Hot Ticket
Page 41
Gritting her teeth, she dropped her purse on the cement and grabbed her left fist in her right hand. With a scream of rage, she delivered a vicious elbow to her captor’s stomach.
He grunted in pain. She stomped the instep of his foot.
“Ow, bitch. What do you think—”
She punched him in the balls, taking him down to his knees. His grip on his gun slackened. She grabbed the back of his head and drove the bridge of his nose into her knee. He fell unconscious on the sidewalk, the gun tumbling from his grasp.
Aggie flew to Jace’s side. “Oh my God,” she gasped, too upset to do anything but hover over him. He was bleeding so much. Surely, he was dead.
She dialed 911. Before the dispatcher even answered, the sound of sirens coming from the distance sounded like a chorus of angel harps.
“What is your emergency?”
“M-my boyfriend’s been shot.”
“Your location?”
She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything.
“I’m outside. On the sidewalk.”
“Can you see a street sign?”
Aggie looked up and read the names of the streets from the signs on the corner of the nearest intersection.
The dispatcher said, “Take a deep breath, honey. Someone called about a mugging in progress a few minutes ago. Police and paramedics are already on their way.”
Aggie could hear the sirens growing louder by the second.
“What’s your boyfriend’s name?”
She covered her lips with a trembling hand and looked down at him. The puddle of blood beneath him was spreading. “J-Jace.”
“Is he still breathing?” the dispatcher asked.
She stared at Jace, but her blurry eyes refused to take in anything but the blood pooling around his right arm. “I– I don’t know.” She glanced around, hoping someone with a lick of sense was nearby to tell her if Jace was still breathing. The streets were eerily empty. It was as if the world had deserted her. Deserted Jace. Her only lifeline was the calm woman on the other end of the line.
“What’s your name, sweetie?” the woman asked.
“Aggie,” she squeaked.
“Aggie, listen to his chest. See if his heart is beating. If it isn’t, I’ll help you start CPR.”
Aggie leaned over Jace and pressed her ear to his back, listening for the sound of his heart. It still beat, sluggishly at best.
“It’s still beating,” she said to the dispatcher.
“Is he breathing? Feel for air coming from his nose and mouth.”
She moved her hand in front of his face and felt his warm breath against her fingertips. “Yes. He’s breathing.”
“Then just sit tight until help arrives.”
Sit tight? That was the woman’s advice? Aggie dropped her cell phone on the ground. She had to do something for him, but didn’t know what. Should she try to stop the bleeding? Turn him onto his back? She rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered brokenly. She smoothed his leather jacket over his back, not knowing how that was supposed to help. She brushed Jace’s hair from his forehead, leaving several streaks of his blood on his skin. “I don’t know what to do. Jace? Jace, tell me what to do!”
The sirens continued past the corner and toward the end of the next block. Maybe they had the wrong address. She had to flag them down. For Jace’s sake. As useless as she currently was, they would know how to help him.
“I’ll be back,” she promised Jace, scared to leave him, but more scared not to leave him.
She raced to the curb and waved her arms wildly at a passing cop car. Tires squealed as the officer stomped on his brakes. An ambulance did a U-turn at the end of the block and pulled up to the curb on the opposite side of the street.
An officer climbed from his cruiser, eyeing the blood on Aggie’s face and hands with concern. “Ma’am. Ma’am, are you hurt? Someone called in shots fired.”
“No, I’m fine. Please. You have to help Jace. He’s been shot. Hurry.”
She ran back to where she’d left Jace and found the mugger with the gun groaning as he struggled to regain consciousness. He took a deep, startled breath and reached for his gun. The cop beside Aggie drew his weapon and went down on one knee.
“Drop your weapon,” the officer yelled.
Aggie didn’t hesitate. She rushed toward the thug and kicked him in the side of the head. The gun went off, bullet flying wildly without aim.
“You son of a bitch,” she growled. She kicked him in the crotch. Once. Twice. Feeling his nuts crunch against bone beneath her foot. He cried out, clutching his balls in agony, the gun forgotten beside him. She didn’t know how to help Jace, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to stand there while the dick who’d shot him hurt someone else.
“Are you crazy?” the cop said, toeing the gun out of the man’s reach. “He had a gun, and you jump him? You’re lucky you didn’t get shot.”
“What are you doing?” she yelled at the cop. “Help Jace. I don’t know what to do for him. Help him!”
Two paramedics jogged across the street toward them, wheeling a gurney that carried a large first-aid kit. While the police officer wrestled the injured mugger into a pair of handcuffs, the medics worked with Jace, trying to stem the flow of blood. They removed his jacket and tossed it aside. The entire right side of his white T-shirt was saturated with blood.
Aggie scooped up his coat and cradled it against her chest, watching the EMTs do their thing.
“There’s an exit wound for this one, but the second bullet is still lodged inside his shoulder.”
“Keep pressure on it. We’ve got to get him to the hospital. He’s losing a lot of blood.”
Two officers escorted the gunless thug toward a cruiser. “You’re dead, you f**king bitch. As soon as I make bail, you’re dead!” he shouted at Aggie.
Aggie heard him, but was too worried about Jace to feel any concern for herself. The cops heard him though. “I’ll be sure to file that threat in my report,” one officer said as he shoved the guy into the back of the cruiser. “Bail is not an option. Where’s your accomplice?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the mugger claimed.
His accomplice had Aggie’s suitcase and had sped off as soon as his buddy had shot Jace. Not that it mattered—nothing mattered but seeing Jace smile again.
