve got eyes, don’t

I?”

“Oh my God!”

“Quiet.” Ali looked around. “Can we not take out an ad?”

Wynter laughed. “Oh my God. You’re shy!”

“I am not shy. I’m private.”

“I’ve never seen you show up for work after a date the night before

looking like you’ve been ravished.”

“I do not look ravished. ” Ali shoved her fists into the pockets of

her lab coat. “Do I?”

“Actually, you look great. Was she great?”

Ali didn’t even try to pretend her face wasn’t flaming. She wasn’t

embarrassed, she was fighting the arousal that rose completely unbidden

every time she even thought of Beau. “The sex was great.”

“Uh-huh,” Wynter said slowly. “That’s terrific. So you like her?”

“Well you know how these things go.” Ali remembered being

frantic when Beau hadn’t called, fearing she’d been hurt or worse.

She thought of Beau holding her when she’d awakened from another

nightmare about Sammy and of Beau’s tears when Beau had told her

about Jilly’s illness. Beau made her feel so much, maybe too much.

• 226 •

Trauma alerT

Searching for safe ground, familiar ground, Ali said, “She’s hard not to

like. Come on, let’s make rounds.”

Wynter didn’t call her on being vague and Ali was grateful. She

wanted to immerse herself in her work, where she understood the

boundaries and knew how to prevent being ambushed by unwanted

emotions. Exactly what she wasn’t able to do with Beau.

v

“How are you feeling?” Beau asked Bobby when she walked in the

front door and saw him stretched out on the couch with a pillow behind

his head and a coffee mug balanced on his chest. He wore sweatpants,

a PFD T-shirt, and a shit-eating grin. The television was tuned to one of

the holiday parades.

“Not bad. Not as good as you, though.”

She hung the dark brown leather bomber jacket Ali had loaned

her on a peg inside the door. It was a little too small for her through the

shoulders, but she liked wearing it nonetheless. It was Ali’s, and she

liked having something of hers to prove to herself she was going to see

her again. Ali had been quiet on their walk to the subway and when they

parted, she had walked away too quickly for Beau to kiss her good-bye.

She couldn’t quell the uneasy feeling that something was bothering Ali.

Especially when Ali had avoided confirming when Beau could see her

again. She rubbed at the sudden pain in her midsection.

“Are you taking the medication Ali ordered?” Beau asked.

“No choice. Jilly saw the bottles and has been bugging me to make

sure I do.”

“Good. Where is she?”

“Kitchen,” Bobby said. “So, I guess I owe you money.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” Beau started toward the kitchen.

That fucking bet again. God.

“You mean you spent the night there and you didn’t nail her? Man,

a hot piece like—”

“Hey!” Beau spun around, so furious she was shaking. “It’s a

goddamn good thing you’re laid out on that couch or I’d lay you out

myself. You don’t ever talk about her that way.”

Bobby’s eyes widened. “Jesus, Beau. I’m sorry.”

• 227 •

RADCLY fFE

“Fuck,” Beau whispered, rubbing both hands over her face. “Look,

I’m sorry for jumping on you. It’s just—”

“No,” Bobby said, holding up his hand. “It’s cool. I just didn’t

know.”

Jilly walked in from the kitchen, a dishtowel slung over one

shoulder, a worried look on her face. “What’s the shouting about?”

“Just me being an asshole,” Bobby said, pointedly staring at the

television.

Beau didn’t say anything.

“Come with me.” Jilly grasped Beau’s arm and pulled her through

the dining room into the kitchen. She pointed to a high stool. “Sit.”

Beau sat, leaning her elbow on the kitchen counter and her head

on her hand.

Jilly poured coffee and passed it to her. “Are you all right? You

don’t look so good.”

“Yeah. I didn’t get much sleep. Rough night.”

“Why were you yelling at Bobby?”

“Guy stuff.”

Jilly flicked the dishtowel at Beau. “Don’t give me that crap.

What’s bothering you?”

“It’s nothing. Really. He just…said something about Ali, but he

was only joking around.”

“He looked upset. So do you.”

Beau pushed the coffee mug away. “I slept with her.”

“I’m not sure what to say to that,” Jilly said with a small smile.

“You’ve never been a kiss-and-tell kind of person, so I won’t ask. But

why do you look so worried?”

“I love her, Jilly.”

“Oh, well.” Jilly dropped the dishtowel on the kitchen table and

hugged Beau. “That’s wonderful.”

“I don’t know.” Beau looped her arms around Jilly’s waist and

rested her cheek on Jilly’s shoulder. “I’m not sure Ali’s looking for

anything serious. And I’m already in over my head.”

Jilly rested her chin on Beau’s hair. “I think sometimes love finds

us when we’ve stopped looking. Then it takes us a while to catch up.

Just give her time.”

“I will,” Beau said fervently. “If she lets me.”

• 228 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer TweNTy-six

Shortly after midnight, Beau finished cleaning and restocking

the rig from the previous run and alerted dispatch their unit

was back online. She was half out of her bunker pants when the pre

alert tone sounded through the station. Five seconds later her radio

beeped and the dispatcher relayed a call for an ambulance response. She

yanked up her pants, grabbed her jacket off a nearby peg, and climbed

into the front passenger seat of the ambulance just as her shift partner,

Lynn Dean, got behind the wheel. Lynn, a willowy blonde with killer

green eyes and a smile to match, was about Beau’s age and something

of a mystery. In an environment where everyone was in and out of

everyone else’s business all the time, Lynn was notoriously private.

Some of the guys who had struck out with her swore she was a lesbian,

but Beau had never seen her with a woman, so she thought that might

be just wounded male egos talking. She didn’t work with Lynn very

often, since the station captain usually scheduled her and Bobby to ride

together. But Lynn was filling in while Bobby was recovering, and so

far she’d been friendly and good to work with.

As Lynn pulled the rig out into the nearly empty streets, Beau

checked the call details.

“Unresponsive victim—that’s all we’ve got.” Beau shook her

head. Probably the 911 caller had disconnected before the dispatcher

could get any other information beyond an address. She hated these

blind calls—they could be walking into the middle of a gang war or a

domestic violence situation or any number of other potentially dangerous

situations. The address deep in the heart of West Philadelphia was one

of the rougher neighborhoods in the sector.

• 229 •

RADCLY fFE

“Crappy area,” Lynn said.

“Yeah.” Beau settled her shoulders against the seat, watching

the traffic ahead, checking the cross streets as they approached each

intersection to make sure oncoming traffic was slowing. They were

running with lights and siren, but that didn’t necessarily mean other

vehicles would yield for them. When Lynn turned onto the 5900 block

of Cedar, the street looked quiet. At least a quarter of the buildings were

abandoned, the rest in serious disrepair. “Don’t see any police.”

“That’s 5920 up ahead,” Lynn said, slowing in front of a partially

boarded-up, darkened building. The door stood open on sagging hinges.

“Crap.”

“Shooting gallery?”

“Looks like it. Or a squatters’ nest.” Lynn double-parked and

looked at Beau. “Do we go or do we wait?”

“If somebody in a place like that was worried enough to place a

nine-one-one call, then the victim’s got to be in bad shape.” Beau opened

her door. “I’ll check it out. You get an ETA for uniform backup.”

“No way are you going in there alone,” Lynn said, reaching for

the radio.

“Catch up to me.” Beau hopped out, grabbed a med box from the

storage compartment on the side of the truck, and headed up the walk

toward the dilapidated three-story, semidetached building. What had

once been large double-hung windows on the first level were boarded

over with plywood. The glass panes in most of the upper-story windows

were broken out. She thought she saw lights flickering behind some of

them. Candles or portable butane stoves. She unclipped her Maglite and

switched it on as she shouldered through the warped wooden door.

“Fire rescue,” she called, sweeping the debris littered hallway in

front of her with the light. Soiled rags, garbage, and moldy newspapers

lay in untidy heaps against the walls. Tiny spots of bright red reflected

in her flashlight beam before disappearing. Rats. “Fire rescue. Anybody

here?”

No one answered and she started down the hall, shining her light

into high-ceilinged rooms that had once been elegant but were now

stripped of everything of value. The carved wood molding around the

doorways and ceilings had been removed, the walls gouged out so the

copper and iron pipes could be cut out and sold, and the hardwood

• 230 •

Trauma alerT

floors ripped up. A toilet lay on its side in what had been the kitchen.

She didn’t see any signs of recent habitation.

Returning to the front hall, she played her light up the wooden

staircase leading to the second floor. The railing was gone and several

risers missing. She tried the first stair, balancing her weight on it. It

creaked but held.

From behind her, Lynn said, “ETA on the patrol car five minutes.

Anything?”

“No. I wonder if the call is legit.” Beau walked up another few

steps. “I’ll just take a quick look upstairs.”

“Right behind you.”

Beau proceeded cautiously, testing each step as she went. When

she reached the second floor, she started down the hallway, methodically

inspecting each room on one side while Lynn checked the other. She

thought she heard footsteps overhead and called out once again. No

one replied.

“Jesus,” Lynn muttered. “This place gives me the creeps.”

“Why don’t you wait at the top of the stairs for the uniforms?”

“Why don’t you stop acting like you’re the only one with a

dick?”

Beau laughed. “I stand corrected.”

“Over here,” Lynn said, shining her light into a room at the end

of the hall.

Beau followed her in. What had once been a spacious bedroom was

now a dormitory for the damned. Filthy blood and excrement stained

mattresses covered the floor, surrounded by scores of empty crack vials

and piles of discarded rags that might once have been clothes. The only

occupant was a half-naked woman lying curled in a fetal position on

one of the makeshift beds.

“Fire rescue,” Beau said again as she knelt by the victim, who

upon closer inspection appeared to be a young girl. A very young girl.

Fourteen, maybe fifteen years old. Lynn joined her, opening the med kit

as Beau quickly checked for vitals. “Got a pulse here. Fast and thready.

She’s sweating. Respirations labored.”

“OD?” Lynn said, wrapping a tourniquet around the girl’s upper

arm. “Damn. Her veins are horrible. I’ll be lucky if I can get an IV

in.”

• 231 •

RADCLY fFE

Beau rapidly checked the girl’s lungs to make sure she had airflow

on both sides and did a quick manual inspection, feeling her neck and

extremities before signaling to Lynn it was clear to turn her onto her

back. “Get anything in way of an IV?”

“Not yet.”

“She’s got a reasonable external jugular. I can get that,” Beau said.

Lynn handed her the intravenous catheter and held her light on the field

while Beau quickly threaded in the catheter and taped it in place. Lynn

connected the IV bag and opened the line wide.

From downstairs, a male voice announced Police.

“I’ll get the gurney and fill them in,” Lynn said.

“Roger that.” Beau shined her penlight into the girl’s eyes. Her

pupils were pinpoint and didn’t appear to be responding. A faint pink

froth rimmed her pale lips. Pulmonary edema. Almost certainly an

overdose. While she waited, she pulled the drugs she might need if the

victim deteriorated during transport. Before long, she heard voices and

the clatter of the stretcher being maneuvered up the stairwell and down

the hall. She got up to give Lynn a hand.

“The uniforms will check the rest of building,” Lynn said.

They positioned the stretcher next to the mattress and Beau

gripped her penlight between her teeth so she could see what she was

doing. She grabbed the backboard and slid the edge close to the girl’s

right side. Lynn grasped the girl’s shoulder and hips to tilt her up so

Beau could work the board underneath her and started to roll her.

“Oh, crap,” Lynn gasped.

“What?” Beau asked, pulling the penlight out of her mouth with

one hand and steadying the backboard with the other. When she flashed

her light on Lynn’s face she knew from her frozen expression what had

happened. “You get stuck?”

“Fuck, yes.” Lynn lifted her right hand. A hypodermic syringe

dangled in the air, the needle embedded in her palm. She pulled it out

and stuck the needle end into the mattress. “It was under her. Goddamn

it. God damn it.”

“I’ll get her. Clean that puncture out,” Beau said. Even knowing

it wasn’t that easy to contract hep-C or HIV from a simple puncture

didn’t help mitigate the cold wash of terror that coursed through her.

“You got it?”

“I got it. I got it.” Lynn ripped off her glove and wiped at her

• 232 •

Trauma alerT

palm with an alcohol swab. Her face in the stark light was grim but

composed. “It’s fine.”

“Betadine too.”

“Okay. I’m okay.” Lynn jerked on another pair of gloves and

together they shifted the patient onto the backboard, slid her onto the

gurney, and strapped her down.

Beau gripped one end of the gurney. They’d have to lift it over the

mattresses on the floor before they could wheel it the rest of the way

out. “Can you—”

“Yes.” Lynn grabbed her end. “Rookie mistake. I can’t believe I

did that. Jesus.”

“We’ll get it looked at as soon as we get to the hospital.”

Lynn didn’t say anything as they loaded the patient into the rig,

and Beau knew they were both thinking the same thing. Baseline blood

tests. Then the wait until the tests could be repeated. Then more waiting

to see if Lynn had sero-converted. Everyone in healthcare knew the

risks and took appropriate precautions, but their job exposed them to

uncertain and uncontrollable situations more than any other. Acceptable

risks.

Most of Beau’s life had been shadowed by the consequences of

acceptable risk. Her own life and Jilly’s hanging in the balance. She’d

chosen to deal with the constant uncertainty by ensuring that no matter

what happened, no one else would ever suffer because of her again. She

would never let anyone else pay the price that Jilly had paid for her.

So what was she doing with Ali, if not what she had sworn she

would never do? She needed to do more than put the brakes on. She

ought to back way away. A collage of images flashed through her mind.

Ali, fierce and determined as she bent over Bobby in the trauma bay. Ali,

reaching for her, comforting her as she cried for Jilly. Ali, triumphant

as she took her to the apex of pleasure. She ached to see Ali again—to

hold her, to be held. To tell her secrets, and at long last, to stop hiding.

She’d told Jilly she was in over her head with Ali. She was way

more than that. She was lost.

v

Ali glanced into the ER on her way to the cafeteria and halted

abruptly when she saw Beau standing at the nurses’ station. Her heart

• 233 •

RADCLY fFE

rate shot up with a combination of pleasure and irrational fear. Beau

couldn’t be hurt if she was standing there, even if her expression was

dark and solemn. Just the same, Ali couldn’t pass by without being

sure.

“Hi,” Ali said, walking up to her. “Did you just bring in a

patient?”

“Hi. I was hoping I might see you.” Beau’s eyes brightened and

her frown turned into an almost smile. “How’s your night?”

“Pretty routine.” While she spoke, Ali quickly looked Beau over.

She seemed fine. Not hurt. Ali’s pulse settled.

Beau glanced toward one of the curtained cubicles and a worried

look returned to her face. “I’m just waiting for my partner now.”

Ali followed her gaze. “Something wrong?”

Beau sighed. “Ah, our last run was in a shooting gallery. She got

stuck on a discarded needle.”

“Damn,” Ali murmured. No wonder Beau looked so tense and

upset. She ran her hand lightly down Beau’s arm and squeezed her

fingers. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to see her?”

“No. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do.”

“I don’t mind. Really.”

“Thanks, but they’re getting blood from her now and the nurses

are calling the ID fellow about prophylactic antiviral treatment.” Beau

looked at her watch. “Did you get your midnight supper?”

“I just finished lapping a guy who was stabbed in a bar fight. I was

on my way to the cafeteria when I saw you.”

“You’ve only got a few minutes before they close up.”

“Yes.” She really ought to go. Not that she cared about the free

midnight supper. She could always grab something out of the vending

machine if she got hungry. But she should get back to work and let

Beau do the same. She’d studiously avoided thinking about Beau on

the myriad occasions she had flashed back to their night together, their

morning together, the meal they’d shared with Jilly, the moments in the

car—any number of instances when Beau had touched her, physically

and otherwise. She’d actually pulled her phone off her waist a half

dozen times and looked at the number Beau had programmed in. Each

time, she’d resisted calling her. Perspective. She needed just a little

perspective, because the intensity of her feelings was very close to pain.

• 234 •

Trauma alerT

She should say good night. Instead she said, “I’d rather talk to you than

eat hospital turkey.”

Beau smiled. “That bad, huh?”

“Remember the meat loaf?”

“I’m due a break, and I doubt they’ll get everything taken care of

here in under half an hour. Why don’t I keep you company?”

Ali glanced at the closed cubicle again. “You sure you have

time?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. Let me just tell Lynn where I’ll be. She

can always call me if she needs me.” Beau turned, then looked back

over her shoulder. “Don’t disappear, all right?”

“Sure,” Ali said, wondering if Beau could read her uncertainty

that easily. She watched her as she crossed to the curtain, pulled it aside

a few inches, and spoke to whoever was in the cubicle. Her black cargo

pants hugged her ass and Ali was struck with the memory of those

hard muscles flexing against her palms as Beau trembled on the brink

of orgasm. She tightened and pulsed and there was nothing uncertain

about what she wanted. Beau walked back toward her, her eyes growing

more intense as they held Ali’s.

“All set,” Beau said, her voice husky.

“I need to make a quick stop.” Ali stopped thinking altogether as

she led the way down the hall. Fishing a key out of her breast pocket,

she stopped in front of a plain door and unlocked it. She held it open.

“I’ll just be a second.”

Beau didn’t hesitate but stepped into the dimly lit room.

Ali followed and closed the door. A single bed occupied one

corner with a plain bedside table holding a phone, a lamp with a pull

chain, and a stack of journals. Her duffel sat on the floor by the foot of

the bed.

“Sorry,” Ali whispered, linking both hands behind Beau’s neck,

“but I really need to do this.”

Beau automatically gripped Ali’s hips as Ali took her mouth in a

hot, languid kiss. She groaned in surprise and pleasure and pulled Ali

closer, letting her pelvis ride over Ali’s in a slow, easy roll. She’d wanted

to touch her from the moment she’d seen her walking into the ER,

but she hadn’t. They were at work, but that wasn’t the most important

reason she’d resisted. Ali so obviously guarded herself against casual

• 235 •

RADCLY fFE

intimacies—and as much as she’d ached to touch her, she’d wait for

permission. Now she had it, and the dammed-up desire she’d been

fending off all day flooded out. She skated her hand up Ali’s back and

into her hair, gently closing her fist to hold her in place. Then she turned

the kiss around on Ali and slipped her tongue into Ali’s mouth, tasting

and teasing. Ali jerked in her arms and Beau almost lost her tenuous

hold on her control.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” Beau murmured. She kissed

the corner of Ali’s mouth and pressed her face to the smooth column

of her neck. “It’s been such a long damn day. Feels like forever since

I’ve seen you.”

