Cavanaugh on Duty - By Marie Ferrarella Page 0,73

jumped aside, she saw the rest of him go down, face-first, on the rug.

That was when she finally swung around to look at Esteban, who was also on the floor. It took her a split second to realize that with Gibson momentarily distracted, Esteban had dived to retrieve his weapon, and from his awkward position on the floor had shot the deranged man.

Scrambling up to his feet now, Esteban was beside her in less than a heartbeat, his hands on her shoulders. The deadly calm expression was gone from his face, replaced by one of mingled fear and concern.

“Are you all right?” he demanded hoarsely.

She pressed her lips together and nodded. Something was hurting, but she’d probably gotten banged around. “Never better,” she cracked.

“He cut you,” Esteban gasped, staring at the blood he saw oozing along her throat.

She touched the wound gingerly and winced. “Oh, yeah. I guess he did. It’s just a flesh wound,” she assured him. Glancing at the man who was lying facedown on the floor, she saw the pool of blood that was forming a red outline around his head. “Nice shot,” she commented. Her eyes shifted back to Esteban’s face. She’d never seen him look so pale. “I take it that wasn’t just a lucky shot.”

“Yeah, it was,” he told her.

He’d been shaking so badly inside, he’d been afraid that he would hit her instead, even though he’d had sniper training, thanks to the department.

And then unable to cope with the thoughts that were attempting to crowd into his head, thoughts that all had to do with the devastating consequences they’d have faced if he hadn’t managed to get off that single shot, Esteban just pulled her into his arms and held her close.

She resisted to an extent. “I’ll get blood all over you,” she protested.

“Shut up,” he told her, emotion throbbing in his throat. Emotion that, until now, he’d managed to keep locked away. “Like I care.”

She clung to him, all resistance gone. His presence gave her tremendous solace, and his warm, comforting embrace provided her with the strength she needed at a time like this.

“We need to call this in,” she reminded him after a few moments had gone by.

“We will,” he assured her, his arms tightening. “I just need a second.”

“Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “Me, too.”

* * *

The CSI unit, along with Lieutenant Morrow and the other detectives he’d temporarily reassigned to the task force, all converged on the scene, almost en masse. It took a minimum of detail to fill the lieutenant in.

“I guess he just went off the deep end when his son was killed in prison just after the judge reversed the guilty ruling,” Kari said. “He wanted to make everyone involved in sending his son to prison suffer the same fate his son had,” she said solemnly. “He wrote on his son’s social media page that he was on ‘a mission from God,’” she told Morrow. That was something one of the other detectives had told her just before the lieutenant had arrived.

“Too bad nobody picked up on that and alerted us sooner. Some of these poor bastards would have still been alive if they had,” Morrow commented. “Good work, you two,” he congratulated them. “One last order for the day and then you’re both free to go home and get some rest.” He looked at Esteban intently. “Take her to the hospital to have that looked at.” He nodded at the bandage on the side of her neck.

“The paramedic already looked at it,” Kari protested. “He put some disinfectant on it that hurt like hell and then bandaged it.”

The lieutenant looked unimpressed. “I’m not going to be the one to explain to the Chief of D’s why he’s short one niece.” His eyes shifted toward Esteban. “Take her. Now!” he underscored.

“You heard the man,” Esteban said, taking her by the arm and firmly guiding her to where they’d left their car at the curb what seemed like a hundred years ago.

“I’ve got a better way for you to ‘take’ me,” she said, echoing the lieutenant’s order and putting her own meaning to it.

“Later,” he promised her. “First we get that taken care of.”

“What if I say no?” she challenged.

He was prepared for that. “Then I’ll have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you there.”

A smile entered her eyes. “Can I opt for that?” she asked.

“Shut up and get in the car,” Esteban ordered gruffly.

“Make me,” she countered, curious to see just what he would do.

Rather