hand, waiting, while he tried to control the car and not kill anyone. Suddenly, the bike came back up again, the guy firing rapidly, at least six shots, emptying his clip. He stuffed it inside his black leather jacket, pulled out another, and fired again. Dane fired back, still wrestling with the car. He felt a smack of cold against his left arm, ignored it, and fired again. In the next instant, they were at a side street. Dane jerked the steering wheel sharply right. They screeched on two tires as the Grand Am barreled onto the street, barely missing three cars whose drivers were sitting on their horns and yelling curses.
Dane managed to bring the Grand Am to a stop next to a curb in front of a small 1940s bungalow. He was breathing hard, adrenaline flowing so fast his heart was nearly pumping out of his chest.
The motorcycle flew past, revving hard and loud. The guy fired two more shots, both high and wild. Then Dane just couldn’t believe it-the guy turned a bit and waved to them. In the black leather gloved hand he waved, he held a gun.
Nick was stuffed on the floor, her head covered with her hands. Blood trickled over her hands from the glass shards that had struck her. He reached out his right hand and lightly touched her head. “Nick, are you okay?”
“Yes, just some glass in my hair. Oh dear, my hands are cut a bit, but nothing bad. Are you okay?”
“Sure.”
“Where are Bo and Lou?”
“They’re coming up behind us right now.” Dane opened the door and got out. Then he looked down at his shirt. “Well, shit.”
She yelled from behind him, “You’re shot, dammit, Dane Carver. How could you?”
He heard her voice shaking, felt the shock building in it, and said calmly, “I’m all right. A through-and-through shot, a flesh wound, nothing broken, everything works. I’ve cut myself worse shaving. It’s hardly worse than what Milton’s bullet did to your head. Take it easy, Nick. We’re okay, both of us, and that’s what’s important.”
“The guy waved to us. Did you see that? He actually waved to us as he was holding the gun!”
“Yeah, I know. Some balls, huh? How did you see that? I told you to keep way down.”
“I just looked up there at the end. The bastard.” She was starting to tremble, then shudder. He took off his bloody jacket and wrapped it around her, pulled her against his side. “It’s okay. Just hang on, breathe deeply. That’s right, nice and deep. Bo and Lou will be here in a minute.”
“I thought we were going to be bored out of our gourds,” Lou said when he trotted up. “I’m sorry, guys. We were really hanging back. We won’t do that again.” He looked at the shattered windows, closed the driver’s-side door, and waved away the six or so civilians who were closing in on them.
“Everything’s okay here, folks. Just go about your business. Hey, what’s all that blood? Jesus, Dane, you got hit.”
Bo said, breathing hard, “The guy clipped you, Agent Carver. Okay, let’s get you over to Elmwood Hospital, it’s the closest good emergency room. I took Lou there just last month.”
Dane said, “What was wrong with Lou?”
“I ate too much fat over a couple of days and got a gallbladder attack,” Lou said. He moved Dane’s hand and pressed his own palm hard over the wound. After a few minutes, he tied his handkerchief around Dane’s upper arm. Dane thought about his single piece of KFC and hoped he’d never have a gallbladder attack.
“There,” Lou said, “that should slow the bleeding down. Try to remember to give it back to me. My wife gave me that handkerchief for my birthday just three days ago. It’s real linen and she embroidered my initials on it. If I lose it, my goose is cooked.”
“It won’t be lost, Lou,” Dane said, “but it will be bloody.”
“My wife is used to blood. That’s okay.”
“I’ll keep an eye on it,” Nick said, looking up a moment from picking glass out of Dane’s hair. She said to him, “You just have a few nicks where some glass got you. Hold still. Bo, if you’ll take care of our rental car, Lou can take us to that hospital, okay?”
Bo gave Dane the once-over, nodded, then saluted. “Lou, try to get him a different doctor than the one you had.” He loosened the handkerchief a bit as he added, “The guy wanted to cut Lou up right there.”
