Page 12 of Broken Wheels

Doc glared at him. “You can leave, but I’m staying. I’m going to help if I can. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

There was a set to his jaw that Dix had never seen before, but he’d witnessed it countless times on the faces of others.

Doc was hurting, he was angry, and he was lashing out.

Dix growled. “I will carry you out if I have to.”

“Only if you want to break something” came the acid retort. “You wanna go, then go.” Doc gave his attention to the woman, kneeling beside her and whispering to her.

The sirens got closer, and Dix tried not to think about the last time he’d heard that wailing sound. About how he’d been sure Gary Cross was dead—and he had died, several times, but they’d brought him back. He didn’t want Doc hurt, but it was obvious he was determined to help, so Dix did the only thing he could.

He started lifting the rubble off the bodies, hoping against hope that maybe some of them might have survived and would be able to make it home to their families.

It wasn’t looking good.

A minute later, EMTS and firefighters surged into the devastation, and Dix breathed a little easier. He peered at Doc’s head wound. “You need to get that seen to.”

“I can’t leave her,” Doc repeated.

A couple of EMTs reached them, and Dix seized the moment. He grabbed Doc’s arm and helped Doc to his feet. “Can you walk?” He indicated the EMTs, who crouched beside the woman, tending to her. “She’s in good hands. There’s nothing more you can do.”

Doc gazed at her, clearly wavering.

Dix rubbed his shoulder. “How did you hurt your head?”

He pointed to a concrete pillar next to them. “The blast sent me flying into that.”

“Then you’ve probably got a concussion.” Dix looked him in the eye. “Please, Doc.” Besides, there were things they needed to talk about.

Things Dix was certain hadn’t even crossed Doc’s mind, but he had to be told.

Finally, Doc nodded, and relief swamped Dix. He led him carefully through the rubble and pools of water, amid the shouts of the EMTs as they did their best to treat the injured.

Dix didn’t want to think about the body bags that would soon be carried out.

He got Doc outside and led him to the nearest ambulance. He gave the EMT the details he had, and stood by while Doc got his head prodded, cleaned, stitched, and bandaged.

“Now sit there till I get back, okay?” The EMT gazed at Doc with obvious concern.

“I’ll stay with him,” Dix assured him.

The guy nodded and headed back into the mall.

Doc stared at the glass that was everywhere. “Who would do such a thing?”

It was time for a little grim reality.

Dix crouched in front of him. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe this was why you were supposed to come here? What if you were the target?”

Doc’s brow furrowed. “But why would anyone want to—” His eyes widened. “You mean… all these people died because of me?” His face was ashen.

Aw, fuck.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Except lying wouldn’t help the situation, and he knew it. “Well, okay, yes. That is what I’m saying. Maybe.” He speared Doc with an intense gaze. “Gary Cross ran off on his own, and he nearly paid the price for it. You knew about that, and yet you did exactly the same thing.” He gestured toward the mall. “And now people are dead or injured.”

The words were harsh, but Doc needed to know that choices had consequences. Sometimes deadly ones.

“And what if I hadn’t showed up? Would there still have been an explosion?” Doc’s haggard expression tore at Dix’s heart.