Thicker Than Blood

ker Than Blood

By: Anne Marie Citro

Copyright © 2017

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Anne Marie Citro, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.

Editing by: C&D Editing

Cover created by: Ravenne Villanueva

ravennedesign@gmail.com

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Please do not take offence to the content as it is fiction.

Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The authors acknowledge the trademarked status in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

This book contains mature content not suitable for readers under the age of 18. This book contains content with strong language, violence, and sexual situations. All parties portrayed in sexual situations are over the age of 18.

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1: A Little Tied Up

Chapter 2: Beach Bronze

Chapter 3: BFFs Third Floor

Chapter 4: The Whacked

Chapter 5: Remember My Dream

Chapter 6: You Don’t Know Shit

Chapter 7: No Overnight Parking

Chapter 8: Hurricane Hazel

Chapter 9: What If…?

Chapter 10: Sweat Tent

Chapter 11: Hook, Line, & Sinker

Chapter 12: The Pulse of the Tub

Chapter 13: This Joint

Chapter 14: Fractured Minds

Chapter 15: Half Monkey

Chapter 16: A Really Close Second

Chapter 17: Love Locks

Chapter 18: The Moral of the Story

Chapter 19: ABC & D

Chapter 20: Counterbalance

Chapter 21: Cocooned and Gathering Strength

Chapter 22: Happy Chick

Chapter 23: My Truth, Your Truth, & The Fallout

Chapter 24: Saved by A Totem

Epilogue: The Future and The Past Meet

Thank You

Acknowledgements

Sneak Peek

Dedication

To you, for picking up my book and reading it. I hope the journey into my imagination and real places I have visited, touch you somewhere in your heart. I hope that, for a little while, you can escape into my world and fall in love, not just with the people, but also the destinations. If you don’t travel to those locations yourself, I want you to visit them through my eyes.

Chapter 1

A Little Tied Up

It was a beautiful sunny day, so who would have thought Dakota’s whole world would change in the blink of an eye? Spring was her favourite season. She could feel the warmth of the sun against her face. It was the first warm day this year. She was so thankful the snow had melted a couple of weeks ago, and she could look forward to spring. Everything seemed to be reborn, and the animals were all awakening after months of slumber.

Dakota loved nothing better than to drive her 2013 candy-apple red Bug, the tunes cranked, and the sunshine awakening the landscape. Since it was such a gorgeous day and she didn’t have to be at her next school for forty-five minutes, she could take the back roads instead of fighting traffic.

The road she was travelling on had beautiful big trees, and a large ravine that led to the Credit River to the right. The houses lining the street were mini-mansions, and she often wondered what kinds of jobs people had that they could afford to live in them.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement. Taking her eyes off the road for a second, she followed it. On more than one occasion, Dakota had been lucky enough to see a deer coming up from the ravine.

When she fastened her gaze on the movement, she was shocked to see a black bear.

No, she couldn’t possibly be seeing a bear. It had to be one of those Newfoundland dogs. They were massive and black. This was the outskirts of the fifth largest city in North America, and bears were never this close to the city. It contradicted everything she knew about black bears’ habitats.

She blinked twice, not believing what she was clearly seeing.

Dakota continued to stare in awe, while the bear, sensing it was being watched, turned towards her, rearing up on its hind legs. It was massive. The creature must have escaped from a zoo, but there weren’t any zoos near this location.

Glancing back at the road, she saw she was approaching a sharp turn and had crossed the line, heading directly towards a large, old, blue Cadillac.

She tried to correct her position from the on-coming lane. However, her steering wheel felt funny. She tried to pull the wheel to the right, but it wasn’t responding.

Her heart started to pound with panic, knowing she was not in control. The blood drained from her face as her panic rose. She was jerking the wheel, and her lady bug, as she loved to call it, wasn’t doing what it was supposed to.

Everything moved in slow-motion. Her instincts told her she was going to crash head-on.

She tightened her hands on the steering wheel, and, glancing down, she saw her knuckles were white. As she lifted her head, she saw the blue Caddie still coming towards her, its horn blaring. She saw the old woman in the passenger seat turn her head and scream at her husband. She could see the old man’s lips pressed tightly together, knowing, like her, the inevitable was going to happen.

She glanced down at her feet—both were on the brake, pressing down hard. She could hear the screech of the tires and smell the burning rubber.

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she waited for her life to flash before her eyes.

She turned her head slightly to the right a fraction of a second before impact and saw the bear still standing on its hind legs, almost like he had been trying to warn her.

