School of Fish (Fish Out of Water #6) - Amy Lane Page 0,19
out of traffic, light flashing, and Jackson had Kryzynski kill the siren as he pulled up to the office complex and parked in a miracle space along the street. Jackson hopped out almost before the vehicle had stopped and went hauling through the breezeway, around the corner, and up the stairs.
Sure enough, a wiry blond man a little on the short side was rattling the doorknob and shaking it, swearing, a switchblade in his hand as he jiggered the lock.
He heard Jackson’s footsteps on the stairs and read his intent in one quick heartbeat.
“Cop,” he sneered, the faintest of accents clear in the vowel.
And with that, he took two bounding steps toward the stair railing and vaulted over, landing with a crouch and a tumble one story below.
“Kryzynski,” Jackson called, “get him. He’s got a knife!” He practically hung over the railing to see what happened next.
Kryzynski rounded the corner just at that moment and ran, full-tilt, into their suspect, who was fleeing the scene.
As Jackson hammered down the stairs, he saw the detective stagger back, hands out, as the kid took off, footsteps pounding the concrete of the breezeway before he disappeared around the corner. Jackson drew even as Kryzynski’s knees buckled, and Jackson saw the welling of blood spilling over the white shirt beneath his suit coat.
Bright red blood, and K-Ski’s face blanching shock white.
“Oh fuck,” he muttered. He helped the officer down and hauled his new shirt off over his head, folding it quickly to apply pressure. “Radio, Sean. Where’s your radio?”
“Belt,” Kryzynski panted. “Left side.”
Jackson grabbed it, remembering all of the protocol they’d drilled into him at the academy. He radioed in an “Officer down! Repeat, officer down!” with one hand while staunching the blood with the other, his own breath coming in quick little bursts. When prompted, he gave the address of the building and their location, then identified himself as a civilian giving first aid.
He set the radio down to use both hands and made eye contact with Kryzynski, trying to offer reassurance.
“How’s the breathing there, buddy? You doing okay?”
Kryzynski nodded. “Maybe my lung. Chest hurts.”
“Hope it’s not your liver, ’cause that sucks large.”
Kryzynski let out a short, breathy laugh. “You would know that.”
“Yeah. I can give you the ins and outs of the hospital. It’ll be great. I know the best nurses.”
“Male or female?” He said it lightly, but his whole body was trembling, lines of pain making his young face old.
“Both,” Jackson said. Then, “Hey, you want me to call someone?”
Kryzynski closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah.” A faint spittle of blood filmed his lips. “Yeah. Head of the Oh-Four. He won’t hear this call in his—” He struggled for breath. “—area.”
“I can do that,” Jackson told him. He caught Kryzynski’s hand. “You’re going to be fine. I can hear the ambulance now. You got a pool at your place?”
He shook his head no, eyes still closed. “Shitty cop apartment.”
“We’ll hook you up. You can hang out, pet the cat, put your feet up. People will be jealous. Wonder why they didn’t get stabbed after noodles. It’ll be great.”
Sean’s lips curled up in a smile, and he let out another small laugh. One that sputtered more blood.
The EMTs clattered through the breezeway first, and Jackson squeezed Kryzynski’s hand before he stood up. “Hang in there, Sean. I’ll make that call. You’ve got people, okay?”
He backed away slowly, shaking, and watched as the two professionals—one of whom he knew well—began to call stats, checking Sean’s vitals, calling the hospital and asking for blood and preparation.
The EMT he knew—a round, fortyish guy with thinning brown hair—looked up and caught Jackson’s eyes. “Not you this time. That’s a first.”
Jackson couldn’t even grimace. “Sucks to be on this end,” he said numbly, and the guy nodded and then went back to his job just as Ellery came hauling ass through the breezeway, Jade on his heels.
“Jackson?” Ellery grabbed his arms and shook him. “Where are you hurt? Where are you bleeding? Why aren’t they working on you?”
“It’s Sean, dammit,” Jackson snapped, and Ellery pulled away long enough to really take in the scene.
When he realized it was Kryzynski on the stretcher, he gave a definite wobble. Jackson caught him, a flood of emotions from relief to guilt to fear hitting him hard in the chest.
“I’m fine,” he said, a little gentler. “But someone needs to check on Galen.”
“On it,” Jade said. “Did he get in?”
“No. Bad guy was still working on the lock.” Jackson frowned. “See