Page 130 of Bonded in Death

She pressed her fingers against the sting on the edge of her right ribs. And they came back bloody.

“Well, shit.”

“You’re hit.”

Roarke dragged up her shirt.

“Hey, hey, we’re on the freaking street.”

“Shut up. It didn’t penetrate.” Relief trembled through him as he examined the wound. “A graze, not a pleasant one, but shallow.”

“I could’ve told you. It hit the lining. I felt it. I guess it caught me a little when I had to jump in front of those idiot women.”

Roarke tapped his earbud as she dragged her shirt back down. “Feeney, we need the van at our location. The lieutenant’s wounded.”

“Don’t say that!” Appalled, she shoved at his arm. “I’m not wounded. I’m scratched. I need these blocks canvassed, I need to see security feeds from door cams. I need—”

“To tell your very efficient team what you need them to do while you’re getting that wound treated.”

If she could’ve torn out her hair—or better, his—she’d have done it.

“I’m not going to the hospital for this. That’s ridiculous.”

“We’ll see what the MTs have to say.”

Santiago cleared his throat. “Say! How about we get started on the canvass? Here’s Carmichael now.”

“Was that gunfire?” Carmichael demanded. “I thought I heard—Dallas, you’re bleeding.”

“White male, seventy-eight. Looks late sixties, approximately five-ten, a hundred and sixty, blond, collar-length hair, black suit, white shirt, blue tie. Heading west on foot when I lost him.”

Peabody jogged up. “I took over the civilians from Santiago. All handled. Did I hear— Dallas, you’re bleeding.”

Eve ignored her, along with the chatter in her ear from various team members. “Everybody, shut the hell up! There’s a glide-cart on the next corner, talk to the operator. Canvass the block, then split with the rest of the team. West, north, south. I couldn’t see which direction he took. I want McNab and Callendar on door cams.”

“Your ride, Lieutenant,” Roarke said as the van pulled up.

“Goddamn it, I’m in charge of this clusterfuck of an op. He has a vehicle, and if he used it, he could already be in it. I want patrols sweeping, looking for single male drivers in late-model, luxury vehicles.

“He’s armed—handgun, and may have more weapons in a vehicle. He won’t hesitate to fire. Get started. Crap,” she added as an MT van pulled up behind Feeney.

“We got it, Loo,” Santiago assured her.

She started to turn to the EDD van, but Roarke steered her to the MTs. “If it’s nothing, as you insist, this won’t take long.”

Eve took one look at the MTs. Male, twenties, blue-streaked blond hair in a tight topknot. Female, forties, cool eyed, brown hair in a short braid.

She addressed the female. “No painkillers. Don’t come near me with that shit, clear? It’s a scratch.”

“Why don’t we have a look?”

Sitting in the back of the van, Eve lifted her shirt.

“More a gash, short and shallow. Let’s clean it up.” Those cool eyes met Eve’s. “It’s gonna hurt.”

“No painkillers.”

The MT didn’t lie. It stung like fire. To take her mind off it, Eve snapped out more orders to the team.

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