upright.
Dawson stared from Masters to Cynthia before he pointed to Masters. "That's him. That's the man she was talking to in the warehouse. I'd know that voice anywhere."
Masters turned toward Dawson. Brock saw it the second Masters registered what was happening. Brock dodged the briefcase that was chucked at him. Masters shoved the uniformed cop into Dawson, and tore down the hallway. Brock was on the man's tail in less than a heartbeat. "Stop! Police!" The shout was automatic and would bring half the building in response.
Masters twisted as he ran. A small handgun pointed directly at his chest. Brock dove forward, the echo of the weapon discharging ringing in his ears. He connected with Masters' legs, and they hit the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.
The gun came up. Brock covered the weapon and pushed it to the side just as Masters squeezed the trigger again. He ripped the damn thing from the lawyer's grasp and used the butt end in his fist to swing backward, knocking Masters into next week. The man went limp under him. The hallway was flooded in seconds, but all he could see were feet and legs.
Brock rolled off the guy and winced. He glanced down at his arm. "Son of a fucking, cock-sucking, whore-mongering, motherfucking limp-dicked bitch! That damn pansy-ass lawyer shot me." He glanced up as Kallie slid on her knees to his side. "He shot me!"
"Well, yeah, he had a gun. Shit like that happens if you don't move fast enough." She ripped his shirt from the cuff to the wound on his bicep. "Damn, the bullet is still in there, too. You need to go to the doctor."
"Fuck that, we are this close to finishing this case." He moved his good arm and squeezed his fingers together. "I need something to stop the bleeding then we're going back in that fucking interview room and getting to the bottom of this motherfucking shit."
Kallie sat back on her heels. "You cuss this much each time you get shot?"
"No… Maybe." Brock frowned. He did, didn't he? Yes. Four times now, and yes, he swore like a wet rat each time. "Damn it. Motherfucking son of a bitch."
Kallie took off her hoodie and the long-sleeved shirt that was over her t-shirt. She wrapped the shirt around his arm and tied it.
"Fuck, watch it," he hissed and she sniggered at him.
"Stop being such a baby. Look, it was a freaking .22. Besides, Cynthia confessed it was Masters who killed Samuel. She has it on video on her phone, and she was able to save it from the car when they went over the embankment."
"But why? What the fuck did he have to gain by killing Samuel? Where is her phone? Masters is going to stay silent. We need to find the why. Who was he working with? Why did he do it? What could he gain from it? We hafta find something or the bastard will wiggle into a crack." Brock motioned to the attorney that several cops were lifting. The man was cuffed and surrounded by officers, and it was evident he was still looped from the punch Brock had delivered. "Make sure no one talks to him until he's read his rights." He pushed at Kallie, "Go make sure they do it right."
Kallie slapped away his hand. "Stop trying to boss everyone around. You're kinda an ass when you get shot."
"Well, yeah, because, hello? I'm shot!" He pointed to his arm with his good hand.
Kallie pointed to the gun that he'd dropped beside him. "It's a .22!"
She was laughing at him, and damn it, he couldn't help smiling, too. "Yeah, but it’s still a bullet in my arm."
"Oh, poor baby," she crooned, and a couple of the cops still lingering laughed.
Brock threw his good arm up in the air. "Finally! Some sympathy."
"Redman, get him to the hospital." Davidson held up his hand stilling Brock's rant.
But damn it, he was so fucking pissed. "Masters. A slimy fucking lawyer. What the actual fuck?"
"Good question. We'll get to the bottom of it." Davidson leaned forward and offered him a hand up.
Brock took it and needed the assist more than he cared to admit. It was a small fucking bullet, but it stung like a motherfucker, and he'd admit, he was dizzy as fuck when he elevated. Kallie was next to him in a heartbeat, and he wrapped his good arm around her, steadying himself.
16
"Hospitals suck." Brock muttered under his breath for the fiftieth time.
"Stop