Book 8 of the Extreme Medical Services series opens with paramedics Dean Flynn and Barry Winston answering a vague nighttime call — an injured woman, a fall, a caller who hung up and never answered again. Dean’s instincts flag the dispatch as wrong before he ever reaches the door, and Chapter 1 wastes no time proving him right.

Inside a run-down apartment, Dean and Barry find Verity, a battered, emaciated young woman with a badly broken arm, and Manton, a hulking, controlling man whose catlike movements immediately mark him as a shifter. What follows is a masterclass in the series’ signature blend of medical procedure and supernatural threat assessment: Dean methodically documents old and new bruising, notices a telltale tattoo, and recognizes the classic hallmarks of trafficking, all while trying not to escalate an increasingly dangerous man standing over his shoulder.

The chapter’s emotional core lands when Verity reveals she’s a Selkie, a seal-shifter from the Orkney Islands — a species so rare that her presence in Elk City, paired with Manton’s controlling behavior, tells Dean exactly what kind of situation he’s walked into. It’s a quieter, more grounded kind of danger than the series’ usual monster-of-the-week calls, and that’s what makes it hit hard.

Chapter 1 closes on a fragile but pivotal moment: Officer O’Malley arriving to hold Manton back long enough for Verity to make a choice. It’s a tense, character-driven opener that reintroduces Dean’s careful, patient-first instincts while planting a mystery — an Unusual trafficking ring operating in Elk City — that will carry the rest of the book.

📖 Start Dean’s next case — get The Paramedic’s Amazon on Jamie Davis’s site:

jamiedavisbooks.com/books/the-paramedics-amazon/

 

The Paramedic’s Amazon — Chapter 1

The ambulance veered around a car which slowed for no apparent reason. Paramedic Dean Flynn gripped the grab handle beside the passenger door even though his seatbelt was buckled.

“Easy does it, Barry. We need to get there in one piece, or we don’t get to help anyone.”

Barry, Dean’s partner and fellow paramedic grimaced. “Sorry, Dean, I expected them to pull over like everyone else. What’s the use of running with my emergency lights and the siren blaring if no one is going to pay attention to it or do the wrong thing when they do hear it?”

“You’re preaching to the choir here, bud. If people did what was smart all the time, we’d be out of jobs.”

Barry’s eyes stayed on the road, though he did smile in response to Dean’s comment. He peered through the nighttime street lit by the isolated pools of the streetlights ahead. “Did the printout from HQ have anything else on the patient?”

Dean glanced down at the paper in his other hand and then shook his head. “It just says injured subject from a fall. It could be anything. I’ll call in and see if I can get them to give us a clue what we’re walking into.”

Reaching forward, the senior paramedic grabbed the mic from its clip on the dash and called the dispatch center. “U-191, we are almost on location. Do you have any additional for us?”

“Negative, U-191. Twenty-two-year-old female, injured in a fall is all we’ve been able to get from the caller. They disconnected and haven’t picked up when we called back.”

Barry frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Dean replied. Something about this particular dispatch didn’t feel right. Learning long ago to trust his instincts, he keyed the mic again. “U-191 to Dispatch. Requesting a police unit to the scene for a check.”

“Received, U-191. Police unit en route.”

Dean replaced the mic on the dash and leaned forward to look out into the night as Barry turned off the main road and down a residential street. This was a run-down working-class neighborhood. Four and five-story buildings lined the street. They had broken most up into small apartments with various shops and businesses occupying the first floors.

Barry spotted the correct street number first. “There it is. I don’t see anyone out on the sidewalk waiting for us. What’s the unit number?”

Dean checked his sheet again. “Apt 3. I’m guessing that’s on the third floor. It’s usually two per floor in these places and that dry-cleaners takes up the first floor.”

Barry pulled to the curb in front of the building and slid the gear lever into park. “Should we go in or wait for the police backup?”

Dean shrugged. “It could be nothing. Maybe I’m still jumpy, even after all these months since the—” Dean trailed off.

Barry finished for him. “Since you stopped the four horsemen of the apocalypse from ending the world as we know it?”

Dean grimaced. He hated it when people said things like that. Not that they were wrong. But to Dean, he’d done what anyone would have in that situation. He wasn’t anything special. Besides, there were other people just as valuable there beside him. He couldn’t have done it alone. That was for sure.