The cars impacted. The sound of metal screamed as bolts exploded and metal crushed. Paint chips flew in every direction as they popped off the bending metal.

Dakota screamed, closing her eyes as the air bag exploded in her face, then instantly deflated. Her neck snapped back, and then her head and arms jarred forward and backwards, the seat belt locking her torso in place.

A piece of metal pierced up through her shoulder and into her neck. The console and dashboard pushed forward, crushing her body and resting on top of her legs. The music continued to play as the crunch, screech, and banging of the metal continued as it contorted from its original shape. The windshield shattered, but it didn’t fall apart, leaving a spiderweb of shattered glass she couldn’t see out of.

Finally, everything stopped. Her body heaved into its final resting place. All she could hear was the hissing of some hose that had been disconnected and the radio still playing.

Oddly, she never realized that people in a crisis sometimes have a lot of time to think, and she had the wildest thoughts going through her head. First, she was pissed that she had turned the radio up so loud, because now it was driving her crazy. She just wanted to turn the damn thing down. Then, she realized she was going to be late for her appointment at Fairfield School. She had come up with the neatest game to help Miss Rutherford incorporate little James into her music class. She had just purchased some expensive instruments and hoped they had survived the crash. Dakota wondered about the older couple. How had they fared in this heap of twisted metal?

Suddenly, the music stopped and ringing began. Damn, her phone was on Bluetooth, ringing through the speakers. How had her phone survived all the jostling and smashing?

It continued to ring, and all she could think was, Sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now. I’m a little tied up. She huffed out a breath that would have been a huge fit of laughter if it didn’t hurt so much.

She believed her mind had snapped. She was totally and officially certifiable. She should be committed. No one should have such bizarre thoughts after being in an accident.

She pulled her thoughts together and tried to move. Oh no, that wasn’t happening. Dakota would have to leave that to the professionals. Maybe a cute fireman would untangle her from this mess. It would be just her luck to have a hot firefighter rescue her while she looked like shit and was acting crazy. She was destined to be alone for the rest of her life.

With everything else going on inside her head, she had another funny thought. The car didn’t even resemble her car anymore, yet the radio still worked, playing What Hurts the Most by Rascal Flatts. The irony wasn’t lost on her. If she could, she would have laughed.

It was amazing how life took different turns. Just over a month ago, Dakota had been in Scotland, celebrating one of her closest friends, Gabriella’s, wedding. Dakota had the time of her life, realizing it was because she had the most amazing group of friends, who referred to one another as The Sistas of The United Nations because each of the girls’ parents were from different parts of the world.

Dakota’s own heritage was Native American on her mother’s side, and French from her père’s. The eclectic group of women were as different personality-wise as each of their unique cultural backgrounds, and Dakota adored every one of them.

Gabriella’s husband, Liam, was a personal bodyguard to one of England’s princes. The friends had adopted the king’s youngest son, Edward, and his girlfriend, Gillian, into their sista-hood. He was their honorary chick with a dick and fit in beautifully with the group, with his amazing sense of humour and eagerness to get to know them.

Edward and Dakota had developed an early friendship through Skype, when he solicited her help to organize a bachelorette party for Gabriella.

Dakota’s cheeks still hurt when she smiled or laughed, because of all the smiling she had done in Scotland. She fondly remembered the humorous antics her friends had gotten caught up in while they were all together. Thanks to Edward, Dakota and her friends had been able to spend two weeks on uninterrupted catching up and celebrating. Now that she was home, though, it all seemed like a dream.

She caught herself remembering something that had happened during their time together and burst out laughing.

Dakota had never expected to visit Scotland’s Balmoral Castle, the vacation home of the King of England, let alone attend Gabriella’s wedding there. Edward had hosted and organized the wedding, which had been a surreal experience.

The memories would be forever ingrained in her mind. Dakota would treasure the peace that settled in her heart from knowing that, after all the tragedy in Gabriella’s life, her friend was finally getting her happy ending.

Life had been anything but calm since she had returned. The week after they all returned from the wedding, another one of her friends, Francesca, had been hospitalized after being hurt by one of her students.

The student had panicked after injuring Francesca and had run away. All the girls, plus Francesca’s boyfriend, had been part of the search party. They had found the student, and Francesca had just returned to work after spending three weeks recovering.

Dakota often wondered how women who didn’t have a group of strong females surrounding and supporting one another survived. No, that isn’t true. She was her sister, Koko’s, only real female friend.

