Moonlight Exception (Agents of HIS #6)
Chapter One
RODNEY “DOC” WHITE barely had time to react before a shadowy figure lunged at him, brandishing a large knife. In an instant, the blade sliced through the air and grazed the skin of Doc’s arm, leaving a sharp sting and catching him completely off guard.
His heart pounded, a wild drumbeat of adrenaline, but then an unexpected wave of tranquility washed over him, a familiar sensation that often came during unanticipated confrontations. Even in the gritty streets of Baltimore, Maryland, with a young kid standing before him—half his age and size—he felt a strange sense of composure settle in as if he were floating above the moment's chaos. The city buzzed with life around them, but everything else faded into the background instantly. Ready for the fight, Doc fixed his determined gaze on his assailant, studying the punk's every twitch and micro-expression as he anticipated the next move in their standoff.
“You don’t want to do this, kid,” Doc warned, his raspy voice laced with concern and authority. He stood near the entrance of the dimly lit alley, shadows flickering around him as he watched the youth. The young man’s posture conveyed uncertainty, yet he carried himself with a bravado that revealed his nervousness. The whispers of a gang initiation hung in the air, and the stakes were perilously high.
Doc’s muscular build resembled a linebacker's—strong and imposing, but lacking the bulk typically associated with such a physique. This made him a target, a prize the gang members set their sights on. They believed taking him down would showcase their strength and elevate their status.
“You have no idea what I'm capable of, old man,” the kid spat, his voice dripping with defiance as he tried to maneuver in a tight circle around Doc. The knife’s blade gleamed menacingly under the harsh glow of the streetlight, reflecting light with a flickering brightness as he waved it back and forth with reckless energy.
In his peripheral vision, Doc noticed his long-time friend Simon engaged in a tense standoff with another kid, who held a large knife ominously. The four faced off, their eyes locked in a battle of wills, creating a scene charged with palpable tension. Amid the chaos, Doc’s initial thought was a curious relief that at least the kids were only armed with knives, keeping the confrontation from escalating into something even more dangerous.
“Simon,” Doc called out, his voice laced with concern, “are you ready for this?” Doc’s apprehension seeped through despite his attempts to hide it. Simon stood beside him, a stark contrast to Doc’s battle-worn demeanor. As a firefighter in Kissimmee, Florida, Simon had always been the steady hand amidst chaos, but he wasn’t used to the relentless struggle for survival that Doc faced so often.
“Enough talk, old man,” the kid across from Doc said before lunging, the telltale glint of the knife arcing high above his head.
Doc braced himself, instinctively raising his forearm to intercept the incoming strike, grateful it was his uninjured arm. With precise timing, he countered with a powerful punch that struck the kid’s stomach, forcing the young fighter to double over, gasping for breath. The impact echoed through the air, a testament to Doc’s skill and determination in the heat of the moment.
As a former SEAL, Doc had a keen instinct for understanding the ebb and flow of combat. He could quickly gauge when to hold back his formidable strength and when to unleash the full force of his considerable size. Standing at six feet four inches with a muscular build honed by years of rigorous training, Doc understood that this young fighter, despite his bravado, was unprepared to withstand the raw power that his massive frame could deliver.
Doc hesitated. His instincts urged him to scare the kid off and foster a sense of caution, but not so far as to send him to the hospital. The last thing he wanted was to turn a moment of folly into a serious incident for the reckless little fool.
“How are you holding up, Simon?” Doc asked, watching the young man standing in front of him. The boy fixed his dark eyes on Doc with an intensity that could cut through steel.
“Is this what counts as a welcoming party in Baltimore?” Simon replied, a hint of amusement tinging his voice despite the tension in the air. “Because it definitely leaves much to be desired in terms of hospitality.”
Although they came from the same hometown, Doc and Simon’s paths didn’t cross until college, where both pursued pre-med degrees. However, fate took an unexpected turn, leading them to become paramedics instead.
After the tragic loss of his older brother, a distinguished Navy SEAL who had bravely fought and died in combat, Doc felt a profound sense of duty and resolve ignite within him. Driven to honor his brother's legacy and protect his fellow countrymen and women, he enlisted in the Navy. With each grueling training session and challenge, Doc was determined to serve his country with the same courage and dedication his brother had shown.
“Son of a bitch!” Simon shouted, his voice tinged with pain. Whether his wound was a minor scrape or something more serious, Doc couldn’t take his eyes off the enemy in front of them to properly evaluate Simon’s injury.
“You okay?” Doc asked, his tone urgent yet steady, understanding that the playful banter had to stop. Adrenaline surged through him, driving him to take charge of the situation and bring the chaotic fight to a quick conclusion.
As silence lingered in the air and Simon’s lack of response weighed heavily on his mind, Doc made a critical error—he turned his head to glance at his friend, a moment of distraction that could have dire consequences. The young man lunged forward with an unexpected burst of energy, catching Doc off guard again. This time, however, the blade did not find its mark on his forearm. Instead, the air crackled with tension as Doc instinctively shifted, narrowly avoiding the sharp edge.
