Free Dead on Arrival by Lori Avocato

with his black boot.
    Jagger swung around, his eyes wide open, while he shoved the glass to the side. “What the hell. Dude, cut it out! Pauline? Stop the ambulance! Dano, cool it! Help Pauline!”
    Virginia yelled, “He’s mine!”
    And Jagger countered with, “Trust me, I don’t want him.”
    Dano growled. “Get her the hell off of me, but don’t piss her off. Those nails are lethal.”
    Buzz must have been confused, but we all sloshed about as he pulled over to the side of the road. My head throbbed like the dickens, and my vision hadn’t cleared.
    I tried to take a few deep breaths and leaned to the side when suddenly the back doors opened—and I landed in Jagger’s arms.
    â€œJesus, Pauline!” He held me for a few seconds. “Get her off of Dano,” Jagger ordered to a very confused looking Buzz.
    In a few minutes, I was sitting on the bench with an icepack to the back of my head, the virgin was nestled all snug in her stretcher—with restraints to hold her in place—after ER called in the “problem” and got orders from the ER doc, and Jagger was sitting next to me.
    I vaguely remember he and Dano arguing about who would sit in back during the rest of the ride.
    I smiled at Jagger, squinted from the pain, and looked at Virginia, who grinned at me and said, “He left me. Aren’t there eight ways to leave your lover? Eight?”
    Eight ? Eight ?
    Was that coincidence or something to do with the threat against me and my case?
    Because those were Robotman’s exact words.
    Dano ordered me to sit in a wheelchair while Jagger then pushed me into the ER following the stretcher with Virginia now chanting in tongue.
    â€œShe banged her head,” he said to a male nurse who hurried over toward us.
    â€œHi, I’m a nurse here. Ted. Ted Grosch. How you feeling?”
    â€œHow do I look?” I asked.
    He chuckled. “Gorgeous.”
    I laughed, grabbed my forehead, and said, “Ouch.”
    Jagger stepped forward. “Come on, buddy. CAT scan her or MRI her or something. Could be internal bleeding.”
    Ted paused and glared at him. “You a doctor?”
    Jagger ignored the dig and said, “Do something fast!”
    This time I had to chuckle no matter how much it hurt.
    In a short time, Ted had me in the exam room (who wouldn’t with Jagger standing guard?), seen by the doc, and off for a scan, which thank the good Lord came back negative. Once the doctor pronounced me just bruised with a prize-winning egg-sized bump, I was released.
    When I was rolled out to the waiting room, I smiled—to myself since it hurt less. There sat Buzz, wiping at something on his shirt—I think Virginia had spit on his sparklingly crisp top. ER Dano leaned against the wall with his eyes shut, but then opened them when Ted said my name, and Jagger, who looked the worse for wear, straightened up.
    â€œWhat a pathetic looking crew,” I said.
    Dano stood up and grabbed Buzz by the shoulder. “Back to work. She’s all restocked.”
    I knew he meant the ambulance was restocked with supplies from the ER, but he didn’t go out with Buzz. Oh no. There seemed to be a challenge between Jagger and ER as to whom would sit in the back—to watch me.
    How cute.
    In a few minutes, I was sitting on the bench next to ER Dano.
    Hm. Jagger seemed to have lost his grip on that one. I guessed Dano was king in his ambulance, and no one, not even the mysterious, infamous Jagger, could knock him off his throne.
    Did that mean Dano had a stake in the company? He had been there a very long time. Being so burned out, one would think he’d have quit and moved on in life to something less stressful.
    I leaned back, shut my eyes, and sighed.
    â€œWhat?” I heard him say.
    One eyelid opened, “Hm?”
    â€œYou made a sound.” He leaned forward as if expecting me to pass out.
    â€œOh. I’m fine.” I