Gotcha

Chapter 4

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Still lying on the cold floor, the pair tightly shielded their faces with their arms, praying that this would soon be over.

Neither Steve nor Jesse had any inkling of an idea about how long they had been forced to lay on the hard, freezing floor of BBQ Bob's, protecting their faces with panicked arms from the array of bullets showering over them. They waited several tense and drawn-out moments after the deafening shots had subsided.

Steve slowly sat up and winced at the white-hot searing pain that flashed through his right arm and his head felt like it had been clamped in the jaws of some wild animal. He gently supported the injured arm with his other hand and carefully scooted back against a wall for support.

Jesse gradually peered up from his turtle-like position and took in the destruction of their beloved restaurant.

His incredulous gaze soon fell on the pain-stricken Steve Sloan.

"Steve?!!" Jesse exclaimed dashing to his friend's side, "Steve, you're... you've been shot!" Jesse stated, engulfed in hysterical worry.

"I'm fine. Bullet just grazed me; no big deal," Steve tried to sound calm but the strain in his voice betrayed him.

"Uh, huh. Then just humor me and let me stop some of the bleeding, OK?" he reasoned with the stubborn detective.

Seeing no point in arguing, Steve pulled an exasperated face and let Jesse get on with the task of creating a makeshift bandage and, much to the lieutenant's dismay, call for an ambulance, as well as the police.

"Jesse, I'm fine! If you must insist I go to the hospital, you can drive me!" Steve's custom complaints soared from his mouth.

"I think you have a mild concussion, and, not to mention the fact that you were hit by a bullet..."

"Grazed, not hit," Steve corrected, "I must have gotten it when the bullet knocked my head into that chair."

"Ah. So you see my point. Besides, I don't want you riding in my car. You might stain it and then it wouldn't be perfect anymore," Jesse pointed out, a playful grin radiating from his boyish features.

This earned Jesse an icy glare from Steve, who quickly looked around to locate something to throw at the young doctor.

"See if I ever give you a ride home again," the detective mumbled.

"Like I'd ever want to ride in your pick-up truck anyway. I have a cool car."

"What is wrong with my truck?!!!"

Steve, with a newly heavily bandaged arm, Jesse, and Mark sat around the table in the doctor's lounge discussing the recent attempt on Steve's and Jesse's lives.

"Steve," Mark asked his son coolly, "What exactly happened at Bob's?"

Steve opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Jesse, leaving him to sit and gape like a fish.

"Well, some bad guys started shooting the place up. It was terrible! My life flashed before my eyes. We sat there forever before they stopped," Jesse enthused dramatically.

"Jesse, it was just a warning. We weren't in any real danger. I bet it was only an accident that one shot got far enough in the building to graze me," Steve put some rational thought to his friend's recall of events.

"Which leads me to what happened after you were... grazed... by that bullet," Jesse added smugly, managing to perk Mark's curiosity and attaining his full and undivided attention, "I seem to recall you refusing to get into the ambulance and you had to be persuaded by the paramedics before you finally gave in. I wonder if this hospital has a 'Worst Patient of the Year' award."

"Persuading... yeah right! More like blackmail. How was I supposed to know that the paramedic knew Dad? ... Hey! I am not the worst patient of the year!" Steve protested.

Mark, truly concerned and practically furious at Steve, eyed his son with a cold, trained eye.

"The paramedic had to blackmail you to get you into the ambulance!?" Mark vented, "Steve, you were shot! How you could be so stubborn as not to listen to trained professionals, I don't know! Steve, you need to learn to take care of yourself..."

Steve inwardly groaned. He had attracted the full-blown wrath of his over-protective father, compliments of Jesse's and his big mouths.

Still in the middle of delivering a philippic to the lieutenant, the shrill sound of Mark's pager called him to the ER.

"I am not done with you, young man," Mark warned as he prepared to respond to the call, "I'll finish up here with whatever they want me to do and then I'm going home. Ally and Sam are there and I don't want to leave them alone for too long."

"I would sentence you to preparing dinner, but I don't think either of them or I could stomach it," he added after a pause and snickered at his son's feigned hurt look.

"So, are you gonna cook then, Mark?" Jesse asked hopefully.

"Sure, Jess you can come too. I'll ask Amanda if she wants to join us," Mark responded, much to Jesse's delight.

Jesse beamed his thanks and turned his attention back to sipping room-temperature coffee.

With that, Mark chuckled softly and breezed out of the room to abide by the ever-increasing demands of the ER.

From the hallway, a hard figure stared at Steve with menacing eyes, plotting his next big move. This was definitely too easy.

Later that evening, Mark and Steve, as well as Amy and Sam, were fixing dinner and waiting anxiously for their guests to arrive.

Mark grilled and seasoned savory steaks, whipped up fluffy mashed potatoes, baked the bread, and fixed the other sides. He left the salad and drinks to Steve, not trusting him with anything that required actual cooking. The girls busied themselves with setting the large table on the deck.

An extremely eager Jesse arrived first, followed by a very pleased Amanda.

"Hey, guys, wanna help me with the salad?" Steve pleaded from the kitchen.

They laughed and trotted over to assist Steve in the ever-so-difficult task of preparing a salad.

"Hey, Steve, did you try to put meatloaf or something in it? Salads aren't all that difficult to make," Jesse commented, a wry grin spreading over his face.