Raw anger surged through Doc at the sight of his friend lying in the cobblestone alleyway, dark blood pooling beneath him. He squared his shoulders and planted his feet firmly on the ground, his eyes locked onto his attacker, determined to take him down. But in the heat of the moment, Doc felt a chill run down his spine as he realized that the second assailant had slipped out of view, a shadow lurking somewhere nearby.
At that moment, a sudden, intense pain shot through him as the cold steel of a knife pierced deep into his back, leaving him momentarily breathless with shock.
“Run, Chuck!” one kid shouted as they dashed away.
Doc fell to his knees, the sharp crack echoing through the alleyway, a haunting sound that seemed to linger in the cool night air. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he reached behind him, his fingers trembling as they brushed over the warm, damp fabric of his jacket. There, he could feel the throbbing ache of the injury spreading like fire across his skin.
Doc crawled down the gritty alley, his hands and knees scraping against the rough pavement. Each inch felt like a battle against the stinging fear that twisted in his gut. He reached his friend, who lay unnaturally still. Doc barely registered the sounds outside the alleyway, yet the uncertainty of Simon’s condition gripped his heart with icy fingers. Every instinct screamed at him, and guilt surged within him, a relentless tide. He couldn’t shake the thought that he brought Simon to Baltimore and into this dark, foreboding alley in the Inner Harbor that had led them to this moment.
“Simon!” Doc shouted, desperation tinging his voice. His heart raced as he looked the battered figure before him. His hands trembled slightly as they grazed Simon’s skin, searching for a pulse at the base of his neck. Anguish coursed through Doc, amplifying the searing pain that radiated up and down his spine, mingling with the warmth of blood trickling from his wound. The stark reality of the moment weighed heavily on him, fueling his fear as he assessed the severity of Simon's injuries.
Every second stretched into an eternity as he frantically searched for a pulse. Panic washed over him like ice water. Nothing. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Simon.
As the paramedic training surged to the forefront of his mind, he reached for his phone, his fingers trembling with urgency. Just as he was about to dial 911, the device slipped from his bloodied grasp, tumbling to the ground and cracking against the unforgiving cobblestone pavement. Time felt like it was slipping away as he realized he had only moments to act. Without hesitation, Doc painstakingly maneuvered his body over his friend, positioning himself to begin CPR, focusing on the task at hand, hoping to restore the spark of life with every compress and breath.
Desperate and breathless, he raised his voice, echoing through the dimly lit alleyway. “Help! Please, someone call 911!” His words bounced off the brick walls, blending with the distant sounds of the bustling city, hoping to reach anyone who could come to his aid.
“Oh, my God!” A panicked voice belonging to a striking blonde pierced the air as she dashed toward Doc, her eyes wide with urgency. “Laura, call 911! Stacy, take over CPR!”
“Julie, it’s better not to get involved,” another woman warned, her tone filled with concern as she turned to the frantic blonde. Doc felt a wave of frustration at her words.
“Nonsense, Laura!” the other woman retorted.
The beauty quickly kneeled beside him, her presence a fierce rallying point amid the chaos. “Hey, big guy! Move aside. We’ve got this!”
Doc's gaze locked onto Julie's, a silent plea evident on his face. “Save him,” he implored, desperation lacing his voice.
In response, Julie appeared to understand the depth of his anxiety. Gently, she placed her arm around his shoulder, pulling him away from on top of his friend, her warmth providing comfort against the biting chill of the air.
“We’ll do our best,” she assured him, her voice steady—a beacon of hope amidst the chaos.
As Doc slowly slid away, worry continued to beat down on him. He turned back just in time to see Stacy spring into action, her hands skillfully performing CPR as she concentrated intently on the task. The sight filled him with a blend of fear and admiration. With a shaky breath escaping his lips, he settled onto the frigid cobblestones, the cold seeping through him as he watched, praying for a sliver of hope.
“You’re bleeding!” Julie exclaimed, her voice filled with urgency. Her fingers gently probed the jagged wound on his back, sending a jolt of pain through him. He gritted his teeth, struggling against the sharp sting, but the physical agony faded compared to the overwhelming dread of losing his friend. Each breath he took felt heavy with the moment's weight, the world around them blurring into the background as he focused solely on Simon.
“I’m fine,” he lied, his voice barely a whisper, unwilling to divert even a sliver of the vital attention from the frantic efforts to save his friend.
“You’re not,” Julie’s calming voice cut through his focus, guiding his gaze like a beacon in the storm. When their eyes met—his deep blue mingling with her striking blue—he felt a peculiar sensation wash over him as if he were drifting away from reality.
But it wasn’t the intoxicating rush of romance. Instead, it was the disorienting effects of his injury. With a determined shake of his head, Doc fought to dispel the fog creeping into his mind, straining against the encroaching darkness that threatened to consume the scene entirely. Each heartbeat echoed in his ears, amplifying the moment as he struggled to prevent his vision from narrowing into a painful tunnel.
“He’s breathing,” Stacy said, her voice steady but tinged with urgency as she placed her hand gently at the base of Simon’s neck. “Tell them he’s—”
Doc's gaze drifted away from Stacy’s animated words to land squarely on Julie. With his heart pounding in his chest, he took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly as he said, “Thank you.” Then, without thinking, he opened his mouth and blurted out, “Will you marry me?” Just as the weight of his words filled the air, the world around him faded into darkness, and he felt the universe swirl away.