Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 90721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
My heart broke at the sound of pain from Johnny, but continued to hold him until they got the IV in place, and then the medicine started to do its job.
“Wow,” the nurse said, slightly flustered. “I cannot tell you how many times a day we have to wrap these kids in a sheet, and then have half the hospital staff laying over the top of them to get one IV in. This was a Godsend having you here. Do you need a job?” She teased, eyeing Sebastian with admiration.
Sebastian snorted. “I have too many as it is, honey. I’ll always be here for my son though, so you’ll never have any problems from him. That I can guarantee.”
“What color cast do you think he’ll want?” The nurse asked before leaving.
Sebastian looked at me for direction.
“What colors do you have?” I asked.
In the end, we chose a neon orange to match Johnny’s shoes that he loved so much.
When we were driving home that night, I could tell that Sebastian had something on his mind, but no matter how much I tried to coax the problem out of him, he wasn’t talking.
The incident in the room wasn’t spoken of again for quite some time, but as the days, and then weeks went by, I had a niggling feeling that I knew the truth. Yet I was scared to even think about it, and I put it out of my mind. Not actually admitting it was like it wasn’t really true...right?
Chapter 19
Oh, you were about to eat? Sleep? Pee? Let me play you the song of my people.
-Life lesson-tones drop at inopportune times
Baylee
Beep. Beep. Beep. Deedooodeedoo.
I growled as the tones dropped. I looked down at my hamburger and French fries with a deep-seated sadness. Son of a bitch.
“Medic three, Engine three. Gunshot victim at First National Bank on Broadway. Patient status unknown. Please standby.”
“Son of a bitch.” I cursed, placing my delicious hamburger in the fridge, hoping it would still be there when I got back.
“Noooo!” Winter yelled from the other room.
She’d just laid down for a nap.
Apparently, her daughter was teething and she didn’t get much sleep the night before.
Dillon and Bowe banged through the door that led to the back patio and ran heavily towards the engine. Tai and PD were already suited out and in the truck.
I followed closely behind, hopping into the bus and starting it.
Winter pulled up the rear, buttoning her shirt as she went.
“I really, really could use another three hours of sleep. I’m about to go crazy.”
As we pulled up three blocks away from the bank, a uniformed police officer met us, and explained what was going on.
“We’ve got some gunmen holding up the First National Bank. We know that one teller has been shot and, as far as we know, has sustained a non-life threatening shot to the leg. We...”
“Rawls!” A man boomed from the edge of the police line.
I followed the sound of the man’s voice to find James standing there in full SWAT gear.
“Shit, must be really serious if they have the SWAT team here.” Winter observed as Rawls, as James had called him, went running to him.
James didn’t even spare them a glance as he spoke to the uniformed officer and then took off. The officer returned moments later bearing instructions.
“He wants us to move back. Says the main guy has a hunting rifle and could easily hit anyone from this distance. We’re going to need you to park around that corner right there.” He said, indicating the next side street.
Winter moved the bus and Bowe moved the engine; we waited for what felt like hours.
“Do you think they’ll deliver pizza over here?” I asked over the radio to Dillon.
Static.
“Negative. The Chief would kill us.” Bowe replied good naturedly.
“What about going to that Subway over there. I’m dying here.” I continued.
Seriously, there was a Subway not even two stores down from us. We’d been sitting in the parking lot of the Speedy Lube for well over an hour, and I was dying. And I had to pee.
Just as I was about to suggest it when Downy, my brother’s best friend and fellow SWAT member, rounded the corner.
He looked pretty darn hot.
I don’t mean sexy hot, either. Not that he wasn’t easy on the eyes...well, really easy, but he looked like he was sweating his ass off.
He was in long sleeved cargo pants, a long sleeved shirt, a helmet, a protective Kevlar vest, a neck covering, and sturdy black boots. Then he had multiple weapons strapped on; one to his thigh, one across his back, a knife on his left leg, a utility belt, and, finally, one in a shoulder holster under his left arm.
He looked well and truly pissed, too.
Which was unusual for him.
Downy was what you would call the class clown.
He was tall, about two inches taller than my brother. He had broad shoulders, a strong firm jaw, and beautiful red hair.
He reminded me of a Scottish Highlander with all those ropey muscles and Scottish heritage attributes. All he needed was a blue face and the mullet, and he could totally pull it off.
He’d been on the police force when my brother had met him, and together they’d broached the subject of a SWAT team with the Chief of Police.
He’d assigned a senior officer to the team, and Downy and Luke had been the first actual members.
They’d become fast friends, and I absolutely adored him.
I’d never seen him mad before, but with one glance at him now, I could definitely cross that particular item off my list.
He’d approached the firefighters first, and when he didn’t get what he wanted, he came to us.
“They’re allowing a medic to go in there and help the lady that was shot. You don’t have to do it, but they said they’d let the other hostages go if we showed good faith by sending one of our own in. I need one of you to tell me what to do, and we’ll see if we can help her.” Downy rushed out.