"You know, I think I remember him sneaking some kind of meat-like dish into the salad. I have no idea if it was meatloaf," Sam responded for Steve as she emerged from the deck.

"Yeah, it could have one of the steaks, only mashed," Ally backed Sam's theory.

"Ha, ha, very funny. This is a vegetarian salad," Steve shot back, playfully.

"Hi, guys. I presume you're feeling better, Sam," Jesse greeted, flashing them a winning smile.

"Yep," Sam responded proudly, before adding mischievously, "Have you made any progress in the case? I want to know who is after my parents and me. Steve won't tell me much."

"Sam," Steve started, slightly exasperated, "It's over your head. Don't worry about it."

Sam grimaced at Steve and looked at Jesse expectantly.

"Aww, come on, Steve! I'm sure she can handle it. She's not a little kid," Jesse stood up for a now ecstatic Sam.

"Fine! The one who kicked you- dead. The one who hired the one who kicked you- in the hospital. Happy?" Steve asked as he took the salad outside.

"What about the guy who hired the one in the hospital- you know the biggest fish who's still on the loose?" Jesse's curiosity got the best of him and caused him to be on the receiving end of three stone-cold glares, compliments of Steve, Mark, and Amanda.

"Oops," Jesse mumbled pathetically.

Sam's eyes widened at this revelation.

"You mean there's another person involved in this?! A guy who hired an accomplice, who hired a hit-woman?! And he's on the loose. Wow! !" Sam squealed.

All four adults raised their eyebrows. Steve finally broke the silence.

"Cool???! You think it's cool?!" he asked incredulously.

"Not cool as in it's cool that this guy might try and kill me, but cool as in this is like a real investigation! But I don't think there's much danger of him hurting us, though." Sam reasoned.

"You think?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, then how do you explain the fact that he threatened me and shot up Bob's.... Oh, no!"

This time Steve had to endure sinister glares.

"Sam, did you ever think about becoming a professional interrogator or maybe a salesperson? How did you get that stuff out of us?!" Steve whined.

"Look, Sam," Mark soothed, not taking his eyes off of the steaks in front of him, "There's nothing to worry about. You'll be safe here. Just don't open the door for strangers, and don't give out information online..."

"Yeah, yeah we know. We're not stupid... He threatened you! That's terrible! So you didn't get hurt by slamming your arm in the trunk of a car. I knew you weren't that dumb!" Sam pointed out, grinning.

"You told her you hurt your arm by catching it in a trunk! Wow, Steve! I always thought you were great at thinking well under pressure, but now," Amanda teased.

"You're not scared are you? We didn't mean to worry you," Steve shot Jesse another disapproving look.

"Sc... Scared? Why would we be scared that this guy is gonna blow up the whole city to hurt us? Wh... Why would we be scared of some big, huge guy who's gonna release all the bad guys and form a super-villains club to attack us?" Ally asked in a mock- hysterical and petrified way.

This earned her a gawk from Steve and light chortling from the rest of them.

"It's okay to be scared, though," Amanda told her seriously.

"Dinner's ready!" Mark called as he carried delicious- looking steaks outside and placed them in the middle of the table.

Nobody had to be told twice before they made a mad dash for the deck, each mesmerized by the aroma of the food.

At Community General Hospital, the mastermind behind the attacks stalked around the hospital, fuming. Where was Doctor Sloan and his stupid son! And Smithsone's daughter wasn't even in the hospital! Where could she be?! She didn't have anywhere to go- except for the Sloans.

Furiously, he turned and marched over to the nurses' station.

"Is Doctor Sloan here?" he demanded.

"Uh, no he left a few hours ago," a receptionist answered monotonically.

"Do you know where he is?" he started to rant even more.

The receptionist looked at him skeptically, "Why do you need to know?"

"I have to tell him something."

"I think he's at his home."

"Where's that?!!"

"I think you'd better leave now."

Enraged, he stormed away, grumbling to himself. Now he was at square one! He didn't know where the Sloans were, and he didn't know where Smithsone's stupid daughter was. He was going to find them. But, maybe he'd have some fun with Steve first. He knew all sorts of tricks to get people to talk. This was going to be fun.

First, he had to silence Theresa Rumen: that back-stabbing, stupid fool. She was so incompetent she had to hire a hit-man to kill Samantha- and neither of them succeeded. If she decided to talk, even only knowing his false identity, it could mean trouble for him. Yes, he knew just how to put her out of her misery.

Feeling slightly less miserable, the mad-man headed up to the second floor to visit Theresa. He smiled an evil grin when he touched the syringe in his pocket and thought about the effect its contents would have on his accomplice.

After racing up the stairs two at a time, he neared his target's room. He bounded towards it and felt his heart plummet to his feet when he realized that a guard was stationed in front of it.

Then, at thought struck him. The guard wasn't protecting her. He was preventing a possible escape.

Confidently, he strode up to the large, intimidating officer and entered the room, flashing a card in front of his eyes.

That was too easy. All he had to do was put on a lab coat and have a driver's license- or any other card for that matter. The guard didn't see the identity.

Quietly he padded into the room to find a sleeping Theresa. Snickering at how easy this was, he pulled out the syringe and planned to inject it into her IV line.

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