“About eighteen hours,” Ali said breathlessly.

Beau smiled and kissed her way up to Ali’s ear. She skimmed her

mouth around the delicate rim. “You counted?”

Ali tilted her head back, exposing herself in a way she never had

before. “I’m always aware of time. Instinct.”

“Is that all it is?” Beau bit down on her earlobe and tugged.

“Nothing to do with you,” Ali gasped.

Beau palmed Ali’s ass and rocked her pelvis into her. “Sure?”

With a growl, Ali grasped Beau’s shoulders, spun her around, and

pinned her to the door with the weight of her body. She kissed her

again, harder than the first time, deeper and more demanding. “You like

to play with fire, my big bad firefighter?”

“I’m not playing now.” Beau grabbed Ali’s wrist and pushed Ali’s

hand between their bodies, between her legs. “Feel how hot I am for

you. I want you to go down on me so bad right now.”

Ali trembled, flexing her fingers in the fabric of Beau’s cargo pants,

feeling the heat against her palm. “Jesus, Beau. We have to stop.”

“You know how much I ache for you?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Ali murmured, brushing her mouth along

the edge of Beau’s jaw. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started anything.”

“Don’t apologize. Don’t ever apologize for wanting me.” Beau

hugged Ali close, stroking her while she struggled to even her breathing

and fight down the insane need for Ali to take her. To take her over and

over, and never stop. “I’ve never been like this before. Never wanted

anyone to touch me the way I want you to.”

“Maybe,” Ali said carefully, searching for sanity in the madness

• 236 •

Trauma alerT

her emotions had suddenly become, “we need to slow things down a

little bit.”

“I can’t. I don’t want to. You feel too good. You make me feel…

you make me feel. ” Beau rubbed her cheek against Ali’s temple. “Say

you’ll have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

“Beau—”

“Say yes, Ali. Please.” Beau’s phone rang but she ignored it.

“You should check that. It might be your partner.”

“Not until you say yes.”

Ali shook her head. “God, you’re impossible.”

“That’s what you like about me.”

“Someday your ego is going to make your head explode.”

“Is that a yes?” Beau nipped at Ali’s ear again. “Yes?”

“Yes. Now go.” Ali opened the door. “Get out before I forget we

both have to work. And for God’s sake, straighten your clothes. You

look like you’ve been mauled.”

Beau laughed and tucked her shirt back into her pants. “Think

about me later, when you get ready to go to sleep. Think about me

thinking about you and what I’m doing.”

“Out.”

“See you tomorrow.” Beau backed out into the hall, her eyes never

leaving Ali’s.

When Ali couldn’t see her anymore, she closed the door and stood

there with her hand on the doorknob, trying to figure out what in the

world she was doing. Beau wouldn’t back off and she didn’t seem to

have the strength to make her. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe she didn’t

need to control what was happening between them. When fires burned

too hot, they burned themselves out.

• 237 •

• 238 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer TweNTy-seveN

Stop fidgeting,” Beau whispered to Bobby as they rode the

elevator to the clinic area on the third floor of the hospital.

“Easy for you to say,” Bobby mumbled back, his foot tapping

erratically. “You’re not the one who’s going to get kicked back half a

year for missing the field training tomorrow.”

“You’re gonna pass your test. Don’t worry about it.”

The door opened and they followed the crowd out. Beau checked

the directory next to the door, looking for the outpatient surgical suites.

She was a little worried about Bobby’s upcoming pulmonary function

tests, but he was so much better she figured he’d pass. Mostly she

was hyped to be seeing Ali again. She’d gotten off shift at two in the

afternoon and hurried home to grab a quick shower and collect Bobby.

She hadn’t thought about much all day except the upcoming evening

and her dinner with Ali. Now it was almost four and she was as nervous

as her first date. More nervous, really, because she hadn’t actually had

a bona fide first date with a girl before she got sick—more like a lot

of backseat and post-game-celebration make-out sessions that half her

partners pretended were just practice for the “real thing.” Then when

she recovered and got on with her life, her dates were mostly leadins to

sex. Nothing she ever got concerned about. She hadn’t been interested

in anything long-term with the women she hooked up with. Long-term

was not a concept that she entertained in her life, at least not personally.

Now, every time she and Ali were apart, she was half afraid something

would happen to change Ali’s mind about seeing her.

“You’re daydreaming again,” Bobby muttered.

• 239 •

RADCLY fFE

Beau gave a little jerk. “No, I’m not. Come on, it’s down this

way.”

“So,” Bobby said as he fell into step with her. “I guess I’ll be

moving out this weekend.”

“Oh man, I’m really gonna miss your stuff all over the bathroom

upstairs,” Beau teased.

“You know you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

“I hate to break it to you, bu—”

“Anyhow,” Bobby said in a rush, “I asked Jilly to have dinner with

me next week someplace. You know. To say thanks and all.”

Beau stopped walking. “You asked my sister out?”

Bobby straightened, his jaw thrusting forward. “Yeah. You got a

problem with that?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a problem,” Beau said, pushing into his space and

forcing him to back up until he was against the wall. She lowered her

voice. “You’re a pussy hound. No way are you taking my sister out.”

“Hey. It’s not like that.”

“Oh, since when?”

“Since Jilly. She’s nice—special. I get that.” He folded his arms.

“If you can take a woman out on a date, why can’t I?”

“Because…” Beau sighed. Her head was pounding. “What did

Jilly say?”

“She said no.”

“Well then, what are we talking about it for?”

“I didn’t think she meant it, so I asked her again. A couple of

times.” Bobby’s mouth thinned. “She told me about the health thing.”

“Fuck,” Beau said, pushing her hand through her hair.

“I told her I don’t care and I guess she believed me, because she

finally said okay.”

“Bobby, if you hurt her, I swear to God—”

“What the fuck, Beau?” Bobby poked her in the chest. “I know

the score. If I ran scared because of all the fucked-up things that might

happen, I wouldn’t do what I do every day in the field. Give me a little

credit.”

“Did she tell you why?”

His eyes darkened. “No, and I didn’t ask.”

“It’s because of me, all right? You should know that. I needed bone

• 240 •

Trauma alerT

marrow and Jilly donated. She had a problem and ended up getting

contaminated blood.” Beau looked away. “It was my fucking fault.”

“But you’re okay, right?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Beau couldn’t believe they were having this

conversation. She liked Bobby. Loved him, even. She wanted Jilly to

be happy almost more than anything in the world. She wasn’t even sure

why the idea of Bobby dating Jilly scared her. She just couldn’t stand

the idea of her being hurt. “Just be careful with her, okay?”

“I will. I swear,” he said with absolute sincerity.

“Let’s go get your tests over with.”

“Are you going to tell me about the bone marrow thing?” Bobby

asked as they started walking.

“It was a long time ago. I was a kid,” Beau said tightly.

“Leukemia?”

“Jesus,” Beau muttered. “Hodgkin’s.”

“That’s rough. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because I don’t want you trying to carry a hose for me, okay?”

When Bobby laughed, Beau cut him a look. “What’s so funny?”

“Uh, partner—I’ve seen what you can bench press, remember? I

know you don’t need anybody to pick up your slack.”

“Yeah, well don’t forget it.” Beau pointed to a reception area,

happy for the conversation to be over. Just the same, finally letting go

of the secret had lifted a weight from her shoulders. “Here we go.”

“Hey, you’re gonna go back with me, aren’t you?”

She smirked at him. “What’s the matter? Scared?”

“Hell, yeah,” he said.

“Of course I’m going with you.” She threw an arm around his

shoulders. “I’ve got a thing for your doctor.”

v

“Your lungs sound good,” Ali said, looping her stethoscope around

her neck. “I’ll get one of the nurses to walk you over to the pulmonary

lab, and we’ll see just how well they’re working.”

Ali crossed to the intercom on the wall and called the nurses’

station for an escort. She studiously ignored Beau, which was difficult

in the cramped confines of the examining room. She had expected Beau

• 241 •

RADCLY fFE

to show up with Bobby, but she hadn’t expected to be so affected by

seeing her. When she’d walked into the room and seen Beau leaning

against the wall, her legs encased in faded blue denim, a long-sleeved

black T-shirt hugging her chest, and Ali’s own brown leather jacket

carelessly slung over one shoulder, she’d wanted to touch her. She’d

wanted to kiss her hello, the way lovers do. She physically ached for

contact. For connection. Her response was far beyond sexual, and her

heart still pounded with a mixture of wariness and excitement.

A soft knock sounded, the door opened, and a woman entered.

“Hi, I’m Janie. I’ll walk you over for your tests now.”

Bobby looked at Ali with a hint of panic. “Can I have my pants

first?”

“Janie,” Ali said. “Give Mr. Sizemore a minute to get dressed.

Thanks.”

Beau pushed away from the wall and clapped Bobby on the

shoulder. “I’ll see you when you’re done.”

Ali went out into the hall, conscious of Beau following her. “I

need to talk to you for a minute. Come with me.”

“Anywhere, anytime,” Beau said in a low smoky voice.

“Don’t do that here.”

“Do what?”

“You know what,” Ali muttered. Beau was so close their shoulders

brushed, and Ali’s stomach clutched dangerously. When would she

ever get her hormones under control around her? She led Beau into

the small staff office at the end of the hallway. The windowless eightby-ten space was dominated by a dented gray metal desk covered with

uneven stacks of charts, a phone, a dictation machine, and half-filled

coffee cups, some with fuzz growing on the surface of the congealed

liquid. Ali turned as Beau closed the door and rested her hips against

the edge of the desk. “I have to cancel tonight.”

“Why?” Beau asked, her voice curiously flat. Her expression,

though, looked wounded before emptying of all emotion.

That fleeting pain was enough to make Ali forget why touching

her was dangerous.

“Hey.” Ali quickly crossed the few feet between them and cradled

Beau’s jaw. She kissed her softly. “It’s work.”

Beau let out a breath and reached inside Ali’s lab coat to rest both

• 242 •

Trauma alerT

hands on her waist. “I thought you were off tonight. You worked all

night last night.”

Ali let herself relax against Beau’s body. Beau smelled faintly of

citrus and something more pungent that stirred her low inside. Beau felt

wonderful. “We’ve got a couple of patients in the unit going bad, and

Wynter’s on call. I can’t leave her alone.”

“Okay. What about later? When you’re done?”

“It’ll probably be late.” Ali tugged the back of Beau’s T-shirt out

of her jeans and slid her hand under the bottom. Beau’s skin was hot

and when she massaged the firm muscles, Beau shuddered. When she

realized what she was doing, she stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t

thinking.”

Beau’s mouth twisted into a crooked grin. “You don’t get it, do

you?”

“Get what,” Ali said, drifting in the captivating seductiveness of

Beau’s eyes.

“I love you touching me. I love that you want me. And that’s just

the beginning.” Beau swallowed. “I’m falling in love with you.”

Ali tumbled out of her sensory haze with a jolt. “What?”

“I’m falling in love with you,” Beau repeated.

“Beau,” Ali said, shaking her head. “I don’t—”

“It doesn’t have to be a problem,” Beau said.

“It is if we’re not on the same page about what we’re doing,” Ali

said adamantly.

“What page are you on?”

“Well, obviously, I can’t keep my hands off you.” Ali backed up a

step, then another. “I thought that’s what you wanted too.”

“Good sex and nothing else?” Beau asked.

“Can’t we just keep it simple?” Ali said, feeling desperate.

Everything was spinning out of control way too fast. “Enjoy each other.

Keep it light.”

“Sure. Absolutely. That’s the way I’ve always done it.” Beau took

two steps forward, closing the distance Ali had put between them. She

kissed Ali, thoroughly and skillfully. When she pulled away, she smiled

with everything except her eyes. “One thing I can give is really good

sex. Call me when you’re free and I’ll remind you.”

“Beau, wait.” Ali grasped Beau’s arm. Nothing about the

• 243 •

RADCLY fFE

conversation felt right. She wasn’t saying what she meant, but she

didn’t know what she meant. All she knew was the light had gone out

of Beau’s eyes, and that wasn’t what she wanted. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay, Ali. Really.” Beau gently pulled her arm free. “I better

go find Bobby.”

And then she was gone and Ali was left in the too-quiet room,

wondering how everything had gone so wrong. I’m falling in love

with you. Even now, the words struck terror in her soul. She wasn’t

looking for love. She’d never encouraged anyone to fall in love with

her, because she didn’t want to love anyone back. As long as she kept

everyone at a safe distance, she couldn’t be hurt. Only now she had the

distance she’d always wanted, and she’d never hurt so much.

v

Jilly reached over and took the bottle of beer out of Beau’s hand.

“That’s your fifth.”

“Why are we counting?” Beau asked, staring at the television. She

had no idea what was on.

“We’re not, obviously. Just me.” Jilly passed a large bowl of

popcorn to Beau. “Eat some of that.”

“Jilly,” Beau said, exasperated, “I’m not drunk.”

“I know. Not yet. But I’m not used to seeing you drink more than

a couple.”

“It’s Friday night. I don’t have to work for three days. I’m

relaxing.”

“You don’t look relaxed.”

Beau thumped her head against the back of the sofa. “Why do I

feel like I’m sitting in Mom’s living room?”

“Because Mom loves you just like I do. And we don’t like it when

you’re unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy.”

Jilly ate some popcorn. “I know. You’re miserable.”

Beau rolled her head on the sofa back and glared at Jilly. “You

didn’t tell me you were going out with Bobby.”

Jilly flushed. “You’re miserable because I’m having dinner with

Bobby?”

“You know what I mean.”

• 244 •

Trauma alerT

“You’re trying to change the subject. But just to show you that I’m

willing to share,” Jilly said archly, “I’m going out to dinner with Bobby

next week. Happy now?”

“I already knew that. What I want to know is why didn’t you tell

me?” Beau took the bowl of popcorn and balanced it on her knee. She

shoveled a handful into her mouth and waited.

“Because I like him.”

Beau stopped chewing. “Uh-oh.”

“Just don’t say anything, okay?” Jilly folded her hands in her lap

and appeared to be studying her nails. “I like him and I told him about

the infection and he says he doesn’t care. And I don’t want that to be

part of this anymore.”

“Okay.” Beau set the popcorn aside and shifted closer, sliding

her arm around Jilly’s shoulders. “I told him too. My part. So there’s

nothing you need to keep from him because of me. You know, if and

when.”

Jilly rested her head on Beau’s shoulder. “That’s a big deal. Your

telling him.”

Beau sighed. “The hardest part was telling Ali that first time. It

wasn’t so bad with Bobby.”

“I’m really proud of you.” Jilly rubbed her hand up and down

Beau’s leg.

Beau rested her cheek against Jilly’s head. “I’m really proud of

you too.”

“So are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I fucked up with Ali. I told her I was falling in love with her.”

“What did she say?”

“That she’s only interested in my body.” Beau grimaced. “Not in

quite so many words, but that was the bottom line.”

“What are you going to do?” Jilly’s hand stilled on Beau’s leg.

“There’s nothing to do.” Beau retrieved her beer. “What she wants

has always been enough for me.”

“I guess that should work,” Jilly said carefully. “Especially if

you’re not looking for anything long-term.”

“No point complicating a good thing.” Beau had lost her taste for

the beer. She peeled off the label with her thumb, trying to figure out

when she had gotten so good at lying to herself.

• 245 •

• 246 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer TweNTy-eighT

Have the residents set up the incident command center in the

far right corner of the gym and the field hospital opposite

that,” Ali said to Wynter. She handed her a printout. “This marks the

position of each victim—those within the red circle are in the line of

fire. Each VIC SIM will have a yellow tag listing their injuries clipped

to their shirt.”

Wynter glanced down at the clipboard with the victim scenarios

listed. “We’ve got twelve GSWs—one pregnant woman, one child, two

dead on scene, four critical, and four walking wounded. Do you have a

preference for who I put where?”

Ali waved her hand. “Do it any way you want. Just make sure

their injury tags are visible so the first responders will know what

they’re dealing with.” She jammed her hands on her hips and frowned.

“They were supposed to mark the red zone with a circle on the floor—

they didn’t want us to do it because they have some kind of special

marker that won’t damage the surface. If they don’t send someone from

maintenance in here to do it soon, I’m going to do it myself, the floor

be damned.”

“Want to give me a hint what’s chewing on your butt this morning?”

Wynter asked mildly.

“Nothing except for a five-hour field test with ten testosteronehyped paramedics and a handful of clueless surgical residents. Present

company excluded.”

“I didn’t know all the paramedics were guys this round,” Wynter

said.

• 247 •

RADCLY fFE

“They’re not. There are three women in this group, but I’m sure

their testosterone levels are just as high as the men’s.”

Three women, one of whom was Beau. When Ali had directed

the paramedics to the locker room where they could sort their gear and

leave their coats, Beau had been at the back of the group with two

gorgeous women. A blonde who could easily have been a young Daryl

Hannah and a small, tight-bodied, sloe-eyed Latina who was practically

glued to Beau’s side. Beau had given Ali a quick glance and a cocky

grin before moving on with her friends. The look had been hot but

practiced, and Ali missed the singular desire that had been in Beau’s

scorching looks until yesterday. Yesterday, when Beau had wanted to

tell her she was more than just another in a line of women and she

hadn’t wanted to hear it. She’d shut Beau down. Shut her out.

Can’t have it both ways, Be careful what you wish for, and a host

of other platitudes raced through Ali’s mind. She was verging on bitchy

and she wanted to blame her foul mood on lack of sleep. She’d gotten

home at eleven the night before after removing six feet of necrotic small

intestine from an elderly woman who’d fallen down the stairs, broken

her hip, and suffered an MI. The woman had developed heart failure

followed by cardiogenic shock, and when the blood flow to her G.I.

tract had fallen dangerously low, her small intestine had died. A classic

example of the inevitable downward spiral that so often accompanied

serious injury in the elderly. The case had left her dispirited and added

to the hollow ache remaining after her conversation with Beau. Her

disquiet had kept her up most of the night, and now she was tired,

frustrated, and most of all, lonely.

