Blind Side: The Technicians, #1

Blind Side

Olivia Gaines

Davonshire House Publishing

PO Box 5027

Augusta, GA 30916

THIS BOOK IS A WORK of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s vivid imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely a coincidence.

© 2022 Olivia Gaines, Cheryl Aaron Corbin

Copy Editor: Teri Thompson Blackwell

Cover: Corbin Media

Olivia Gaines Make Up and Photograph by Latasla Gardner Photography

ASIN:   0B7LRJV5R

ISBN:   9798201944445

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever.  For information address, Davonshire House Publishing, PO Box 9716, Augusta, GA 30916.

Printed in the United States of America

1  2  3  4  5  6  7  10  9  8

First Davonshire House Publishing September 2022

Also by Olivia Gaines

DEDICATION

For all of my Lizzies. You are not too broken to love.

"Easy reading is damn hard writing."

-  Nathaniel Hawthorne

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To all the fans, friends, and supporters of the dream, as well as the Facebook community of writers who keep me focused, inspired, and moving forward.

Write On!

Table of Contents

DEDICATION

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Chapter One – Blind Sided

Chapter Two- Boundary

Chapter Three-  Edge

Chapter Four- Border

Chapter Five – Fringe

Chapter Six- Perimeter

Chapter Seven- Circumference

Chapter Eight- Extremity

Chapter Nine- Brim

Chapter Ten- Periphery

Epilogue

- Meet Olivia Gaines

Silent Nights- Chapter One- Speechless

Kisses in the Snow- Chapter One – Smackeroo

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Chapter One – Blind Sided

The weekly discussion group meeting hosted by Karli Hoyt was called to order, and Karli opened the discourse on a boy wizard who was consistently failed by the adults in his life. Present at this week’s discussion was Jamal Bergen, the son of a prominent heart surgeon who, by all intents and purposes, found himself completely enamored of the girl. He listened with interest to her argument on the jealous aunt of the young wizard who took out her resentment of her sister’s success on the child. In the middle of a sentence discussing the potbellied, ruddy-faced uncle, Karli stopped speaking. A crinkle appeared on her forehead as she stared out the sliding glass door at the water.

Karli Girl, what’s wrong? Jamal asked, knowing she was experiencing one of her moments. Over the past year, he’d learned to read her reactions to situations, but there were moments like this when something more was needed. I’ll get your Dad.

He took off at breakneck speed to where he knew Mr. Exit worked and tapped lightly on the door. Sir, it’s Karli. She’s having one of her moments.

Exit was on his feet and moving. He rounded the corner to find his daughter on the floor, crumpled, her small hand clutching her side. Her angelic face exhibited horrific pain as he dropped to his knees, cradling her in his arms.

Karli. Karli, talk to Daddy, he encouraged, tell me where it’s hurting.

Not me. Her.

Her?

Yes, her. Phone. I need your phone, she said, curling into a tight ball. Phone. Call him. Call him now. Not much time.

Exit pointed for Jamal to run to his office and retrieve the black phone on his desk. The boy knew which phone because Karli had told him once it was a special phone to call the CIA. At least that’s what she told him her father did for a living; she said he worked for a covert arm of the CIA, which swore Jamal to secrecy. He returned with the phone, not knowing what to expect next. Exit punched the number one, and a voice came on the line. Karli reached for the phone.

Unicorn One here, she said, trying to catch her breath.

Is everything okay? the voice on the other line asked.

No. She’s down, Karli said. It’s bad. The job went sideways in a handbasket, and she’s run low on handouts. I hope you know what that means. That’s all she sent me.

Did she give you anything else?

Karli closed her eyes, inhaling deeply to slow her breathing. Her eyes misted from the intense pain as an image of a truck stop flashed, a green sign with a number, and a license plate. She knew what to tell the voice on the phone.

The truck stop at Exit 261 outside of Louisville, she told him. Archangel, it’s bad. It’s really bad.

Thank you, Unicorn One; anything else?

Karli twitched and her body went limp. Exit slipped his hand into hers, watching her eyes as they fluttered open. She sat up, and into the phone, she stated, Time is almost up for her. Please get there quickly.

The Archangel ended the call and made another. The closest technician to Hump was Mr. Slow, who moved quickly after he got the call from the Archangel, arriving within 15 minutes to find the woman behind the dumpster, bleeding from a gut wound. He tied off as much as he could, applying a pressured bandage, and got the lady in the car. It took him 15 minutes to get to her and it would be another 15 to get her to his place, but he was moving as fast as he could go without getting pulled over.

Hang in there, Hump, he encouraged as he arrived home to find The Doctor waiting for them both. It’s bad. She’s lost a lot of blood.

Bring her inside and let me try, The Doctor said, noticing the paleness of the skin and the blue tinge around her lips. It would be a long night and an even longer couple of days to get the femme fatale over the hump. I’ll do everything I can to save her.