Koko was Dakota’s identical twin sister, and although they looked alike, their personalities couldn’t have been more different.

People always described Dakota as a free spirit, embracing both of her cultures. But she was more drawn to the Native American culture, and had spent the last five years learning everything she could about it. She had researched and studied animal totems, the meaning and construction of drumming, shamans, and medicine men, strongly believing in the Great Spirit. And she had adopted the theory that all natural things were a part of the fabric of the universe.

She was open and accepting of things she couldn’t explain yet felt in her heart. She took traditional concepts from her French side and mixed it with her spiritual understandings from her Native side, blending both worlds until she was happy with the spirituality she had chosen for herself.

Even her choice of clothing was a testament of her beliefs. At work, she wore long, flowing skirts or chino pants, and loose, feminine tops, matched with Native American accents. After work and on dress-down Fridays, she wore jeans with tank tops, draped over with shirts that had Native designs, buffalo skull prints, feathers, or animals. She finished off the look with capes, leather vests, or buckskin jackets.

When Dakota went out clubbing with her girls, or on dates, she had sexy dresses with a flare, still staying true to her own style. What pulled this outwardly Native theme together was her beaded jewellery and chokers, along with silver necklaces. She never wore just one piece of jewellery; Dakota liked to layer them, the necklaces in different lengths, and at least three bracelets adorned one wrist, one always being a leather cuff, and then chunky, beaded bracelets.

She never wore high heels. They just weren’t her thing. If she wasn’t in a pair of funky sandals, she loved to wear leather, knee-high boots or calf-hugging suede boots with fringes.

Dakota had more than a dozen satchels made of natural fibres, with long straps that crossed her body. She had never owned a designer purse in her life. She didn’t need a lot of compartments, since she only ever carried her wallet and bronze-coloured lip gloss.

Like her mother’s people, she had long, straight, jet-black hair and dark-brown, almond-shaped eyes, with softly arched eyebrows. From her French side, Dakota had inherited her delicate bone structure and tiny nose. She never wore nail polish, and kept her nails short on her dainty hands.

With the mixture of her two cultures, she wasn’t brown-skinned like most Native Americans. She had skin that looked like it had been kissed by the sun.

Her smile completed the exotic look. Her face lit up when her apple cheeks lifted, softening the crinkles of her large brown eyes. Her spirit and her beauty were as captivating as her outlook on life. People were drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Koko, on the other hand, was the opposite in her beliefs. She didn’t believe in any higher power. She worshipped the money tree. She gravitated toward her père’s French culture, and unlike Dakota, never admitted to her Native American background, believing it lowered her status.

The twins’ names were Native, but if anyone asked about Koko’s name, she always said she was named after Coco Chanel.

Koko was all about high fashion, money, influence, and power. She was the head buyer for an exclusive clothing chain, Oh Là Très Chic, and was a walking billboard for the store. She had put countless hours and effort into her career to get to her prestigious position. She had climbed over a lot of people to get to the top, and she was ruthless when she wanted something. How the world perceived Koko was very important to her. She wanted people to envy her status in life.

She walked the walk, and talked the talk.

Because Koko was a fashionista, she dressed to the nines every day. Elegant dresses, tight skirts, perfectly pressed blouses, only designer jackets and blazers, stiletto shoes that cost as much as Dakota’s rent. Koko owned eighty-six different designer purses in every colour, textile, and animal skin ever made. She referred to them as her babies and carried a special hook that she attached to a table so her babies never had to touch the dirty floor.

Koko’s makeup regime was intense, but the results were breathtaking. She had perfected every makeup technique out there. Her flawless face matched whatever ensemble she wore.

Men didn’t take a double look. No, they stopped dead in their tracks. They followed her every move until she was out of sight, and then wiped the drool off their chins.

Although polar opposites, the twins were close. They were each other’s best friend and support system throughout their whole childhood.

They had gone their separate ways after high school. Koko went to school in the United States at Kent University in Ohio, where she had gotten a BA in fashion and textiles. Dakota had stayed in Canada and gotten her degree as a Therapeutic Recreation Specialist from Brock University in St. Catharines.

The girls developed friendships within their own chosen environments, and although their friends didn’t mix, they remained a constant in each other’s lives.

Dakota had met the sistas when she had done an internship at Reach Within Center. The center was a community-based organization, providing services for special needs children and adults, as well as their families in the greater Toronto area.

