Thrill of the Chase

Chapter 2, Thrill of the Chase

It was a horrible scene, and one Jerry O'Rourke thought he'd never clear from his mind. The dead guy was pinned under the rundown import, its rear wheel still spinning. Everything about the situation was surreal, including the fact that he was now on the ground on top of the paramedic with dark hair and deep blue eyes. She had landed face first in the mud, and he pushed off her back and then slipped onto his ass. The once attractive lady lifted her face, gasping for air.

"I told you to watch your step," Jerry said. He couldn't believe any of this was really happening, especially that the ambulance was now speeding away. What kind of place was this? He was on his feet now, wiping the mud from his hands and his ruined Alfred Sung pants. His dress shoes too would need a heavy cleaning, as he could feel the wet muck squishing between his toes.

The paramedic was on her knees, wiping the mud from her face, which only smeared it more. Then she slid down the rest of the way to the car and squatted down. "You call for help?" she asked without looking back as she reached in. Then she said something to the guy hanging upside down, still belted in.

Jerry made his way down the bank and leaned over her, the rain still coming down in sheets. He was past feeling the chill, which had penetrated skin deep. He needed a towel—or better, a hot shower and coffee. Still, he wondered if even that would warm him. His suit jacket was in the backseat, but he wasn't interested in ruining that as well. Was he going to have to call 911 again?

"I called it in just before you got here," he said. "That's why you're here, right? So why did your partner take off, seriously?" He still couldn't believe the sight of the guy yelling out the window as he climbed behind the wheel of the ambulance before flicking on the siren, lights still flashing, and speeding away. Jerry couldn't hear the siren anymore now.

"Not us," she said. "We were coming from another scene and had a guy in back who needed to get to a hospital."

Then he caught it: The sound, although faint, was a siren in the distance. "That must be them, then. How is he?"

The guy in the car was quiet now. Before, he had been carrying on, his arms hanging, blood dripping. The paramedic pressed her fingers to his neck. She was concentrating through the mud and the rain that was washing it away in streaks, her hair dripping over the collar of her blue coat. "Weak pulse," she said. "Sir, can you hear me? Can you tell me where it hurts?" When the guy moaned and said nothing, she leaned in and looked around. "You said there was someone else?"

Yeah, there had been, and Jerry wasn't too keen to recall the image. "Other side, pinned under, not moving. Pretty sure he's dead."

It was the unseeing eyes, the way they looked up at the sky and there was nothing in them—the stillness, the fact he hadn't been able to find a pulse. Creepy and unsettling.

She tapped the car as she went to stand and moved around the other side. He followed, hearing the sirens coming closer. He should go up to the road, but he also didn't want to leave this lady even though he was pretty sure she may have seen and handled worse.

Her hands were on the man's face, and she closed his eyes. She was squatting down beside him. His body below the shoulders was pinned underneath the car. "You're right," she said. "Dead, probably thrown." She was looking into the car, bending over at the waist. "Not wearing a seatbelt, from the looks of things. Stupid idiot," she muttered.

He could see the lights coming now, the blare of the siren louder. Just as she leaned in the vehicle again, there was a grinding sound of metal that had him reaching for her hips, pulling her back as the car slid. He linked his arms around her waist and lifted her, taking a giant step and moving her out of the way, his feet sliding in the mud. He landed with her on the ground just as there was another crash and bang. The car had slid into a boulder, and here he was with this young woman, his arms linked around her waist, holding her on the ground as the rain pelted down. The ambulance and rescue vehicle pulled up. A rock was jabbing into his hip.

"Well, you can let go of me now," the woman snapped, pushing against his groin with her soft rounded ass as she got onto her knees. Whatever zinged between them in that moment was electric, but the look on her face was furious as she stared at him and wiped her hair back. Then she lifted her hand toward the arriving ambulance.

"Got one pinned in the car!" she said. "Need help getting him out."

She was still talking as she made her way back up the hill, and he rolled to his side in the mud, the rain hitting his face as he squinted and looked up in the dark at the lights, the emergency vehicles and workers making their way down the hill.

He had thought it was a good idea to drive home from Billings to Denver after a meeting with a firm he was interested in buying as an addition to O'Rourke Security. The drive should have been relaxing, giving him the time he needed to plan out his next steps, but instead he'd almost been run off the road as those good ol' boys blew past him. They had tossed a beer can out the window, tunes cranked, before losing control and flipping twice, then landing in the ditch. And here Jerry was in the middle of nowhere, freezing, soaked, muddy, and angry. One of the men was dead, and the other was barely alive, and all he could think as he sat in the mud was What a waste.