It didn't even turn over.

It just clicked.

"Fuck!" I yelled.

People behind me honked at me.

The motorcycle carrying Booth had taken off as soon as the light hard turned green.

At least there was one thing going for me.

I got out after I flipped on my emergency blinkers and wondered how I was going to play this.

"You need some help?" A young man asked from behind me.

He had to be high school age, because he still had that 'new driver' look about him.

"Yes, please. I guess I need to push it over to the..." I stopped when the roar of the motorcycle came back to me, and I closed my eyes as I realized I was going to have to see him.

Talk to him.

The motorcycle pulled up onto the concrete median between the two roads, and I grudgingly looked over at the man that was hell bent on making sure my heart never healed.

"What's wrong with it?" He asked without any pleasantries.

"It won't start," I responded dumbly.

He gave me a 'I know that' look and walked to the Jeep, dropping down inside of it without another word.

He shoved the seat back all the way, and I winced when I thought about how I was going to get the Jeep seat back into its original position. The seat didn't like to be moved.

At all.

"Battery is dead," he said.

I gritted my teeth.

I knew that.

"I know," I said once I had some control over my mouth.

"Gonna have to pop the clutch," he said. "Hey man, will you give me a push down the hill?" He asked the teenager.

The teenager nodded, and he and I got behind the Jeep and started to push. The teenager more so than me.

My feet started to hurt, so I kicked out of my flip flops and stepped onto the wet pavement, digging my toes into the gravel beneath my feet and pushed.

The Jeep started to roll, and with practiced ease, Booth let it get some momentum before he popped the clutch and started the Jeep right up.

"Thank God," I said softly, turning to the teenager. "Thank you for the help."

He grinned at me, showing me a full set of white, straight teeth that probably cost his parents a pretty penny.

"No problem," he said, looking me up and down. "It was no hardship to help a pretty lady."

I grinned and patted him on the shoulder before walking back towards my flip flops.

It was only then that I saw I'd cut my foot on something.

"Shit," I said slipping my feet back into my shoes and grimacing at the raw feeling that the pressure of the shoe put on my foot.

My Jeep sat idling at the edge of the road right past my turn, and Booth started walking to me.

"You need to fix your alternator," he said by way of greeting.

I gave him a thumb's up. "Thanks," I said as I passed him.

"And you're going to need to get the spark plugs fixed...and you have an exhaust leak," he said to my back.

I gave him another thumbs up.

"You're not going to do anything about it, are you?" He called.

I shrugged and kept walking.

Probably not.

Stuff like that required money...money that I could spend on my cat. Or myself.

Plus, I didn't have any money until next payday anyway, a full week and three days away.

Booth's motorcycle roared past me, and I grimaced as he took off, trying not to think about the fact that he wasn't wearing a helmet.

Stupid man.

Getting in my Jeep, I drove to my parents' house, but Booth haunted me the rest of the evening.

Fucking awesome.

Not.

Chapter 7.

I bet she wears his shirt. But all I want to say is that's the rag we used to use to wipe up the come he'd left inside of me.

-Masen to Mia Booth "My leg! It burns!" The man that we'd just pulled out of the car screamed.

The car in front of him had cut him off, and the guy had done all he could do, which was to run into a truck that was hauling hot asphalt.

The tailgate of the truck had burst open, and the hot asphalt had poured into the guy's broken windshield, saturating him and the entire car.

We'd gotten him out within seconds, having witnessed the accident, but there was still quite a bit of damage.

"Alright man," I said. "I'm going to cut your pants off."

If the patient was awake and scared, it helped to talk them through what it was that you were doing. A lot of times having their mind on something else helped them.

So I explained exactly what I was doing...until I saw it.

My eyes widened when I saw what looked to be a melted dildo sticking to the guy's leg.

"What..." I cleared my throat, looking to my partner for the day, Bowe. At the shake of his head, I looked back to the patient. "What is that, sir?"

I knew what it was.

He knew what it was.

The fucking people across the street knew what it was.

I just needed confirmation.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said through tears. "My wife...she made me."

His wife...made him.

Interesting.

With nothing else to do, I moved past the dildo that was melted onto his leg and checked his pupils while Tai started an IV.

"Equal and reactive," I said. "What's the BP?"

"148/72," Tai answered as he saw flash on the IV and inserted the catheter.

"Good," I replied. "What's your name, sir?"

I asked him his name for two reasons, first to see if he actually knew it, and secondly because I needed to know it for my reports.

"Dean Redmond," he answered on a sob.

I winced.

It was never fun to see a grown man cry.

"What day is today?" I asked.

"Thursday the eighteenth," he cried harder.

I nodded, even though his eyes were clenched tightly shut.

"Can you tell me where it hurts, Mr. Redmond?" I asked.

"Thigh," he said, pointing to the melted dildo. "And....my....my...."

He didn't finish, instead he just pointed at the side of his ass.

"Do you have burns on your backside?" I asked.

Then he all of a sudden started blurting out everything.

"She made me wear the dildo to the store, and usually it sits just right inside my...ummm...anus. But the jolt of the crash caused me to clench...and well," he shrugged as best as the C-spine collar we had him in allowed.

"So there's something else in your...butt," I guessed.

He nodded, a tear slipping out of his clenched eye lid.

"What about anywhere else on your body? How's your head feeling?" I asked, checking for circulation and pulses on his extremities.

"Everything feels okay," he said. "My jeans did a pretty good job of protecting me from the brunt of the burning asphalt. But my face kind of hurts from where I hit my nose on the steering wheel."

I checked out his nose.

He had a parallel cut on the bridge that was likely due to the force that he hit the steering wheel with, and I was just about to grab some four by four's when a woman started screeching.

"Redmond!" The woman yelled, bringing all of our attention to her.

"That's my master...errr...wife," he informed me.

I turned only my head, surveying the woman that was coming towards us.

Then blanched when I got a look at the bitch.

She was probably a few inches shy of six and a half feet. She was, however, wearing spiked chrome heels that likely gave her four inches.

Her hair was dyed black with purple highlights.

Her eyes were purple as well, and her body was stuffed into what looked to be leather, but was most likely fake.

She was also...large.

Very large.