Page 112 of Target Acquired
“Dad?”
The voice came from down the hallway. The footsteps. Lots of footsteps.
His team.
“Harold,” Cole said, “it’s time to put the gun down. You’re surrounded with no way out. Give it up before Oscar loses his father.”
“He’s lost me anyway,” the man whispered. “I’ve done things I never would have thought possible.” He looked at Kenzie. “Until you.”
“Dad, please!” Oscar stood in the doorway, Cross next to him with his weapon drawn.
Harold swallowed, then settled the barrel of the weapon under his chin.
“No!” Kenzie’s yell accompanied her forward motion. She slammed herself into Harold and they both hit the broken floor. The gun skittered and Cole went after it while someone jerked Oscar back. But Harold rolled after the weapon and managed to beat Cole to it. He curled his fingers around the grip and lifted it, aiming at the door as the team poured into the small room.
Harold fired just as Cole tackled him, yelling, “Don’t shoot him!” But they would if it meant saving him or Kenzie.
It wasn’t necessary. Harold had given up. He lay still, breathing hard and staring at the far wall.
“Butler!” Kenzie’s shout echoed, and while Cowboy took care of securing the prisoner, Kenzie held her hands up to Cross and he sliced through the zip tie with a knife. She scurried to Butler, who was sitting and pressing on his thigh while blood spewed between his fingers. “I need a medical bag! Someone, get me a bag!” She looked at Cole. “Give me your T-shirt.” Cole yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it to her. She turned to Cross. “I need the knife.”
He gave it to her, and she cut a strip out of Cole’s shirt, then handed it to him along with the knife. “Cut more strips. Anyone got a pen? Anything? I need to make a tourniquet if that bag is going to take too much longer to get here.”
Someone handed her a pen and she fashioned the tourniquet, pulling it tight just above his wound. Butler’s jaw was clenched and his face pale while he breathed in through his nose. “Where are the paramedics?” she asked. “He needs something for the pain.”
“They’re coming.”
She glanced at Butler. “The bleeding is slowing. You’re going to be okay.” She tied the other strips around the tourniquet to soak up the excess.
“Feeling a little lightheaded.”
“Yeah. That’s normal. Just hang in there. What’s your blood type?”
“A negative.”
“Got it.”
Cole started to volunteer to donate if the man needed it, but Kenzie’s narrow-eyed glare told him that wouldn’t be a good idea. Still woozy, he agreed with a nod.
“And someone get Cole a protein bar and a soda or some orange juice. Before he was taken, he gave blood and is about to pass out. If you can find the Buick, there are two bars in the glove compartment.”
“On it,” one of the other officers said.
Paramedics finally entered and Kenzie raided their equipment for everything she needed.
Cole turned his attention to Harold Woodruff and Oscar. The older man stood with his head dropped to his chest, defeated and trying to look invisible.
But Cole had questions.
The officer returned with two protein bars, a bottle of water, a ham sandwich, and a cold Coke. When Cole raised a brow, the woman shrugged. “I brought my lunch today. You need it more than I do.”
“Thanks.” While he started scarfing, the officer pulled a phone encased in a clear evidence bag from her pocket and handed it to Kenzie. “Found this tossed near the Buick. When I turned it on, I realized it was yours. I know it’s evidence, but there are probably a lot of messages on there you might need to check.”
“Thanks. You’re right.” She tapped the screen and lifted the phone to her ear.
With the food in his system, Cole’s energy started to return and he took in a grateful breath.
Once he was deemed fit to be transported, officers left with Harold in tow. He’d be arrested and taken to the hospital for an evaluation, then the legal process would ramp up in earnest.