Off The Clock (First Responders 1)

Chapter One

Gabe would have been home faster if he’d taken the highway from Halifax. And normally he would have, but tonight was a Friday night, he was off shift until Sunday and he liked the idea of taking the old highway—the Evangeline Trail—back to the valley. He rolled his window down and felt the fresh spring breeze flow into the truck as he headed past Windsor. The end of May meant the Annapolis Valley apple orchards were in full bloom, and a hint of their scent mingled with fresh sea air blowing off the New Minas Basin as he turned up the radio.

Ahead of him, a set of taillights glowed in the early twilight. Gabe tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music as Vince Gill sang about having a little left over on payday. Life was good. The new garden tiller he’d ordered was in the back of the truck and tomorrow promised to be clear and mild—the perfect day for working in the yard. He enjoyed the physical labor and the time spent outdoors, liked seeing the changes to his property as he cleared out the dead wood and added ornamentals. This year was the first year he was planning on a vegetable garden too. He was thinking about planting plans when he saw headlights approaching in the opposing lane.

It was all as normal as could be until the oncoming car dipped off the pavement, hitting the gravel shoulder. The headlights bobbed up and down as the car jolted on the rough surface. The driver overcorrected and swerved back on to the road. The accident unfolded like a slow-motion movie, frame by frame. The car veered into Gabe’s lane, clipping the vehicle ahead of him and sending it sprawling into the ditch.

Gabe hit the brakes and uttered a curse as he pulled over, shoved the truck into park and put on his four-way flashers. The car at fault—a late-model Ford—sat in the middle of the road as Gabe got out and slammed his door. There was no time to even ask the driver if they were all right. They hit the gas and sped away as Gabe pressed himself against the hood of his truck, his pulse racing. He squinted to catch the license plate number but only got the first three letters—XPG. Still, it was something.

But the run part of the hit-and-run equation was the least of his worries at the moment as his work instinct took over. He grabbed his cell to report the accident, at the same time scrabbling down the gravel bank towards the red Mazda sitting sideways in the ditch. There was no movement, no sound coming from the car, and Gabe prayed the driver was okay.

He shoved the phone back into his pocket and put his hand on the door handle. Peering through the open window, he froze as his heart stopped for a single, life-changing beat.

Carly Douglas was behind the wheel. A very pregnant and unconscious Carly, with a trickle of blood running out of her hair and down her pale, still cheek. Every paramedic knew that one day they might respond to a call involving a friend or acquaintance, and working in a small town he was used to that. But this was the first time it had hit Gabe square in the chest, and for a moment he just stared at her, feeling fear seep into the deepest part of him. Not again. Anyone but Carly…

Carly was different. Images flashed through his mind—Carly in pigtails with freckles dotting her nose, Carly blushing the first time her mother caught her wearing makeup, Carly looking up at him with impossibly blue eyes as he danced with her at the prom.

He fought to put his feelings to the side as he opened the car door. Right now the best way to help her was simply to do his job.

“Carly. Carly. It’s Gabe. Carly, can you hear me?”

Carly heard the voice come from far away. Her head felt like someone had just used it to kick a field goal, and she tried to lift her fingers to touch the spot where the pain was centered. But her fingers felt heavy and she only gave them a flutter before dropping her hand back to her side. She had a flash—the brief second before the other car had hit—like a snapshot, only leaving her the time to gasp before impact. She remembered now. She’d grabbed the wheel, trying to recover and stay on the road but it had been too late.

“Carly!”

The voice sounded vaguely familiar and she struggled to recognize it. She’d gone into the ditch, hadn’t she? Finally, finally the fog lifted and she had a moment of clarity. The feeling of weightlessness as she left the road, the fierce jolt as the car hit ground again. She was in the ditch. In her car. And she had to make sure her baby was all right.

“I…my…” Her voice didn’t seem to work right as she opened her eyes and stared at the man standing in the space of her open door. “Gabriel.”

“Atta girl.” His strong voice was deep with relief and soothed her. She realized he was checking her head and neck, his fingers tender but firm. “Are you hurt, Carly?”

He reached across to undo her seatbelt and his hand brushed across her rounded belly. She slumped into his hands and he gently leaned her back against the seat. “I’m going to look after you and your baby, okay? Just listen to my voice and everything will be fine.”

Tears pricked in her eyes as sensations started to sink in—pain, and worse than the pain—fear. Nothing could happen to this baby, not now. Not after how she’d fought for this pregnancy, and not after everything it had cost her. She looked up at Gabe, determined to clear her head. “Gabriel,” she said again, and she was unable to control the tears that gathered in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. Gabe was here. He’d take care of her.

“It’s okay, honey. I’ve called for help and they’ll be here soon. I want you to stay in the car, okay? We’ll assess you better when the ambulance comes.”

“My head hurts.”

“You gave yourself a bump.” He leaned his body into the car, filling the space with his frame. “Any blurred vision? Do you feel sick?”

She shook her head and then grimaced. “No. It just hurts. What are you doing here? I never called…”

“I’m off the clock,” he replied, smiling. “It’s just your good luck that I was right behind you. Now tell me, can you move your hands and feet?”

She nodded slightly, but any bigger movement made her head throb. “My shoulder hurts a little.” She shrugged and winced. “I don’t think it’s broken.”

“Do you have a flashlight?”

“In the glove compartment.”

He reached across her, the firm strength of his body brushing against her rounded stomach and thighs. In the shadows she had an irrational flash of memory: prom night, when she’d kissed him in the darkness of the car and how, for just a few seconds, he’d kissed her back, angling his body so that he pressed her against the seat back. It had been heaven. Or at least as close to heaven as you could get at seventeen.

But that was ages ago. So much had happened since then, and they weren’t kids anymore. Right now she had to focus on her baby. She realized with another spurt of panic that she hadn’t felt him move since Gabe had called her name. He had to be all right. He had to. Any other option was too frightening to contemplate.