Page 13 of Tasting Fire
He and Cash were going to have a little chat later. Jackson needed to shelve the attitude. No, Cash wasn’t happy about Emmy either, but once you were on a call-out, all that bullshit had to be forgotten.
The most important thing was saving lives, not waging a big-dick war.
“As you’ve probably figured out,” Emmy continued, “this is a training exercise. Don’t assume you’ll always be notified beforehand because as we all know, active shooters and hostage takers rarely call us up to let us know what’s on their agendas for the day.”
She stepped back so Captain Styles could take center stage. Today, she was dressed like the rest of them and her get-down-to-business expression reminded Cash that she was excellent at what she did. Had to be as one of the few female SWAT commanders in the country. “What we’ve got here is a hostage situation. This’ll give my team an opportunity to work on negotiation tactics and extraction.”
Clearly those negotiations would go sideways to Sunday if the TMT would also get a chance to practice their skills.
“So rather than using dummies, we’ve asked some folks to role-play for us.”
The team’s negotiator turned to the captain for intel. “What do we know?”
“Single male hostage taker with two female hostages. All he’s said is that someone stole his trail bike and climbing shoes. He won’t let the hostages go until he has his gear back.”
“Jonah Steele has a houseful of toys,” Jackson said with a nasty edge. “Surely we can find something to satisfy this guy.”
Why was Jackson being such a shithead today? Jealousy and disrespect wouldn’t get him anywhere with anyone.
The captain said, “Won’t be that easy, Jackson. Let’s roll, people.” The word barely left her lips and the SWAT members were on the move. The sniper scouted a position that would give him a clear view into the small bunkhouse’s window. While other team members took cover behind the barricade of vehicles near the tree line, the negotiator established his position slightly out in the open and called out, “Hey, there. I’m John Butler. I hear you’re missing some items. I’d like to find out what I can do for you.”
Several minutes passed before a voice rang out from the bunkhouse. “No closer.”
Aw, shit. Cash knew that voice. Had known it his whole damn life.
They’d recruited Shep to play the hostage taker. That would mean an even more challenging negotiation because Cash’s younger brother was a very linear guy, so it was unlikely normal techniques would work. And trying to do a bait-and-switch on him with any of Jonah’s equipment wouldn’t work.
He cut a look at Emmy that clearly said,Really? You had to use Shep?And she responded with a shoulder lift that answered,We don’t get to handpick our perps.
“Can you tell me a little about how I can help you today?” Butler called out again.
Another protracted silence. Shep liked to think things over. Finally, he yelled. “You can’t help me unless you brought a Sterling 10.1mm Marathon Pro.”
Cash chuckled under his breath. His brother might’ve been diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome when he was a kid, but no one could ever accuse him of being a dummy. Well, a few people had tried when he was younger, but the other Kingston kids had made it very clear that they would protect Shep at any cost. Ultimately, he’d left public school to be homeschooled by their dad.
Proof that Ross Kingston had done an excellent job educating his son, because Shep had just asked for one of the best climbing ropes on the market. One Cash knew he’d been pining after for a while.
By the befuddled expression on the negotiator’s sweaty face, he could tell the guy had no idea.
“It’s a climbing rope,” Cash said to Butler via radio.
“Okay,” Butler said, “so you want a climbing rope. Totally get it, man. I’ll see what we can do. Is anything else bothering you?”
“She took my bike and shoes. I told her to give them back.”
A female voice called out, “I don’t know what he’s talking about. I didn’t steal anything!”
“She’s telling the truth,” another woman yelled from inside the bunkhouse. “We have no idea what happened to his stuff.”
Well, shit. If that wasn’t the perfect storm. Evie and Riley—cousins and the babies of the Steele and Kingston families. Yeah, this scenario was going to go downhill, and fast. Those two were known for saying what they thought and getting what they wanted.
“I saw her in my storage room,” Shep insisted. “She took them.”
The negotiator used all the right words and techniques, but Shep’s responses became more and more agitated until he said, “If she doesn’t shut up, I’m going to shoot her.”
Cash heard Riley say, “I can’t give you your crap back if I never had it in the first place.” His baby sister was an excellent shit-stirrer. They didn’t call her the Kingston Terror for nothing.
Then came the uncomfortably realistic sound of a bullet being racked.
