Page 51 of Rangers Last Promise

“Who fired?” I ask.

“Parker.”

A strained moan comes from the hallway.

Every instinct inside me locks onto the sound.

Wounded.

I leave cover.

Mara catches my arm.

“Doc.”

“Deputy’s down.”

“We don’t know whether the shooter is gone.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters if you get shot trying to reach him.”

Her grip tightens.

For a second, I’m back in Afghanistan with Grant’s hand wrapped around my vest while gunfire tears into the dirt around us.

Don’t come out here, Doc.

I went anyway.

A medic who waits for the bullets to stop isn’t much use to the men bleeding beneath them.

“Cover me.”

She releases my arm.

“I’m coming with you.”

Before I can argue, she moves ahead of me.

Mara stays low, using the wall and overturned tables for protection as we cross the tavern. Her pistol remains steady. She checks each blind corner before motioning me forward.

Grant taught her some of that.

The rest came from years behind a badge.

We reach the hallway.

Deputy Parker lies on the floor outside the Last Stand’s office, one hand pressed against his upper thigh. Blood covers his fingers and spreads across the leg of his uniform.

His pistol is several feet away.

“Shooter?” Mara asks.

“Back door,” he gasps. “Black clothes. Mask.”

“Did you see a weapon?”