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Chapter Thirty-five
The special alarm on her phone woke her from the deep sleep she’d sunk into while his arms cuddled her safely, and his warmth surrounded her body.
“What’s up?” Kurt sat as she pulled from his heat and rushed to get dressed. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Don’t worry. You can sleep. I have to go into work. There’s an emergency.”
“You have a special alarm on your phone to alert you?”
“Yeah, we all have it. When that goes off, we know it’s a big one.”
“I’ll get you some coffee.” He jerked out of bed, slipped into his jeans, and went to find her coffee maker in the kitchen.
In no time at all, she rushed into the room, grabbed her takeout mug from the cupboard, and poured the coffee into it. “Thanks. I’ll just take it with me.”
“Do you know where the emergency is?”
“No, I’ll head over to the firehouse for my equipment and get the details there. It’s got to be pretty wild though, or they wouldn’t have sounded the all-members alarm. See you later.”
“Yeah, sure.” He waited to see if she would look into his face before she left. So far, she hadn’t, and it bothered him.
As if his thoughts rang in her head too, she stopped at the open door, turned, and rushed back to leave a sloppy kiss on his lips and a whispered, “more” before leaving him with a stupid grin plastered over his worry.
Not wanting to return to the bed without her, he turned on the television instead to see if details of the emergency were on the news. Sure enough, there it was. A gang-related war had started in West Dallas, the square. From Sylvan to Hampton the whole area was infested with trap houses and gangs, dating back decades.
Something had set them off and the riots had turned into a blood bath. Multiple buildings were now on fire and the police could be seen in riot gear while numerous bodies were still in view. Obviously, the cops hadn’t secured the area, and it was a shit-show the likes he hadn’t seen for quite some time.
Hurrying now, he drank his coffee in-between showering and dressing. He arrived at the office to see a bunch of his mates gearing up and heading out.
His boss yelled orders as they jumped to do his bidding. “Storm, I need you on the street. According to one of the brothers we arrested earlier, Alfonso Torres is holding a dozen hostages from his rival gang, The Trails, and they’re fighting to the end.”
Kurt went to his side and asked, “Did he give you any more information?”
“Nah, bastard shut down after that, so we didn’t get the names of those being held, but he did say there were both men and women involved. Get outfitted, Kurt, and lead the team. You’ve been in these situations before and know how fucking dangerous they are.”
“Right. Tell Neal to contact me when he gets in, and I’ll brief him by phone.”
Kurt rushed to get his gear and headed to the cars with a bunch following behind him. The S.W.A.T. team was already on-site and would be notified of his impending arrival. When Kurt heard that Officer Dexter Quill was their leader, he relaxed. The man owed his life to Kurt’s bravery during a previous skirmish a few years back, and they worked well together.
Soon, they arrived to see the streets awash with the sounds of a battle still ongoing. One side of the square was ablaze where fire engines and ambulances were in sight… firefighters trying to save lives and buildings, while close by the killings continued and the police took the brunt of the attacks.
Lordy, he hadn’t seen the likes of this mess for some time and had prayed never to live through it again. Yet, here they were, people hating people, taking their dislike to the streets, and killing each other.
Quill approached, his face blackened and his eyes hard. He bellowed so Kurt could hear him. “Raging storms happening out there buddy.”
“Not funny, asshole.” Kurt grinned at the quip he knew Quill had used on purpose. They quickly shook hands and slapped backs in a half-hug way. “You’ve sure got a mess this time. What can my guys do to help?”
Leaning in, he replied, “You heard there are a dozen or so of the Trails being held hostage, well Torres’s boys shot two and threw them out of the upstairs window… they landed on some vehicles. You can still hear those alarms. We can’t get close enough to retrieve the bodies.”
Impossible to hear any sounds distinctly within the cacophony coming from every direction, Kurt nodded. The racket of gunshots, mixed with blaring horns, screaming voices, and a growing wall of flames took him back to some of his experiences in Afghanistan, a place he never wanted to be reminded of here in his own country.
The sound of sirens announced an approaching fire truck racing to a stop by the others, and he instantly thought of Ruby. She had to be here somewhere, he knew it, felt it in every particle of his body. It took everything he had not to turn tail and run to find her so he could protect her from this ungodly carnage.
Quill’s man yelled more info through his mic, and he turned to Kurt, sharing the new knowledge. “They’re moving the hostages from that building across the square. It’s too close to the fire. I figure we can maybe put up a barricade over in that area, he pointed left, and hope they run into the trap. Can you get some of your men to set that up?”
“On it. Give me a mic so we can stay in touch.”
Once he had the instrument pinned to his shoulder, Kurt called a few of his guys to follow and spoke as they went. He had the earplug connected to his team and was able to speak with each of them, giving orders as they circled around to the other side where they would try and hold the bastards when they got there.