After graduation, Reach Within had offered her a position to join their team to work in conjunction with the schools some of her clients attended. Dakota set up programs for the special needs students who were integrated into mainstream schools. She assisted the teachers in programming untraditional methods using art, sports, music, and drama. Dakota loved her job and the kids—or clients, as she was supposed to refer to them—and couldn’t wait to get to work every day.

The crossover between her Native studies and unconventional teaching strategies blessed her with challenging and rewarding results with the students. Last semester’s goal was to teach sequencing and importance of timing, getting the students to make their own drums, and then teaching them rhythm and patterns, which achieved her goal. The students had fun, while learning the importance of waiting to hit their drum in sequence to create better sound.

This semester’s goal was the value of music and how it related to colour. She wanted to determine if one of her deaf students could learn to appreciate music through vibrations and visual stimulation of different colours. She would soon find out.

All previous thoughts dissipated. Her thoughts changed to her dire situation, knowing she was seriously hurt in her mangled vehicle. The song was now on its fourth rotation. Somehow, the playlist must have switched to repeat instead of shuffle.

She listened quietly to the words of What Hurts the Most, reminding her of why it was on her playlist. Every time the musician drew his bow down against the strings of the violin, the haunting sound sliced through her heart. When Dakota had first heard the song, she had thought the writer had experienced the same heartbreak as her.

Dakota had been drawn to the song after her breakup with Caden. Every word described how she felt about ending her relationship with him. She could sing every word, and often cranked the volume to sing out loud and share the composer’s pain. Tears filled her eyes at knowing she would never get over the loss of Caden.

Dakota had recently started dating Brayden. Maybe he would be the one to help her mend her broken heart. If not, she would continue to search. However, she had promised herself she needed to at least give Brayden a chance.

She had to stop comparing all her dates to Caden. Yes, he had been everything she wanted and more . . . in the beginning. Then he had betrayed her in the worst way.

Trust wasn’t something she gave out easily anymore. Most men weren’t willing to go the extra mile to earn it.

Uh-oh, now she smelled gasoline. She wondered if her lady bug was going to explode.

Caden had always told her that cars didn’t explode like they did on TV. Geez, she hoped he hadn’t lied to her about that, like he had everything else.

Be nice, Dakota. You could be dying. Is this how you want to meet the Great Spirit, by trashing the love of your life?

She heard someone talking and pulled herself away from her thoughts.

Ma’am? Ma’am, are you okay? I’m going to crawl in your back window. Don’t be frightened. I’m here to help.

That sounded just like Caden. Her mind must have been playing tricks on her after thinking about the man.

Dakota heard glass falling, and some grunts and groans as the man tried to manipulate his way through the back window of her lady bug.

Ma’am? Ma’am, are you okay? I’m an off-duty paramedic. Is it okay that I help you? I know it sounds silly, but I have to ask, her rescuer asked as he crawled into the backseat behind her.

She squeaked out her response, using her voice for the first time since the accident. Please don’t call me ma’am. I’m only twenty-seven. And, yeah, I could use a little help here. I hope you didn’t damage my back window getting in here.

He gruffly laughed at her response. Nope, definitely think I helped it. Now you have unobstructed sunshine. Miss, I’m going to—Holy fuck! Dakota? Aw, baby girl, what the hell happened?

Caden?

Chapter 2

Beach Bronze

Caden was shocked to discover that the humorous young woman was the girl who had captured his heart, and then shattered it into a million pieces. No matter how angry he still was with Dakota, his heart sank with fear for her well-being.

It was bad. The car was almost unrecognizable. He’d had no idea it was Dakota’s car when he had smashed out the back window to help the trapped victim. Now he was frozen at realizing who he was attempting to help, understanding completely why doctors and nurses weren’t allowed to treat their own family and friends. He was truly paralyzed with fear for her life.

Caden, are you still there? Dakota asked, unsure how long her eyes had been closed after hearing his voice.

Jolted from his thoughts by her frightened voice, he replied, Yeah, baby girl, right here.

Caden, I can’t move. I’m scared.

His medical training kicked in. Dakota, I’m going to take care of you. First, I need to ask some questions, and I need you to think about your responses before answering.

Caden positioned himself behind Dakota’s seat and checked her pulse. He had to evaluate her injuries from behind her, since the front of the car had been pushed so far forward. His hands were going to have to be his eyes. He didn’t have gloves, but knowing Dakota as well as he did, he knew she took her health very seriously, so he wouldn’t worry about any blood that he might come in contact with. By asking her questions, he could evaluate her cognitive responses and speech.

