Page 40 of Hold the Pickle
Now I have two women in distress on my hands. “Deep breaths. Slow down and breathe.”
She nods, taking in long, jagged breaths.
“Are you the pregnant woman she lived with? Allergic to cats?”
“Yes! Who are you?” She takes in my naked chest.
“Dalton. Her roommate.”
“Her … what?”
Uh oh. I didn’t realize Nadia had kept me a secret. “We’re friends. Sharing a space. She called me. She’ll be okay.”
The woman takes in more jagged breaths.
Then a man races in, pushing people aside. He’s huge. “Camryn? Did you find her?”
This is bound to be the cousin.
I turn to explain things, but then I’m lifted by my waistband. “What the fuck did you do to Nadia?”
Camryn pummels his leg. “Max! Put him down! It’s Nadia’s roommate! And look at him! He’s wearing scrubs. Are you a doctor?”
Any second, the flimsy string holding up my pants together is going to break. Damn, this guy is strong. “I’m Dr. Dalton Murphy. Let me the fuck down.”
Max lowers me again. “Shit. Sorry.”
The first woman passes me wet paper towels over the pregnant woman’s head. “Here. Sorry. This is crazy.”
I take them. “Thank you.”
I wipe the wad of towels over Nadia’s brow, across her neck, and press it into her wrists.
Camryn’s voice is full of fear. “She’s sick, Max. She called her roommate.”
“Wait, her roommate?” His eyes rove over me.
I focus back on Nadia.
“They’re friends,” Camryn says.
“She has a friend here?”
I can’t explain and don’t know how much I should explain. This is Nadia’s situation. Her eyes are closed.
“Nadia?” I shake her shoulders. “Are you with us?”
She moans. “Yes.”
The temperature rises as more people crowd into the room. I look up to see additional men as tricked out as this one, and some of them even more. Good grief. Did someone call a SWAT team?
“Who are all these people?” I ask.
“Our friends,” Camryn says. “They’re fighters.”
“Did you call an ambulance?” Max booms.
“First thing,” I say. “We might have to pump her stomach, get her some fluids. I’ll keep close watch.”
