Page 2 of Target Acquired
But Eliza didn’t want to die. She wanted to live. She desperately wanted to live. She pressed the pen to the paper and wrote until the door rattled when a key slid into the lock. Pushing the haze of the drugs aside, she stuffed the book and pen back into her hiding place, then slipped into her black slippers just as Alice stepped inside.
“The dose of pain medicine was lower this time so you wouldn’t be so sleepy. Can you walk?”
So that’s why she’d been able to form coherent sentences for her journal. “Yes. I think so.”
“Then let’s go. Dr. King is reported to be kind but can’t abide tardiness.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
ONE
PRESENT DAY
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 15
SWAT medic Kenzie King grabbed her firearm and medical kit, then aimed her steps toward Dolly, the TK-4 tactical vehicle. With Commander Judson Hill’s quick briefing still playing in their heads, she and the other unit members moved with focused precision.
Outside, snowflakes dusted her and she blinked. Lake City, North Carolina, didn’t see tons of the white stuff this early in the season, but the mid-October temps had dropped last night, and the weatherman’s predictions had come true. Thankfully, it wasn’t supposed to freeze and should be gone almost before it touched the ground. Next week would find the temperatures in the midsixties.
She’d been on the job almost six months, so this was her first fall with SWAT, but she’d lived in Lake City all her life. Long enough to learn the weather could be as unpredictable as her schedule. Which was fine. Growing up with her father as the chief of police for the first fourteen years of her life, she was used to rolling with change. They made plans, her dad changed them. Constantly. Didn’t mean she liked it, but she could turn on a dime without blinking or whining. It helped that the majority of their missions were planned right down to the very last detail as opposed to the “hurry up and save lives” missions like this one.
Kenzie climbed into the vehicle, and Sampson Greene eyed her with that flat look she could never read, then turned his gaze to his phone. No doubt checking to see if there were any new or developing details about the situation they were walking into. His K-9, a seventy-five-pound Belgian Malinois named Otis, settled at his feet, ears flicking back and forth, tension running through his sleek, well-muscled frame.
Buzz Crenshaw, driver and sniper, climbed behind the wheel while Sergeant Cowboy McEntire checked his weapon in the passenger seat. Cowboy had been an explosive ordnance specialist in the Army before getting out and joining the team. He shot her a glance when she dropped onto the bench that lined the vehicle’s wall. “You good, King?” he asked her.
She bit her lip on her initial response, hating that snarky was her “go-to” these days. Cowboy filled in as SWAT team leader when Cole Garrison wasn’t there, which was fine. He did a good job with the role, and he didn’t mean anything by the question. And yet he hadn’t asked any of the others if they were good. “You catch more flies with honey, sweetheart. Remember that.”
“I’m just fine.”
Her grandmother was right as usual. Kenzie was getting worn down by all the hazing that had been going on since she’d joined the unit. But that was her secret. No way would she let it show.
“How’s the ED treating you?”
As of last month, she worked shifts at the hospital emergency department when she wasn’t working with SWAT, because renovating a house was expensive. “Fine.”
“You really gotta quit being so talkative,” Cowboy said over his shoulder.
“I’ll work on that.”
Kenzie shifted her medical kit out of the way of her feet and checked her weapon before sliding it into her holster. She might be the medic, but she’d been through all the training required to be a part of the SWAT team.
“All right, people,” Buzz called out, “we’re headed to the West Hampton part of town. Update just came in. Three hostages instead of two, still just one gunman. No known fatalities or injuries as of this moment. Garrison’s meeting us there.”
And just the mention of his name tightened her gut and caused her palms to sweat. A reaction that made her want to bang her head against a wall because of the confusion it ignited. Instead, she clamped her hands together and ran through the plan once more. As the team medic, she’d wait in a safe zone and pray her services weren’t needed. Nine times out of ten, the incident resolved peacefully, but there was always the chance this call would be the one.
Officer Scott Butler climbed in and slammed the door. His gaze met Kenzie’s and his lip curled just before he took the seat next to her. She refused to cringe as his hip butted against hers, rationalizing that it was a tight fit and couldn’t be helped. She just wished he didn’t hate her simply because she was a woman on the team.
“Rolling!” Buzz cranked Dolly, pressed the gas, and spun the wheel.
Butler rolled with the sharp turn and slammed into her, shoving her against Greene, who shot her a hard look but shifted, creating a fraction more space for her. James Cross sat across from her and frowned, started to say something, then stopped when Kenzie narrowed her eyes at him, daring him to voice his thoughts.
Determined to ignore them all, she righted herself and refused to let Butler get to her. No one had come right out and said it, but she had a feeling he was jealous of her position and acting out his frustrations like a three-year-old. He had medical training and felt like he could do the job as medic just as well as—if not better than—she could.
He couldn’t. She had MD after her name. He didn’t. Which, she suspected, played into his need to prove something to his other teammates. Some ego thing.
Or it could be something entirely different. Who knew?
She was clueless and wasn’t sure whether she should ask him or not. She just kept hoping when he didn’t get a response out of her, he’d eventually let it go and get over it. Hopefully soon. Please, God, soon.