Ali glanced at the big digital clock on the wall. 11:50 a.m. “I’m

due to give the introduction in ten minutes. I’ll send the VIC SIMS out

here on my way to collect the trainees.”

“What else can I do to help?” Wynter said gently.

Ali pulled herself back to the present and smiled wryly. “Sorry. I

remember now why it is I don’t like to get involved with women. Too

much drama.”

“Oh. What did she do?”

“Believe me, you don’t want to know.”

“Oh, but I really do. And now—we’ve still got a few minutes.”

Ali nearly laughed. Wynter could somehow get her to talk about

almost anything. Or maybe it was just getting easier to talk, but she

• 248 •

Trauma alerT

found herself saying, “She told me she thinks she’s falling in love with

me.” “Well that’s worthy of a news flash. You are the worst kind of

girlfriend—how could you not have told me that?” Wynter swatted Ali

on the arm. “What did you say?”

“I said I didn’t think we should get serious.”

Wynter’s eyes widened. “Ouch.”

Ali frowned. “What do you mean, ouch?”

“I just mean that’s hard to hear—when you have feelings for

someone and they don’t have feelings for you.” Wynter squeezed Ali’s

arm. “But if you don’t feel that way about her, you don’t feel that way.

I’m sure she’ll hurt for a little while, but eventually she’ll appreciate

your honesty too.”

“I hope so,” Ali said, but the uneasy feeling of wrongness was

back again. She hated the thought of Beau hurting. She didn’t want that.

I’m sure she’ll appreciate your honesty. Is that what it had been when

she’d told Beau she wanted to keep things light? Honesty?

If so, why did it feel so much like cowardice?

v

Beau sat on the top riser of the bleachers at one end of the gym,

sandwiched between Lynn and Solea Martinez, listening to Ali explain

the upcoming field test. Bobby sat in front of her, his broad back nearly

filling the space between her spread knees.

“This is the scenario,” Ali said. “A sniper has opened fire on a

campus quadrangle at noon on a weekday when the area is filled with

students and staff. He, or she, is presumed to be firing from a rooftop

and is still at large. All of the shots have landed within a two-hundred

foot radius. That ‘live fire’ area will be marked in red on the simulated

field. Any victims still in that zone are considered to be within sight of

the shooter.”

Beau tried not to stare at Ali, but it was difficult seeing her after

a restless night filled with disquieting dreams and stress sweats. She’d

finally given up trying to sleep at five in the morning. After quietly

showering and dressing, she’d left a note for Jilly and Bobby in the

kitchen and hit the gym at six a.m. She’d stopped by the station house

after that, not knowing quite what to do with herself, and run into Solea

• 249 •

RADCLY fFE

just coming off shift. She’d waited for Solea to shower and change and

they’d had breakfast at a diner before heading to the sports complex on

Walnut.

Solea was easy company, and flirty. Beau hadn’t heard she was

hooked up with anyone, but even if Solea was single, she wasn’t interested.

Solea was hot—deep chocolate eyes that made you melt when they slid

over you, a luscious body with full breasts she managed to show off

even in a uniform shirt, and a round firm ass that begged to be squeezed.

Everything about her promised smoldering sex, but Beau couldn’t muster

up a twinge. Her clit slept like the dead and her heart hurt.

So even though Solea’s breast was pressed into her arm at the

moment, all she could do was watch the way Ali canted one hip as she

read through the rules and regs for the upcoming training. She followed

the graceful arcs Ali made with one hand as she spoke and imagined

Ali caressing her. Suddenly, her clit was resurrected, and the timing

couldn’t have been worse. She shifted uncomfortably on the narrow

wooden bench and when she leaned back and spread her arms out,

trying to relieve the tension in her lower body, Solea scooted closer and

rubbed against her side like a big dangerous cat. Ali must have caught

the movement because she paused for just a second to glare in Beau’s

direction.

Beau grinned as if to say What can I do?

After all, she wasn’t doing anything to encourage Solea, and even

if she had been, Ali had pretty much said she was a free agent.

v

Ali traversed the gym, making notes on the trainees’ performances

as they evaluated and treated the simulated victims. Wynter and one of

the surgical instructors from another hospital did the same. Paramedics

were graded not only on their diagnostic and emergency care skills,

but also on how they assessed the threat level to themselves and the

victims. No one was served by having first responders turn into victims

in a mass casualty situation. She paid particular attention to how the

trainees dealt with the victims still within the active range of fire.

She stopped beside Beau.

“You’re a target for the shooter, Firefighter.”

“So are you, Dr. Torveau,” Beau said, not looking up from an

• 250 •

Trauma alerT

unresponsive male victim. She split his trouser leg with a large pair

of bandage scissors and retrieved a pressure pack from her field kit.

“At least I’m crouching, the sun is at my back so it will be harder for

the shooter to see me clearly, and I’m wearing a vest. This guy has a

transected femoral artery and if I don’t get the bleeding stopped in the

next forty-five seconds, he’s dead.”

Beau was right and Ali knew it. Beau was in the danger zone, but it

was a judgment call and well within the first responder’s right to make

it. She was pushing her because she couldn’t stand to see her in the line

of fire, even in a training situation. Beau’s decision was defensible,

but she couldn’t help believe that even if it hadn’t been, Beau would

have done exactly what she was doing. She was so single-minded. So

unconcerned for her own welfare. So ridiculously, gloriously brave.

“How do you plan to evacuate him?” Ali challenged. “You’ll have

to have another medic bring in a gurney to move him. That makes two

of you in the line of—”

“You forget, Dr. Torveau,” Beau said as she rapidly stabilized the

pressure dressing over the gunshot wound in the thigh. With a quick

shift of position, she bent over, grasped the victim’s arm, and effortlessly

shifted him onto her back and shoulder in a classic fireman’s carry. She

grabbed her field kit in her free hand and tossed Ali an insolent and

altogether heart-stopping smile. “This is what I do. You should get to

cover.”

Ali stepped back and watched Beau quickly transport the victim

to the surgical staging area, restock her field kit, and head back out to

assess the next victim. She was fierce and focused and so beautiful,

Ali’s heart hurt. Turning quickly away, she scratched a few lines on her

clipboard, giving Beau the high scores she deserved. When she looked

up, Wynter was watching her from across the room, an eyebrow raised

in question.

Ali just shook her head. What could she say? How could she

possibly explain that the more she felt, the more she feared?

v

“We did good, eh, partners,” Solea crowed, high-fiving Lynn and

Beau as the boisterous group of firefighters milled about in the lobby

outside the gym after the session ended.

• 251 •

RADCLY fFE

“That was fun,” Lynn agreed.

“So what do you think,” Solea said, including Lynn, but her eyes

lasered in on Beau. “Should we all go out and party a little to celebrate?

This was the big hurdle. We’re in. ”

“Sounds good to me,” Lynn said. “I worked my ass off in there

this afternoon. Every time I turned around, someone was looking over

my shoulder.” She grinned. “Although I can’t say I minded it all that

much when it was her.”

Beau looked where Lynn indicated and saw Ali coming toward

them.

“Didn’t know that was your thing,” Solea teased.

“I’m bi-flexible,” Lynn replied, still staring.

Beau didn’t blame Lynn for cruising Ali, but it gave her a twinge

in the pit of her stomach to have to stand by and watch. She wanted

to claim Ali as hers. Make it real clear she was not available. But Ali

hadn’t given her the right to do that. She’d pretty much said she had no

rights at all.

Turning toward Solea, Beau said, “So about this party idea of

yours—” She stiffened at the touch of a warm hand on her shoulder.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Ali said.

“Sure.” Beau motioned for Solea and Lynn to go ahead. “I’ll meet

you if I can make it. Bernie’s?”

Solea gave Ali an appraising once-over, then flicked her fingers

along Beau’s jaw. “Try, okay? We’ll have fun.”

“I hear you,” Beau laughed. Taking a deep breath and schooling

her expression to one of casual interest, she turned to face Ali. Keeping

her reaction to herself was a challenge. Ali’s eyes smoldered with

something Beau couldn’t quite read. Anger, possibly, or…something

even more primitive. “Ali?”

“Wynter and her partner are throwing a party tonight for some of

our friends. Come with me.”

Beau didn’t need to consider the invitation. She wanted to be with

her, no matter what she had to do. “All right. When, where?”

“I promised Wynter I’d help her get set up. Come with us.” She

shifted her gaze to where Lynn and Solea were just walking out of the

building and took Beau’s hand. “Unless you have other plans.”

“None that won’t keep.”

Ali’s smile twisted. “Then let’s go.”

• 252 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer TweNTy-NiNe

Beau straddled a stool in one corner of the kitchen, watching

Ali and Wynter prepare trays of hors d’oeuvres, cutting

vegetables, cheeses, and fruit for the upcoming party. They moved

together as if they had done it hundreds of times, a lot like she and Jilly

used to do when they cooked together. She and Jilly hadn’t really gotten

their rhythm back yet, and she hadn’t realized until she’d moved in with

Jilly how much she missed the way things used to be before everything

changed. She couldn’t imagine life without Jilly, and seeing the way

Wynter teased and played with Ali made her glad Ali had someone to

love her.

Ali turned from the sink where she had been washing celery stalks

and looked at Beau with a question in her eyes, as if she had somehow

felt those thoughts across the room.

“I feel a little useless,” Beau said. “I’m pretty good at taking orders

if you want to put me to work.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Ali murmured, and Beau’s stomach

twisted at the husky note in Ali’s voice.

As enjoyable as it was just looking at her, Beau was dying to

touch her. The physical separation after having been inside her was

unbearable.

“Two of us in the kitchen are enough,” Wynter said when Ali

remained silent. “As a matter of fact, we’ve got everything practically

under control, and I could use both of you to disappear for a while so I

can clean up.”

“I’m going to help,” Ali said immediately.

Wynter made a little sound of exasperation. “Honestly, Ali,

• 253 •

RADCLY fFE

there’s not much left to do, and Pearce will be back from the beer

run any time. She can help me finish. Both of you worked hard all

afternoon. I spent most of it on the bleachers giving directions. Go

relax for a while.”

Beau held her breath, waiting. It was Ali’s show, after all. The last

thing she had expected was an invitation to a party from Ali. She hadn’t

even been sure there’d be another date.

“I could really use a quick shower,” Ali said. “I brought a change

of clothes. Can I use your guest room?”

“You know you don’t have to ask.” Wynter turned to Beau. “Feel

free to shower also, if you want to. I mean, after Ali finishes. Or during,

whatever.”

“Thank you for the invitation.” Beau grinned when she caught Ali

rolling her eyes. She waited until she and Ali were alone in the front

hallway before asking, “Would you rather I wait downstairs?”

Ali leaned against the newel post and folded her arms across her

chest. “Who was the hot brunette trying to get into your pants?”

Beau glanced down at her cargo pants, pretended to check the

zipper. “All buttoned up.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Is that why you invited me to this thing tonight? To keep Solea

out of my pants?”

“Is that where she was headed?” Ali said with a bite in her voice.

“No, as a matter of fact,” Beau said. “Not interested.”

“Why not?”

“I already told you why not.”

Ali drew a sharp breath. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was

insensitive and—”

“Don’t. Just don’t.” Beau kissed her, needing to silence her words

and the rejection that lay just beneath them. Ali’s arms came around

her waist and settled on her ass. She slid her tongue over Ali’s, hungry

for her taste. When Ali moaned low in her throat, Beau finally broke

away, breathing hard. “Forget about yesterday. We understand each

other now. It’s all good.”

Ali didn’t look convinced. Her eyes were still stormy, her lips a

hard line. “If we’re going to see each other, I don’t want you fucking

other women.”

“Exclusive skin privileges, is that it?” Beau laughed, ignoring the

• 254 •

Trauma alerT

jab of pain. Ali cared enough not to want to share her body. Why wasn’t

that enough?

“Skin privileges?” Ali’s jaw tightened. “If that’s the way you want

to put it. Yes.”

Beau lifted a shoulder. “Sure, as long as it’s a two-way street.”

“Fine,” Ali said. “I’m going to take a shower. You need to stay

down here until I’m done.”

“Don’t trust me?” Beau said mockingly.

Ali gripped Beau’s shirt and spun her around, pinning her to the

newel post. She pushed her leg between Beau’s thighs and kissed her,

hard and hot. She pulled back and dragged her teeth over Beau’s lower

lip. “As soon as I’m alone with you, I’m going to finish this, and I don’t

want to hurry and I don’t want to be interrupted.”

Beau’s insides were knotted with need, but she managed to keep

her voice steady. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Ali disappeared upstairs, and when Beau got her legs under her

again, she went back out to the kitchen. Wynter was clearing the table,

emptying vegetable remains into a composting pail on the counter and

rinsing knives and cutting boards in the sink. Wordlessly, Beau joined

in.

“You are pretty handy,” Wynter said.

“Not everyone thinks so,” Beau said, confused and aroused and

angry. She had what she wanted—Ali had come after her, staked a

claim, said she wanted her. They had mutual exclusive skin rights. But

she wasn’t satisfied. She wasn’t even a little bit happy.

“Can I stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong?”

“Sure.” Beau snagged a dishtowel and carefully dried a gleaming

chef’s knife.

“I know it’s probably hard, but if you could be patient with her.

Give her some time.”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Then I’m sorry for mentioning anything,” Wynter said. “I must

have misread how miserable she seemed to be all day.”

Beau paused. “I don’t want to make her unhappy.”

“I don’t think you are.”

Frowning, Beau said, “I don’t understand.”

Wynter patted Beau’s shoulder. “I think you’re making her happy.

She just needs to get used to it.”

• 255 •

RADCLY fFE

v

Ali toweled dry and pulled on black silk bikinis. She searched

through her duffel for the dark silk shirt, black pants, and low-heeled

black boots she’d packed that morning. Laying out the clothes, she

realized she’d unconsciously packed for a date. What in hell did that

say about what was happening to her mind? Who was driving the bus?

Certainly not her.

She wasn’t even sure how she’d ended up at Wynter’s with Beau

in tow. Some primitive voice in her head had screamed in protest when

she’d seen the brunette practically crawling into Beau’s lap, and now

here they were. Well, she needed to get downstairs and do her part

for the party. At least she should be safe from her own unpredictable

impulses while tending to social niceties. She hoped.

She slipped into her shirt and paused while buttoning it at the sound

of a knock on the guest room door. Crossing the room, she cracked the

door an inch and saw Beau standing outside.

“Sorry,” Beau said. “I wasn’t sure if you were done yet.” She

hefted her own bag. “Thought I’d grab a quick shower too.”

Ali hesitated, then opened the door and stepped back. “Come on

in. The bathroom’s available.”

“Thanks.” Beau closed the door behind her.

Beau’s eyes traveled over her and Ali’s nipples puckered. Ali

caught the flare of arousal in Beau’s eyes before Beau blushed and

looked away. Suddenly the struggle to hold back seemed too much.

She was tired, she was confused, she was still aggravated at the thought

of the woman who had been so blatantly trying to seduce Beau, and she

couldn’t remember right at that moment exactly why she was resisting

what every instinct clamored for her to do.

“We’re alone now,” Ali said softly, advancing on Beau. When Beau

retreated until her back was against the door, Ali followed, settling her

breasts and stomach and thighs into Beau. She cradled Beau’s breast,

squeezed, and Beau’s head banged against the door.

Beau groaned and Ali kissed her. Beau’s duffel dropped to the

floor with a thud and she cupped Ali’s ass, her fingertips sliding under

the edges of her silk bikinis to graze over her skin. Ali rolled her hips

into Beau’s crotch, teasing at Beau’s tongue with the tip of hers. When

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Trauma alerT

Beau tried to tease hers in return, skating her tongue over the inside of

Ali’s lip, Ali pulled back until a breath separated them.

“Remember what I warned would happen if you came upstairs?”

Ali whispered.

“Oh yeah,” Beau said, breathing heavily. “Something about

finishing?”

“I’m planning to keep my promise.”

Beau’s smile flickered. “Good.”

“I’ll need you to be quiet.”

“I’ll be anything you want.”

Ali slipped her hand down and gripped between Beau’s legs. “You

say that now.”

“Jesus.” Beau’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head. “I can’t take

much more waiting. I’ve been watching you all day and I’ve been hot

for you since yesterday.”

“What happened?” Ali murmured, trailing her tongue down Beau’s

throat. “You didn’t take the edge off last night? Or this morning?”

“Couldn’t. Thought about it, but—” Beau jerked when Ali nipped

at her neck. “Wasn’t what I wanted.”

“What do you want? Huh?”

“Your mouth.” Beau gasped, her head rocking slowly from side to

side. “I want to come in your mouth.”

Ali sucked in a breath, Beau’s words hitting like a sledgehammer

in the pit of her stomach. Sliding to her knees, she ripped open Beau’s

pants and yanked them down her legs. She rubbed her palms over the

hard muscles in Beau’s thighs, loving the way Beau twitched at her

touch.

Beau braced one hand against the door for support and used the

other to open herself to Ali. “I need you.”

Beau’s unguarded vulnerability wrenched Ali’s heart. She brushed

her mouth over Beau’s clitoris. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Please, Ali. Oh.”

Gently, Ali took her between her lips, swirling her tongue tenderly

over the satin hard prominence. The trembling in Beau’s legs spread

upward to her torso, and she shivered as if she were freezing, but sweat

glistened on the smooth plain of her abdomen.

“Wait,” Beau pleaded. “I don’t want to come right away. Don’t

make me.”

• 257 •

RADCLY fFE

Ali laughed softly, drawing back a fraction. “I don’t think I have

anything to say about it. You’re about to explode, sweetheart.”

Beau laced her fingers through Ali’s hair, guiding her mouth back

onto her. “Go slow. Just go slow so I can hold on. It’s so good.”

“Anything you need,”Ali murmured. She kissed her lightly, stroked

her fleetingly, toyed at her opening with her fingertips, easing away

when Beau’s breathing grew ragged and her hips lurched erratically.

She pressed her palm to Beau’s stomach, gauging how close she was

by the tightening of her muscles. Each time Beau started to peak, she

stopped until Beau slipped down from the crest, over and over until

Beau’s moans were continuous and her clitoris never softened.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to come soon no matter what I do.”

“I know,” Beau groaned. “I can’t help it.”

Ali laughed softly. “Baby, I don’t want you to hold back. I want

you to go off in my mouth. Come hard in my mouth.”

