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Matt appreciated her discretion in lowering her voice although he didn’t believe the precaution necessary with the lunch-time crowd carrying on multiple conversations. “As long as he needs.”
The waitress arrived. “Welcome to Baxter’s. I’ll take your drink orders while you decide on your meals.”
Once she wrote the choices on her pad, Matt said, “We’re ready to order our meals, too.” If Sasha didn’t know what to order for Cade, Matt would take care of it. He’d been friends long enough to know the EOD man’s preferences.
“Okay. Shoot.”
At that moment, gunfire erupted from the street and the front windows of Baxter’s exploded.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Matt wrapped his arms around Delilah and Sasha and dragged them to the floor. “Stay down,” he ordered as the restaurant erupted in chaos. Some patrons jumped and ran for the exits. Others dropped to the floor, screaming. One man fell to the floor, clutching his chest. A second man tackled a woman running in a panic into the line of fire. He rolled to his side, moaning as blood pooled beneath his leg.
Matt flipped the table onto its side, making sure the women were blocked from the shooter’s view. He laid his hand on Delilah’s shoulder and squeezed gently as he rose to a crouch. “Don’t move from here until I tell you it’s safe.”
“Where are you going?”
“To help the injured.” Unfortunately, his mike bag was in the SUV. He’d have to make do with the supplies at hand. Matt rushed to the guy with the leg wound as gunfire peppered the restaurant.
Matt assessed the wound. A through-and-through. Without other options, he took the man’s belt and cinched the leather around his upper thigh. The man hissed. “Keep this tight.”
Two more shots sounded from the street and then all was silent. Sirens drew nearer.
Matt shifted his attention to the man with the chest wound. The victim was losing too much blood. If the ambulance didn’t get him to the hospital within the next ten minutes, he wouldn’t make it.
He yanked the cloth from the next table, wadded it up, and pressed hard against the man’s bullet wound. The front door slammed open and Cade ran inside with Matt’s mike bag.
His friend laid the bag next to Matt, his gaze scanning the dining room, no doubt searching for his wife. “Sasha?”
“Behind the table.” Matt inclined his head to where he’d left the women. “She’s fine. Take care of the shooter?”
A grim look settled on Cade’s face. “Both of them.”
Two shooters. “Recognize them?”
“Nope. Took pictures and sent them to Z before I grabbed your bag.”
“Matt, is it safe for us to come out now?” Delilah asked. “Sasha and I want to help if we can.”
He longed to tell the women to stay put, but he believed the danger was over for now. “Go to the right side of the room. Stay away from the windows.”
When restaurant patrons started to leave, Matt raised his voice to be heard over the growing din of conversation. “Everybody needs to stay in place. The cops will need your statements.”
He turned to Cade. “Take over here. Don’t let up on the pressure.” When his partner took over, Matt returned to the leg wound with his bag. He thrust his hand into the mike bag and pulled out two pressure bandages. “Hang in there. Help’s almost here.”
Matt ripped the pant leg, used gauze to clean off the blood, and applied the bandages to the front and back of the bullet hole.
“How bad?” the man asked through gritted teeth.
“You’ll be fine. Bullet went through muscle. Doesn’t look like the slug hit the bone. You’ll be good as new in a few weeks and have a scar to wow the ladies with.”
A huff of laughter was the man’s response. “You a doctor?”
“Medic.”
The man’s gaze sharpened. “Military?”
“Army. You?”
