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Evacuation of the surrounding apartments went smoothly, and soon the hall began filling with his SWAT associates.
Doug groaned silently. He realized—since he wasn’t in uniform—that the entire team would soon know he worked for MECASA.Dammit all to hell. He’d started the day thinking he’d have a quiet breakfast with Pixie, maybe take a walk or a hike, then grab lunch and a movie. Now he was “outed” all over the place. This was a far cry from his imagined down-time.
Mason walked over to him.
“No uniform?” he asked, brows raised as he handed Doug his protective gear.
It was now or never. “I’m here this morning in my official capacity as a MECASA representative.”
If Mason wanted to question him, he clearly wasn’t about to take the time…yet. But Doug recognized the look in Mason’s eyes. This wasn’t over, by any means.
“Well change your hat, Lumous. You’re SWAT now.” He gave Doug an assessing look, then added, “You want to take point?”
“Hell, yeah,” Doug said, more than shocked, but found himself grinning as he stood up and put on his vest.
Mike, the LT of Squad A and the entire team’s second in charge, stepped forward with a steel battering ram in his hands—the one they used to break down doors—and addressed Doug. “Hey Lumous. How about I do the knocking, and you head in for a nice little chat,” he quipped.
Doug’s mood lightened even further. Mike was actually joking with him, as if he were part of the gang.Damn.It was a nice feeling.
“Deal,” Doug kidded back. “But if they offer me tea, I’m declining.”
“Ah. I see,” Mike added, flexing his muscles in anticipation of his shot to the door. “A coffee man?”
“You know it,” Doug answered, positioning himself behind Mike, forming a familiar pattern a few feet down the hallway. Six squad members arrowed back from Doug, three on the left, three on the right. The rest of the squads were spread out behind them.
“Everybody stay clear,” Mason ordered, “while I knock and give our perp one minute to surrender. After that,” he turned to Mike, “it’s all yours.”
Mason stood to the right side of the door and rapped his knuckles on the wood. “Mr…” he hesitated and looked at Doug.
“Nesbit,” Doug supplied. “Gastin Nesbit.”
Mason nodded. “Mr. Nesbit. This is Downeast SWAT. You have one minute to put down your weapon, unlock the door, and come out with your hands up.”
“You’ll kill me,” came the voice from within.
“No,” Mason responded evenly. “We won’t. Not unless you initiate gunfire. But understand, wewillbe taking you into custody.”
“For what?” Nesbit continued nastily. “It’s not illegal to have a gun.”
Doug had briefly told Mason about the possible domestic abuse, but Mase was clearly going with what he actually knew.
“It’s illegal to discharge it inside a residential building,” Mason told the man.
“I…tripped and it went off.”
“Then you can explain that to a judge.” Mason was clearly putting up with no shit. “You now have thirty-eight seconds to comply.”
Doug waited, at the ready. He hoped they could do this the easy way, since a small child was involved, but his gut told him that wouldn’t be the case.
“Twenty seconds, Mr. Nesbit,” Mason stated patiently.
“Fuck you all,” the man yelled, and another bullet came through the door. This one, lower than the first, and if they hadn’t all been standing off to one side, someone surely would have been hit.
“Ten seconds.” Had Mason added,you dick, under his breath?
Mason counted down on his fingers. Three, two, one… He waved a hand at Mike, who stepped up as Doug and more squad members re-formed behind him.
Mike wasted no time. The battering ram was employed, once, twice…
