Chapter 3
3
HUDSON
Today’s dress was an airy sundress, although it was hard to admire her ass with the sweater she’d pulled over it. I’d never understand why women bothered to wear sweaters with giant, lacy holes. I asked Sammie once, but she scoffed and told me I was an idiot, which was not particularly helpful. Thus, I’d come to the conclusion these sweaters did nothing besides obscure a great ass.
Claire picked up her mail faster than I expected and headed for the elevator while I was still twisting the mail lock back into place and tucking the contents under my arm. I couldn’t help my interest in Claire, but I wasn’t a stalker. I had every intention of letting her slip into the elevator and disappear, but the moment before the door slid shut, all four of the Probst boys squeezed in with her. She shouldn’t be alone with those fuckers. Not even for sixty seconds. Adrenaline filled my veins, just like it did when I got called out to an emergency, and instinct took over. My strides lengthened as I saw her eyes widen and her body press against the back wall of the elevator.
I scanned the group as I hurried to reach the elevator. There was something about the Probsts I didn’t trust, but Artie was by far the worst. Deep in my gut I was sure Artie was capable of doing terrible things. “Hold the elevator,” I said loudly as the doors began to slide. I was only a few feet away, and although the boys had been pushing each other around and talking loudly, Kyle heard me and stuck his arm into the closing doors. I closed the distance in that moment, sticking my arm out to press the door back and slipping into the remaining space. I wished I could provide a buffer between Claire and the brothers, but the elevator was too crowded to get near her, and I had to settle for watching over them instead. “Five, please,” I said as the doors slid shut once more.
James hit the button as the doors thunked closed. I tried to get a good look at how Claire was doing, but it was hard to see her from where I stood in the opposite corner. Fortunately, the ride up to three, where the Probst boys would get off, was quick.
The elevator dinged as it came to a stop, then the doors slid open and the brothers stumbled out. I pressed myself into the corner to stay out of their way. Two were fighting as they headed down the hall, but I couldn’t tell which, and I didn’t really care. I turned my attention back to Claire instead. “You okay?”
My words seemed to shock her, and she blinked twice, slowly. “I’m fine, thank you,” she replied finally, and the chill that usually punctuated her words had thawed considerably.
The elevator began to move again and there was silence. “You’re right, they are assholes,” she said as the ding announced her floor and she stood up straighter. Surprised at her candor, I grinned, but she probably couldn’t see it under my mask. She took small two steps toward the door, anticipating the lurching stop of the machine, but the lurch came an instant too soon and she stumbled forward in the same moment the car was thrown into total darkness.
Had I not been paying such close attention to her, she probably would’ve fallen directly into the doors, but my eyes had been on her every movement, and so the jump forward to catch her came easy, even in total darkness. I found myself holding her tucked close into my torso, my arms wrapped one each around her waist and chest. She was soft and delicate, and I was intimately aware of her chest rising and falling with her heaving breaths. The faint smell of coconut wafted up from her hair, and although I knew I was far too close to this virtual stranger in the elevator, I waited to release her until the emergency light blinked into existence, casting a weak, shadowy spotlight on one corner of the elevator car.
“What happened?” Claire whispered, as if her full volume might send us plummeting to the basement.
I hesitated, not sure. I didn’t hear the alarms that would signal a fire, thank God, which meant we were either having some sort of mechanical problem or a power outage. The emergency lights suggested the latter, and I hoped the elevator was equipped with a generator or battery lowering system. “I think we lost power. It’ll probably come back on in a minute,” I assured her.
She nodded, looking unconvinced, taking a step away from me that put the distance back between us before pulling out her phone. I didn’t bother to check my phone. I already knew it wouldn’t work. It never worked in the elevator, but I didn’t tell her that. She’d find out on her own soon enough. In the meantime, I pulled the emergency phone out of the silver wall of the elevator, putting it to my ear.
“Safe and Secure. Is this an emergency?” the voice on the other line asked cheerily.
“It is. We’re stuck in an elevator in the building at 2324 West 97th Street. We need assistance.”
“What’d they say?” Claire asked.
I ignored her as the operator replied. “I see your location, sir. Is everyone in the elevator unharmed?”
I glanced at Claire, who was wringing her hands together but was otherwise unscathed. “We’re okay, yes.”
“Good. It looks like there’s been a major power outage in your area, sir. We’ve contacted dispatch, but there are a number of small buildings in the area who have similar emergencies, so you may have to wait.”
“I understand,” I replied with a sigh.
“What’d they say?” Claire repeated. I held up a single finger, wanting to reply, but needing to hear the remainder of the Safe and Secure message, just to be safe.
“I’m afraid I cannot stay on the line with you because of our call volume, but you can contact me if further emergency arises with your passengers.” I rolled my eyes skyward, thinking the operator’s script could use some work. Plenty of people would be in a full panic by now.