“Let’s stay focused on the job at hand,” Dean said. “We’ll go in. Just keep your eyes open for trouble. The cops will be here soon enough.”

He hopped out and moved back to the compartment doors down the side of the ambulance. He grabbed the med and trauma bags and walked around to the back. Since Barry was driving today, it was Dean’s turn to take the lead with the patients. They traded off and took turns every other day, even though Dean was senior to Barry, at least in Station U terms. He’d been working there longer and had more experience handling their supernatural patients.

Barry had already opened up the back and climbed inside to retrieve their heart monitor and oxygen and airway bags. He climbed back out to stand next to Dean on the street. Dean nodded and together they started across the sidewalk with their gear.

The entrance to the apartments above the storefront was up several steps. Dean glanced back at the ambulance. They were going to need the stair chair to save them from hauling the stretcher up to the third floor. He turned to Barry to say something, but his partner had already opened the side compartment housing the folding chair with wheels. It was invaluable to assist them in getting patients up and down stairs safely.

Dean walked up the steps and reached for the buzzer to contact apartment 3. He didn’t push the button. One glance at the door told him the door’s latch was broken.

Barry stepped up behind Dean carrying the stair chair along with the heart monitor and oxygen and airway bags. With the straps from the monitor and bags across his chest and the stair chair held in front of him, Dean knew his partner was loaded down. He pulled the door open and waited for Barry to enter first before following him inside.

The interior lights did little to illuminate the entry hall. Everything seemed grimy and more than a little run-down.

Dean headed forward to the bottom of the stairs and climbed to the second floor. Apartments one and two were to the right and left. That meant, three was one more floor up, as he’d suspected. He started up the next set of stairs and heard the sobbing right away. It sounded like a woman, but he couldn’t be sure.

Heeding his own earlier warning to Barry, Dean proceeded with caution, ready to defend himself or run if need be. As he neared the landing, the door to his left stood ajar. The one to his right was closed. A tarnished brass number four was tacked to the wooden frame above it.

A glance to the left to check the frame above the open doorway revealed no number, though there were holes where the screws had once held a number in place. Still, this was likely the location they sought.

Dean glanced inside, past the partially open door.

A woman sat on a ratty, brown plaid couch in the center of the room. A tall, heavily muscled man in a grimy white tank top paced the floor next to her. She flinched a little every time he walked past her.

“Hi, I’m Dean Flynn,” he said as he rapped on the door. “Did someone here call paramedics?”

The man spun around, his motions fluid, almost catlike. Dean, given the type of patients they treated, wondered right away if the guy was a shifter of some sort. There had to be a connection to an Unusual creature of some sort with this call.

“It’s about damn time you got here. I’ve had to listen to her whining for too long as it is.”

The woman looked up at Dean, her sunken eyes making the dark circles around them look even worse. Her whole emaciated body looked as if she had had little to eat or drink for days. She clutched her left arm tightly to her stomach and hunched over it.

The guy pacing next to her looked like he hadn’t missed a meal in a long while. He wasn’t overweight, but you didn’t get muscles like that if you missed a lot of meals. Something wasn’t right here.

Barry arrived in the doorway.

Dean moved inside to kneel on the floor next to the woman. “Hi, I’m Dean. What’s your name?”

“You don’t need her name. Just fix up her arm. She had another stupid accident.”

“I need to know her name for my report. I’ll need yours, too, since you’re the one who called us.”

“I’m Manton. Her name’s Verity. You don’t need our last names.”

Dean turned back to the woman and smiled. “Hi, Verity. Can you tell me what’s wrong? Is it your arm?”

“Of course it’s her arm. She was clumsy as usual and fell down. Again.”

“I’d like to hear it from her directly, if you don’t mind.”

Manton stopped, glaring down at Dean. His fists clenched and he loomed over the kneeling paramedic.

Barry must’ve decided the situation was getting a bit too tense. He came up to stand behind Dean, ready to back up his partner if needed. Dean was glad he was close by. Everything about this call seemed odd. A chill of danger ran down his spine.

“Alright, Verity, why don’t you tell me what happened while I get your blood pressure and pulse.”

“She don’t need none of that. She just needs you to fix her arm.”

