Page 9 of Watcher

“Active shooter.” Before the words finish slipping from his mouth, the doctor walks out and snakes his way down the hall. I watch him slip into another room and close the door.

I see the shooter on the other side of the ER and close the door. There’s no lock on the door, so if the asshole decides to come in and play doctor, there’s no stopping him.

“This is just great,” Jessica says. “I have shit to do, and I’m stuck in a hospital room with two baboons.”

“Shouldn’t talk bad about people who are sleeping,” I say.

“I’m talking about you.”

I ease the door open again and see the shooter getting closer. Police enter the ER and begin talking to the man, though it doesn’t stop him from moving our way. I shut the door and lean against it.

“You’re stuck here with me. Might as well get used to it.”

Something bumps against the door and Jessica freezes in place. “It’s him.”

“I’m gonna look.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Let Daddy take care of this,” I say amusingly.

“You aren’t my Daddy, thank God.”

“Not yet.” I ease the door open, and the shooter bullies his way into the room, knocking me back and pointing his gun at Jessica before closing the door.

“Don’t fucking do anything stupid!” the man says.

“You let him in,” Jessica says.

“I did not. He let himself in.”

“Do you know who I am?” she says to the man. “I’m Jessica Stallone.”

“Who the fuck cares?” the man points the gun in her face and snarls like a bear. Except the man is anything but a bear, his skinny frame suggesting he hasn’t eaten in a month.

“Hey,” I say gently, holding out my hands. “No need to do that.”

Jessica frowns. “What’re you doing?”

“Look, friend. Put down the piece, and let’s talk about whatever is bothering you.” I motion for the guy to relax and lower his weapon. “I get it, man. I really do. Let’s you and I talk.”

“Fuck me,” Jessica says. “You’re the voice of reason?”

“You know what? For now, shut the fuck up and quit being a brat.” The words come out more stern than they were meant to be, but they do their job. Jessica shuts up.

The guy’s trigger finger eases away, and I let out a breath. Jessica takes a step back, and at least momentarily, I think I have them both under control.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“I’m going to pull this chair over. Let you have a seat so we can all relax.” I ease the chair over, and the guy takes a few steps away from Jessica. He lowers the gun to his side. “Cool,” I say.

Though I’m looking at the man, I see Jessica easing her way closer to Daiblo’s bed. She eyes the metal bedpan. Using only my eyes, I encourage her not to do it. But she’s a brat, and there’s nothing I can do to stop her.

Before the man turns to sit in the chair, Jessica grabs the bedpan and clocks the guy in the back of the head, knocking him into the chair and out cold.

“You didn’t have to fucking do that,” I say.

“What? Because you had everything under control.”

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