17. Asher #2
“18 Crescent Hill,” he replied sharply, and I relayed the address.
“Please contact Unit Chief Parsons with the FBI, we have Steve Curing subdued nearby.” I heard Irene gasp sharply, clearly eavesdropping on the phone call.
I handed Louie back the phone once the dispatcher acknowledged my report and returned to Dahlia’s side.
Irene had pulled another blanket over her and toddled back into the kitchen when I took up vigil beside the couch.
I sank down to the floor, my legs no longer able to hold me, and leaned my back against the couch.
Dahlia was safe now, I’d gotten her out of there like I’d promised.
“Here, drink some water,” Irene instructed, holding a glass out for me. I took it and gave her a tired smile, her eyes sweeping over the blood still oozing down my arm. I’d really cut into my skin with the cuffs, deeper than I’d intended. I’d need stitches for sure.
“Irene, get the boy something stronger, just look at him for Christ sake,” Louie snapped, and she gave him a sharp look.
“I’ll put on a pot,” she announced, wandering back into the kitchen.
I heard Louie huff behind me, and he came around a moment later, holding out a glass with some amber colored liquor in it.
He had his own glass of the stuff, and he settled back into what was clearly his arm chair, the baseball bat positioned between his legs.
He might look in his 80‘s, but I was sure if it came down to it, I wouldn’t walk away from a fight with him.
I took a sip of the drink he’d handed me, my eyes watering as the scotch hit the back of my throat.
“Been through hell and back I see,” he said, his eyes going to the cuffs still dangling from my uninjured wrist. I nodded dully, taking another sip of the scotch.
It probably wasn’t a smart move, but it helped to dull the razor edge of pain that was creeping in.
“Is she worth it?” he asked lightly, jerking his chin to Dahlia.
I bristled and sat up straighter, lifting my chin at him.
“She saved me, actually,” I replied sharply, and he nodded, his eyes sparkling as if that had been the correct answer.
Irene came bustling back into the room, a cup of coffee in her hands and a tea towel.
She scowled at her husband when she saw the drink in his hands.
“Louie, it’s four in the morning, what in god’s name are you doing drinking?
” she snapped. “Here you go dear, wrap this around your arm to help sop up the mess you’ve got there,” she instructed, holding out the tea towel.
I took it and tied it around my wrist, watching as it began turning red almost immediately.
She also set the coffee down on the table beside me.
I felt the couch shift behind me and I sat up abruptly, turning to find Dahlia’s eyes blinking open and looking confused.
“Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe,” I told her immediately, and her hand reached up to her throat, checking for the collar.
Her hands started to shake as she touched the unfamiliar blanket on her chest, and I put my unbloodied hand on hers to steady her.
“Where?-” Her voice was rough from the damage to her throat, and her question cut off abruptly as she started coughing furiously.
“Oh dear!” Irene gasped, rushing off to the kitchen.
She was back a moment later—moving quite fast for an elderly woman—with a glass of water in her hands.
“Here you go, sweetheart, you drink that up now,” she told Dahlia, her eyes full of maternal caring.
I helped Dahlia hold the glass up to her lips, and she took a few tentative sips, the cough subsiding.
I heard sirens approaching, and I let go of Dahlia reluctantly, pushing myself gingerly to stand.
Every part of my body protested at the movement, but I pushed through it, hobbling to the door to flag down the incoming army.
Soon enough, the entire block was lit up with cars, and I took charge of the scene, the tea towel dangling from my wrist as I showed officers where to go.
Finally, my unit supervisor arrived and promptly relieved me from duty, his eyes scanning my injuries with a grim smile.
“Just couldn’t let Hunter have all the attention, could you?
” he asked, and I gave him a half-hearted smile in return.
“Get yourself to the damn hospital already before you bleed out on my crime scene.”
I gave him a quick salute and hobbled back to the house where Irene was holding court, supplying officers with coffee and water, admonishing anyone who dared step on her lawn.
When I made it back to the living room, I found Dahlia sitting up on the couch, wearing a garish purple blouse that clearly belonged to Irene.
Louie seemed to be regaling her with a story of some sort, and she looked tired but relaxed, her hands wrapped around my abandoned mug of coffee.
“I’ve got an ambulance with our name on it,” I told her, and she smiled sadly, setting her mug down and pushing herself up unsteadily.
I moved toward her immediately, but Louie beat me to her, offering his arm like they were off to a dance.
Surprisingly, she accepted it, leaning on him as she stepped around the table.
“I’d let you be the white knight, but I’m afraid you’ll both keel over on my carpet if I did,” Louie announced, barking out a rough laugh.
He was probably right, so I let him help Dahlia down to the ambulance parked out front, hobbling beside them.
The EMT waiting outside the ambulance helped her up into the vehicle, and I heard her whisper a soft thank you to Louie, making him beam.
As it turned out, they had to help me into the ambulance as well, my legs choosing this moment to give out on me.
The EMT sat me down on the bench beside Dahlia and shut the doors.
I leaned back, rocking slightly as we drove off.
I must’ve closed my eyes for a moment because he was suddenly crouched in front of me, peeling the now disgusting tea towel off my wrist.
“Mm-mm, check her out please. I’m fine,” I mumbled, pulling my arm away from him. Dahlia let out a scoff, and the EMT, whose name tag read Lucas, gave me an appraising look.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood, that jumps the queue,” he replied, grabbing my arm and examining the deep cuts in my wrist.
“I need you to make sure she’s okay,” I snapped.
“I’m the agent here, civilians take priority.
” I might be talking out of my ass, but I guessed Lucas didn’t feel like arguing with the FBI today.
He wrapped a fresh bandage around my wrist and turned his attention to Dahlia.
There, that was better. I sighed heavily, my eyes drifting closed again.
“She was electrocuted. Burns on her neck,” I muttered.
“And cuts on her chest.” I tried to think of what else had happened, the last few days were a blur of pain, and my brain was foggy.
I’d kept Dahlia safe, I’d done my job. Curing was dead, so she wouldn’t need to be afraid again. When was the last time I’d had a full night’s sleep?
“Sir? Can you hear me sir?”
Damn, I was so tired. I just needed to rest my eyes for a minute. Just a minute.