Dr. Elden Thomas, The Doctor, specialized in this type of work. He was contracted by the Southeast Construction Crew as their doctor on call. Luckily for the lady, he lived close by. He was also hanging close in the area, hoping to get lucky with Ms. Hump once she finished her assignment for the night. They’d met previously at the funeral services for the technician One Way’s mother. Several times over the past couple of months, he’d called Hump to check on her and say hi. Finally, he’d gotten up his courage to ask the woman to dinner, and she’d said yes, once she ended her shift.

Her shift would end permanently if he couldn’t stop the bleeding and pump in a pint or two of O-neg along with a hearty dose of antibiotics. He pulled back the compress applied by Mr. Slow and spotted the large gaping hole in Hump’s gut. The lady had not only been shot but also stabbed.

Merciful God in Heaven, Elden whispered, trying to focus and save a life. Her journey to wellness would be long, arduous, and touch and go, but he didn’t plan to give up on her, not tonight, not ever. I’m going to put in the work, Ms. Hump, but I need you to meet me halfway.

An hour later, the bleed was cauterized, and Mr. Slow carried her to the spare bedroom for Lizzie to rest. He wasn’t certain what had happened. He wasn’t certain he was okay with her being in his home. He also wasn’t certain she would live through the night. His face showed as much.

My place is nearby, Elden said. Once she’s able to travel, I’ll take her to my home.

No, you won’t, Slow said. Once she’s coherent and able to hold a gun and aim it at your fucking head, then I’ll let you transport her elsewhere, but until then, she stays under my watchful eye.

I’m a doctor. I am sworn to do no harm, Elden said, offended at the inference Slow was making about his character.

And I’m an ethical hacker hired to break into people’s computers, and in my free time, I break into people’s homes and kill them slowly, he told The Doctor, but that doesn’t mean I am going to leave you alone with a woman I’ve seen you drool over while she is in this physical state.

Why should I believe that you, of all people, can be trusted with her safety, and not me?

Because I have no interest in fucking her, not when she’s well and sure as shit not when she’s got a bullet wound in her gut, he told him. Let’s get her through the night, make sure she lives, and then when she’s coherent, we ask her what she wants.

Maybe I should leave, Elden said.

No, you need to stay, in case there is an issue during the night, Slow said. I made chili. More than likely, my gastronomic delight is going to come out looking like it did when it went in, so there’s that, but it’s good.

Yeah, and that is a no from me, he told Slow, looking at Ms. Hump’s face. He was running a pint of blood to her, and the color was slowly starting to return to her face, but Slow was right, they had to get her through the night. Hang in there, Elizabeth. Hang in there, dear lady.

ELIZABETH PERKINS WAS no stranger to pain. Her entire life had been a run-on sentence of disappointment and failure to connect with another human. She followed the trail. She figured out the clues. Then, she found him, but she didn’t expect to find anything else. All she could feel was the pain. If tonight was her last night on the planet, so be it. Suddenly, her eyes popped open. Unfocused, searching, she looked about the room and spotted two faces. One she immediately knew, the other, familiar, yet distant.

Slow, she whispered, her throat dry. Lizzie held up her hand, reaching for him as he came to the side of the bed. His strong hand laced into hers, squeezing it and staring into the eyes. Dumpster. It’s in the dumpster. Hurry. Please. The dumpster.

He didn’t know what it meant. She had put something in the dumpster and he had to hurry to get there. He assumed it was the dumpster where she was found. He pointed his finger at The Doctor, silently threatening him before grabbing his keys and heading out. He drove fast, arriving at the truck stop as a dump truck rounded the building. The forks were down on the truck as it headed to the dumpster to lift and dump the contents.

Slow pressed hard on the gas, swerving in front of the truck, giving it braking room so it didn’t knock the ass completely off his Ford F-150. He held up his hands as the driver swore profanities at him. His hands were up in surrender as he climbed out of the Ford, ran to the dumpster, and flipped open the lid. The smell nearly made him close it back, but Hump had said the dumpster. Using the penlight on his keychain, he climbed onto the rim of the canister, shining the light inside.

I hope whatever I’m looking for is easy to spot, he said, aiming the light into the dark, smelly hole.

He scanned the contents, seeing nothing that immediately jumped out. Reluctant to climb inside to search for the magical item Hump had secured in the can, he growled loudly. Movement in the back corner of the can caught his eye and he flashed the light in that direction. Slow nearly jumped when a pair of eyes stared back at him, not afraid of the light, but watching. He wiggled his fingers at whatever it was, hoping, it was a rare breed of puppy.

Come to me. You’re safe. She sent me to get you, he told the small form which moved forward. It was not a puppy, but a child.

Little legs climbed over the refuse, making their way to the man. The tiny arms reached up, and Slow bent, leaning down to lift the child into his arms. The poor thing smelled like the dumpster but clung around Slow’s neck, squeezing tightly.

I have you, kid, he said, waving at the man in the garbage truck. Sorry.

The guy rolled down his window, leaning out to ask, Did somebody throw away a kid?