Beau clasped the back of Ali’s neck and lifted into her mouth,

pressing her clitoris between her lips. “Suck it and I will.”

Need twisted Ali’s insides into an aching fist. She pulled on Beau’s

clitoris with her mouth and thrust deep inside her. Beau came instantly,

her strangled cry igniting a flame between Ali’s legs. She slid her fingers

into her bikinis to massage herself, barely managing three firm strokes

before she detonated. Crying out around Beau’s slowly pulsing clitoris,

she flooded her fingers in a blinding orgasm.

Beau came back to reality one exquisite sensation at a time—first

to the awareness of Ali’s cheek pressed against her stomach, then Ali’s

silken hair rubbing between her fingers, and finally to Ali’s warm breath

wafting over the scar on her abdomen. Every so often Ali twitched and

moaned, a soft, satisfied sound.

The scar didn’t hurt, even with Ali’s cheek pressing into it, but

her heart did. She looked down at Ali’s unguarded face, at her fragile

lids fluttering rapidly and her flushed, swollen lips glistening with her

own passion. She loved her. The feeling was so intense it bordered on

pain. She stroked Ali’s cheek and watched Ali’s mouth curve up into a

sleepy smile.

I love you.

“I have to go,” Beau said, gently easing free of Ali’s grasp.

Ali rocked back on her heels, her eyes opening, confusion eclipsing

the pleasure on her face. “What? Why?”

• 258 •

Trauma alerT

“I just realized something.” Beau leaned down to grip her pants. She

yanked them up, wincing at the pressure against her still sensitive sex.

She tugged up the zipper and buttoned the fly, her hands trembling.

“Beau, what’s going on?” Ali stood up and gripped Beau’s shirt.

“Beau?”

“Sex with you is fabulous,” Beau said.

Ali’s brows rose. “Ditto.”

Beau smiled sadly and carefully removed Ali’s hand. “But it’s not

enough, Ali. Not anymore, not with you.”

Ali reeled, seized by unfamiliar panic. “Beau—”

“It’s okay.” Beau brushed a kiss over her mouth. “It’s okay, baby.

It’s not your fault I fell in love with you.”

“Can’t we just—”

“No,” Beau said as she opened the door. “I can’t.” She grasped her

bag, slipped out into the hall. “All or nothing, Ali. You decide.”

The door closed and she was gone.

Ali rested her head against the door and didn’t even try to hold

back the tears. “Goddamn it, Beau. You’re breaking my heart.”

• 259 •

• 260 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer ThirTy

Ali walked into the kitchen just in time to hear Pearce say in

an aggravated voice, “Wynter, damn it, sit down and stop

arguing.”

“I don’t need to sit down.”

“Here’s the last of it,” Ali said, placing a tray filled with empty

bottles and glasses on the counter. She quickly rinsed her hands, dried

them on an already damp dish towel, and hurried to escape. “I’ll see

you Monday, Wynter.”

“Hold on a minute,” Wynter said. “Pearce, I’ll sit here with my

feet up. You go away.”

Pearce ignored Wynter, her expression morphing from aggravated

to frazzled as she turned to Ali. “Her ankles are swollen. She’s been on

her feet too much today. Make sure she stays off them.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Wynter bitched.

“Let me see your legs,” Ali said, skirting around the table and

kneeling down by Wynter’s chair.

“Stop.” Wynter swatted at her shoulder. “Go away. I’ll put my feet

up. In fact, both of you can leave.”

Ali pulled out a kitchen chair, sat down, and lifted Wynter’s legs

onto her lap. Pearce backed toward the door, clearly reluctant to leave.

“I’ll see that she behaves, Pearce.”

Wynter waited a beat until Pearce’s footsteps retreated down the

hall. “You avoided me all night. In fact, you avoided everyone all night.

Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“I was busy with party stuff. This crew can really go through the

beer.”

• 261 •

RADCLY fFE

“Your bullshit so doesn’t work with me,” Wynter said. “I suppose

you think that somehow pregnancy affects my eyesight too? That I

might miss that the drool-inspiring stud you arrived with was suddenly

absent from the picture the whole night?”

“I really don’t want to talk about her,” Ali said, keeping her head

down. She didn’t want Wynter to see what she knew she couldn’t hide.

She couldn’t get control of the pain that slivered through her with every

breath, that rode the surface of her mind like a thousand hot needles

stabbing through her thoughts until all she could see or hear or think

about was Beau. The hurt in Beau’s eyes, the sadness in her voice, the

beautiful vulnerability of her body that she had given with such trust.

Tears floated on her lashes and she angrily dashed them away.

“Okay,” Wynter said softly, gently. “I guess I thought when the

two of you showed up together that you’d smoothed over the bumps.”

“The bumps are more like mountains, I think.”

“Maybe you just need a little distance.” Wynter reached for Ali’s

hand. “She’s intense. You’re intense. I can only imagine what it’s like

between you.”

“It’s chaos, that’s what it is,” Ali said bitterly. She touched her

chest as if the block of anguish lodged behind her sternum were real.

If only she could slice open the flesh, saw through the bone, and excise

the pain as easily as she could an invading bullet. “She confuses me.

She scares the hell out of me. I look at her and I can’t tell if what I’m

feeling is pain or happiness.”

“That does sound scary.” Wynter stroked the top of Ali’s hand.

“You’ve always impressed me with how calm and steady you are, no

matter what’s happening.”

“I learned how much love could hurt when I lost Sammy,” Ali

said. “There’s no way to shield against it. I don’t ever want to feel that

way again, and with Beau…I can’t seem to stop feeling.”

“Only you know what you need, Ali. No one else’s truth matters.”

Wynter rubbed her thumb on Ali’s knuckles. “But I love you, so I have

to say this one thing. I’ve kidded around a lot about you seeing Beau

because she’s so hot. I mean, she is gorgeous.”

Ali laughed, but the laughter hurt.

“When she looks at you, she doesn’t hold anything back. What’s

in her eyes—you must have seen it too.”

“When I first saw her, I thought she was all show. But her show is

• 262 •

Trauma alerT

just a front to hide how unbelievably tender she is.” Ali’s hand trembled

and Wynter tightened her grasp. “She almost died when she was a

teenager. Hodgkin’s.”

Wynter caught her breath. “Oh, God. Ali.”

Ali pulled her hand free and scrubbed at her eyes impatiently.

They stung and burned as if she were in a room filled with smoke. “She

takes chances now, chances that she thinks she can handle. Maybe she

can. I know I couldn’t.”

Blowing out a breath, Ali rose and gently rested Wynter’s feet on

the chair. “We’re wrong for each other for so many reasons. It’s better

this way.”

v

Beau heard the lock slide closed on the restroom door as she

finished buttoning her fly. When she opened the gray metal door of the

stall, the first thing she registered was Solea standing a few feet away.

The second was that Bernie’s always crowded bathroom was empty

save for them.

“Hey,” Beau said, turning sideways to slide past Solea in the

narrow space between the stalls and the wall to get to the tiny sink in

one corner. “Are you two ready to go?”

“Not just yet.” Solea’s voice was low and sultry and very close to

Beau’s ear.

Beau felt the heat of another body through her shirt at the same

instant as she registered the press of firm full breasts against her back.

She straightened, water dripping from her hands, and looked down

at the fingers fumbling at her fly. Carefully, she circled Solea’s wrist

and pulled her hand away. “Let’s collect Lynn and I’ll drive you both

home.”

Solea’s arms came around her waist and the thrust of hips against

Beau’s ass pushed her into the edge of the vanity. At any other time,

the sudden pressure against her crotch would have been welcome.

Ordinarily, she liked the alluring anonymity of a woman fondling her

from behind. When she couldn’t see their faces the impersonal nature

of what they were doing didn’t matter. Didn’t matter if she didn’t know

them or care for them or care to see them ever again. They were just

two bodies connecting, pleasuring, and then drifting apart. Tonight was

• 263 •

RADCLY fFE

different. She knew Solea, and that made what was happening between

them personal. Even if she hadn’t known her, she wouldn’t have wanted

the quick, easy, meaningless pleasure. An orgasm couldn’t begin to heal

the raw and bleeding surface of her soul.

“This isn’t going to happen,” Beau said, even as Solea’s hand

drifted up torso and her fingers toyed with Beau’s nipple through her

cotton shirt. Her body responded—her nipple tightened, her clitoris

thudded with a rush of blood—but she felt no desire, no need to come,

only sadness that couldn’t be assuaged. Not here. Not now. Not with

this woman.

She pivoted, slipped out of Solea’s grasp, and racked back the lock

on the door.

“I’ll find Lynn. We’ll wait for you right out front.”

Solea cocked a hip. “You know it would be good.”

Beau grinned apologetically. “Bad timing. Sorry.”

“Next time you’re mine.”

Beau let the door close behind her. She hadn’t had anything to

drink. The only reason she’d come to Bernie’s after leaving Ali had been

because she didn’t want to go home and be alone with her thoughts. She

wouldn’t be able to hide her devastation from Jilly, and she simply

didn’t want to talk about what couldn’t be changed. Maybe Ali needed

time. Maybe time would never be enough. Some wounds ran too deep,

and although healed, the scars left behind were too fragile to bear more

pain.

Maybe what she was asking—that Ali take a chance on her, on

love, on the future—was too much. There’d been a time not that long

ago when the future meant nothing to her. And now she wanted all

the seconds of all the hours, all the days of all the years of her life, to

belong to Ali.

She couldn’t settle for less, and she wasn’t sure what she would do

with that endless time if she had to.

v

Pearce wanted to walk Ali to the subway station, but Ali finally

convinced her that it wasn’t necessary. A two-block walk along a welllit street was safe enough, even at one in the morning. Pearce probably

would have insisted if Wynter hadn’t looked so drawn and tired.

• 264 •

Trauma alerT

Shamelessly, Ali had used Wynter’s condition as a bargaining chip to

convince Pearce she didn’t need an escort. And then she had passed by

the subway station and trekked for an hour through the dark, cold, and

quiet streets until she reached home. Numb and exhausted, she went

straight upstairs, stripped, and got into bed.

Shivering, she curled around herself, waiting for her body warmth

to create a cocoon of comfort. Although she gradually grew warmer,

the comfort never came. She was still alone in the dark. Beau’s scent,

her taste, infused her senses, and all she could feel was her.

Turning onto her back, she stared at the ceiling, willing the churning

in the pit of her stomach to go away. Willing the heavy sadness that sat

on her chest, making it hard for her to breathe, to disappear. She hadn’t

asked for this need. Hadn’t wanted this desire. Hadn’t wanted to feel

so much.

At five, after a sleepless night, she took a long shower, dressed,

and went upstairs to Ralph’s. A sliver of light was visible under his door

and she tapped softly. A few minutes later the door swung open and

Ralph stood there in a blue woolen robe and worn brown slippers. The

bottoms of his pajama pants were frayed and the pattern—bicycles or

maybe footballs—was faded to a watery blue. Victor peered up at her

through rheumy eyes, snuffling sleepily.

“I was going out for a walk,” Ali said. “I thought Victor might be

ready.” Ralph eyed her solemnly for a few seconds, then simply turned,

retrieved Victor’s leash, and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” Ali said, wondering why her throat felt so tight and

her eyes so scratchy.

“Are you all right?” Ralph asked.

“I don’t think so.” Ali clipped the lead to Victor’s collar.

“That’s good, then,” Ralph said.

Ali stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

“Usually when you hurt, you pretend you don’t.” Ralph patted her

cheek gently. “If there’s no one in the world who can hurt you, then you

would truly be alone. I’m glad you’re not.”

Ali turned quickly away, horrified as tears spilled over the dam of

her lower lids. Tired. She was just tired. Surely the terrible wrenching

ache in her chest would not last long. For if it did, how would she ever

bear it?

• 265 •

• 266 •

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chapTer ThirTy-ONe

Hey, Cross,” Bobby called from the doorway at the rear of the

station house. A single bulb in a wire cage above the door

barely illuminated his face. “Time to hit the road or we’ll be late for

the class.”

Beau dribbled hard away from the basket, pivoted, set, and

launched the basketball. It hit the netless rim, swirled around it like

a leaf in a vortex, and finally dropped through. She caught it on

the bounce, swerved and cut an intricate swath through a swarm of

imagined defenders, and sank a three-pointer from the far corner. “I’m

not going.”

Bobby let the plain dark brown metal door close behind him and

strode across the cracked blacktop. He snagged the next ball Beau sank

before she could get it. He tucked it under his arm. “What are you

talking about?”

“You heard me. Give me the ball.”

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Bobby slid the ball behind

his back when Beau grabbed for it. “You’ve been pulling doubles

almost every day for two weeks. And I know you traded your days off

for extra shifts. I haven’t seen you in the dorm, so you’re running on no

sleep. Now you’re going to ditch the TER-OPS session and risk getting

cut. What the fuck, Beau?”

“Give me the ball,” Beau said menacingly.

“No.”

Beau popped him in the chest with both hands. “Give me my

fucking ball, Bobby.”

• 267 •

RADCLY fFE

“Go fuck yourself.” Bobby arced the ball over the chain-link fence

into an adjacent weed-filled lot.

“You asshole.” Beau stared into the dark after her basketball. A

black cloud of fury shotgunned through her and she barely resisted

taking a swing at Bobby. She tried to shoulder past him to the door

and he blocked her way. She didn’t try to avoid him, but rammed his

shoulder with hers. As strong as she was, he was bigger and stronger

and he met her shove with one of his own and she rocked back on her

heels.

“You want to fight?” Beau clenched her fists. “Fine, we’ll fight.”

“I don’t want to fight you, you moron.” Bobby set his hands on his

hips. “It’s Ali, isn’t it? Gotta be. Only a woman could warp your mind

like this.”

The fight went out of her as quickly as the rage had surged, leaving

her weak and drained. She’d been like this since she’d walked out of

Wynter’s party—teetering on the knife edge of fury and despair. If she

kept busy, kept moving, she could escape the emptiness that was tearing

her to pieces. If she slept, she dreamed of Ali—startlingly clear dreams

of touching her, lying beside her, being held by her. When she woke,

the loneliness and the loss rode her hard for hours, the pain so intense

she could barely function.

“I fell for her,” Beau said hollowly. “She’s not interested.”

“So you’re not going tonight because it’s her session?”

“I just don’t want to see her.” She’d managed to avoid Ali for the

last week and a half. She’d been lucky, and most of her calls had been

straightforward ER cases. The few times they had to bring a patient to

the trauma unit, she’d hung back to restock the rig and fill out paperwork

while Bobby escorted the patient inside. He hadn’t noticed the pattern.

She wanted to see Ali so much the ache was a constant hunger, but she

knew she wouldn’t be able to pretend she didn’t care. Didn’t miss her.

Didn’t long for her.

“You can’t cut all of her sessions,” Bobby said. “You’ll get kicked

out of the new unit. Jesus, Beau. Use your head.”

“I just don’t feel like it. Go without me.” Beau’s voice broke and

she turned away, even though he couldn’t see her face in the shadows.

“Just go. Gimme a break.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “You can’t let this beat you, Beau. If

you love her, you can’t just walk away.”

• 268 •

Trauma alerT

“It’s her call, Bobby.” Beau shoved her hands into the pockets of

her cargo pants and stared at the sky, blinking back her unshed tears.

The stars blurred and the darkness drew close around her, swallowing

her. “And she doesn’t want me.”

“At least go home. You don’t need to pull another double. That’s

when you start making mistakes.” His voice got rough. “If you don’t

care about yourself, think of Jilly. She adores you.”

“Don’t you talk to me about my sister,” Beau said. “You don’t

know anything about it.”

“I do know,” Bobby snapped. “I know what she did for you, and

I know what you think she did for you. Sometimes you’re so dumb, I

believe you really do have a dick.”

Beau spun around, her nose a hair’s breadth away from his and

her temper even closer to exploding. “She’s the better of us, always

has been. And she almost died for me. I didn’t deserve it then, I don’t

deserve it now.”

“You know what?” Bobby poked her in the shoulder with an index

finger as hard as steel. “I think you’re right. You don’t deserve any of

it. Someone as unselfish, as beautiful, as loving as Jilly shouldn’t waste

one precious second of her time on you, you whiny little wimp.”

Beau jerked back. “You want to repeat that?”

“I don’t think I can. It was a really good speech.” The harsh white

light caught the side of Bobby’s face and she saw his mouth lift into a

half-assed grin.

“Man, you’re right. I’m pathetic,” Beau groaned. “It just hurts,

you know?”

Bobby looped his arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, I know. I’m

sorry.”

Beau shrugged, glad for the anger that had dulled the pain for a

few moments. “So, you sound like you’ve got a thing for my sister.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Bobby’s arm tightened on her.

“No. She could probably do worse, and you could never do

better.”

Bobby laughed. “Thanks, partner. Go home, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Get going before you’re late. Take notes for me.”

Bobby waved and jogged to the door. Once he was gone, Beau

climbed the chain-link fence and dropped down into the dark lot on the

other side. She searched by the flickering light of the moon until she

• 269 •

RADCLY fFE

found her basketball, climbed back, and started dribbling. The hollow

thud of the ball striking pavement echoed the lonely beat of her heart.

v

At the conclusion of her lecture on containment of suspected

biologic contaminants, Ali removed a folder from her briefcase and

passed out the field test evaluations to the paramedics.

“Everyone passed,” Ali said, “which is no surprise considering

you’re all certified paramedics. Just the same, handling mass casualties

in what amounts to a battle zone is not the same thing as treating multiple

motor vehicle accident victims or even fire casualties. Remember, you

become potential targets in a terrorist attack. The first responders are

often lures for further assault.”

Five serious faces nodded back. The sixth, the one she’d been

looking for for days, was still absent. She hadn’t seen Beau since the

night of the party almost two weeks before. Never one to wait for

someone else to make a decision or take action, she found herself

strangely paralyzed. Uncertain. She checked her phone for a message

from Beau dozens of times every day. Each time she waited for

incoming patients, she searched for Beau among the paramedics. The

phone call never came. Beau never appeared. Beau had disappeared

from the landscape of Ali’s existence as swiftly as she had appeared,

but the space she left behind remained a yawning cavern that resonated

with loneliness and despair.

Ali wanted to call her, to hear her low amused chuckle, the

flirtatious note that never failed to creep into her voice when they spoke.

