Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Dom! No!” Shane yells toward me, but when the door swings wide open, the word “Fuck!” follows soon after that.
The door bangs against the wall. I scan the room and find Monica, a girl from Call Me Anytime. And then I see Hannah. Both are bound by their hands and ankles.
But when I see Hannah’s mom, Sherry, sitting there, outright confusion and a double dose of fear clutch at my chest.
Oh, fuck!
“Dom!” Hannah screams at the top of her lungs. “Watch out!”
And it’s only then that I spot a woman storming toward me, her gun pointed directly at me. But I was so busy trying to get to Hannah that my gun is still holstered at my hip.
I grab for it, my hand quick as I do, but she has the drop on me, and the ringing sound of a gunshot ricochets off the walls and fills my ears.
Blinding pain is next, spreading like wildfire from my shoulder into my chest. My body jerks back, and everything moves so fast after that. Shane shoves me out of the way and catapults past me to tackle the assailant.
Hannah and Monica scream.
“I told you Gibbs and Tony were coming!” Sherry cheers.
The gun is on the floor now as Shane keeps the woman subdued beneath his body. “Get off me! This isn’t my fault! It’s Felix’s fault! I wouldn’t have done any of this if it wasn’t for him!”
“You are under arrest,” he says, his voice vibrating with anger and adrenaline. “Shut up and stay down.”
“Call Felix!” she shouts, but Shane is taking no bullshit.
“Shut the fuck up right now,” he orders as he maneuvers her arms behind her back and slaps a pair of handcuffs over her wrists.
“Dom!” Hannah screams, and it’s only then that I realize I’m leaning against the wall and my hand is clutched to my shoulder and chest.
I look down to see that I’m covered in blood. Son of a bitch. I’ve been hit. And I don’t have my vest on.
Once Shane has the woman cuffed, he rushes over toward me. “You good, partner?” he asks, his gaze laced with fear as he tries to assess my injury.
“I’ve been better.”
“Fuck,” he mutters as I let my body slide down the wall until my ass hits the floor. “Stay with me, man,” he says and adds an additional hand of pressure to my currently bleeding wound. “Just stay with me, okay? Keep your eyes open and keep talking to me.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Officer down . . . I need a medic now!”
“Dom?” Hannah’s beautiful voice fills my ears again, and I look over toward her. She’s still bound and sitting on the floor, but she’s actively trying to find a way to stand. “Dom! Are you okay? Is he okay, Shane?”
“I’m okay, baby,” I say, but my eyes are growing heavy. “I’m okay—”
47
Hannah
Tuesday, June 25
12:30 a.m.
“Hannah?”
I look up from the light wood floor of the VUMC surgery waiting room and meet Shane’s eyes. I inhale a shaky breath and search his face.
“Any news?”
“Not yet.” He shakes his head. “How about some coffee?” he asks, already holding a fresh cup out toward me.
I take it, even though the only thing I want right now is to see Dom. I clutch the coffee as Shane sits down beside me. The warmth from the cup feels good against my cold hands, but I feel guilty for the sensation.
How can anything feel good right now? Dom got shot. And there was blood. So much blood.
He went unconscious in the hotel room. When MNDP police officers rushed onto the scene, followed by three medics, Shane refused to leave Dom’s side. Two officers took the woman—Edith Lewis is her name—into custody, and two others removed the zip ties from my, my mother’s, and Monica’s wrists and ankles.
I tried to go over to Dom, but they told me I needed to stay back as they hurriedly put him on a stretcher and rushed him out of the room.
Shane made me get looked at, even though I kept telling him I was fine. Thankfully, the doctor agreed—just some bruises and shallow cuts—and released me shortly after my evaluation.
Now Dom’s in surgery and all I can do is sit here, helpless and praying that he’s going to be okay.
“He’s a stubborn son of a bitch,” Shane says, and his hand squeezes my knee for a brief moment. “He’ll pull through.”
I meet his gaze, searching his eyes, hoping that whatever I find inside will make me feel better, but all I see is the same worry and fear I’m certain is stretched across my face.
I look across the waiting room, where Monica sits with my mother, who is currently sleeping with her head on my friend’s shoulder. In her mind, Tony will pull through. Because on NCIS, Tony always pulls through.