"The reality is that these no prescription required 'online pharmacies' represent the new drug dealers of the Internet. Currently, there are enough medications – both prescription and illicit – which can be easily accessed by teenagers and others, to be of significant concern both socially and legally. Legislation is at least five years behind the technology and uses of the Internet. Until legislation and enforcement catch up with the types and volumes of criminal activity on the Internet, we can expect to see many more children overdose and/or die as a result of prescription and counterfeit drugs…"
It was the sudden mid-sentence stop by the speaker on the stage that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end. The rather attractive woman's abrupt disappearance from the speakers' podium was what had him reaching for his service revolver, and instinct had him moving towards the stage, even as he turned to look for the shooter he was convinced was hidden somewhere behind him, waiting to finish the job.
Cassandre wasn't sure what had happened at first. She though a Major League Baseball pitcher had hit her left shoulder with a fastball. The force of the blow had knocked her down on her back and left her breathless. As soon as she hit the stage floor, Cassandre felt a hot, searing pain shoot through her shoulder. With the pain came the stunning realization that she had been shot. Immediately on the heels of realizing how much danger she was in, Cassandre took what little action she could. With her right hand pressed firmly over the bullet hole in her shoulder, Cassandre drew in a deep breath and yelled a warming at the top of her lungs.
"Gun!"
Audience members looked confused and dazed by the situation, then as the blood from Cassandre's shoulder became visible under her hand, they turned every which was to escape. Seeing a determined and hard-looking man with a gun in their midst, many of the audience members panicked and began running in chaotic directions, completely unsure in their fear of what to do next. Cassandre looked up briefly to see the man with the gun coming to finish the job he'd started. He head fell back on the floor and her eyes closed in defeat as she accepted the fact that she was going to die – right then and there. One of these low-life, scum-sucking drug dealers that she had been chasing for years had finally won the war. She was going to die.
Even with her eyes closed, Cassandre felt the physical presence of the man with the gun. She braced for the final moment of pain, but the man waited. After an eternity, Cassandre opened her eyes, curious. She was looking into a pair of the most beautifully concerned blue eyes she had ever seen. Suddenly the world came back into focus, and she heard the blue-eyed gunman's voice.
"…Dade Conference Centre. One down, non-critical wound to the left shoulder. Requesting back-up and a bus now." The red-haired man hung up his cell phone, and turned to Cassandre.
"Lieutenant Horatio Caine, Miami-Dade P.D. Are you hurt anywhere other than your shoulder, ma'am?"
Relief flooded her soul. He was a police officer. She was going to live to see another day. Looking up into those beautiful concerned blue eyes, Cassandre decided to try and be serious, but it came out wrong.
"No. Lucky for me that most drug dealers are notoriously bad shots."
The police officer – Lieutenant Caine – smiled, and Cassandre could see laughter dancing in his expressive eyes.
"Hmm, yes. Pre-meditated murder is a little beyond most of them."
And with that comment, Lieutenant Caine took over applying pressure to her wounded shoulder.