“I don’t give two flips about Dexter and Savage. We have facial recognition on Max.” He’s already standing, shoving his computer into his bag. “Rooftop. Two buildings down.”
I curse, and stick the binoculars to my face, spotting him and the glint of a rifle. “He’s got a gun,” I say, dropping the binoculars to my chest. I’m already running. “I’m going after Rick and Candace.”
Lucifer pulls his weapons. “I’ll cover you and send Dexter after Max.”
***
Savage
We eat our ice cream inside the ice cream parlor, and when we exit to the street, Candace grabs my arm. “Candy.” She points to a candy store. “For later. We can take it home.”
“Not yes, but hell yes,” I say. “Let’s go.” I grab her hand and we start a fast walk, nearing a jog.
A car passes, and I pull her along, running across the street and down a block. She’s laughing as we walk into the store. “You are crazy. I say ‘Candy’ and we're literally running for the goods like it’s a treasure.”
“Exactly,” I say, giving her a wink and heading for the display cases of chocolate. Five minutes later, I’ve had the counter clerk bag about a hundred dollars’ worth of every chocolate they sell. That includes an elderberry truffle, whatever the fuck that is. We’re just about to pay when Candace spies the cotton candy.
“I’m stuffed, but I have to have it,” she says. “It’s been forever and it’s even pink. I wonder what the pink tastes like.”
“Sugar,” I promise. “Sticky sugar.” I lean in close. “I’ll lick it off for you when we get home.”
She grins. “Promise?”
With that response, I decide it’s time to head back to the room.
I pay for the sweets and once we’re outside, I motion to a bench where we can eat and I can call for a car. “No signal,” I say, standing up and walking a few steps. Right about the time I get a signal, I pause with a rush of unease. My gaze lifts and out of nowhere it seems, Adam is running toward Candace. At the same instant, the crack of gunshots pierces the air. One, two, they keep coming.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Savage
It’s as if everything is in slow motion.
Adam and Candace go down and I see blood. There’s more gunfire, but it’s not coming from the same weapon, rather multiples weapons but I can’t see the shooters. I react, doing all I can do with no target. And at this point, all I can do is what I do. I run for Adam and Candace and throw myself over the top of both of them. Adam groans beneath me and I can hear Candace murmuring, “Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God.”
More like Mother of God, help me save them. More bullets crack in the air, pinging from multiple locations, but nothing flies in our direction or hits me. I give it thirty seconds, and since I’d like to live another day, and for Candace and Adam to do the same, I know I need to get us under cover. I pull my weapon, roll off of Adam and scan my surroundings to find no obvious threat. Adam, in turn, rolls to his back, his arm pouring blood. “Tell me she’s okay.”
I’m already leaning over Candace.
“My arm,” she whispers. “It’s my arm.”
I rip open her sleeve, relieved to find what turns out to be a surface wound that will hurt and bleed like a bitch, and require stitches, but it’s not going to cause permanent damage. Adam got her out of the line of fire and saved her damn life. “You’re okay, baby. It’s just a deep gash. It took some flesh, but you’re okay.” I pull off my shirt, rip it and tie her arm off to stop the bleeding before I do a body check for any other injury. Once I know she’s clear I move to Adam’s side and get right to work on his arm.
“How is she?” he asks.
“Flesh wound thanks to you, my man.” I shove his sleeve up his arm.
“Good,” he says, grimacing and trying to see his arm. “How bad?” he asks softly, and just the question tells me he knows it’s not good.
He’s bleeding like a stuck pig and stopping that flow now is critical. I begin the tourniquet process while gunfire echoes from several blocks down.
“Damn it, how bad, Savage?” Adam repeats, his face pinched in pain.
“A lot better than if you get shot again because we’re sitting out in the open. Are you hit anywhere else?”
“No,” he bites out. “Just my arm.”
But that’s just it. It’s never just an arm. Ninety percent of all soldiers who die of bullet wounds in the field were hit in the arm, in a major artery. Details a doctor doesn’t share with a man with a bullet in his arm. I finish the tourniquet and say, “We need to move.”
Adam, the badass that he is, pushes himself upward and to his feet, sticky blood all down his side. The good news is if he’d hit a major artery, he’d be dead or close to it right now, not standing. But he’s bleeding too much. He needs my attention.
Everyone on the street has taken cover, but a brave, short, and stubby middle-aged man rushes out of an office and to our sides. “We need to get you under cover,” he proclaims. “My medical office is right here.” He motions over his shoulder. “I called an ambulance, but they’re really slow-going around these parts. I can try to help.”
I don’t argue. What he can do to help is provide shelter and the supplies I need to save Adam. I’ll do the rest.
I scoop Candace up and head for the office. “Please tell me Adam’s going to be okay,” Candace says, pain radiating in her voice, but she’s lucid and safe. That’s at least one of the two of them.
“He’s got me,” I say, and while yes, I’m confident in my skills, I want her to be right now as well. “He’ll be just fine.”
I open the office door to what turns out to be a veterinarian’s office not a doctor’s office, but I’ll make it work. Just behind the reception area, I find exactly what I need: an operating room with three tables long enough to hold a human. I lay Candace down on one of them, grab a couple of pillows from a chair nearby and prop up her arm. “Keep it above your heart. I’ll stitch it up once Adam’s stable.” I pull my phone out, punch in Lucifer’s number, and press it into her hand. “Make sure we’re clear.”
I don’t wait for an answer. I rush into the lobby to find Adam leaning against the wall. “I’m trying not to bleed on his floor.”
“It washes,” the vet says dismissively. “And it’s seen worse than blood, believe you me.”
I grab Adam and hold onto him, eyeing the vet. “I’m a licensed surgeon,” I say. “I need to get the bullet out and sew him up. I need tools. Whatever you can get me. I don’t need much. Just the basics.” It’s not a question and I’m already walking Adam into the back room. Once he’s on a table, he sits. I lay him down and get his arm elevated.
Glancing over my shoulder at Candace, I can see her talking on the phone and I’m eager to know what the hell is going on.