Read Online Shoot 'Em Up by Janey Mack - Free Book Online

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    â€œYeah? How about you tell the driver to watch the road,” I said, sharper than I meant to.
    Cash, on the gurney, pale face turned toward us, spoke in between grunts. “Maisie? I won’t tell . . . if you don’t.”
    Seriously?
    I ran a hand through my hair. “Do you actually think Da and the boys won’t find out?”
    â€œAbout you . . . on scene?” He made a growling sound. “Feck no.”
    Yeah. Because taking three in the chest is not nearly as troubling as me being here.
    â€œYou’ve got my word, Cash,” Lee said.
    â€œErgh. Hurts like a sonuvabitch.” He panted. “Don’t call the clan.”
    â€œMom’ll kill me—”
    Lee put his hand on my leg. “Cash is gonna be fine. Sometimes you take a hit to the vest and . . . nothing. Other times it feels like you got gored by a bull. Don’t make it something it’s not.”
    I glared at his hand on my thigh.
    Don’t you dare tell me it’s part of the goddamn job.
    He gave me a squeeze before letting go. “He’s gonna be fine.”
    * * *
    The smell was the same in every emergency room: disinfectant, blood, and the primal stink of fear.
    Cash went to triage. Lee took me to the waiting room.
    Cash’s SWAT squad showed up, milling around, their voices loud and jocular.
    â€œGive me your keys,” Lee said. “Joe’s gonna drive your car over.”
    I handed them to him. “Thanks.”
    He nudged me with his shoulder toward the waiting area. “You oughta sit down before you fall down.”
    I slumped down into one of the hard blue chairs. Lee walked over to the squad standing by the door. The high-pitched whine of SpongeBob SquarePants on the TV filled the waiting room for a solid sixty minutes. I was numb from fear. Numb from relief. My mind unable to track a children’s cartoon.
    A cheerful bear of a man in a white coat pushed through the ER doors and called, “Miss McGrane?”
    â€œThat’s me.” I walked over to meet the doctor, Lee on my heels.
    The name on his gold badge read Dr. Greg Purchase. “Mr. McGrane has a bruised kidney, one large contusion, and some soft tissue damage. The vest saved his life, but he’s got some BABT—behind-armor blunt trauma.”
    My mouth went dry. “What’s that?”
    â€œWhen the bullet strikes but doesn’t perforate the vest, it can still penetrate soft tissue, pushing the bullet, vest, and clothing inward,” Dr. Purchase said. “When the vest is removed, the vest material and bullet come back out, leaving a hole that looks remarkably like a bullet wound.”
    Lee squeezed my shoulder.
    Dr. Purchase continued, “He’ll have a tender couple of weeks and needs to take it easy. We’re waiting on the results of another test, but he should be fine to go home within the hour.”
    Lee went over to tell the men.
    I sat back down and started to shake. All over.
    I couldn’t stop.
    Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Cash, his body jerking from the impact of the slugs, legs giving out beneath him as he fell flat on his face. The sickening certainty that he was dead.
    He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay.
    I put my hands to my face. They were clammy and damp. Saliva ran down the back of my throat. My stomach heaved. I sprinted for the ladies’ room.
    And was sick. From both ends.
    Spent and empty, I leaned against the sink, running cool water on my wrists.
    At least I wasn’t shaking anymore.
    I rinsed my mouth out, washed my face, and stepped out.
    Lee waited for me outside the door. He’d sent the rest of the team home. He walked me over to an empty bench and we sat down.
    â€œYou saved his life.”
    â€œNo.” Lee shook his head. “My fault. I let him go alone.”
    â€œWhat was he doing anyway?”
    â€œHe wanted to walk the length of the house. Said something in the interior