Chapter 4

Dabi's hands were shaking as she applied the compress to the man's arm. He had been hit by a stray bullet but would be okay, she hoped.

A nearby store that sold industry and office supplies had broken out their First Aid supplies in the aftermath of the short, but ugly, drive-by shooting.

"Do you have any idea why they did this?" the man asked. He tapped her hand when she didn't respond, and when she looked up, he repeated his question.

"I don't know," Dabi replied. "I wish I did. I'm sure they think they had a reason, but they didn't stick around long enough to announce it."

"Bastards," the man muttered.

As a paramedic took over, Kensi joined her.

"How is he?" she asked.

"I'm not a doctor, but it looks like he'll be okay," said Dabi.

"Good. The others are on their way."

"Dad's going to be pissed."

"Why?"

"Because I've been shot at enough already as it is, and the jerks didn't stick around long enough for me to really return the favor."

"I don't know about that; you got off at least six shots in that SUV of theirs," said Kensi. "That was impressive."

"I hate stuff like this; I'm supposed to be attending a conference for deaf students, maybe having a little fun, not dealing with some ocën (jackass) whose brain developed backwards!"

"You speak Russian?" Kensi asked.

"Dad does. He taught me a few insults to add to my vocabulary, which includes Hebew insults." She ran a hand over her face. "What's the legal age to drink in California?"

"Twenty-one."

"Damnit, not old enough."

Kensi smiled in sympathy. Just then, Deeks and Callen and Sam came running up.

"Kens, Dabi, you guys okay?" Deeks asked.

"We're good," said Kensi. Dabi nodded, Gibor at her feet, not looking too happy. Deeks reached into his pocket and pulled out a doggie biscuit for him, giving the small dog a head-rub while he munched.

Despite the noise and confusion, the loyal little terrier had stuck close to his mistress and followed her around as she tried to help the shooting victims.

"What happened?" Callen asked.

Kensi began talking.

A few minutes ago:

There was a coffee shop near an industry and office supply store and Kensi had treated Dabi to an iced coffee after getting the necessary feminine hygiene products. Dabi liked Kensi, who had learned about her mom's death and the story behind her relationship with Gibbs and his team. Kensi had also learned the story of the paw print and butterfly tattoos.

"Nana and Pop-Pop taught me everything I know about baking. My specialty is cheesecake, especially a traditional Jewish cheesecake that sells like crazy around Shavuot."

"Shavuot?"

"A yearly celebration that celebrates God's giving of the Torah to the Jews," Dabi explained. "Pop-Pop taught me the same recipe his parents taught him, and down the line."

"That's pretty special," said Kensi.

"I want to be a better baker, not a better shooter or fighter," Dabi groused.

Kensi was about to say something when an SUV caught her attention and her instincts started screaming. Dabi noticed it too and suddenly she and Kensi were being hit by a heavy-set gentleman as things started exploding around them from the impact of multiple bullets.

Kensi was trapped under the heavy man, but Dabi wasn't.

She didn't think, she just reacted. Grabbing Kensi's gun from her back, Dabi rolled up, already releasing the safety, and came up firing.

The back passenger window shattered, along with the rear window, all tinted as dark as Californian law allowed.

There was no license plate, Dabi saw, but she got a good look at one of the passengers, just before she managed to put a round in his back.

Boy was going to be hurtin', she thought dimly.

Then Kensi was beside her, her hands scraped from her fall, Gibor right beside her, whimpering in fear.

"No plate," Dabi reported, removing the gun's clip and checking it, before slapping it back in and handing the gun to Kensi. "But I put a round in the passenger. Anyone hurt?"

"A couple of people," said Kensi. "Cops and ambulance already on the way."

"Good." She jerked her head towards the industry and office supply store. "Looks like they're breaking out the First Aid supplies."

"Yeah. Let's go see what we can do to help and I'll try and figure out who was the target."

Now:

"It looks like Paul Macabe, a business man for a store called Vintage Imports, was the target. From the quick glance I got, the bullet holes start at his store and concentrate there," said Kensi. "His wife was also hit, and so were several other people."

"Serious?" Callen asked.

"Paul Macabe took a couple of hits to the chest, but he was alive when the paramedics took him, so we'll have to wait and see. Everyone else is mostly flesh wounds and grazes. Yelling 'gun' these days tends to get people down pretty fast."

"Being hit by an over-weight gorilla does that too," said Deeks.

"You saw that, huh?" Kensi asked.

"Hard not to," said Sam, discreetly pointing to one of the traffic cams.

"Eric, give me everything you've got on Paul Macabe and his store, Vintage Imports," said Callen, already on his cell.

"On it," was the crisp reply. "We've tracked the vehicle to a warehouse that looks empty but we lost them there. Sending you the address now."

"We need to get Dabi to safety," said Callen, hanging up.

"You need to keep me with you and give me a gun," the teen shot back. "Right now I'm safer with you guys and I can identify one of the shooters."

"Your dad isn't going to be happy," Callen warned her.

"Wanna bet?" she asked, holding up her iPhone.

There was a text message on it; it was from Gibbs.

"YOU DO NOT LET CALLEN OUT OF YOUR SIGHT! I'M ON MY WAY. SOMEONE IS GOING TO GET THEIR ASS KICKED!"

"Hetty called him," Deeks guessed.

"And he's pissed," said Callen.

"You like a SIG Sauer or do you prefer another model?" Kensi asked Dabi.

Dabi just sighed heavily.