Protect and Serve Don't Need A Hero Read Free Page A

to her ear. “Mommy? A bad man shot up Aunt Petey’s car! Aunt Petey and Mikey are hurt! A policeman is taking care of me. Can we go visit Mikey and Aunt Petey in the hospital?” Angel listened intently for a moment and rubbed the back of her hand on her runny nose. “Stop crying, Mommy! The policeman saved us!” She handed the phone to me. “She wants to talk to you now.”
    I was grateful to take the phone from Angel. “Thank you, Angel. Mrs. Burlingame? I’m Lt. Apollo Jones, ma’am.” I gave her the pertinent details, snapped the phone closed, and smiled down at my brave little witness. “What do you say we go to Wolfson Children’s Hospital and meet your mommy there, Angel?”
    Angel hugged me and smiled for the reporters who surged forward to get her on camera. “Mr. ’Pollo Policeman is my hero! He saved me from the bad man and called for help!”
    I never felt less like a hero in my life.
    * * *
    Man, I do not like hospitals! I have a vague memory of surgery. I fought to breathe, like I was drowning in molasses. Something was stuck in my throat, and I reached up to try and get it out. Cold hands encased in rubber stopped me, but I was weaker than a starving kitten.
    “She’s coming out of the anesthetic!” Some guy’s annoyed voice gave the orders. You know the type -- used to instant obedience. I heard a sucking sound and the clang of metal hitting metal. “Hold her down, please.”
    “I got it. Good night, Miss Oakes…”
    “Gurk!” was all I could choke out, but what I meant to say was more pithy and direct, like “Fuck you!” My arm felt like icy fire, so I guess the anesthesiologist put something in my veins. All I know is, I fell into something soft and gray before someone turned off all the lights.
    My body still aches like someone beat the crap out of me and then left me to stiffen up in one place, asleep on my back. I never sleep on my back with my belly exposed. My left foot has a sharp hot spike in it, and I’m fairly sure that’s what they were working on there in surgery. There’s a small bandage on my right temple, and my jaw is really friggin’ sore where that asshole with the red face clocked me. Guess I’m lucky I can remember my name is Pete.
    This room is the pits. The walls are a dull putty color that doesn’t exist in nature. The decorator should be shot. Naw, that’s too merciful. The color is depressing. There’s a TV and a wipe-off board. What cheerful moron drew a smiley face in bright red? Probably the dimwit that announced beneath it: Your CNA today is: Andrea . Yippee. Andrea, therefore, was first on my “Let’s Punch Someone” list, especially once I saw the IV drip line.
    At least Rat was here when I woke up. “Hey, beautiful! You decided to join the party?” He was sitting in the comfy brown recliner they keep in the corner for guests. I was never so happy to see that handsome, skinny dude with short, black hair and liquid chocolate eyes. His raggedy T-shirt and jeans were rumpled like he’d been there too long. Only Rat can rumple jeans.
    Only problem was, once he jumped up to hug me and stroke my un-punctured hand, I could see myself in those dark eyes of his. “Oh, geez, Rat! I look like a three-day-old litterbox!” Look, I’m normally not vain, but I liked the spiky light brown highlights the sun gave me. I’m a chocolate point, so the contrast was cool, ya know? “Talk about a bad hair day. Fernando’s gonna have a whole litter of kittens.” More likely, he’ll shriek like a girl but the haircut the ER team gave me will probably give him a coronary in thirty seconds anyway. I’ll wear earplugs.
    Rat chuckled and his whole body relaxed. He heaved a great big sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “That’s my Petey-girl. I hate it when I can’t hear that filthy bitching vocabulary.” He shook a finger at my nose like it was my fucking fault. “Don’t you ever scare me like this again!”
    Then and only then did I remember what had