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“I can’t allow myself to feel emotional as I’m presenting this, Brad, or I’m going to break down and cry and that’s the last thing I can allow myself to do in front of Shepherd and the others. Shepherd respects strength and courage. I need him to see that I have those traits. I need him to see that I’m serious and believe me about this.”
Dupont wrapped his arms around her and held her close, enjoying the feeling of her in his arms. He found her attractive, intellectually as well as physically. But she had enough on her plate right now. She didn’t need to deal with him professing how he felt about her. But he promised himself when the time was right, he would. Until then, he’d be a best friend.
“I respect you and believe you. You’ve wowed me with this presentation and I’m sure you’ll impress them as well. You’re right. It’s perfect just the way it is. In the meeting after with Lassiter will be the time for you to let your emotions out. And I hope you will, Laura. If you haven’t talked to anyone about what happened back then, you need to. It’s not healthy to keep stuff like that bottled up.”
Laura Lee nodded against him. It felt good to have someone to discuss this with. It felt good to be held in his arms, to not feel alone. “You’re a good friend. Thanks, Brad.”
He gave her a squeeze and then stepped back, releasing her. “I have to get back to Ops.”
“Short break tonight?”
“Yes, I’m off at zero two hundred, short shift. I’m off tomorrow, but make sure you let me know how it goes.”
She promised she would. After he left, she glanced through her presentation one more time and then went to bed. Sleep didn’t come easily, though. After much tossing and turning, she thought of Brad and his arms around her as she snuggled with a pillow in bed, imagining it was Brad. Silly, she knew. But effective. At some point, she drifted off.
Delta
Laura Lee was still in Brad Dupont’s thoughts as he descended the stairs to the Shepherd Security private parking garage on sub-basement level two, where his car was parked. He drove a silver metallic Acura Integra, which he bought because it had high safety ratings and it looked sporty. It was his baby. He washed it weekly and didn’t so much as drink anything in it, let alone eat in it. The inside was as pristine as it was the day he drove it new off the lot.
It was zero two-twenty hours. He would not let the extra personal time he had with this unexpected short shift go to waste. He’d swing by the grocery store and shop, having the store nearly to himself. He had no patience for the soccer moms who left their carts in the middle of the aisles while they took their time perusing products or talking on their phones. And then he had a few hours’ worth of shows he planned to watch and some video gaming to do.
He started his car and as he drove from the parking garage, his low fuel indicator light came on, accompanied by the chime. Okay, a stop at the gas station, he thought. There was one on the way to the grocery store. He turned up the volume on the car’s stereo, filling the interior of the car with the smooth jazz.
As he turned into the gas station, his gaze was drawn to the only car at the pumps. It was a new red Cadillac. One man stood beside it. Another man emerged from the inside of the station. Upon seeing the first man by the vehicle, he ran towards it. Dupont could hear muffled shouts, but with his window rolled up and the music loud, he couldn’t hear what was being said. He turned the music down and lowered his window as he approached, intending to park at the pump beside them.
“I said, get away from my car!” the man who’d exited the station shouted.
Suddenly, the first man pulled a gun. The other man ran back towards the building. Pop! Pop! Two rounds were fired in quick succession by the man nearest the car. The other man dropped to the pavement.
“Shit!” Dupont swore.
That man then turned the gun on him. Dupont hit the gas and ducked in his seat as three bullets came through his windshield followed by the man’s face impacting it, accompanying the screech of metal impacting metal. The sudden stop to the forward momentum as the airbag deployed and the shoulder belt snapped against his chest, hurt like a sonofabitch.
It took a moment for Dupont to mentally shake off what had just happened. The airbag was still in his face. Damn, that hurt. He pulled his pocket knife and stabbed at the airbag until he could manually deflate it. He saw the large circle of blood on his windshield and reached up to feel over his face. It was sweaty but not bleeding. He pulled his own pistol as he exited his car, staggering a few steps to gain his footing. His heart raced and the adrenaline pumping through him made him feel lightheaded. He crept to the front of the car. The perp lay crumpled in a bloody heap between the cars. The back of the Cadillac and the front of his own car were damaged. Fuck!
He looked for the gun his assailant had and didn’t see it. He cautiously reached to check for a pulse, continuing to cover the downed and unconscious man with his weapon, just in case. There was a pulse, but it was weak. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Ops.
“Ops, go,” Garcia said.
“I need police and two ambulances at my location if the gas station attendant hasn’t already called. I drove into the middle of an assailant shooting someone in the back. I’m assuming a robbery or carjacking. He fired on me. I hit him with my POV. He’s unconscious, but has a pulse. I’ll be pulling my creds when the LEOs arrive.” He jogged over to the man who’d been shot in the back.
“Roger that,” Garcia said. “Are you okay?”
“The guy who was shot is in bad shape. He’s got a pulse, barely. Put a rush on that ambulance!” He heard keys being clicked at a fever pitch on the other end of the phone.
“Police and EMS were notified. I’ve ordered a second ambulance and advised you are on site.”
Then Dupont heard the sirens in the distance, approaching fast. “The police are arriving,” he said when he saw the lights on the police cruiser approach. “I’m going to disconnect now.”
He re-holstered his weapon and pulled his credentials from his pocket, thankful he had them. It wouldn’t look good for a black man to be standing there with a gun in his hand when the police arrived. He may be shot on sight by the police. The creds would help. The gas station attendant still had not left the building. He was sure the guy or gal was hunkered down behind the counter, not knowing if the shooting outside was done yet.
As the first of two marked police cars raced into the lot, followed closely by the second, Dupont raised his hands into the air with his creds clearly held facing the police cars. Two officers exited their cars, crouching behind their open doors with their weapons trained on him. “On the ground! Now!” they yelled.
Dupont dropped to the ground and turned his credentials in his hand, so they’d face up to be seen. “Brad Dupont, CIA. I have my weapon holstered at the small of my back! There’s a loose weapon near the assailant between the cars!” he called as the officers approached.
His credentials were ripped from his hand. He felt his weapon get pulled from its holster. He waited face-down on the hard ground for what seemed like forever. He heard more sirens as several other police cars arrived on the scene. “You got any other weapons on you?” one of the officers finally asked.
“No.”