But she couldn’t. What could she say? I never meant to hurt you. I can’t

bear the thought that I did. I hurt constantly without you. If I hurt this

much now, how could I possibly risk letting you closer? I would never

survive losing you. I can’t. I can’t be that vulnerable. I can’t, and oh

God, I’m so sorry.

“There’s no room for error in the field,” Ali concluded, anxious

now to get away. “Read the evaluations. Stay sharp out there. I’ll see

you for my next lecture in three weeks.”

The men filed past and she couldn’t help but stop the last one

before he left the room. Bobby looked at her with a question in his

eyes.

• 270 •

Trauma alerT

“Where’s Beau?” Ali asked.

Bobby appeared to find something on the blank wall to the right of

Ali’s shoulder fascinating. “She just came off a double shift. She’s been

working a lot lately. I think she went home.”

Ali frowned. “Is she all right?”

“I guess you probably should ask her that.”

“Of course,” Ali said with a sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, fuck this,” he muttered. “Jesus—what is it with you two?

She’s fucked up over you. Okay?”

Ali caught her breath. “What do you mean? God, she’s such a

hothead. You have to keep an eye on her, make sure she—”

“You know what?” Bobby said. “No, I don’t. She’s my partner and

I’d do anything for her, but this isn’t for me to fix. This time, you’re

the only—”

The door to the conference room burst open and one of the other

members of the class burst in. “Jesus, Bobby, you gotta see what’s

happening. It’s on TV right now. Some nut job ambushed two cops

in West Philly about twenty minutes ago. They got him cornered in a

7-Eleven at Sixty-third, but he’s got hostages.”

“Shit! Who responded?”

“Looks like your station got the call. SWAT’s there already, and

HRT.”

“Well, fuck. I gotta get out there.”

The two men rushed out and Ali hurried after them, following

the sound of excited voices to the staff lounge. A television bracketed

high up on the wall in one corner of the crowded room was tuned to a

local news station, and the grainy footage revealed a dozen emergency

response vehicles—police cruisers, fire engines, EMT vans—ringing

a minimart, their lights illuminating it in harsh bands of white and

red. Shadowy figures garbed in black, faces obscured by alien-looking

helmets, brandishing all manner of artillery skulked between vehicles

and along the sides of the building. The tableau reminded her of news

footage she’d seen on the war in Iraq and Afghanistan.

A reverent-sounding newscaster over-voiced the images, her

words trembling with a thread of excitement. “Information is scanty

at this time, but there are reports of hostages and possibly multiple

wounded inside.”

Ali needed to alert trauma admitting to expect mass casualties,

• 271 •

RADCLY fFE

but she couldn’t take her eyes from the television. Beau’s station had

responded, but Bobby just said Beau had gone home. Beau wasn’t out

there. She wasn’t in danger. But even as Ali thought it, she knew in her

heart she was wrong.

v

Beau pulled the body armor on over her tank top, slapped down

the Velcro tabs to secure it, and tamped down her impatience while the

tech ran wires from the transmitter clipped to the back of her pants up

to her shoulder. Then she pulled on her shirt and he clipped the combo

microphone and video camera inside the collar.

“Go ahead,” the tech said.

“Testing, testing, one-two-three,” Beau whispered.

“Got it. Nice and clear.”

Beau tucked in her shirt and grabbed her emergency field kit. She

started for the back of the van, but Captain Jeffries stopped her.

“Remember, your job is to evaluate the injured and secure passive

reconnaissance. You’re not to intervene. SWAT should be in position

by the time you get inside. Hopefully he’ll let you bring out the

wounded.”

“Roger, Cap,” Beau said.

“I’m serious, Cross.” Jeffries glared at her. “I’m letting you go

because you’re faster than anyone else if you have to make a run for it,

and maybe the guy will be less threatened with a woman. I don’t want

to have to write up an injury report on you.”

Beau grinned. “Copy that, sir.”

The captain clapped her on the shoulder. “Be careful.”

Beau clambered down the steps from the mobile command center

and worked her way through the knots of officers around the SWAT

commander. “All set.”

SWAT relayed the message to the hostage negotiator, who Beau

could make out observing the building from a few yards away. The

negotiator, a striking redhead with cool eyes, raised the cell phone she

carried and said something into it. Then she waved Beau over. “He’s

agreed to let you come in and evaluate the wounded.”

“He said I can bring them out?”

“No. This is step one. Once we get you inside, we’ll work on step

• 272 •

Trauma alerT

two. In the meantime, I need you to fix the positions of all the hostages,

try to sweep each one with your camera if you can. Just remember, your

number one priority is to evaluate and treat the injured.”

“Roger.”

“As soon as you get inside, put your kit down and open it so he

can go through it. He will probably frisk you. He’ll be expecting you to

have a vest on. If he makes you strip, he’ll find the camera.”

“Okay.”

“It’s a tossup as to what he’ll do if he finds you’re wired. He may

expect it and do nothing. It may anger him and he could hurt you.”

“I’ll tell him we wanted medical backup to see the wounded so

we’d be sure to get the critical ones out first.”

The negotiator seemed to consider. “That might work. Use it.”

Beau nodded. “Okay.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I volunteered.”

“You understand the—”

“I understand.” Beau felt the redhead looking her over, assessing,

deciding. The negotiator didn’t look anything like Ali, but her focus

and intensity reminded Beau of how Ali looked in the middle of a

trauma. Her stomach twisted. “I don’t plan on anything going wrong.

Just in case, my sister’s name is Jilly. And there’s a woman—a doctor at

University Hospital. Ali. Tell them I wasn’t trying to be a hero.”

“Noted,” the negotiator said calmly. “If I thought you were, you

wouldn’t be going.”

“Yeah. Let’s do it, then.”

• 273 •

• 274 •

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chapTer ThirTy-TwO

Wynter hurried into the trauma bay and asked Ali, “What’s

going on? The OR nurses said you needed me down here.”

“There’s a hostage situation at the 7-Eleven at Sixty-third.

Unconfirmed reports of multiple wounded. We’ll get some.”

“Any idea when?”

Ali was already headed for the door. “I’ve been watching it on

television like everyone else. I’ll be down the hall in the lounge.”

Wynter grabbed Ali’s arm and pulled her out into the hall away

from inquiring eyes and curious ears. “You look like hell. What else is

going on?”

“They just sent a paramedic inside the store to evaluate the

wounded. I’m pretty sure it’s Beau.”

The TV news cameras hadn’t picked up the face of the paramedic

in the dark jacket, regulation cargo pants, and ball cap with PFD in bold

yellow letters on the back, but as the figure jogged across the deserted

parking lot to the minimart, Ali recognized the cut of her shoulders and

the easy grace of her stride. She didn’t have to see Beau’s face to know

it was her. Of course it would be her. Lives were at stake, someone

needed to take the risk—someone needed to be willing to put their own

life on the line, and of course it would be Beau. Beau, who believed

she was living on stolen time to begin with. Ali shuddered and sagged

against the wall, her head and heart battered and bruised. “I feel like

I’m losing Sammy all over again, but it’s so much worse.”

“You don’t know that. Beau isn’t Sammy. She’s a professional,

and everyone around her is too.”

Ali closed her eyes and searched for the calm that always carried

• 275 •

RADCLY fFE

her through a crisis. She swam through the panic, carried on tides of

memory, until she found solid ground. To her surprise, the anchor she

so desperately sought was exactly what she thought she’d lost. Beau.

Beau was real and her strength unwavering. Capable and strong. When

Ali imagined reaching out for comfort and guidance and connection,

it was Beau’s hand that grasped hers, Beau’s smile that welcomed her.

Beau’s body that shielded and completed her.

“Oh God,” Ali whispered. “How could I not have seen?”

Wynter stroked her arm. “It’s okay. You do now.”

“I need to see what’s happening to her.”

“Are you sure you want to?” Wynter asked.

“I have to. If she’s out there, the least I can do is watch on TV.”

“You go ahead, then,” Wynter said. “I’ll get things ready in the

unit.”

Ali clasped Wynter’s arm. “If she’s hurt, if anything happens to

her, I’ll need you—”

“I’ll take care of her. I promise.” Wynter hugged Ali quickly. “But

let’s not go there now. Trust her.”

“I do,” Ali said, and the truth freed her.

v

Beau knelt on the grimy tile floor in front of the check-out

counter in the 7-Eleven, her hands laced behind her head, her eyes on

the pregnant woman curled up on the floor a few feet in front of her.

The woman’s thin raincoat was twisted behind her, exposing the red

maternity smock stretched tightly over her protruding abdomen. She

looked to be in her early twenties. A gash on her forehead splashed

crimson drops onto the floor. Her arms clutched protectively around

her middle, her pale blue eyes locked on Beau’s, imploring her to end

the madness.

“Where the fuck are the narcs?”

Beau turned her head slightly toward the sallow-faced, sweatsoaked man who pawed through her equipment box, tossing out

supplies randomly. His long black hair was plastered to his neck in

greasy strands, his wispy goatee straggly, and the dark eyes he turned

on her were glazed and wild. If she had to guess, she’d say PCP or

maybe meth. He was wired and coming unglued.

• 276 •

Trauma alerT

“We don’t carry many drugs in the fiel—” She barely had time

to register the backhand blow coming at her and relaxed her neck just

as his knuckles grazed the corner of her mouth. She let her head snap

around on contact and managed to keep her balance. She swiped her

tongue over the blood at the corner of her mouth. “Second tier, far right.

There ought to be a tab of Percocet.”

She’d purposely removed all the injectable narcotics from her kit

before entry, and this would all be over, one way or the other, before he

absorbed anything from a tablet. He cursed and pulled out the sealed

unit-dose pack. While he fumbled with the plastic, she slowly twisted

her torso, trying to pan the room with the camera clipped inside her

collar. He hadn’t done more than open her jacket and pat down her

pockets when she’d first come in. He was much more interested in the

contents of her FAT box.

In addition to the pregnant woman, Beau could make out the

motionless sneaker-clad feet of someone lying behind the check-out

counter. She couldn’t see any more of the figure, who she presumed

was the clerk. A middle-aged man in an expensive topcoat slumped

against a cold case, his face bruised and bloodied. He appeared to have

been pistol-whipped. Three teenagers, two boys and a girl, huddled in

a jumble of arms and legs next to the coffee kiosk. Otherwise, the store

seemed to be empty.

“Can I take a look at the injured?” Beau asked.

“Who?” The gunman seemed genuinely confused by her

question.

“The person behind the counter and the one across the room? Can

I see how they’re doing?”

“The one on the phone—the bitch who’s been calling me—she

said if I let you come in, she’d make sure they kept the lights and the

heat on. I don’t like the dark.” His speech was pressured and forced.

He held an automatic pistol in a shaking hand and waved it between the

pregnant woman and the unconscious man by the cold case. “So you’re

in. Look. Then get out and tell that cunt I want a car.”

“I need my kit.” Beau’s arms were tiring but she didn’t move them

from behind her head. Sweat trickled from beneath her hairline and

down beneath the sweltering body armor.

“Yeah, yeah.”

His attention seemed to wander, so Beau reached for her kit and

• 277 •

RADCLY fFE

methodically replaced critical items that he’d strewn around as quickly

as she could. Then, staying on her knees, she worked her way around

behind the counter. The clerk had a ragged hole above his left eye with

a trail of congealed black blood leading from it to the floor beneath his

face. He was dead.

She didn’t say anything. The video feed would tell it all. Carefully,

she made her way back into the main aisle and over to the other man. A

quick check of his carotid showed his pulse was strong and steady. She

flicked up an eyelid. Both pupils were constricted but equal. Hopefully

he had a concussion but no localized brain injury. After opening his

coat and confirming that he had no gunshot wounds or other bodily

injuries, she returned to the pregnant woman.

“How you doing?” she said softly.

“Please help me,” the young woman whimpered.

“Are you having any contractions? Any pain in your abdomen at

all?” “No. He just hit me once and when I curled up on the floor, he

stopped.”

“That’s good. You did great. You’ll be okay.” Beau swiveled back

around to face the assailant. He was pacing in the narrow space between

a display case stacked with potato chips bags and the large plate glass

window. The gun dangled from his hand. Every few seconds his whole

body would jerk and he’d spin back, the gun extended as if he expected

one of them to be shooting at him. Beau hoped whoever was watching

the video would realize that he was becoming increasingly paranoid.

“Can I take her out with me?” Beau indicated the woman on the

floor. “You want her and her baby to be safe, don’t you?”

The man frowned as if he didn’t understand what Beau was

saying.

“You wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, right?”

The phone on the counter next to the cash register rang, and

Beau flinched, hoping the gunman hadn’t seen her response. Then she

realized, watching him peer wildly around the room, that he was rapidly

losing touch with reality. Whatever combination of drugs he’d taken

was pushing him over the edge into psychosis. None of them would be

safe much longer. As he fumbled for the phone, mumbling and cursing,

she chanced whispering a warning.

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Trauma alerT

“He’s not going to let us out. He’s losing it.” She inched back

toward the woman on the floor.

Suddenly the gunman was raving, screaming obscenities, and then

someone was shooting. Beau dove for the young mother-to-be, praying

her body would be enough to protect her.

v

“We’re hearing shots,” the reporter announced breathlessly. “The

SWAT team has opened fire on the 7-Eleven. Are those shots coming

from inside? Does anyone know?”

The reply, if there was one, was lost in chaos.

Frozen, Ali watched her nightmare made real. Just as in her

dreams, where Sammy died over and over again right before her eyes,

she could do nothing but stand by while her world disintegrated. Within

seconds the firing stopped and a dozen armed figures swarmed into the

minimart. Everyone around her exclaimed in shock and surprise, and

she strained to hear the announcer. Her ears rang as if the shots had

been fired at her.

“Reports of wounded,” the announcer’s voice cut in.

Figures in turnout coats and flak jackets rushed from the 7-Eleven,

transporting stretchers to the waiting ambulances. The sounds of sirens

blaring from the television catapulted Ali out of the past and into the

uncertain present. Incoming. She had a job to do.

As she turned on her heel and pushed through the crowd of

medical personnel, patients, and visitors all fixed on the television, she

ruthlessly shunted her fear and terror into the far corners of her mind.

Methodically sealing her emotions behind insulated doors, she had shut

down enough to function before she reached the trauma bay. But unlike

all the times she had done this before, this time she felt herself bleeding

inside. She had become the walking wounded, and she wondered how

long she would survive without the one thing she needed to heal. What

if it was too late, and Beau was truly gone?

• 279 •

• 280 •

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chapTer ThirTy-Three

Ali met the first stretcher as it came through the double glass

doors into the trauma bay and quickly assessed the victim.

A young Asian man, twenty-five at most, a GSW to the forehead. She

didn’t even have to touch him to know he was DOA. She waved the

EMTs to the far cubicle.

“Over there. Pull the curtain.”

Within seconds, the sound of another gurney trundling rapidly

down the hall captured her attention. Would this be the one bringing

Beau in? Injured, dying? Lost?

Ali had to concentrate on forcing air in and out of her chest, on

keeping her focus. If Beau was hurt, she would fix her. She’d have to.

She couldn’t let her go.

The next patient was a middle-aged man, incoherent but conscious.

Ali directed the paramedics to the treatment table where Wynter

waited.

“How many more do we have?” Ali asked sharply as the team

passed her.

“Just one more,” one of the first responders answered.

Ali couldn’t wait for the final stretcher to reach her. She raced up

the hall and grabbed the stainless steel railing. Running alongside as the

medics pushed, she stared down into pale, frightened eyes she didn’t

recognize.

“I’m Dr. Torveau,” she said, taking in the gravid abdomen. “How

far along are you?”

“Seven months.”

• 281 •

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“Fetal heart rate?” she asked of the team in general.

“One-fifty and strong,” a female paramedic replied. “No

contractions. No bleeding. Mother’s vitals are stable. Superficial lac on

the forehead.”

“Good.” Ali brushed back the terrified young woman’s hair,

checked the wound. Nothing serious. “You’re going to be all right.

We’ll take good care of you.”

As soon as they got the pregnant woman transferred to the

treatment table and one of the nurses called for a STAT OB/GYN

consult, Ali grabbed one of the paramedics she recognized from her

TER-OPS class and pulled him aside.

“Where’s Beau Cross?”

He stared at her as if he didn’t recognize her.

“Where’s Beau?” Ali didn’t realize she was shaking him until

he blinked in surprise. She dropped his arm. “Sorry. Just—is she all

right?”

“Oh, hey, Doc. Last I saw her, the SWAT guys were taking her into

the command vehicle.”

“She wasn’t hurt?”

“Banged up a little bit, from what I could tell.” He grinned and

shook his head. “But she was moving under her own power. Fucking

Cross. She’s a wild woman.” As if realizing what he’d just said, he

flushed bright red. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything—”

“That’s all right,” Ali said. “I agree with you completely.”

He signed his report and tossed the file into a bin on a nearby

counter. “After something like this happens, everybody heads to

Bernie’s. I’ll probably see her there later. Want me to give her a

message?”

“No thanks.” Ali checked the clock, then the patients. The high

risk-pregnancy fellow was examining the young woman. Wynter was

conferring with the neurosurgeon on call about the semiconscious man

with the facial trauma. Two patrol officers stood just outside the curtain

where the DOA would remain until next of kin had been notified. That

was a police matter.

She was officially off call, but she still had unfinished business.

v

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Trauma alerT

Bobby chased a shot of tequila with cold beer and slapped Beau

on the shoulder. “Jesus, I can’t believe you went in there. No. Wait a

minute. Sure, I can believe it. More balls than brains, that’s Cross.”

The men and women crowded around the large round table in

the center of Bernie’s bar laughed and cheered. Even Jilly, tucked up

against Bobby’s other side and looking happier than Beau could ever

remember, nodded in agreement.

“Hey!” Beau spread her arms at the friendly ribbing. “What can I

say? When you’re good, you’re good.”

That brought more hoots and another round of shots, which she

managed to avoid in the chaos of everyone grabbing glasses and beers.

These postmortem celebrations of having survived another tough one

were standard after dangerous callouts or long, hard-fought battles. She

didn’t want to be there and she wasn’t interested in getting even a little

drunk, but she couldn’t deny her colleagues the chance to reaffirm their

own invincibility by saluting hers.