“Didn’t happen,” Lou said. “I started feeling better and got the hell out of there. Your jacket’s ruined, Dane. Hey, Nick, you got yourself together?”
“I’m nearly together, thank you,” she said.
Lou looked at her more closely, seemed satisfied. “All right, we’re out of here. Bo has already called in. He’ll secure the crime scene until someone gets here. Dane, I don’t suppose you saw the shooter? Maybe a license plate?”
Dane just shook his head. “The guy wasn’t in a car, he was riding a Harley. I didn’t even get a good look at the gun. I was too busy trying not to get a bullet through my head. Nick, are your hands still bleeding?”
“No, hardly at all,” she said. “I’m just fine. Be quiet now, and let’s get you to the hospital.”
She’d regained her balance, held the shock at bay. He was proud of her.
Special Agent Lou Cutter got them to Elmwood Community Hospital in under eight minutes. He used the siren and traffic disappeared in front of them. It was an experience Nick had never had. It was, she told him, very cool.
Dane was breathing lightly through his mouth, the pain sharp and hot now, and he didn’t like it one bit. It was the first time he’d been shot. By a guy on a damned motorcycle. He said to Lou, “He was probably planning to come up along the passenger side and shoot Nick. We were lucky. He couldn’t get up on the sidewalk next to her, too many people. He still tried it from my side.”
“If he shot you,” Nick said, “you would have lost control of the car and crashed. Then he could have shot me really easily. Or maybe the car crash would have killed me.”
Lou said, “Thanks to you, Dane, you kept it together and pulled both of you through. Good job. Now, you do realize that this little show is way over the top. None of us expected anything like this. It’s completely different from what he’s done to date.”
Dane sighed. “Like you said, Lou, this performance was over the top. The guy’s desperate, he’s losing it. Nick, I’m sorry.”
“You’re the one he shot.”
Lou took care of all the administrative hassles with the emergency room staff, which was a relief since Nick was focused entirely on Dane.
She supposed that Dr. John Martinez thought she was Dane’s wife and so didn’t kick her out of the cubicle.
“Went right through your upper arm, Mr. Carver,” he said after cleaning and examining the wound, poking around while Dane watched him, his mouth tightly closed. “You were very lucky. Not anywhere near any major vessels. It isn’t bad at all, when you think about how bad it could have been. How did it happen? Were you cleaning your gun or something? You know that I’m going to have to tell the cops about this.”
“You already have,” Dane said. He pulled his FBI shield out of his inner pocket and flipped the case open.
“FBI. I’ve never treated an FBI agent before,” Martinez said as he injected Dane’s arm. “Let’s just give that anesthetic five minutes to kick in. Then, just a few stitches and that’ll be it, apart from a tetanus shot.” It felt to Dane like ten years passed before Dr. Martinez sank his first stitch.
Dane stared straight ahead, felt the push of the needle, the pull of the thread through his flesh. He focused on the array of bandages on the shelf in the cubicle. All sizes of gauze. In and out-it seemed like a hundred times- then, thank God, Dr. Martinez was done. Dane looked down at his arm as they bandaged it, then watched a nurse clean and bandage the backs of Nick’s hands.
“The stitches will resorb, but I want you to have them checked in a few days,” Dr. Martinez said. “We’re going to give you some antibiotics to take for a while. Any problems at all-fever, heavy pain-you get your butt either back in here or to your own doctor.” He looked over at Nick. “Hey, you a special agent, too?”
“She’s above just an ordinary special agent,” Dane said and sucked in his breath when the nurse jabbed a needle into his right arm.
“That’s your tetanus shot,” Dr. Martinez said. “Now, just one more for the pain. It should keep you smiling for a good four hours. And you’re going to need some pain pills, enough for three days. Don’t be a macho, take them.”
“He’ll take them,” Nick said, her bandaged hands on her hips, as if ready to belt him if he got out of line. She