“Ma’am, we need to ask you a few questions.”
He grunted in pain. She stomped the instep of his foot.
“Ow, bitch. What do you think—”
She punched him in the balls, taking him down to his knees. His grip on his gun slackened. She grabbed the back of his head and drove the bridge of his nose into her knee. He fell unconscious on the sidewalk, the gun tumbling from his grasp.
Aggie flew to Jace’s side. “Oh my God,” she gasped, too upset to do anything but hover over him. He was bleeding so much. Surely, he was dead.
She dialed 911. Before the dispatcher even answered, the sound of sirens coming from the distance sounded like a chorus of angel harps.
“What is your emergency?”
“M-my boyfriend’s been shot.”
“Your location?”
She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything.
“I’m outside. On the sidewalk.”
“Can you see a street sign?”
Aggie looked up and read the names of the streets from the signs on the corner of the nearest intersection.
The dispatcher said, “Take a deep breath, honey. Someone called about a mugging in progress a few minutes ago. Police and paramedics are already on their way.”
Aggie could hear the sirens growing louder by the second.
“What’s your boyfriend’s name?”
She covered her lips with a trembling hand and looked down at him. The puddle of blood beneath him was spreading. “J-Jace.”
“Is he still breathing?” the dispatcher asked.
She stared at Jace, but her blurry eyes refused to take in anything but the blood pooling around his right arm. “I– I don’t know.” She glanced around, hoping someone with a lick of sense was nearby to tell her if Jace was still breathing. The streets were eerily empty. It was as if the world had deserted her. Deserted Jace. Her only lifeline was the calm woman on the other end of the line.
“What’s your name, sweetie?” the woman asked.
“Aggie,” she squeaked.
“Aggie, listen to his chest. See if his heart is beating. If it isn’t, I’ll help you start CPR.”
Aggie leaned over Jace and pressed her ear to his back, listening for the sound of his heart. It still beat, sluggishly at best.
“It’s still beating,” she said to the dispatcher.
“Is he breathing? Feel for air coming from his nose and mouth.”
She moved her hand in front of his face and felt his warm breath against her fingertips. “Yes. He’s breathing.”
“Then just sit tight until help arrives.”
Sit tight? That was the woman’s advice? Aggie dropped her cell phone on the ground. She had to do something for him, but didn’t know what. Should she try to stop the bleeding? Turn him onto his back? She rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered brokenly. She smoothed his leather jacket over his back, not knowing how that was supposed to help. She brushed Jace’s hair from his forehead, leaving several streaks of his blood on his skin. “I don’t know what to do. Jace? Jace, tell me what to do!”
The sirens continued past the corner and toward the end of the next block. Maybe they had the wrong address. She had to flag them down. For Jace’s sake. As useless as she currently was, they would know how to help him.
“I’ll be back,” she promised Jace, scared to leave him, but more scared not to leave him.
She raced to the curb and waved her arms wildly at a passing cop car. Tires squealed as the officer stomped on his brakes. An ambulance did a U-turn at the end of the block and pulled up to the curb on the opposite side of the street.
An officer climbed from his cruiser, eyeing the blood on Aggie’s face and hands with concern. “Ma’am. Ma’am, are you hurt? Someone called in shots fired.”
“No, I’m fine. Please. You have to help Jace. He’s been shot. Hurry.”
She ran back to where she’d left Jace and found the mugger with the gun groaning as he struggled to regain consciousness. He took a deep, startled breath and reached for his gun. The cop beside Aggie drew his weapon and went down on one knee.
“Drop your weapon,” the officer yelled.
Aggie didn’t hesitate. She rushed toward the thug and kicked him in the side of the head. The gun went off, bullet flying wildly without aim.
“You son of a bitch,” she growled. She kicked him in the crotch. Once. Twice. Feeling his nuts crunch against bone beneath her foot. He cried out, clutching his balls in agony, the gun forgotten beside him. She didn’t know how to help Jace, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to stand there while the dick who’d shot him hurt someone else.
“Are you crazy?” the cop said, toeing the gun out of the man’s reach. “He had a gun, and you jump him? You’re lucky you didn’t get shot.”
“What are you doing?” she yelled at the cop. “Help Jace. I don’t know what to do for him. Help him!”
Two paramedics jogged across the street toward them, wheeling a gurney that carried a large first-aid kit. While the police officer wrestled the injured mugger into a pair of handcuffs, the medics worked with Jace, trying to stem the flow of blood. They removed his jacket and tossed it aside. The entire right side of his white T-shirt was saturated with blood.
Aggie scooped up his coat and cradled it against her chest, watching the EMTs do their thing.
“There’s an exit wound for this one, but the second bullet is still lodged inside his shoulder.”
“Keep pressure on it. We’ve got to get him to the hospital. He’s losing a lot of blood.”
Two officers escorted the gunless thug toward a cruiser. “You’re dead, you f**king bitch. As soon as I make bail, you’re dead!” he shouted at Aggie.
Aggie heard him, but was too worried about Jace to feel any concern for herself. The cops heard him though. “I’ll be sure to file that threat in my report,” one officer said as he shoved the guy into the back of the cruiser. “Bail is not an option. Where’s your accomplice?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the mugger claimed.
His accomplice had Aggie’s suitcase and had sped off as soon as his buddy had shot Jace. Not that it mattered—nothing mattered but seeing Jace smile again.
“Ma’am, we need to ask you a few questions.”