“You feel pretty wired, baby,” Solea murmured.

Solea had grabbed the chair next to Beau’s as soon as the group

settled at the table and had been inching closer for the last hour. Now

she squeezed against Beau’s right side and dropped her hand onto

Beau’s stomach. She started making lazy circles and moving lower

with each pass.

“I’m doing fine,” Beau lied, pressing her hand over Solea’s to stop

her explorations. The breathtaking charge that accompanied the danger

of her job always left her aroused, and tonight had been super charged.

The stress of facing the life-or-death situation inside the 7-Eleven, the

all-out terror of being fired upon, and the incredible relief at having

survived had her whole system amped to the max. Adrenaline poured

through her, spiking her heart rate and her blood pressure and making

her incredibly horny. She hadn’t come in days. She didn’t want any

woman except Ali, and when she tried to masturbate, her body just

shut down. Thinking of Ali just hurt, and she couldn’t fantasize about

anyone else. So right about now she was primed, and she didn’t want

Solea to be the one to light her fuse.

“You’re so full of it,” Solea whispered, her mouth so close to

Beau’s ear her tongue skimmed the rim. “I bet if I got my mouth on

you, you’d go off in a minute.”

Beau’s clit rolled with a surge of blood and she winced. Lowering

• 283 •

RADCLY fFE

her head, she turned away from the others to warn Solea to cool it before

she embarrassed them both. But when she opened her mouth, Solea

slipped her tongue inside. The hoots around the table grew louder, and

when she got her mind around what was happening, she pulled back.

“Whoa. Jesus.”

Solea laughed. “You know you love it.”

“Oh fuck, Cross,” Bobby muttered, elbowing Beau hard. “You are

so screwed.”

“What?” Beau said.

Bobby pointed with his chin.

Ali stood on the far side of the table. She looked incredibly

beautiful, and incredibly pissed.

“Ah, hell.” Beau sighed.

v

Ali twisted her way through the crowd of celebrants, aware that

more than a few were staring at her. She was only interested in one

person and gave the rest murmured apologies and perfunctory smiles

in passing. Beau’s expression fluctuated between uncomfortable and

excited as Ali drew closer, and she decided she liked both reactions.

She liked knowing she shook Beau up a little, because Beau definitely

turned her inside out. And she really liked the way Beau’s body tensed

and her eyes turned hungry. But she didn’t care much for the familiar

paramedic who was practically sitting in Beau’s lap, even though she

had finally extracted her tongue from Beau’s throat.

By the time Ali reached Beau, Bobby had pushed his chair away

from Beau’s to create a small space beside her, and Ali squatted down

until her head was level with Beau’s. She rested her hand on Beau’s knee

to steady herself. Up close, she could make out a bruise shadowing the

right side of Beau’s jaw and the swelling of her lip. Furious, she gently

cradled Beau’s chin in her palm.

“Did he hurt you, sweetheart?”

Beau’s lids slowly lowered, as if Ali’s touch was painful, but the

deep sound she made in her throat was a far cry from pain. When her

lids flickered open, her pupils were wide and unfocused. Her voice was

husky, as if she hadn’t used it in a long time. “No. He never touched

me.”

• 284 •

Trauma alerT

Ali leaned forward and gently kissed the uninjured corner of

Beau’s mouth. “Liar.”

Beau trembled, her breath coming fast. “What are you doing

here?”

“I saw what happened on TV. It was a little scary there for a while.”

Ali’s smile faltered and she bit the inside of her lip, then rested her palm

in the center of Beau’s chest. “I…I needed to see you. I wanted to be

sure you were all right.”

“I’m sorry,” Beau said quickly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know. I know you didn’t.” Ali concentrated on Beau, on the

here, on the now. Beau was not Sammy. “I doubt I’ll ever get used to

it, but I know you were doing what needed to be done. I know you’re

good at it too.” She took a breath, as if she hadn’t breathed freely in a

long time. “I know you need to do what you do. You can’t change, and

I don’t want you to.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Mmm. I didn’t say that.”

Beau blanched. “What? I thought—”

“Your friend next to you.” Ali trailed her fingers down Beau’s

neck. “The one with her hand on your leg right now. The one who was

just kissing you?”

“Ah, we work together,” Beau said quickly. “It’s not what you

thin—”

Ali laughed and lightly tapped an index finger against Beau’s chin.

“You are not going to try that line on me, are you?”

Beau groaned. She needed to kiss Ali soon or explode. “I just

don’t want you to think—”

“I think she wants in your pants. And since you work with her

and she’s a friend, I’m going to be nice about it this time.” She leaned

forward and regarded the woman next to Beau, who was watching them

with a tiny frown between her lovely eyebrows. “Hello again. Beau is

with me…” She paused, thought for a second. “Actually, that kind of

says it all. So if you wouldn’t mind…could you take your hand off her

now?”

“Beau?” the brunette asked, sounding confused and looking put

out.

“Hey, Solea. I’m with her. We’re together.” Beau relaxed

infinitesimally when Solea shot back in her chair and folded her arms

• 285 •

RADCLY fFE

under her breasts. Gripping Ali’s shoulders, almost afraid she would

disappear, Beau whispered, “I mean, if that’s what you want.”

Ali ran her fingertips through Beau’s hair. “I don’t want to take you

away from your friends. Maybe later you can come by my house—”

“Oh no. Not a chance.” Beau glanced around the table, aware for

the first time that everyone was watching them with the intensity of a

championship game during sudden death overtime. Jilly sent her a look

that she recognized from when they were kids. Don’t screw up. Beau

grinned at her. “Anybody mind if I take off?”

A chorus of “Oh, come on” and “Not when it’s just getting good”

and other ribald comments accosted her. Beau grasped Ali’s hand and

stood, pulling Ali up with her. She slid her arm around Ali’s waist, and

when Ali pushed her hand under the waistband of her pants at the small

of her back, she couldn’t remember anything ever feeling as right or as

good.

“I’ve got the day shift tomorrow,” Beau said to the group. “I need

somebody to take it for me.”

More hoots and hollers ensued, and then two men and a woman

waved at her simultaneously. “We got you covered, Cross. Take off.

You earned it.”

Beau kissed Ali amidst another round of cheers. “Not yet, but I’m

trying.”

“That’s a pretty good start,” Ali whispered, not caring in the least

that they had an audience. She had Beau. “Come home with me and try

some more.”

• 286 •

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chapTer ThirTy-fOur

Ali tucked her arm through Beau’s as they left Bernie’s and

walked along Locust Street on the edge of the Penn campus,

a few blocks from the hospital. At first she was surprised to see how

many students were out and about, and then she realized it wasn’t that

late. Only a little after ten p.m. The evening had been so tense she felt

as if she’d been up all night doing emergency surgery. If she was that

wrung out, Beau must be beyond exhausted.

“Do you need me to drive?” Ali asked as they neared Beau’s car.

“No, I’m okay.” Beau opened the passenger side door. “I haven’t

been drinking.”

“Good.” Ali grasped the open flaps of Beau’s nylon PFD jacket,

pulled her close, and kissed her. “Take me home so I can do that some

more.”

“Oh yeah—hold that thought.” Beau hurried around the car,

jumped in, and within seconds was driving east on Spruce Street.

Ali reached for her hand. “How are you doing?”

Beau was briefly silent, then glanced at her quickly before focusing

on the road ahead. “Better now that you’re here. I’ve been going pretty

nuts not being able to see you.”

“I’m sorry,” Ali murmured. “I was thinking more about what

happened at the 7-Eleven, though.”

“Oh.” Beau slowly exhaled. “The whole scene was a little unreal.

I’ve never been in a situation like that before. Sims just aren’t the

same.”

“No, they aren’t. Were you scared?”

• 287 •

RADCLY fFE

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it,” Beau said. “It’s over.”

Ali leaned across the distance between them and kissed the bruise

on Beau’s jaw. “I want to hear. I want you to be able to tell me about

what you do. How you feel about it.”

“Even if it scares you?”

“You know what scares me?” Ali said softly. “Losing you. That

terrifies me. And I realized today, watching you walk into that store, that

I could lose you without ever really having had you. Not completely. I

don’t want that to happen.”

Beau caught her breath, her hand clutching Ali’s even tighter. “I

need to see you. Be with you. I don’t want my job to come between

us.”

“It won’t,” Ali said quickly.

“Even though you think I’m a glory hound?” Beau laughed but her

laughter was tinged with regret.

“I did think that. You know you try to make people believe that.”

Ali ruffled the wild curls at the base of Beau’s neck. “But I meant what

I said back at Bernie’s. I know you’re good at what you do. I’ve seen

you in action.”

“Today was as bad as it gets. I hope.” Beau parked a few houses

up from Ali’s, cut the engine, and swiveled in her seat. “I can’t say I

won’t ever be in a tough situation again, but I won’t take chances. I

promise.”

“Thank you.” Ali kissed her. “Now come inside. I want you to

myself for a while.”

Beau took Ali’s hand as they climbed the stone steps. “How did

you know to come to Bernie’s?”

“One of the paramedics told me that’s where you’d probably be.”

Ali unlocked the door and held it open. “If you hadn’t been there I

would have called around until I found you. If you’d been in bed with

Solea, you’d have been in deep trouble because I would have tracked

you down.”

Beau stopped and stared. “You don’t think—”

Ali crowded Beau against the wall and leaned into her, nipping at

her jaw. “I think you’re the hottest woman I’ve ever seen.” She slid her

hand into Beau’s jacket and rubbed her middle. “And I know Solea—

and any number of other women—agree with me.”

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“Maybe, maybe not. Doesn’t matter. I don’t want any of them.”

Beau cupped Ali’s ass and tried to kiss her again, but Ali pulled away.

“Let’s take this inside before Ralph comes down with Victor. I

don’t want any interruptions.”

“You’re the boss,” Beau said.

“Uh-huh.” Ali shook her head, let them into her apartment, and led

Beau by the hand into the kitchen. “I’ve been saving a bottle of wine

for a special occasion. Grab a couple glasses from the cabinet over the

sink. I think tonight qualifies.”

“Any night I’m alone with you qualifies,” Beau said.

“You’re doing that slick thing again.” Ali glanced over her shoulder

while rummaging through a drawer. “And I like it.”

“I’m serious.”

Beau’s voice was darkly intense and Ali jolted at the instant

surge of arousal. She hadn’t thought she could get any more excited,

but she’d been wrong. God, God, she wanted her, but Beau had been

through a harrowing experience and she didn’t want to attack her like

a madwoman. She pulled out a corkscrew and concentrated on opening

the Littorai. When she thought she had a handle on her runaway libido,

she turned, bottle in hand. “Are you hungry?”

“No. Can we drink that in bed?” Beau’s eyes gleamed.

“Oh, yes. We can.” Ali wrapped her free arm around Beau’s waist

as they climbed the stairs. She slowed as they crossed the threshold into

her bedroom. The street lamp outside provided enough light to see by,

and her bed seemed to dominate the room. “You must be exhausted.”

Beau crossed to the bed, pulled the chain on the bedside lamp, and

put the glasses down on the small table. Watching Ali watching her,

she pulled her polo shirt up and over her head, taking the tight tank top

underneath with it, and dropped the clothes on the floor. Ali’s gaze slid

down her throat to her breasts, and her nipples contracted. “Actually,

I’m pretty wired. When I get that amped on a call I’m always horny

after.”

“Are you.”

Beau stroked her stomach and popped the button on her pants.

“Yep.”

Ali closed the bedroom door and leaned against it, the neck of the

wine bottle clasped loosely between her fingers. Her throat was dry, her

• 289 •

RADCLY fFE

heart was racing. Beau had to be the most beautiful woman she’d ever

seen in her life. “I guess I rescued you just in time, then.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Beau fingered her fly. “I’ve missed

you so damn much.”

“God, Beau. I’m sorry for being a coward.” Ali still didn’t move.

She didn’t trust herself to get too close to her until she had a better

grip on her emotions. She wanted her in so many ways all at once. She

wanted to touch her, run her hands over every inch of her, to be sure

she was real and safe and here. She wanted to kiss her, caress her, make

her moan and call out her name. She wanted to claim Beau and hear her

proclaim she was hers. “I wasn’t expecting to ever feel what I feel for

you. The intensity is pretty much off the scale.”

Beau stopped with her zipper halfway down. “We can do this any

way you want. If you need time, I understand. We can go as slow as

you—”

“Is that what you want? To go slow?” The uncharacteristic

insecurity in Beau’s face, in her voice, propelled Ali across the room.

She was responsible for Beau’s uncertainty, and she needed to change

that. She put the wine bottle down next to the glasses and feathered

her fingers over the tops of Beau’s shoulders. Then she smoothed her

palms over Beau’s chest and ever so lightly stroked the outer curve

of her breasts. Beau’s lips parted and her neck arched, a low groan

reverberating deep in her chest.

“Ali.”

“Maybe date casually?” Ali cradled Beau’s breasts more firmly and

brushed her thumbs over her tight nipples. Beau’s abdomen contracted

so hard Ali could count the striations between the rigid bundles of

muscles. The scar drew so tight she thought it might tear. “See other

people?”

“Fuck no.” Beau grit her teeth and clasped Ali’s waist. “I don’t

want to go slow, and I sure as hell don’t want anyone else touching

you.”

“Then why did you suggest I take more time?” Gently, Ali

massaged the band of scar tissue with her fingers until Beau’s stomach

relaxed. Beau leaned heavily into Ali’s caress and she skimmed her

fingers just below Beau’s open fly, thrilling to the quick jerk of Beau’s

hips.

“I need to be with you,” Beau said. “I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t

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eat. I couldn’t even come without you.” Beau tugged Ali’s shirt out of

the back of her pants, bunched it up in one fist, and stroked the warm

expanse of Ali’s lower back. “Whatever you want, whatever you need,

I’ll do it. Just…Jesus, I need to be with you.”

Ali wrapped her arms around Beau’s waist and snugged her pelvis

into Beau’s crotch. The bare skin of her middle brushed Beau’s stomach

and her sex swelled and throbbed. “I’d ask you what you want, but I

need to tell you something first.” When Beau’s expression turned wary

and worried, she kissed her. “Just listen.”

“Ali,” Beau moaned, her thighs trembling. “Please. It’s okay if

you don’t—”

“Shh.” Ali threaded her fingers through Beau’s hair and kissed her

again, slicking and stroking over her tongue, exploring the soft warm

recesses of her mouth with slow, teasing caresses. When her head started

to spin and her stomach clutched with urgency, she drew back. “I want

you. I think I have from the second you walked into my class.”

“I wan—”

“Shh.” Ali laughed. “God, you’re impatient—like a wildfire

burning so hot. I love that about you.” Ali kissed her again, only a light

brush of lips this time. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Beau went completely still. “You do?”

“Totally.”

“Are you…glad?”

Ali laughed harder. “Oh, sweetheart, glad doesn’t even come close.

I want you. All of you. Exclusively. Permanently.” She framed Beau’s

face with both hands, careful not to put pressure on the injured side

of her jaw. She rubbed her thumbs over the arches of Beau’s soaring

cheekbones, kissed her mouth, her throat, the hollow at the base of her

neck. Then she leaned back and quickly removed her shirt and bra so

her breasts could rest against Beau’s. She sighed at the first contact,

heat surging through her nipples. “I want you for the rest of my life.”

“I never wanted a future until I met you,” Beau said. “I guess I

thought I was already living on time I didn’t deserve.”

“Ah, sweetheart.” Ali pulled her close, held her. “I thought I could

keep Sammy safe, and when I failed, I thought I could keep from ever

caring enough to get hurt again. Life just happens to us.” She leaned

back, caressed Beau’s face. “You happened to me, and I am so glad. I

love you and nothing will ever change that.”

• 291 •

RADCLY fFE

“Ali, I need you naked.” Beau gripped Ali’s hips and backed her

toward the bed. “Please, I need you to touch me so bad.”

“Pants,” Ali growled, yanking at Beau’s cargo pants.

Beau shoved her pants down and Ali hastily stripped. Beau

grabbed her and they tumbled onto the bed in a tangle of arms and

legs. When Ali’s thigh slotted between hers, the sensation was the most

exciting and the most comforting she’d ever experienced. Like almost

coming, and coming home all at once. Beau buried her face in the curve

of Ali’s neck, cleaving to her, struggling to get every inch of her body

close to her.

“Oh God, I love you.” Beau shuddered, her breath escaping in

ragged gasps.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart,” Ali murmured, tracing the tight muscles in

Beau’s back. “It’s all right. I’m right here.”

“I need you,” Beau whispered. “So much.”

“I need you too.” Ali kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her mouth.

She caressed her broad shoulders, the soft curve of her waist, the hard

rise of her ass. When she slipped into her mouth, Beau groaned and

twisted against her. Beau’s need ignited her like a torch to gasoline, and

she rolled Beau over onto her back. Rising above her, Ali drove her hips

down between Beau’s legs. “Do you want me?”

“Oh Christ, yes.” Beau gripped Ali’s shoulders and rose to meet

each downward thrust. “You’re going to make me come. Fuck, I need

you to make me come.”

“Not until you tell me something first,” Ali said, biting off each

word as her orgasm boiled closer and closer to the surface. She wouldn’t

come. She wouldn’t. Not yet. “Tell me, Beau.”

“I love you.” Beau arched, her eyes losing focus. “Oh God, Ali. I

love you.”

Ali dipped her head and captured a nipple in her mouth, tugging

with her lips. Beau whimpered and Ali licked the spot she’d tormented.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m gonna come,” Beau exclaimed.

“No. You’re. Not.” Ali yanked herself up and hovered just out of

reach, refusing to let Beau make contact. She sucked her nipples, raked

her teeth over her throat, licked her neck. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours. All yours. I love you.” Beau dug her fingers into Ali’s

ass and wrapped her legs around her thighs, driving her sex urgently

• 292 •

Trauma alerT

into Ali’s. The first sharp jolt against her clitoris shot her over and she

kissed Ali hard as she came.

Ali didn’t want to come but she couldn’t stop. The pleasure

contorting Beau’s face, her shattered cries of shock, the force of her

kiss finally broke her. She lost control and for once she didn’t care. She

gave herself over to the woman who’d won her trust, who owned her

heart, who’d given her, at long last, peace.