Glancing at Claire, I was pretty sure she was one of those people. Her eyes were wide and worried, and she leaned toward where I held the phone, looking impatient. “Please remember to remain in the elevator car and do not attempt to exit before help arrives. You are safest inside the car,” the operator added.
The warning made it sound like a zombie apocalypse was happening outside of the elevator, and I grunted out a soft laugh at the thought. The truth, I knew, was not funny at all. Two years earlier I’d responded to a call in which a man had tried to leave the elevator on his own and had been crushed in the process. “Thanks,” I grumbled, setting the phone back in its cradle.
“What did they say?” Claire asked for a third time, and I squinted slightly, making sure she was, in fact, okay. The breathy quality of her speech suggested she was on the verge of panic.
“Let’s sit,” I suggested, reaching out a hand as if to guide her, but not actually touching her in any way. “It’s going to be a while.”
She took a couple steps in place, looking like a spooked horse, and I edged closer until my fingers nearly touched her arm. “A while?” she echoed back.
I nodded slowly. “There’s a power outage. We just have to wait.” She was nodding along with me, so I lowered myself to sitting, and, as expected, she followed. I leaned against the wall, propping my knees up and resting my arms on top of them. “I’m Hudson, by the way,” I said.
“I know,” she replied, surprising the hell out of me. “Three different times you’ve left a box in the vestibule for days. I’m surprised we haven’t had a break-in.”
I chuckled. That happened rarely, and the last time was months ago, meaning Claire Davis was probably as aware of me as I was of her. “I was out of town,” I admitted.
“It’s not safe,” she scolded. “You should’ve asked someone else to pick them up for you.”
My lips ticked up on one side in a smile safely hidden from her wrath behind my mask. The mask I put on every night as I walked home on the off-chance I ran into Claire. “I didn’t know anyone else in the building.”
Her brow came down in a hard line, reducing her eyes to bright slits that seemed to glow green in the spotlight of the emergency light. “I thought you knew everyone’s names.”
“Sure, but it’s a big leap from knowing someone’s name and floor number to asking them to hold my valuables for me,” I said. She sighed deeply, clearly disliking my answer.
“How about this,” I suggested. “If you ever see a box waiting for me, you can pick it up and hold on to it.”
Her jaw shifted under her mask, and again I tried to imagine the shape of her mouth. “I suppose, in the interest of safety, I’d be okay with that,” she replied finally.
“Thank you, Claire,” I said, barely keeping the laughter out of my voice.
“You’re welcome, Hudson,” she replied stiffly.
Silence reigned for some time after that, and I set my head back against the wall of the elevator tiredly. I’d just come off a twelve-hour shift that had lasted almost fourteen thanks to an unusual call volume and more CHARTs than I cared to count. All I wanted tonight was to eat leftovers and watch some mindless television, so I hoped either the electricity or the fire department would make an appearance soon.
Lost in my own thoughts, a few minutes went by before I registered the trembling breaths next to me. “Claire?” I asked, but she didn’t reply. Looking at her more closely where she sat in the darkest corner of the elevator car, I could see her shoulders shaking with quick, reedy breaths. “Claire,” I repeated, scooting closer to her. “Are you feeling pain?”
She spoke without looking at me, her breaths thin and fast between her words. “Do you think the brakes can give out? Or that we’ll run out of air? What if they can’t get to us for hours, or nobody comes?
I inhaled deeply, slowly, relieved I was witnessing a panic attack rather than shock after an injury, but I cursed my luck that I didn’t have any of my bags with me. I would’ve liked to assess her and make sure she was okay. Instead, I did a quick visual scan.
“Claire, you’re safe. There’s plenty of ventilation and the brakes are working just fine.” I pressed two fingers into her wrist, feeling the flutter of her pulse. It was too damn fast. There was nothing more frustrating as a paramedic than having to wait to be rescued. “Can we take your mask off for a minute, Claire? I promise you I’m vaccinated and boosted.”
She nodded, but didn’t make a move to shift the mask out of the way, so I pulled it down gently, reminding myself it was not the time to focus on her face. Not until she was calm. “Good. I’m going to touch your nose, okay? And I want you to keep your mouth shut and only breathe using your nose. Can you do that for me, Claire?”
She nodded again, pursing her lips together tightly. I pressed one nostril closed and watched as her breathing slowed, becoming deeper as her carbon-dioxide leveled out. “Keep your mouth closed, okay?” I glanced at the mouth in question—a pretty pink bowtie, then glanced down into her lap as I let go of her nose and pressed my fingers into her wrist again, pleased to feel a pulse that, while still fast, had slowed considerably. Using the timer on my watch, I did a quick count and estimated she was at a hundred-twenty beats per minute. “Better,” I said, smoothing a hand down her hair. It was not something I would’ve ever done with a patient, and yet it felt natural in the moment.