Manton leaned over Dean again.

Barry slid into place between them, causing Manton to take a step back. “Sir, I’m going to need you to give my partner some room to work. Why don’t you show me where she fell?”

Manton muttered something unintelligible in a way that almost resembled a deep, rumbling growl. Dean ignored it and focused his attention on Verity.

While Barry distracted the man, Dean leaned in to take her blood pressure. He pushed up the long sleeve covering her unhurt arm and concealed his gasp with a disguised cough as he spotted the bruises all along her arm.

While he wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm, he studied the bruises. They varied in color from deep purple and blue to paler yellow and green, showing various stages of healing. This woman had taken a beating, and more than once judging from her injuries. This didn’t happen falling down the stairs, and if she was a shifter, too, she probably healed faster than a human did. That meant these past injuries had been even more severe than he’d normally expect from such bruising. It all had him questioning how today’s injury had happened.

Dean glanced at the open doorway to the stairs outside, wondering how far out the police unit was. He couldn’t call to check on them over the radio. Manton would overhear him, which might escalate his already edgy temper.

Dean pushed the button on the heart monitor to pump up the automated blood pressure cuff and smiled at Verity. “While that’s working, why don’t you tell me what happened in your own words.”

She glanced past Dean at Manton and then said, in a thick Scottish accent, “It’s like he said. I’m clumsy and had a bit of a fall.”

“Okay, why don’t you show me your other arm. I need to see what I can do about to help you.”

She was afraid of Manton. Given everything he’d seen so far, Dean was pretty sure the hulking brute had injured her. There could be any number of reasons she lied about it. It didn’t change the paramedic’s obligation to help treat her injury at the moment. The circumstances did affect his need to report his suspicions to the proper authorities. He glanced at the door again, wishing the special station U police units arrived soon.

Turning his attention back to Verity, Dean examined her left arm. It was pretty obvious it was broken. The deformity stood out as soon as she shifted her body far enough for him to see it clearly. Her injured arm had as many bruises on it as the other one did.

Dean’s anger welled up inside him as his imagination fueled his suspicions. He wished Jaz was here. While he was a healer and not much of a fighter, his wife was a different matter. If Jaz was here, she’d take Manton outside and teach him a thing to two about roughing up women.

Jaz, as the leader of a Hunter Clan, was a formidable martial artist and fighter. Some would say she was also a killer, at least if you were a demon or rogue supernatural of some sort. Dean didn’t like to think of her that way, though. She wasn’t the same bloodthirsty hunter he’d thought she was when they’d met over a year before.

Dean moved his hands with care as he palpated the injured arm around the deformed area. He could feel the crepitus, the slight vibration from the movement of the broken bones rubbing against each other under her skin. The swelling around the injury was already pretty substantial. It looked like it had happened as much as a few hours ago. Under the bruises, he spotted a unique sort of tattoo on the inside of the forearm. It looked like a panther’s head, or maybe a mountain lion of some sort. Did it denote her shifter type?

“Verity, when did you injure your arm?” Dean studied her face, trying to see past her pain and determine what sort of Unusual she was.

“Um,” she checked to see where Manton was before continuing. “It happened just before we sat down to eat. Manton likes me to make sure his food is ready as soon as he gets back from work. I was a little late tonight. I guess he startled me when he came home. I just sort of tripped and fell, that’s all.”

The kitchen table sat a few feet away. Dean scanned the single place setting with a few scraps remaining on the plate. It was clear at least one occupant had finished their meal before calling 911 for the ambulance. He could guess who that was. His anger flared again.

Wrestling his temper under control, Dean smiled at Verity, “I’m guessing from your accent you’re not from around here? Where are you from originally?”

Verity shot another look in Manton’s direction, then back at Dean.

“Don’t worry about him, Verity. My partner will keep him busy talking while we chat. I’ll fix it so your arm doesn’t hurt as much while you tell me. I hear a bit of a brogue in your voice. Scottish, right?”

Verity nodded. “I came here about a year ago. It’s hard to say exactly when. I used to live near the coast on one of the Orkney Islands.”

That surprised him. He didn’t think there were any big cats native to the U.K. “So you’re not a werepanther or some other cat shifter?”

She frowned and flashed a little anger of her own. “No, I’m a Selkie. Why would you think I’m one of them?”