Okay, Dakota answered, trying to ignore the tremor in his voice.

Are you having trouble breathing?

No. She tried to shake her head.

Don’t move; just words. Can you swallow?

Yes, she mumbled.

What day is it? He moved closer to the headrest, unable to hear her with the radio blaring. What did you say?

She thought for a moment, and then hollered out, Caesar Friday!

Caden heard her that time and smiled. He knew she wasn’t trying to be funny; it was a natural response. Dakota had been calling Fridays ‘Caesar Friday’ for years. She met with her girlfriends every Friday after work to destress. They had been doing it for as long as he had known her. When they had been a couple, Caden had often picked her up after she had indulged in one too many.

Chuckling with relief, he said, You got it. Good girl. What is the date and month?

She felt him breathing on her neck while feeling her head for any contusions. She could smell him too. Caden had always smelled fresh, like he had just stepped out of the shower. His smell calmed her and reminded her she wasn’t alone.

He pulled his hands back and looked for any blood that would indicate lacerations, before he continued to feel for pooling blood around her skull.

Today is the twenty-sixth, and the month is March. My head hurts, and you’re screaming in my ear. Can you turn the radio off?

I can try. Just give me a second. Caden repositioned himself so he could squeeze his upper body between the crushed interior. He pushed forward into a very awkward position, twisting and reaching to push the radio button off.

Silence fell between them.

While he was in this contorted position, he took a quick visual of the side of her face and checked her pupils. Her head was tilted at an unusual angle, her face pale. He needed to make sure it had nothing to do with her neck. He glanced at the airbag that had the perfect imprint of her lips in bronze.

Not realizing he was speaking out loud, he said, Still wearing the same lip gloss. Beach Bronze.

Wow, you remember the name of my lip gloss? she responded, trying to glance down at the air bag and crying out in pain instead.

What is it, Dakota? What hurts?

I can’t move my head or upper body.

They heard sirens in the distance.

Caden moved back into position behind her, gently gathering her long black hair and moving it over to the right side of the headrest. It was then that he saw a long piece of metal had been sheared away from the car and speared through her, embedded into the headrest.

Shit, he quietly cursed. Everything had just gotten a hell of a lot more complicated.

Caden heard the emergency vehicles pull up and glanced at the firemen who gathered by the driver’s side door.

How are you doing, folks? We’re going to get you out of there, one of the men spoke through the already cracked open window, reaching for the door handle.

Stop! Caden yelled. I am a first responder. My name is Caden Ross, and I am an off-duty paramedic with Toronto EMS. I came upon the accident and crawled in the back of the car to assist Dakota. If you will just glance to her left shoulder, you’ll see this is going change how we extricate her. Her legs are also pinned under the steering column. I’ve only been able to assess her head and partial neck, and will continue my assessment while you figure out how to get her out without jarring that door.

Dakota’s eyes started to flutter closed. I smell gas. Is the car going to blow up?

No, Miss, we have everything under control. The firefighter placed his gloved hands on the broken window and forced the shattered pieces to fall to the ground. Then he directed his attention back on Caden. Let me talk to my captain and the rest of the crew. We need to stabilize the vehicle first and disconnect the power source. Then we will come up with an extraction plan. Paramedics have just arrived. I’ll send them over to see how they can assist. The fireman got up and went first to the paramedics, his crew joining him as he explained the situation.

Dakota? How you doin’, sweetheart? I need to continue an evaluation. I’m going to run my hands over your body. If I touch anything that hurts, let me know. If you feel like you’re going to be sick, I want to know. You have to tell me if you feel anything strange. If you get weak, cold, dizzy, or anxious, you let me know immediately. Those are the signs of shock, and because I can’t see your face, you are going to have to be diligent in expressing any changes you feel. I need to take your pulse again. I’m going to put my hand on your neck again. Don’t be surprised.

Caden moved his two fingers to the pulse in her neck. It was low. Fifty beats per minute, which probably meant her blood pressure was also low. Now he had to worry about hemorrhagic shock. She must be bleeding from the neck wound and/or places he couldn’t see.

Needing to do a body assessment, he ran one hand down each side, stopping every few moments to pull his hands back to see if he had blood on them. Next, the front part of her chest. He felt slightly uncomfortable given their history, but no one knew the intimacy of her chest more than he did.

An EMS arrived at the window. "Caden, man, I was surprised when they said you were in here.