• 293 •

• 294 •

Trauma alerT

chapTer ThirTy-five

Ali woke as she always did, with near-instant awareness of the

time and her surroundings. Years of being called from dead

sleep to deal with a crisis had honed her mental reflexes. She registered

two things simultaneously—her cell phone was ringing and she was

about to have a bone-shaking orgasm. Her shoulders jerked off the bed

as she reached down to clasp the back of Beau’s head.

“Oh my God,” Ali moaned, a flash-fire of pleasure racing along

her spine and exploding like an incendiary bomb inside her head. Every

muscle contracted at once, her fingers clenched in Beau’s hair, and she

came for what felt like forever in the inferno that was Beau’s mouth.

When she finally slumped back, her limbs splayed bonelessly and she

could barely breathe. Distantly, she heard Beau chuckling.

“What in God’s name did you just do?” Ali asked weakly, groping

around until she found Beau’s face cradled against her lower abdomen.

She brushed her thumb over Beau’s mouth and smiled when Beau

kissed her fingers. “How?”

“Uh, I think it’s kind of obvious.”

“Smart-ass.”

“I woke up and you were still sleeping,” Beau said. “You were so

warm and soft and beautiful. I got excited and I thought you might like

it. Did you?”

“Oh no, not at all.” Ali lightly swatted her on the back of the head.

“How long were you…there?”

Beau kissed Ali’s belly and rubbed her cheek back and forth over

her skin. “A while. You were already pretty aroused when I started,

though.”

• 295 •

RADCLY fFE

Ali’s legs twitched and a twinge of excitement rolled through her

depths. “Was I now. That seems to happen whenever you’re around.”

“Yeah?” Beau grinned up at her.

“You know it’s true.” Ali stretched and murmured with pleasure.

“I love your mouth.”

“I love you.” Beau slid up the bed and kissed Ali’s breasts, slowly

swirling the tip of her tongue around each nipple. As she worked her

way up Ali’s throat to her mouth, she straddled Ali’s thigh. She was

wet. Silky hot. Shivering with urgency.

“Uh-oh. Somebody needs to come.” Ali kneaded the muscles

bunched along Beau’s spine until she got to her ass. Then she cupped

her, holding her still as she raised her leg between Beau’s.

Beau groaned against her mouth. “Every time I touch you, every

time I see you, I’m ready to explode.”

Ali tugged on Beau’s lip, tiny teasing nips. She sighed in satisfaction

as Beau’s face grew slack with pleasure. She smoothed one hand around

Beau’s flank and between their bodies. “Lift up, sweetheart. I want to

stroke you.”

“I’m awfully close, Ali. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I just want to feel you come.” Ali glided her hand

between Beau’s legs, dipping her fingertips inside her as Beau rode

over her leg in fast, jerky movements. “Oh, that’s nice. So nice.”

“Fuck.” Beau stiffened, pressing her face to the curve of Ali’s

neck. Her breath blew hot across Ali’s throat, her skin blazed, and her

passion ran like molten fury over Ali’s fingers.

“I love you,” Ali whispered, and Beau came with a muffled cry.

When Beau’s orgasm waned, she lay soft and pliant in Ali’s arms, so

open and trusting Ali’s heart ached. Ali didn’t think she’d ever been so

supremely content or so thoroughly satisfied. She curled one calf over

the back of Beau’s thigh, locking her in, keeping her close. “I never

want to let you go.”

“I’m never going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

“You can count on it.” Beau kissed Ali’s throat. “You can count on

me. You’re all I want. All I need.”

Ali stroked Beau’s damp hair. “I work a lot.”

Beau chuckled. “So do I. We’ll figure it out.”

• 296 •

Trauma alerT

“We will.”

Beau pushed up on an elbow. “I have a big family. They’ll be

nosy. My mother will probably interrogate you since you’ll be the first

woman I’ve brought home.”

“Really. The first? I like that.” Ali kissed Beau’s chin. “I’m not

worried about it. I’ll just tell her I’m crazy about you. Like you said,

we’ll figure it out.”

“Speaking of work, I guess you should probably check your

phone. I want to make love to you again and I plan on taking my time.”

Beau rolled over, snagged Ali’s cell off the bedside table, and handed it

to her. “And I don’t want you thinking of anything except me.”

“Like that’s even possible with you touching me. But I’m second

call today,” Ali said, “and I might have to go in. If I don’t, I intend to

keep you right here…” She glanced at the readout and sat up quickly.

“Damn. It’s Wynter and she’s not on call.”

Beau switched on the light. 5:10 a.m. She curled her arm around

Ali’s shoulders as Ali hit speed dial.

“Wynter?” Ali said as soon as the call was picked up.

“No, it’s Pearce. Wynter’s in labor.”

Ali took Beau’s hand. “How far along? Is she all right?”

“Contractions are about fifteen minutes apart, but she said she

went fast at the end with Ronnie. We’re heading to the hospital now.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Ali said.

“Hold on,” Pearce said.

“Ali?” Wynter came on the line. “Hey. Hi. Sorry I’m going a little

early. Did we wake you up?”

“No, honey. We were awake. I’ll get there as soon as I can.

Okay?”

“That would be good. Pearce is kind of a wreck.” Wynter paused.

“We? Ooh. Tell me it’s Beau.”

“It’s Beau,” Ali said, holding Beau’s hand to her breast. “And

before you ask, yes, she’s amazing. Yes, I love her. And yes, I told

her.”

“Well. Life sure is getting interesting.” Wynter caught her breath.

“I think I better go now. Love you.”

Ali put the phone aside. “Wynter’s in labor. I’m her backup coach

and…I just need to be there.”

• 297 •

RADCLY fFE

Beau got out of bed and found her pants. “I know. She’s family.”

“She is.” Ali stood and wrapped her arms around Beau’s neck.

“Will you come with me?”

“Always. Anywhere.” Beau kissed her. “Forever.”

• 298 •

Radclyffe writing as L.L. Raand starts a bold new journey

with the Midnight Hunter novels

Medic Drake McKennan has never been good at following protocol,

so she doesn’t think twice about rendering emergency care when a

teenager’s life is at stake—even if the young girl is in the throes of

Were fever and any sane human should know better. It isn’t the bright

shining pain of the bite or even the wrenching agonies of the fever that

convinces Drake everything in her life has changed. It’s the way she

feels about the blonde with the wolf-gold eyes who awakens a dark

hunger she can’t control…and doesn’t want to. Sylvan, the Alpha of the

Adirondack Timberwolf Pack, is the one female Drake can’t have. And

the only one she craves.

The midnighT hunT

The midNighT huNT

By l.l. raaNd

Sylvan hungered to free her wolf. After three days in the city,

encased in a steel-and-glass building fifteen hours at a time

with nothing but concrete under her feet at night, she needed to fill her

lungs with the scent of warm earth, sweet pine, and rich, verdant life.

She needed to run with her wolves and lead them on a kill. The insistent

pressure between her thighs and the shimmer of pheromones coating her

skin reminded her of another critical need, one not so readily satisfied.

She’d gone too long without sexual release, but she couldn’t risk even

a rough-and-ready tangle with a willing female when her wolf seemed

insistent on claiming a mate. That she would never do.

Never long on patience, she was edgy and amped on adrenaline

and hormones. Even knowing she could be in her Adirondack Mountain

compound in thirty minutes didn’t curb her temper while she sat at

a desk in the New York State Capitol Annex building listening to a

politician patronize her. But she needed to do the job that had fallen to

her when she had ascended to Alpha shortly after the Praetern species

had stepped out of the shadows for the first time in millennia. As head

of the Praetern Coalition representing the interests of the five Praetern

species—Weres, Vampires, Mages, Fae, and Psi—she had been charged

with convincing the senior senator from New York to push PR-15, the

new preternatural protection bill, through his committee.

“We’d like to bring the bill to a vote this session, Senator,” Sylvan

said into the phone, careful not to allow her frustration to bleed into her

voice. She spun around to face the view of the Hudson River six blocks

away. A breeze through the open windows of the twelfth-floor office

carried a teasing hint of the river on a raft of summer heat, reminding

her that her imprisonment was only temporary. “The bill has been tabled

for the past six months and the Coalition members are asking why.”

• 301 •

l.l. raaNd

“We all want the same thing, Councilor Mir,” Senator Daniel

Weston said, “but we have to remember, this is all very new for the

human populace. We have to give the voters a chance to get used to

the idea.”

The senator’s patrician tone grated, and Sylvan growled softly,

her right hand tightening on the leather arm of her desk chair. The

wood creaked, protesting the crushing pressure, and she consciously

relaxed her fingers. No one knew better than she that for some humans,

there would never be enough time to accept those who were other as

equals. The nonhuman races had hidden their preternatural essence

for centuries in order to survive in a world where they were greatly

outnumbered. Eventually global culture expanded until isolation was

impossible, and the Praeterns learned to hide in the light, forming

uneasy coalitions while building a formidable economic power base.

Sylvan’s father had finally convinced the Praetern leaders to make their

presence known to the world, arguing that the benefits of visibility

outweighed the dangers—their corporations could compete openly in

international markets, their scientists and doctors would have access to

greater research opportunities, those in politics who now had to work

behind the scenes could actively advocate for their rights. And most

importantly, they could demand protection under the law for future

generations.

Shortly after Antony Mir had spearheaded the Exodus, he had

died, leaving Sylvan to assume the mantle of leadership. She had been

twenty-six years old, a year out of law school. Her father had been her

Alpha, her mentor, her friend, and her greatest champion. She’d had

no time to mourn because the Pack needed a leader, especially in the

midst of the chaos the Exodus had incited. His absence remained an

agonizing void in her heart.

“Over a year now, Senator—and several million dollars in

campaign donations. That’s a long time to wait for basic protection

from those who would destroy us for simply being different.” Sylvan

couldn’t help but think of her father’s death and how little progress

she’d made in achieving security for those whom she had been born to

protect and defend. Anguish and fury frayed the last remnants of her

temper and a low rumble resonated from deep beneath her breasts. Her

skin tingled with the ripple of pelt about to erupt and her claws sliced

through her fingertips. Her wolf shimmered so close to the surface

• 302 •

The midnighT hunT

that her slate blue eyes, glinting back at her from her reflection in the

window glass, sparked with wolf-gold. Her dusty blond hair took on

the silver glint of her pelt. Along with the impending shift came an

exhilarating surge of power and raw sensuality.

The door behind her opened and a husky alto voice inquired,

“Alpha?”

Sylvan swiveled to face Niki Kroff, her second and imperator—

the head of Pack security. One of Sylvan’s centuri, her personal guards,

Niki was also her best friend—they’d grown up together, tussled and

played dominance games as adolescents, sparred together as adults.

Tonight Niki wore her usual uniform—a formfitting black T-shirt,

cargo pants, and lace-up military boots. Her compact muscular form

looked hard and battle worthy, despite the soft swell of her full breasts

and the luscious fall of thick auburn curls that touched the top of her

shoulder blades. Niki had sensed the rise of Sylvan’s wolf, stirring

Niki’s instinctive need to guard her Alpha against any distress. Sylvan

didn’t find Niki’s sudden appearance in the office an intrusion on her

privacy. Pack members had very few physical or emotional boundaries.

In fact, Sylvan hated having the centuri stand between her and the rest

of the Pack, forcing her into even more isolation than her status as

Alpha demanded. But since her father’s death, the Pack would have it

no other way. She was too important to them not to be under constant

guard.

“I’m fine,” she sotto-voiced, too low for Weston, who continued

to try to placate her with platitudes, to hear. Niki, though, could hear

her easily, and after one last searching look, backed out of the room and

closed the door. Sylvan reluctantly brought her wolf to heel, promising

her freedom soon. Breaking in on Weston’s monologue, she said,

“Some of the Coalition leaders are beginning to question if our friends

in Washington are really friends at all.”

“Now now, Councilor,” Weston said almost jovially, “I’m sure you

can explain things to the Coalition and your own…uh…followers.”

“Pack. My Pack,” Sylvan said softly. She wanted to point out, not

for the first time, that the Adirondack Timberwolf Pack was not a cult or

a religion or a social organization. They were a community, connected

physically and psychically. She was their Alpha, their leader, but she

was part of them as well. But she was too weary and her wolf was too

anxious to roam for her to repeat what she had been explaining publicly

• 303 •

l.l. raaNd

for months. “The Mage and the Fae have never been as solidly behind

the Exodus as the Weres. I don’t think I have to remind you how strong

a force those two groups are in industry and international commerce. I

don’t think you want to lose their support.”

“Of course not. Of course not. The committee plans to convene

within the month, and I assure you this matter will have priority on our

agenda.”

Sylvan could tell she’d gotten as far as she was going to get with

him that night. Human politics were fueled by money, and until the

money train carrying funds from the Praetern Coalition to Capitol Hill

ground to a halt, the laws to protect them would be slow in coming.

Hopefully, once humans began to appreciate that Praeterns had lived

and worked among them for centuries, and not only performed many

essential functions within society, but were their friends and neighbors

and, sometimes, even relatives, popular opinion would swing in their

direction.

“I look forward to hearing from you soon, Senator,” Sylvan lied,

and put down the phone. Almost ten thirty. Traffic on the Northway

would be light this time of night. She couldn’t wait to shed her pale

gray linen shirt and tailored black trousers, a necessary concession to

her high-profile persona as the head of U.S. Were Affairs. If she and her

centuri left now, they’d be home before full moonrise. Running under

the moon was her favorite time to hunt—the forest took on a primeval

glow and the very air seemed to glitter with moon dust. She preferred

to run in moonlight whenever she could, even though most Weres had

evolved to the point they no longer needed the pull of the moon to shift.

She and her Pack could shift at any time, although she alone could shift

instantaneously. Even her most dominant centuri needed a minute or

more to accomplish the change. Her singular ability to call her wolf

at any time, to shift partially or totally at will, was one of her greatest

joys and helped balance the price she paid in loneliness for being the

Alpha.

“Niki,” she said quietly as she packed her briefcase. The door

opened and her second slipped inside. Niki’s forest green eyes took

in the unfinished meal she had delivered earlier in the evening and

narrowed in displeasure. Sylvan ignored the look. “Have Lara bring the

Rover around. Let’s go home.”

“You didn’t eat.”

• 304 •

The midnighT hunT

“Do I look like I need a den mother?”

Niki folded her arms beneath her breasts and spread her legs, an

aggressive stance. She met Sylvan’s eyes for a second before looking

away. “More like a mate. If you won’t look after yourself—”

“Niki.” Sylvan gave a warning rumble. She knew many Pack

members were anxious for her to take a mate, not because of pressure

to produce an heir—she had decades for that—but because she would

have more protection. The Pack Alpha could accept intimate care and

safeguarding from a mate, whereas she couldn’t from anyone else. She

had her reasons for ignoring the not-so-subtle hints that Niki and those

close to her had been making, especially the last six months. She did not

want a mate. She had seen the desolation in her father’s eyes after the

death of her mother over a decade before. He had fought his desire—

the innate drive—to join his mate in death until Sylvan was old enough

to take her mother’s place, but he had been broken, an empty shell of

who he had once been. Sylvan had lost her mother, and in many ways,

her father, all in a few moments of betrayal and blood. She would not

allow herself to be that vulnerable. Ever. “We’ve had this discussion. I

don’t want to have it again.”

“You’ve been working twenty hours a day for six months and

ignoring your needs. It’s not going to help the Pack if you’re too weak

to stand a challenge.” Niki was a dominant Were at the top of the Pack

hierarchy, and one of the few who would dare incite Sylvan’s ire in

order to protect her.

Sylvan cleared the desk so quickly Niki barely had time to put her

back against the door before Sylvan towered over her. Sylvan didn’t

touch her. She didn’t have to. Niki dropped her chin and turned her face

away. Sylvan brought her lips close to Niki’s ear, and when she spoke,

even the Weres outside in the hall, who could hear a mouse in the walls

three floors below them, did not hear her. As their Alpha, she could

speak to them mind-to-mind as effortlessly as she could with words. Do

you question my ability to lead, Imperator?

Niki shivered and tilted her head, further exposing her neck. A

Were as powerful as Sylvan could crush the windpipe or tear open the

great vessels in seconds. “No, Alpha, I do not doubt you. But I am

responsible for keeping the Pack safe, and for that, we need you.”

Am I not always here for you?

“Yes, Alpha,” Niki whispered, her eyes nearly closed, her gaze

• 305 •

l.l. raaNd

still averted. “But many in the Pack fear what will happen if the humans

decide to hunt us. You give them the strength to fight the fear.”

Sylvan sighed and pressed her mouth to Niki’s neck, grazing the

bounding pulse with her fully erupted canines. Sylvan’s caress was

possessive, not sexual. Niki was her wolf, as were all the wolves in the

Pack, and Niki needed Sylvan’s touch, her heat, her strength. Isolation

was a form of death for a Were. Niki arched subtly against her, taking

comfort from Sylvan’s reassurance. Sylvan growled and bit down gently

until Niki whined, her shiver of fear turning to pleasure. Gradually,

Niki relaxed against Sylvan’s body, at ease and content. Only then did

Sylvan release her.

“Do not worry, my wolf,” Sylvan whispered aloud. “The Pack will

always come before all else in my life.”

“I know,” Niki murmured, grateful and saddened at the same

time.

“Come on.” Sylvan squeezed Niki’s shoulder. “Keep me company

tonight on a run?”

“With pleasure, Alpha.” Niki reached for the door and then

abruptly stepped in front of Sylvan. “Wait.”

Sylvan felt it too. Waves of tension streaming toward her from the

guards outside the door, but she could sense no immediate threat. No

scent of enemies. “Open it.”

Niki did, but continued to shield Sylvan’s body with her own.

“What is it, Max?”

Max, a barrel-chested male easily six inches taller than Sylvan’s

own five-ten, filled the doorway, his grizzled face tight with strain. “We

have a problem. Several of the young slipped our perimeters and left

the Compound. We just found out.”

“Where are they?” Heat flared in Sylvan’s eyes. The northern

extent of Pack land bordered the Catamount Clan territory in Vermont.

The cat Weres were mostly feral and as territorial as the wolves. They

would not give safe passage within their territory, even to foolish wolf

pups.

“Here, in the city,” Max replied.

“Who?”

“Jazz, Alex, and Misha.”

