allison - No problem! Don't know if you'll get to read this before your vacation, but enjoy!
shaz - I think we think alike! Scary thought!
A/N: Fair warning, the story slows down from here. I felt so bad leaving you all hanging like that, I couldn't make you wait until tomorrow for the update. Don't get used to this, though.
-21-
Jamie stood alongside the door, body angled so he could see his father, positioned by the office window. He turned the key slowly, and turned the knob even more slowly, ready to move on his dad's signal. His father's security detail dashed from their cars across the lawn, heading for the back door. His pulse pounded behind his eyes, and he tried to breathe, tried to tell himself that this was no different than any other call he'd taken since joining up.
But his sister and brother were inside, and he was going in alongside his dad, despite the protests of Detective Baker and her colleagues. And they had no idea what they were going to find.
The gunshot was almost deafening, and Jamie flung the door open as his father raced toward him. "Dining room," he said quickly, and his father nodded tersely. Wood splintered as the detectives kicked in the kitchen door, and Jamie moved ahead as quickly as he could without risking walking into a stray bullet.
Someone—Baker, he thought—shouted, "Clear" from the back of the house, and Jamie broke into a run as a male voice carried over the radio, calling for an ambulance. He froze, just steps ahead of his father, in the middle of the study floor.
Erin stood a couple of feet in front of him, arms extended and a gun still in her hands. She stood stock still; from behind, Jamie couldn't tell if she was hurt, or if she even knew where she was.
A few feet past her, sprawled in the wide doorway, lay a man in all black. He didn't move, and a detective Jamie barely recognized, stood slowly and shook his head. Past him lay Danny, face down, a dark stain already spreading across the back of his gray shirt.
Baker dropped to her knees next to him, pressing her palms over the wound, and that was enough to kick both Jamie and his father into motion. By unspoken agreement, Jamie left Erin to their father and ran back through the house for the kitchen and the fully stocked first aid kit they always kept handy.
Baker had already torn his brother's shirt open when he returned, and Jamie passed a pair of scissors to one of the other detectives, who set to work on removing the torn and bloody material from his shoulder. His brother's blood pulsed from both wounds, seeping through Baker's fingers as Jamie fumbled with a roll of gauze. He got a glimpse of scars, white with age except where the blood had already spread, criss-crossing Danny's back, and almost dropped the roll altogether.
"Move over, Reagan." The order was gentle but firm, as another member of his father's detail all but shoved Jamie out of the way, easily cutting off a length of gauze for Baker to press against the wound. Jamie backed away, unable to do anything but watch them try to save his brother's life.
#
Frank moved to his daughter's side, speaking softly, reassuring Erin that she was safe, not wanting to startle her. He reached slowly for her hand and gently pushed her arm down, not trying to take the gun away until it was aimed harmlessly at the floor.
"Danny—"
He pulled Erin into a hug, turning her away from her older brother's bloody body. He met Jamie's eyes as Parker guided him out of the way, taking over as Jamie struggled to hold it together. His youngest gave him a helpless look, and Frank knew, at that moment, that Jamie was terrified he was about to watch his brother die.
He gestured him over as the first whisper of an ambulance siren reached their ears, the wail growing closer to deafening with every passing second. Jamie's gaze lingered on Danny, Baker doing her level best to stem the flow of blood, even as he stepped around them and joined Frank and Erin.
Then the ambulance crew was there, and Frank guided both his children back, out of the way while still keeping them as close as possible to Danny. He didn't miss how Baker slipped away immediately to wash Danny's blood from her hands before she came over to speak with him. "Shoulder wound was through-and-through; the shot to the back is worse. He's alive; that's what matters."
He appreciated her candor, and the sentiment she tried to convey, though neither her voice nor her eyes carried the same optimism as her words. A few feet away, the bandages the paramedics placed turned red nearly as quickly as they could lay them across Danny's wounds, and Frank finally had to tear his eyes away.
"Sir, Detectives Parker and Cole will remain here, so we can take you to the hospital. Of course, they'll need to speak with Erin at some point, but it can wait until we know more."
Frank didn't argue that he was perfectly capable of driving himself to the hospital; he merely nodded his agreement, and looped his arm around Erin's waist as Baker stepped aside to allow them to precede her to the van waiting outside. "Jamie, go with your brother."
The last words his eldest and youngest exchanged had been harsh, and if the worst happened—if God forbid it, Danny died—he wanted to give Jamie the chance to be there with him. As much as it pained him not to take that ambulance ride as his firstborn fought for his life, Frank knew that Jamie needed it much more than he did.
Baker opened the car door for them, and Frank climbed into the second seat beside Erin, who still clutched at his hand as if her life depended on it. As his aide shut it behind them and took the front passenger seat, he barely heard his daughter's voice. "Is he gonna be okay?"
