Page 44 of Tasting Fire
What had gone right?Not a hell of a lot.
What hadn’t worked well?Communication equipment failure, trouble restraining the subject, and the fucking unpredictability of meth heads.
Why had meth monster made it past several officers?See answer above.
Why had an operator been shot?Because shit ran downhill.
Why had Cash Kingston been forced to pick up a weapon and take down the subject?Because he hadn’t been interested in any one of his teammates dying today.Especiallynot Emmy.
“At current, medics are not authorized to use force—either lethal or nonlethal,” the SWAT captain stated, her tone flat.
Emmy leaned forward with her hands on the conference table and pushed herself to a standing position. She was lean and fine-boned, but didn’t look the least bit fragile. She was too focused for that. Emmy might have trouble cutting loose, but in her world, she was confident—in her knowledge, in herself—without being conceited.
Damn, that was the biggest turn-on in the world.
If more women understood that secret, they’d spray on confidence like department store perfume.
“That’s understandable under normal circumstances,” Emmy said to the captain. “But based on what happened today, it’s clear this situation was anything but textbook. I take full responsibility for the actions of each medic on my team. No, Kingston’s actions did not strictly adhere to team protocol. However, his instinct was to protect both patients and team members. Our mission as a team is to get as many people out unhurt as possible.”
“Yet the subject sustained a broken wrist in the altercation because of Kingston’s actions.”
“At the time Kingston discharged the weapon, the subject had a gun, one with real bullets, aimed at my head.”
“No, based on my understanding, the subject had momentarily lowered his gun.”
“For long enough to try to yank up his child. As soon as he realized his son was unconscious, his agitation only increased. Then he started raising his gun again. I maintain that Kingston handled the situation in a way that would result in the least damage to those present.”
The SWAT captain’s sigh was audible throughout the room. “I want a comprehensive written report from anyone who had contact with the subject and victims no later than ten tomorrow morning. Dismissed.”
Exhausted didn’t begin to describe what Emmy was feeling right now. She needed a shower, sixteen hours of sleep, and possibly a gallon of Stoli. Ever since she’d looked down the barrel of that gun, she’d avoided looking at her own hands because she knew they were still shaking.
Dangerous, stressful situations were daily occurrences for her. She’d once been cornered in an exam room by a heroin addict demanding OxyContin. She’d been slapped and spit on by drunk college girls. She’d been on SWAT call-outs where bullets were flying and people were dying.
But this was the first time she’d ever looked at her life through a gun barrel. And she didn’t like what she’d seen.
A woman who had been involved with the wrong man. Who couldn’t name a single person she missed in Baltimore after living there for five years. Who was scared to take Cash up on the offer of helping her have fun.
When everyone else began filing out of the room, she remained at the conference table with the portfolio she’d taken notes in. She wanted to get her thoughts together before typing up her part of the report.
“Hey.” When she looked up, Cash was gesturing toward the chair beside her. “Do you mind?”
She wasn’t ready to face him yet. “I really need to—”
“Just for a minute.” He pulled out the chair and sat. But he didn’t do the professionally polite thing and put plenty of space between their seats. Instead he drew close. So close she could smell a hint of dried sweat and whatever greenery-based cologne he wore. “You okay?”
“Of course.” She took a breath, trying to filter out today’s nastiness. “I just need to work on the TMT report for the captain.”
Cash’s hand came up and cradled her jaw, urging her to look up into his face. And although he’d kissed her back the other night, this was the first time Emmy felt as if he’d touched her because he really wanted to. The feel of his callused thumb on the tender skin below her chin made her want to lean in. Lean on.
“Thank you,” he said simply. “You had every right to throw me under the bus for what I did.”
“I stand by my team.”
“I broke the rules, and I figured you would see that as bucking your authority.”
She’d done nothing but abide by the rules for way too long. Rules didn’t always make something right. She gazed into Cash’s dark eyes, serious with concern. They were nothing like the meth head’s, but they reminded her of what she’d seen there. “When he had that gun on me, I looked into his eyes, and I swear I could see all the way inside his soul. What I saw wasn’t even black. It was an empty pit of nothingness.” And it had reflected back an emptiness inside her own life.
“Em…”
