Free EMS Heat 01 - Running Hot by Stephani Hecht

Chapter One
I
    t’s not every day you got to chase a half-naked, wannabe Indian Warrior down the streets of Flint, even if you are in the emergency medical field. Yet that’s what James found himself doing. And not for the first time either.
    Indian Jack, resident Flint bum, had been around so long he was almost an icon with the city. Everyone had sort of adopted the man and doted on him. James, on the other hand seriously contemplated strapping the jackass to a backboard so he couldn’t rabbit again. He just needed to catch the wily guy first.
    “Come on, Jack. I have some chocolate chip cookies in my rig,” James called, hoping good oldfashioned bribery would work. It had the past three times they’d done the whole runaway-andchase thing.
    “No time for treats.” Jack gave a whoop. “I’m an Indian Warrior and I must save the day.”
“You know that’s not the PC thing to say anymore. It’s Native American,” James admonished between gasps. It wasn’t easy running in the steel-toed boots he wore while working. Ol’ Jack didn’t have the same problem because he was running in normal moccasins.
The thing was, James might have bought into the whole Indian—or rather Native American act—had it not been for the fact that Jack had bright red hair and green eyes. Of course, to Jack’s credit, he had lost his brain cells to drugs and alcohol. That still didn’t mean James was happy to have to be corralling the homeless guy, yet again.
They rounded the block and came back to where the whole chase had started. Jack didn’t like to cross the street so his runs to freedom always ended in big circles. James grunted in disgust when he saw his partner, Matt, leaning against the rig, his arms crossed over his chest as he took in the show.
“I could use a little help here,” James snapped. A burn was developing in his calves and thighs as his boots seemed to grow heavier with each step.
“Why would I want to do that?” Matt shot off his usual shit-eating grin.
“Because he’s going to get away.”
Indian Jack paused a moment to lower his pants down a couple of inches to flash a half moon. “I’m an Indian Warrior.”
“Come on, buddy. You’re killing me here,” James begged. Right now, he would do anything to get the guy to hop willingly into the back of his rig. He growled in anger when the man’s response was to slap his own ass cheeks as he cackled in laughter.
Matt let out a sharp whistle. “Hey, Indian Warrior, I got a present for you.” Reaching into the back of the rig, he pulled out a can of root beer and cracked it open. The sound made the homeless man stop dead in his tracks as he slowly turned around to look.
“Is that…” Jack trailed off as he licked his chapped lips.
“Yes, it’s root beer. You know I only bring the best for you.” Matt shook the can slightly in a whole come-and-get-it way.
When the man started to stagger to the rig, James threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “Un-fucking-believable! Why didn’t you do that sooner?”
“Because you two looked like you were having so much fun.” Matt flashed his 100-watt smile that had females from all over Genesee County panting for him. Add his blond hair and bright blue eyes and he never had a shortage of bed partners. Unfortunately, he also didn’t have a shortage of sexapades that he loved to talk endlessly about.
“You suck. You know that right?” James grumbled.
Jack hopped into the back of the rig and laid down on the cot, the can of root beer clutched to his chest like it was a priceless treasure.
Since he knew if he bitched any more, Matt would take some sort of sadistic pleasure in it, James just grunted in irritation before he climbed into the back and took a seat in the bench opposite the cot. Now that he was trapped in the close confines of his rig, it became painfully obvious that Indian Warriors weren’t big on showers. The rank, acid smell became ten times worse when Matt closed the back doors, shutting