The memory of blood running over Baker's hands, soaking into the carpet beneath his son's body, stole Frank's breath away and for a moment he couldn't speak. He tried; he opened his mouth to reply, but then he saw Jamie climbing into the back of the ambulance behind his brother's still, almost lifeless body, and Frank couldn't find the words to reassure her.
In the end, the answer came from Baker, more forthright than he could have managed. "Danny's strong. He's lost a lot of blood, but I've seen cops come back from worse."
Erin nodded, and her grip on Frank's hand didn't loosen, even as Baker twisted in her seat. "Sir, if you'd like, I can call Danny's wife and let her know what's happened."
For a moment, he contemplated taking her up on the offer, but in the end he had to shake his head. "No. I'll do it." Just as soon as they got to the hospital and he knew his son was still alive. "I'd appreciate if you'd send a car to pick her up; she shouldn't be driving once she hears."
"I'll call now." Baker turned back to the front, cell phone already to her ear.
#
"They took him right into surgery," Jamie said as soon as Erin and her father walked into the emergency room. He dragged a hand through his hair, his face ashen. "His heart stopped in the ambulance."
Erin felt her knees buckle; if not for her iron grip on her father's hand, she'd probably have fallen. Her dad's face drained of all color and her stomach lurched. She clapped a hand over her mouth and shoved by Jamie, barely making it to the restroom before she threw up, mostly coffee and bile. She'd barely eaten in days.
Tears streamed down her face as Jamie knelt in front of her, offering a half-empty bottle of water. "This Danny? Or shooting that guy?"
She dragged an arm across her eyes, drying tears on her sleeve, and rinsed her mouth a couple of times, unable to chase away the taste that threatened to make her sick again. Sagging against Jamie's shoulder, she shook her head.
That guy—the man who'd raped her, and shot her brother twice—was Mitchell Sloane, an associate just out of law school. He was a Navy SEAL, decorated, if she remembered correctly. He'd been a nice guy, never creepy—walked her out of the building once or twice when she was stuck there late. She never in a million years would have thought it was him. And she'd shot him. Killed him.
"I didn't think he'd die," she whispered. "I thought it'd stop him from shooting Danny." But she hadn't been fast enough, and Danny could die anyway, and she'd killed a man.
"Hey." Jamie's arms circled her back, holding her tightly against him as he started to shake. "The first time I killed somebody, I wasn't trying to," he said softly. "I just did what I was taught, same as you." Funny, but she didn't remember her dad ever telling her how to kill a person. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"What's going to happen?"
"Don't worry about that right now." Jamie pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Let dad and me deal with the police, okay? You're not in any trouble."
"I killed someone." Her voice didn't sound quite right to her own ears.
"You probably saved Danny's life, Erin. If you hadn't shot him, he'd have shot Danny again—or, at least, it would have taken longer for us to start trying to save him. You did what you needed to do, okay?" Jamie started to stand, drawing her up with him. "Danny survived to make it to the hospital. That's all I want you to think about right now, okay?"
#
The boys had just fallen asleep when Linda's cell phone rang. She fumbled for it in her pocket, trying to silence it before the noise woke her sons, and froze when she saw that the incoming call was from Frank.
Fifteen years of marriage to his son, and Frank called her so rarely that her heart all but stopped anytime she saw his name. The last time, Erin had been raped; before that, Joe was dead, and going back farther, Danny had taken a bullet to the leg. Linda willed her voice not to shake as she raised her cell to her ear. "Frank?"
"Linda..." The tone of his voice, the hesitation after he said her name, all sent her heart into her stomach. "Linda, Danny's been shot. A car is on the way to pick you up and bring you to the hospital; can your mother watch the boys for you?"
The question barely registered; Linda could barely breathe. "What—is he—" She tried to cling to the fact that they were at the hospital; it meant that her husband was still alive. The car, the call—Danny was hurt, but he was alive.
"He's in surgery. Hopefully, by the time you get here, we'll know more."
It wasn't all he knew, but it was all he wanted to tell her over the phone. Linda pressed her hand flat against the wall and dropped her eyes to the floor, fighting to breathe normally. "Just tell me, Frank. Please."
Frank's response was a long time coming. "He's in bad shape, Linda. We don't know…" She heard his heavy sigh through the phone. "The car will be there soon."
She couldn't thank him; even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't find her voice. As she hung up, dropping her phone as she tried to shove it back into her pocket, she turned to see her mother standing on the steps watching her, worry written all over her face.
Her mother didn't like Danny, had never liked Danny and probably never would, but she respected that Linda loved him—and knew he loved her. "What's happened?"
The concern, the simple question, and the tiny semblance of control Linda had managed through the call from Frank snapped. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision; she couldn't find her phone, couldn't speak to her mom, couldn't even organize her thoughts enough to pray for her husband's life.