Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,35
the vest, hood and a decent amount of ammo. That leveled the rocky odds some. “Add in the other gear, and SWAT officers pack about forty pounds into combat.”
Her uneasy gaze slid away from his, and he fisted his hands. Right. Don’t mention combat around the lady. “Let’s move.”
She shivered. “You should change into dry clothes. It’s getting awfully cold. And you’re even wetter now.”
He rolled his taut shoulders. The soggy clothes were uncomfortable, but comfort wasn’t a top priority. “I’m plenty warm after all the exercise. First things first. We need to find out who used to own all this blood.”
“You don’t think…could it be a hostage?”
He hoped not. Had the alarm spooked the robbers into shooting a hostage? His throat tightened as he slowly followed the splotches along the fake marble. “Way down here, so far from the bank? Unlikely.”
“Maybe someone escaped and was shot in the process. Maybe that’s who the robber was looking for.”
He’d rather believe the crooks had a falling out over what to do after the fire alarm sounded and had gone their separate ways. Violently. That scenario would sure make them easier to neutralize. “Maybe. We’ll soon see.”
Watching for more gun-toting suspects, he tracked the grisly markers. The watery, yet unmistakable trail meandered into stores and out, seemingly at random. Larger pools showed where the victim had stopped to rest. At one point, the path made a wobbly loop toward the bank, then turned and wove toward the end of the mall.
Finally, the trail stopped at a rock-and-gem shop. Con signaled Bailey to wait in a sheltered alcove inside the entrance while he followed the blood to the back. Her safety was his number-one concern. However, if he had to subdue a suspect, he’d rather she didn’t witness it again. He already had enough opponents. He didn’t want to fight her disapproval, as well.
Uzi at the ready, he edged around a glass display case. And came face-to-face with a man sitting on the floor, propped against the oak paneling. Con’s finger slid to the trigger of his weapon; then the man’s identity registered. Syrone! A bloody bullet hole marred the upper left shoulder of his pale blue uniform jacket. More blood soaked the front. Way too much blood.
Syrone raised his fist, wrapped around a huge, sharp chunk of unpolished agate. “Come and get me, jerkwad.” His voice was weak and shaky.
“Whoa!” Con whispered, lowering the Uzi toward the floor. “I’m on your side.”
Syrone dropped his head back against the paneling. “Irish! Am I glad to see you.”
“Can’t exactly say likewise. Looks like you’re in a jam here.” He half rose. “Bailey,” he called softly. “C’mon back.”
She rushed in. “Who—” She stopped, gasped. “Syrone! You’re hurt!”
“Bailey, you tangled in this mess, too?” Syrone shook his head. “I didn’t see you leave before they jumped me, but I’d hoped you made it out okay.”
Con pressed two fingers to Syrone’s wrist.
“You trying to hold hands with me, O’Rourke?”
“Not on the first date. Maybe the second, though.” The big man’s pulse was weak and thready. Con squeezed his uninjured shoulder. “Can you stand?”
“Don’t think so. My arms and legs feel disconnected.” Syrone shook his head. “Took everything I had to stay on the move, keep two steps ahead. I’m about tapped out. Those bastards are hunting me.”
“They won’t get you.” Con glanced up at Bailey. “Run to the bedding store and get sheets and quilts. Then find first-aid supplies. Move in the zigzag pattern I taught you, and watch your back. Hurry. He’s shocky.”
“They shot him? In cold blood?” Incredulity pitched in her voice. “He doesn’t even carry a gun.”
The truth sucks, sweetheart. It’s a cold, hard world. “Probably without a second thought. No witnesses for this crew, remember?”
Horror skittered through her eyes, and he watched understanding dawn. Life or death—in-your-face brutality. Without another word, she pivoted and hurried away.
His heart ached at her grief and bewilderment. Losing your illusions was never pretty. He’d learned that lesson firsthand. Maybe now she’d accept what had to be done. He said a silent prayer for her mental and physical safety. Sending the woman he loved out alone and unarmed against ruthless killers went against everything he was. But he could not go with her. He had to trust her protection to a power greater than his own. He clenched his teeth against the need to call her back. To keep her safely by his side.
Con found a stack of clean rags in the storeroom. He knelt, folded several into