Protecting What's Mine (Benevolence, #3)

by Lucy Score

Hands. What felt like a dozen of them grabbed him, pulled him up. They were surrounded by angels. Bloodied, bruised angels. Everyone crying and laughing at the same time. A girl in a softball uniform. A woman in a pencil skirt with bloody knees. A pizza delivery guy. A truck driver in a Jimmy Buffet shirt. Black. White. Rich. Poor. They came together to defy death.

When the waitress slapped the check down on the table, Linc’s good hand got there first. “This is our first date. I’m paying.” “No offense, but this is a terrible first date. You smell like smoke and antiseptic.” “Aphrodisiacs for first responders,” he insisted.

Mack moved on to the physical exams. “I hope you all are wearing underwear today because I’ll need you to strip down once you’re behind the screens. Got it?” “Why wait?” One of the burly, potentially farty firefighters yanked his t-shirt over his head and whirled it around with the enthusiasm, if not the skill, of an exotic dancer. Catcalls and cheers rang out. Within thirty seconds, the first dozen patients had stripped down to their unmentionables. Some smartass started blaring “Pony” by Ginuwine. It was raining articles of clothing.

“OMG. I just realized. You’re like that grumpy, mean doctor on that old show. He walked with a limp, too!” Mack guessed it was at least her second low-carb alcoholic beverage. “Unlike House, I’m not addicted to Vicodin. Just to make that clear.”