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“Blood? Thought you said it was the officer’s blood.” Jared stepped next to Cooper.
“Looks like Mike’s helmet caught a bullet,” Laredo told Jared. “I better go tell the Cap.”
“You sure you’re all right?” Jared asked Mike.
“Hell, I was until I saw this.” He handed Jared his helmet. Jared gave a whistle. Pain buzzed in Mike’s temples to the drum of his speeding pulse. “Guess I am a lucky bastard.”
“I’d say.”
“So are you. You were right beside me.” Like a building falling on his head, the impact of what could have happened crushed into his skull. Jared could have been shot, too. He’d knocked Mike out of the line of spraying bullets. Mike thought they’d missed. An inch or two over and the bullet could have entered Mike’s brain.
Blood drained from his face to his toes. Nausea cramped his belly, nearly making him puke. “Thanks for shoving me out of the way.”
“Are you kidding? I was trying to save my own ass.”
Mike gave Jared a look that clearly stated he knew better.
Jared clapped Mike on the back. “All in a day’s work, Hoss.”
Heavy boots with a sharp stride clonked on the cement. “What’s this I hear about a bullet hole?”
Jared handed Shep the offending object. His brows slanted down and the muscle in his cheek tightened, making Mike worry it might pop.
“Looks like the bullet went through here,” Shep said, pointing to the shield.
“I remember hearing a hiss. As for the shield, I figured it got scraped.”
“Laredo. Take him to the hospital.”
“Now, wait a minute. I’m fine.”
“He’s got blood on his head.”
At Cooper’s words, Mike shot him a glare. “A scratch.”
“Yours?” Shep asked, his piercing eyes intense. “Not the officer?”
Mike shrugged.
“Get your ass to the hospital and don’t say another damn word.” When Shep used that tone of voice, you moved your ass and kept your mouth shut. “The rest of you, get this gear stowed.”
Mike gritted his teeth in annoyance. And dread.
He could have been shot in the head.
***
Damn tightlipped hospital nurses.
Wouldn’t tell him a goddamned thing.
How was he supposed to get any information with half the fire department in the waiting room?
Seth crept back to his vehicle in the parking lot, his muscles tight with tension. Leaning against the back bumper of his SUV, he lit up a cigarette, tilted his head to the sky, then released smoke into the air.
He could hardly wait for the news to reach his enemy. “Your brother has been shot.”
Feel that, motherfucker.
