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“Shh. I’m sorry, but you have to crawl under the car.”
“But...”
“Do it!”
He watched a second longer to ensure she followed orders, then took cover on the other side of the car, leaving the doors open as extra protection. He opened the back door to let Becky roll under the undercarriage of the vehicle and then try to crawl into the front seat between the driver’s side doors. Another shot rang out, hitting his side mirror. Becky screamed. Fuck, that was too close for comfort. A third shot hit the back windshield, exiting the front windshield. Becky screamed again.
“Fuck! Are you okay?” he asked with his gun drawn and searching where the shooter was staged. “Becky?”
“I’m okay.”
“Stay down, baby. Don’t move.”
He stayed low, which was challenging for a big man. He wasn’t used to being shot at in the middle of the day, but he studied the area where the shots seemed to originate from and located a slight movement.
The delivery truck drove off between the shooter and them giving Carter enough time to pull Becky to him and then down in front of the car. As soon as it was past him, another shot rang out, and this time he saw the flash before it hit the ground aimed at the undercarriage. It pinged off metal. There was answering fire. One gunshot rang out from behind Carter to the right, and he knew it was Callie as soon as he heard a blessed yelp of pain and the clatter of gunmetal hitting the ground.
As the shooter fell into view, Callie followed up with one that nicked the shooter’s ear. They both began to walk to the writhing man on the ground. Carter kicked the gun far away, and Callie scanned the area before holstering her piece and pulling out the zip ties.
Becky was not moving from her place in front of the car, and it took a little convincing before she moved away and into his arms. Holding her out, he searched every bit of her body as the police sirens drew closer.
“Are you hurt? You’re bleeding.” He frantically looked for the wound.
“No. It’s road rash. That’s it, Carter. I’m okay. Just hold me.”
Carter held her close as Callie sauntered up to them. Carter looked at the woman appreciatively. “That was a helluva shot. Thanks for having my six. I couldn’t see where he was to get off a good round.”
“Yeah, but I have to say, I expected a small town to be more friendly.”
Carter chuckled. “You’d think.”
The police checked the place out and brought in the paramedics, but Carter shielded Becky from seeing that. He worried it was her dad. But within a few minutes, James showed up and then Monty from somewhere undetermined, but still no Karl. When the police came out and spoke to James, they confirmed his brother had been wounded but not fatally. After a cursory look at Becky and confirmation only Karl and the shooter were injured, the ambulances left, each with a patient. Then came the fun part.
After long hours in which their stories were repeated more times than they cared to count, Garrett and Monroe arrived. Callie looked relieved to see her guy, and Monroe looked relieved everyone was okay. Guns were kept for ballistics. Nick Sharp, who ran with this police force, vouched for them as wellas James. Garrett was able to call in a favor from the Lexington police force to get back up from them. That seemed to put them over the confidence line, and the police let them go.
They’d found the gun, impounded the shot-up vehicle, and the warehouse was closed until their forensics team and investigators were done with it. Oddly, that little bit of information on the warehouse closure seemed to rattle Monty. That and the fact that Becky was staring hard at his white truck.
“You’ll get back to work in no time,” said James.
Monty blew him off and tried to laugh, but it fell flat. “Did they say they found a gun in the brush?”
“Well, they’d have to because we didn’t shoot at ourselves,” Carter said dryly.
“Oh, right. Right. I just didn’t process that bit of information, I guess.”
They were all released together, and Garrett slept in Callie’s room, leaving the den pull-out sofa for Monroe. Sleep was simply a word. And James didn’t seem so scattered tonight.
“Hey, Dad. Did you ever get the thermos I left you at the shop?”
“No, I never did make it into the shop today. Too much work to do at the trade show.”
“That’s where you were all day?”
“Yes, didn’t your mother tell you?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Must have slipped her mind. I know what that feels like.”
