Chapter Fifty-Five

 

DAVIS

 

I'm watching outside when I hear the shot go off. Rosen hears it, too. He hears it, and he's apparently decided that it won't be the last thing he hears. If it's possible, he's hunkered down further.

Which means I'm not going to get him from here. I take a deep breath and drop the rifle barrel toward the floor. I'm the one who has to end this.

It's already been a blood-bath. But I'm a cop, and I don't just get to murder people with impunity.

I step out of the room, and into the jungle. Bodies seem to be strewn all around the staircase, and Logan's sitting in a room across the hall, looking about as unsure as anyone I've ever seen.

Something happened to Ryan. I know it. My gut tells me to go find out, to assure myself that everything's going to be alright. A voice inside me, though, says that I should go check on Rosen. On making sure that whatever happened to Ryan, it doesn't stop there.

I stand there a long time. Logan doesn't seem to see me, though he easily could. His eyes just see right through me, chewing on the tips of his thumbs.

The rifle hadn't felt heavy when I picked it up. When I fired it, when I was keeping it ready as I waited… it was a well-designed weapon. But now, I just want to put it down. I can't keep this up forever, and every second I look at Logan, panicking in his seat, is a second that I get closer to setting it down by the door.

A deep breath in. I let the rifle down from its cradle in my arms and lean it against the wall as I come inside.

"What happened?"

Logan looks up at me, realizing I'm there for the first time even as he's stared right through me. "I—fuck. I don't know. He's hurt."

"Calm down. Let's have a look."

I look down. I've dealt with my fair share of people getting shot. I know what it looks like, and I know how to deal with it. More or less, anyways. That by itself should put me in a good position dealing with what I see.

It still hits me hard. On first glance his entire body looks like a bloody mess. It takes me a second to start trying to relax, to try to be objective about what I was seeing. He was breathing, that's good.

The breaths were shallow. It hit him in the side, near the floating ribs. There's a good risk, I know right away, that it could have hit his liver. That's bad news. The kind of bad news you might not get better from.

I can feel my blood surging again in my ears. Panic threatens to overtake me, and my hands are shaking bad. I need to be under control, though. I need to stay strong. Fuck.

I close my eyes tight and reopen them. When I have them open it's easier.

"We need to get him to a hospital, and we need to do it now. We take my car. There's one left outside. I'm going to go deal with him. When I call for you, you come and take your brother into the car. Here are the keys. I'll follow you in Carabello's car if I'm not right there with you. Do you need help getting him up?"

Logan looks at me like I've just said all of that backwards and in Spanish, but his face starts to clear up after a minute of thinking about it.

"Logan. Do you understand?" I hold my keys up for him.

"Carry Ryan downstairs. Wait for your signal. Break for the car. Nearest hospital."

"Yes. Do you need help getting him up onto your shoulders?"

He looks down at Ryan. "You sure?"

"I can't afford time to worry about that, Logan. Do you need help?"

"Aw… no."

I turn and pick the rifle back up. Logan's still got my service piece, to the best of my knowledge, and I'm not going to take it from him.

I swallow my panic and my fear, keep it in a little box inside me. I can unpack it later, if I get the opportunity. Until then, I have to do the best I can.

The door's clogged with bodies. With a shootout like this going on, it's only a matter of time until the cops show up, and they're going to find the place full of bodies.

Well, I can attest as a member of law enforcement that he was only acting in self-defense… I don't know if I can make the same argument for myself.

I step through the door.

"Rosen!"

He doesn't say anything, but I hear movement on the other side of the car. I bring the rifle up half-way. Ready to snap and fire if I have to, as best as I can anyways.

"Rosen, show yourself. I want to talk."

I hope Logan's getting along behind me, but I can't afford to wait and watch him do it myself. I have to trust that he's managing, or Ryan's going to run into trouble.

Rosen doesn't show himself, or move much. I don't like his silence. I don't like him being on the other side of that car. I don't like any of it one damn bit. My grip tightens on the rifle as I start to circle around.

The rifle moves into line as I come around the other side. Nothing. I crouch down. He's not underneath. Checking inside the car, he's not inside. I can't tell where the hell he is, but he's gone.

"Logan! Get moving!"

I keep an eye on any place I can find for Rosen to be hiding. Any place that would provide a good shot on someone coming out. He might not waste it on me, but he would spend a shot destroying what little remains of Ryan Beauchamp's gang.

I have to stay vigilant. Have to watch. Logan picks his way over the bodies blocking the front door open. He's got Ryan over his shoulder, fireman's carry style. He stands still at the doorway, for what feels like eternity but might have been one second in reality, and then starts moving hard and fast.

I keep the rifle up. Can't risk it. But, as Logan gets to the car and yanks the rear door open, nothing's happening. Silence. I don't know where Rosen's gone, and I don't want to admit it to myself but I don't care. As long as it's finally over.

I book it for the passenger side and slide in. "You know the way?"

Logan slides in the other side and turns the key. He's panicking and I can see it in the way he's moving. He's rushing. I don't know if I'm any better. I can feel the giddy rush of adrenaline as I sit. Nervous energy. I start tapping my fingers on my knees hard enough that it hurts, but I don't stop.

The trip only takes seven minutes. I hope that it's not too much time. Logan pulls him back up into his arms. This time he leaves it that way and I rush inside. The car just stays in the turnaround, three doors standing open. I hit the front desk running. It's late in the evening, and there are only a few others in Emergency.

"We've got a victim, male, late twenties, gunshot wound near the liver. I'm A.T.F. Special Agent Jada Davis, I need you on this right, right now."

The woman's eyes get wide. "Oh, okay. I'll—"

Her hands move to the phone and she calls for a gurney to be brought down for surgery. I let out a long breath. I don't know what to do next, for what feels like the hundredth time today. The way my gut twists up, though… that's new for this one.