Three teenagers, two brothers and a dominant young female,

all in military training at the Compound—Sylvan’s home and Pack

• 306 •

The midnighT hunT

headquarters. The adolescents had strict curfews, not only because they

were still too immature to control their shifts in the face of rampant

hormonal changes, but because like all young wild animals, they craved

excitement and had no sense of their own mortality. Sylvan cursed.

“That’s not all,” Max said grimly.

“What else?” Sylvan fixed him with a hard stare and he dropped

his gaze to her shoulder.

“Alex was the one who called us. They’re at Albany General

Hospital. We don’t know what happened, but Misha’s injured.”

Sylvan shouldered him aside and was halfway down the hall before

he even finished speaking. Niki, Max, and the third guard, Andrew, ran

to keep up. Sylvan didn’t bother with the elevator but loped into the

stairwell, grasped the metal railing, and vaulted over the side and onto

the landing one floor below. She leapt down, floor by floor, until she

reached ground level seconds later. When she went through the door

into the dark, she was racing on all fours. The others couldn’t shift

while moving, and she didn’t wait for them. She was the Pack Alpha,

and one of hers was in danger.

Sylvan ran alone through the night.

v

“Jesus,” Harvey Jones exclaimed, “what the hell is that racket?”

Drake McKennan listened to the steady cacophony of snarls

emanating from behind the closed curtain at the far end of the ER.

“Wolf Weres. I paged the Were medic already.”

“What are they doing here? I thought they were indestructible or

something.”

“They’re extremely long-lived, I understand,” Drake said, “but

not immortal. They can be hurt. Killed.”

Her fellow medic didn’t even bother to hide his disgust, and Drake

had to work not to make a caustic comment. He wasn’t the only medic

who didn’t seem to think the oath they took extended to Praeterns, even

though most of them had probably taken care of a witch or a lesser Fae

at some point in their careers without knowing it. Probably not a Were,

though. Harvey was right, the Weres rarely showed up in the ER. Their

Packs or Prides had their own medics. Just the same, if she’d had the

slightest idea how to treat the young female Were who’d arrived with a

• 307 •

l.l. raaNd

stab wound to the shoulder, she would have. Assuming the adolescent

males with the pretty young brunette would let her get close to the

girl without a fight, which she doubted. Just the same, she would have

tried if she’d thought she could do any good. The six-foot-tall boys

had a few inches on her and more muscle, but she was a pretty solid

fighter. She’d had to learn quickly how to defend herself in the series of

foster homes and state facilities she’d grown up in. The problem was,

she didn’t know much about Were physiology—just one of the many

secrets the Weres protected.

“Well, I wish to hell they’d quiet down. They’re making the real

patients nervous.”

“I’ll see if there’s anything I can do.” Drake had seen the girl

when the boys had brought her in. She was scared and she was in pain.

The boys looked scared too, but they put up a tough front, snarling at

anyone who approached, demanding a Were medic look at her and no

one else. Drake’s instinct had been to help her, but she’d put in a call

to Sophia Revnik, the medic who had worked in the ER for five years

and who, after the Exodus, had announced to everyone she was a wolf

Were. Drake liked the plucky blonde, but some of their colleagues had

given Sophia the cold shoulder since discovering she was a Praetern.

“Why bother with them,” Harvey scoffed.

“Because that’s why we’re here,” Drake said, realizing that at the

next ER staff meeting she’d have to bring up the schism developing

around treating Praeterns. The bias had been subtle at first, but as each

day passed, the prejudice was growing. The heated public debate over

allowing Praeterns the rights of full citizenship hadn’t helped. Some,

more each day it seemed, argued that the constitution only protected

humans.

“Watch yourself,” Harvey grunted as she walked away.

She stopped in front of the cubicle, not foolish enough to surprise

the boys when they were obviously upset.

“Hey,” she said to the curtain. “I’m Dr. McKennan. Can I help you

at all? Can I come in?”

“No,” a rough male voice snapped back.

“Look—I can start an IV, maybe give her something for pain.”

“No one will touch her.”

Drake took a breath, kept her voice calm. “Someone’s going

to have to.” She debated sliding back the curtain, but the sound of a

• 308 •

The midnighT hunT

commotion coming from the direction of the ER entrance diverted her.

A blonde strode toward her, but it wasn’t Sophia Revnik. This woman

was taller and leaner than Sophia, with dusty blond waves that just

brushed her collar in place of Sophia’s shoulder-length platinum locks.

Keen blue eyes that took in everything around her in one sharp sweep

dominated her strong, angular face. Even dressed in jeans and a plain

navy T-shirt, she exuded an unmistakable air of authority.

Everyone in her path backed away, hurriedly averting their gaze,

but as the blonde bore down on her, Drake couldn’t look away. When

the slate blue eyes fixed on hers, an unexpected wave of heat coursed

through her. She had seen Sylvan Mir, the Special U.S. Councilor on

Were Affairs, on television but the cameras had not done her justice.

They had made her look older than she obviously was and had muted

her untamed beauty and charisma. She smelled wild too—burnt pine

and cinnamon, with an undercurrent of tangy sensuality.

“Are you responsible for them?” Drake said, holding up one hand.

“I need to see the girl but they won’t let me in.”

Slowing, Sylvan studied the woman standing almost protectively in

front of the closed curtain. Her thick, collarlength black hair contrasted

sharply with her ivory skin, as if her face were bathed in moonlight.

Her carved cheekbones and slightly square jaw reminded her of the

stark beauty of sweeping mountain peaks. She wore scrubs the color of

warm blood, and she blocked Sylvan’s path with unwavering courage.

This stranger should have been afraid—of her and of her nearly out-of

control adolescents behind the thin curtain—but her charcoal gray eyes

radiated only calm. A calm that slid over Sylvan’s skin like the brush of

warm lips. Sylvan shook off the unfamiliar urge to let down her guard,

to rest for a moment in that seductive peacefulness. She could smell

Misha’s pain, the boys’ rising aggression. They were hers to protect,

and this human had put herself between her and her wolves. A very

dangerous and foolish thing to do.

“Who are you?” Sylvan demanded.

“Dr. Drake McKennan.”

“You’re a human physician.”

“Yes. You’re the Were Alpha, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Sylvan said, impressed with the human’s use of the terms.

Many humans preferred to avoid a direct reference to her species or her

status. “Sylvan Mir.”

• 309 •

l.l. raaNd

Drake finally broke free of Sylvan’s hypnotic gaze and took in the

whole of her long-limbed, rangy body. “You’re barefoot.”

For just a second, Sylvan’s full, perfectly proportioned lips

flickered, as if she might smile, but then her expression cooled. She

moved forward so quickly, Drake barely had time to get out of her

path.

“You’ll excuse me.” Sylvan reached for the curtain. “I need to see

to my young.”

“Can I help you?”

“No.” Sylvan pulled the curtain aside.

Drake stayed where she was. The Were Alpha hadn’t said she

couldn’t watch.

“Alpha!” one of the boys exclaimed. Both boys, handsome darkhaired teenagers with startlingly beautiful dark green eyes, immediately

ducked their heads, seeming to shrink in on themselves. The equally

beautiful brunette girl on the stretcher whimpered.

“What happened?” Sylvan growled.

“Rogues,” one of the boys whispered. “They attacked us in the

park. We fought them, Alpha, but—”

Drake jerked in shock and barely stifled a protest when Sylvan

Mir grabbed the boy by the collar and yanked him up onto his toes,

shaking him so hard his thick black hair flew into his face. The Alpha

and the young male were nearly the same size, but she handled him as

if he were half her weight.

“You brought Misha out of the Compound and then failed to

protect her?” Sylvan roared.

The boy trembled in her grasp and the girl, to her credit, forced

herself upright on the stretcher, even though she was in obvious pain.

“I don’t need males to protect me,” Misha cried, her dark brown

irises circled in gold. “I am strong enough—”

Sylvan whipped her head around and silenced the girl with a

glare. “And you? You followed these brainless pups against my explicit

orders? You want to be a soldier, yet cannot obey a simple command

from your Alpha?”

The girl’s pale face blanched even whiter and she shuddered.

“She was attacked,” Drake exclaimed, instinctively wanting to

shield the injured girl. There’d been a time when she had been the

defenseless one, and no one had stood for her. She had stopped hoping

• 310 •

The midnighT hunT

for, stopped needing, that kind of caring a long time ago, but she

couldn’t erase her bone-deep drive to defend the defenseless. “She’s

hurt and in no condition—”

“This is none of your concern,” Sylvan snarled, rounding on

Drake, lethal-looking canines flashing. Her eyes were no longer blue,

but wolf-gold. “These are my wolves.”

Drake stiffened, the memory of bruises inflicted by older, stronger

youths in a group home suddenly as fresh as if the blows had been

delivered yesterday. She heard a low rumble and her skin prickled, the

fine hairs on her arms and neck quivering. Forcing herself to think,

not react, Drake assessed the scene as she would an unknown clinical

situation. The boy was limp in the Alpha’s grasp, the way Drake had

seen young kittens and puppies go boneless in their mothers’ jaws.

The teenagers did not appear frightened or abused. Chastised, yes.

But not afraid. In fact, all three of them looked at Sylvan Mir with

something close to adulation. Drake realized that no matter how human

they appeared, these Weres did not live by human social and moral

conventions, and she was out of her element.

“My apologies, Ms. Mir,” Drake said softly. “I meant no

offense.”

Inclining her head infinitesimally, Sylvan said, “None taken.”

Sylvan was impressed with the human’s fortitude. When Pack

Alphas went dominant, they exuded a complex combination of

powerful hormones that triggered a deeply ingrained flight instinct in

the primitive brain centers of every species. Any other human, and even

the most dominant wolves, would have cowered in the face of her rage.

But Sylvan had no time to ponder why this human female seemed able

to absorb her fury without fear. Misha needed her.

Sylvan released Jazz and turned to Misha. When she stroked the

girl’s cheek, the teenager nuzzled her palm.

“Where are you hurt, Misha?” Sylvan inquired softly.

Misha lifted her chin, seeming to take strength from Sylvan’s

touch. “My shoulder.”

Drake watched the exchange, struck by the tenderness that passed

between the Alpha and the young Were. Anyone who wasn’t looking

closely would have missed the small signs of caring, but to Drake the

subtle gestures said everything. The deep love that existed between

these Weres and Sylvan Mir was unmistakable.

• 311 •

l.l. raaNd

“Did any of you shift?” Sylvan asked, taking in the three teens.

The two boys had crowded around the stretcher now, each of them

stroking the girl, comforting her.

Misha shook her head. “I wanted to, because I thought it might

heal my shoulder, but I was afraid to try. You said we couldn’t, without

permission.”

“So you did remember something,” Sylvan murmured, rubbing

her knuckles along Misha’s jaw. “Turn over, let me see.”

Obediently, Misha rolled onto her side and Drake eased into the

cubicle for a better look. Misha’s shirt was in tatters and Sylvan swept it

aside, revealing a long gash in the trapezius muscle, beginning high on

her back just to the left of her spine and extending diagonally downward

for six inches. The wound didn’t look like any knife wound Drake had

ever seen. The edges were blackened and already beginning to fester.

Angry red streaks extended outward from the gangrenous margins for

several inches. Something was very wrong.

“That wound is infected.” Drake pushed closer. “Let me at least

take a loo—”

“No,” Sylvan lashed back.

Then Drake heard a sound unlike anything she’d ever heard

before—not a snarl, not a growl. A deep, resonant rumble filled with

pure animal fury. The air around Sylvan Mir shimmered, and a surge

of energy skittered over Drake’s skin. Her breath caught in her chest

as Drake tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Sylvan held

Misha facedown on the bed with one hand clamped around the back

of her neck. Her other hand was no longer a hand, but an elongated

appendage with inch-long, razor-sharp claws. Before Drake could force

her own limbs to move again, Sylvan plunged her claws into the girl’s

shoulder.

Misha screamed.

• 312 •

Coming November 2010

Best-selling romance author Calista Hart sprints through life from one

appearance to the next, always on deadline, always in demand—always

on the arm of a different beautiful woman. She has no personal life

because her entire existence is public, and part of her appeal. She loves

the tempo, the power, the thrill, until the pace catches up to her and she

collapses at a book signing. Her doctor orders rest, her editor wants a

three-book series yesterday, and her attorney informs her she has just

inherited a farm in the backcountry of Vermont. Divine intervention

or Fate’s little joke? The only thing that might possibly save her from

dying of boredom during a summer of forced R&R is a dalliance with

Gardner Davis, the local vet. The fact that Gard is as unimpressed with

Calista Hart’s charms as she appears to be with her fame only makes

the chase sweeter.

About the Author

Radclyffe has published over thirty-five romance and romantic intrigue

novels, dozens of short stories, and, writing as L.L. Raand, a paranormal

romance series, The Midnight Hunters.

She is a seven-time Lambda Literary Award finalist in romance, mystery,

and erotica—winning in both romance ( Distant Shores, Silent Thunder)

and erotica ( Erotic Interludes 2: Stolen Moments edited with Stacia

Seaman, and In Deep Waters 2: Cruising the Strip written with Karin

Kallmaker). She is a member of the Saints and Sinners Literary Hall of

Fame, an Alice B. Readers’ award winner, a Benjamin Franklin Award

finalist ( The Lonely Hearts Club), and a ForeWord Review Book of the

Year Finalist ( Night Call, 2009; Justice for All, Secrets in the Stone, and

Romantic Interludes 2: Secrets, 2010).

Writing as L.L. Raand, she released the first Midnight Hunters novel,

The Midnight Hunt, in March 2010. Blood Hunt is due for release

March 2011.

Visit her Web sites at www.llraand.com and www.radfic.com.

Books Available From Bold Strokes Books

Fierce Overture by Gun Brooke. Helena Forsythe is a hard-hitting CEO

who gets what she wants by taking no prisoners when negotiating—

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Trauma Alert by Radclyffe. Dr. Ali Torveau has no trouble saying no

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Wolfsbane Winter by Jane Fletcher. Iron Wolf mercenary Deryn

faces down demon magic and otherworldly foes with a smile, but she’s

defenseless when healer Alana wages war on her heart. (978-1-60282158-3)

Little White Lie by Lea Santos. Emie Jaramillo knows relationships

are for other people, and beautiful women like Gia Mendez don’t

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Witch Wolf by Winter Pennington. In a world where vampires have

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Do Not Disturb by Carsen Taite. Ainsley Faraday, a high-powered

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From This Moment On by PJ Trebelhorn. Devon Conway and

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Vapor by Larkin Rose. When erotic romance writer Ashley Vaughn

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Wind and Bones by Kristin Marra. Jill O’Hara, award-winning

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Nightshade by Shea Godfrey. The story of a princess, betrothed as a

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Vieux Carré Voodoo by Greg Herren. Popular New Orleans detective

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The Pleasure Set by Lisa Girolami. Laney DeGraff, a successful

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A Perfect Match by Erin Dutton. The exciting world of pro golf forms

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Father Knows Best by Lynda Sandoval. High school juniors and best

friends Lila Moreno, Meryl Morganstern, and Caressa Thibodoux plan

to make the most of the summer before senior year. What they discover

that amazing summer about girl power, growing up, and trusting friends

and family more than prepares them to tackle that all-important senior

year! (978-1-60282-147-7)

The Midnight Hunt by L.L. Raand. Medic Drake McKennan takes a

chance and loses, and her life will never be the same—because when

she wakes up after surviving a life-threatening illness, she is no longer

human. (978-1-60282-140-8)

Long Shot by D. Jackson Leigh. Love isn’t safe, which is exactly

why equine veterinarian Tory Greyson wants no part of it—until Leah

Montgomery and a horse that won’t give up convince her otherwise.

(978-1-60282-141-5)

In Medias Res by Yolanda Wallace. Sydney has forgotten her entire

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Awakening to Sunlight by Lindsey Stone. Neither Judith or Lizzy is

looking for companionship, and certainly not love—but when their

lives become entangled, they discover both. (978-1-60282-143-9)

Fever by VK Powell. Hired gun Zakaria Chambers is hired to provide

a simple escort service to philanthropist Sara Ambrosini, but nothing

is as simple as it seems, especially love. (978-1-60282-135-4)

Truths by Rebecca S. Buck. Two women separated by two hundred

years are connected by fate and love. (978-1-60282-146-0)

High Risk by JLee Meyer. Can actress Kate Hoffman really risk all

she’s worked for to take a chance on love? Or is it already too late?

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Missing Lynx by Kim Baldwin and Xenia Alexiou. On the trail of a

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Spanking New by Clifford Henderson. A poignant, hilarious,

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us who we are. (978-1-60282-138-5)

Magic of the Heart by C.J. Harte. CEO Susan Hettinger and wild,

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Ambereye by Gill McKnight. Jolie Garoul is falling in love with her

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Collision Course by C.P. Rowlands. Tragedy leaves Brie O’Malley

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Mephisto Aria by Justine Saracen. Opera singer Katherina Marov’s

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Battle Scars by Meghan O’Brien. Returning Iraq war veteran Ray

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love. (978-1-60282-129-3)

Chaps by Jove Belle. Eden Metcalf wants nothing more than to flee

from her troubled past and travel the open road—until she runs into

rancher Brandi Cornwell. (978-1-60282-127-9)

Lightbearer by John Caruso. Lucifer dares to question the premise of

creation itself and reveals that sin may be all that stands between us and

living hell. (978-1-60282-130-9)

Returning Tides by Radclyffe. Insurance investigator Ashley Walker

faces more than a dangerous opponent when she returns to the town,

and the woman, she left behind. (978-1-60282-123-1)

everafter by Nell Stark and Trinity Tam. Valentine Darrow is bitten by

a vampire on her way to propose to her lover Alexa Newland, and their

lives and love are placed in mortal jeopardy. (978-1-60282-119-4)

Beggar of Love by Lee Lynch. Jefferson is the lover every woman

wants to be—or to have. A revealing saga of lesbian sexuality. (978-160282-122-4)

Romantic Interludes 2: Secrets edited by Radclyffe and Stacia

Seaman. An anthology of sensual lesbian love stories: passion,

surprises, and secret desires. (978-1-60282-116-3)

Secrets in the Stone by Radclyffe. Reclusive sculptor Rooke Tyler

suddenly finds herself the object of two very different women’s

affections, and choosing between them will change her life forever.

(978-1-60282-083-8)

Table of Contents

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