Page 102 of Under His Control
He slams into the wall just as the front door bursts open.
Boots thunder inside. A second later, red and blue lights flash through the broken windows.
“Drop the weapon!” Boone roars.
Boone charges in first, weapon drawn, two uniformed officers behind him.
Damas freezes, gun in hand.
“Don’t do it,” Detective Boone growls, weapons steady on my brother.
For once, Damas listens.
He drops the gun.
The officers swarm him, wrenching his arms behind his back and forcing him to the floor.
Detective Boone rushes to Taylor and Chris. “Paramedics are on their way. How long’s he been bleeding?”
Taylor looks up, tears streaking her cheeks. “Four minutes? Five?”
“He’s still breathing,” I say, moving to kneel beside her. “Pulse is weak, but there. We’re not losing him.”
Chris groans, eyelids fluttering.
Taylor sobs again, her head dropping to his chest.
I wrap my arms around her shoulders, holding her as chaos continues around us.
My brother is hauled to his feet, cuffed and silent.
This isn’t over.
But for the first time, I can finally see where it begins to end.
Outside, the ambulance pulls up. Paramedics rush in with a stretcher, and Detective Boone gives them a quick rundown.
“Gunshot wound, abdomen. Pressure has been maintained on the entry location.”
They go to work fast, taking his vitals and placing an oxygen mask on his face before lifting Chris into the back of theambulance. One of the medics gently moves Taylor back. She resists at first, but then obliges.
I hold her tight.
“You going with him?” I ask softly.
She nods, barely able to speak. Her fingers cling to mine.
“He’ll make it,” I say, forcing the words into the universe. “He has to.”
A medic guides her toward the ambulance. She climbs in and doesn’t look back.
Once they’re gone, I turn to Detective Boone. He’s holding the walkie-talkie, studying it.
“Did you get enough?”
“Plenty,” he says grimly. “Enough to lock him away for a long time.”
Damas is slumped in the corner, face bloody, hands cuffed tightly behind him.