“It’s just the tattoo on your arm. I figured…”

Verity immediately swiped at the tattoo with her free hand, as if trying to wipe it away. The anger flared in her eyes again, then faded as quickly as it came.

Dean changed the subject while he worked on stabilizing her arm. “What brought you here to Elk City?”

“Um, I came when I was, uh, brought here. I don’t know how long ago it was. I came here to, uh, work. That’s why Manton got me; to keep his apartment nice.”

Dean doubted she was an ordinary maid. Not in this neighborhood. Plus, no actual maid would put up with the abuse, would they?

He pulled two short, padded splints from the trauma bag and began stabilizing Verity’s arm. He started by attempting to align the bones as much as he could, then carefully wrapped gauze around the splints to hold the arm in place on either side of the break.

While he worked, Dean thought back to the previous year. Her words triggered a memory from a refresher class he took at Headquarters. The continuing education program taught the paramedics how to recognize human trafficking victims in the field. This had all the hallmarks of that sort of relationship: The controlling over-watch of the trafficker, the fear and deference of the trafficked, the evidence of abuse.

If he was right, he needed to get her separated from Manton and try to take her to the hospital where he could get her the help she needed. If her trafficker was a werepanther or other were-cat type and she was a Selkie, a seal shifter, it was definitely odd. Shifter varieties like that rarely mixed.

Dean looked back over his shoulder. Barry was doing a good job keeping Manton away, continuing asking questions and jotting the answers in an open note taking app on the tablet. The male shifter kept craning his neck past Dean’s partner to see what Dean was doing.

Finishing up splinting the arm, Dean got Verity ready to go to the hospital. She needed an X-ray and a follow-up with an orthopedic surgeon to see if she needed surgery or just a cast.

“Verity, let me pack up my stuff, then I’ll help you up and we can head out to the ambulance.”

The instant he said she was coming with him to the ambulance, her eyes darted to Manton and then back to Dean. She looked down at the floor. “I may not leave.”

“Verity, you need an X-ray for your arm. A doctor needs to look at that break and make sure it’ll heal straight. You understand that, right?”

Verity shook her head and behind Dean, Manton pushed past Barry and came over to stand beside the frightened woman.

“She doesn’t need to go anywhere. You wrapped her arm. She will heal on her own. You two must go. Now.”

The order to leave was as clear as the threatening stance the male shifter had taken. Dean didn’t care and opened his mouth to argue. He stopped as a familiar voice sounded from the apartment’s doorway.

“Dean, Barry, I was in the neighborhood and spotted your ambulance. You two need any help?”

Officer O’Malley, one of the Elk City police department’s special officers dealing with Unusual cases and crimes, stood in the doorway. He placed one hand to rest almost casually on the butt of his holstered pistol as he waited for an answer.

Dean smiled, glad to have O’Malley there at last to give them some support. “Hello officer, I was just telling Verity here that she needed to go to the hospital so we can get her arm checked out. I’m pretty sure it’s broken. Her companion is hindering us from caring for our patient.”

The officer set his lips in a firm line and nodded.

Dean was pretty sure the policeman understood at least part of the situation. He was as good at his job as the paramedics were at theirs.

O’Malley crossed the apartment to stand next to Manton. He stared into the looming were-cat’s eyes for a few seconds, then glanced down at Verity. “You go with these nice paramedics while I chat with your friend here for a few minutes. He can come meet you at the hospital once I’m finished.”

Manton started to say something.

O’Malley glared at him and the werepanther backed down.

Dean stood and gathered the gear.

Barry came over and stopped him. “You help her down the stairs. She can walk herself out with you along to steady her. I’ll make a couple trips and get the gear loaded up.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.” Dean turned to the woman and said, “Let me help you up.” He offered a hand to her and waited.

This was a critical moment. He knew she needed help, in more ways than one. But, if she didn’t want to go to the hospital, he couldn’t force her. He forced himself to relax with a deep breath while he waited patiently for her response.

Verity looked at Manton, who stood glaring at Officer O’Malley, then shifted her gaze to Dean. With a small nod, she reached up and took his hand, letting him help her up to her feet. Without looking back, the woman followed Dean out of the apartment and down the stairs to the waiting ambulance.