Chapter 97

97

He had a hole in his chest. His upper right chest, actually. Gunnar felt it before he even opened his eyes. He'd been shot before. He knew what had happened. He and Daniel hadn't even been able to get their damned weapons out and it was done. His head pounded, where he'd slammed it on something when he'd hit the ground. Or where one of those bastards had kicked him.

It took him a moment to get his damned bearings. When he did, her name was on his lips. His woman needed him now.

Gunnar pulled himself to his feet.

He was going to get to her. Somehow.

Daniel was around somewhere. Gunnar looked. He didn't see the other man. But there was blood on the sidewalk. Drag marks. The sidewalk right there by the damned park.

But it was dark. And no one was around. The park emptied every night at sunset. When kids were called home to go to do their homework and go to bed.

Playtime was over.

Powell's parents' place was right there. Gunnar felt around. He still had his backup weapon on his ankle. His service weapon was missing. Probably the bastards who had jumped him had taken it.

He was damned lucky they hadn't filled him with more holes than they had. He pushed the fear for Daniel aside. He had to focus on getting to Powell. And her parents.

They were inside that house somewhere.

Gunnar pulled himself to his feet. And kept moving forward.

He almost tripped over the man's legs when he got to them.

Gunnar didn't have his phone or a damned flashlight—he didn't have time to look either. He knelt down. It was Daniel. He was almost certain of it in the dim streetlight. There was blood on his chest. There had been two shots.

One for Gunnar. And one for Daniel. They probably hadn't shot more than that because the bastards hadn't wanted the attention. This part of Hughes Heights was always heavy traffic. The wrong kind of attention would have caused too many problems. They'd shot them, disarmed them, then used fists.

Hit them, get them down, take their weapons, and run. Just like that. Just that quick. He'd long known the bastards had been efficient at taking out their enemies.

He swore. Checked the other man's pulse. It was there. He was alive. Daniel's hand came up. Wrapped around Gunnar's wrist.

"It's me, Dan. Gunnar. You're going to be okay."

"Four. Around back," Daniel rasped. He tried to roll to his side. "I need to get on my feet. Another went in the side door two minutes ago."

The other man could barely move.

"That's not happening. They took my damned phone. You have yours?"

Daniel checked his pocket. "No. No weapon or watch either. Shit. This hurts."

"I have a spare. They have Powell and her parents inside." And Daniel wasn't going to be much help. He wasn't too steady right now. "You need to get to help. Get backup here, fast. I'm going in."

Daniel tried to protest. Gunnar cut him off. They didn't have time for this. "No. Get to backup, Dan. You are hurt far worse than I am. You are a liability now."

"Shit. Thanks for that."

Gunnar was done wasting time. "Powell needs me now."