Free No Chance in Hell by Jerrie Alexander Page B

adjusting the rearview mirror. The motherfucker probably aimed for my head.” Wayne moaned as Marcus applied pressure.
    He placed two fingers on the detective’s neck and checked his pulse. An erratic heartbeat could have meant lots of things, but Wayne’s heart was pumping too fast. “Breathe for me, buddy. The ambulance is on the way.”
    “I’m trying.” Wayne turned his head. The tight lines around his mouth indicated he was in great pain. “Did you see anything?” Wayne asked, even as his body folded sideways onto the seat.
    Marcus put one foot inside the car, leaning in to keep pressure on the wound. “No. I was inside when Chris and I heard the gunshot.”
    “Dark car, maybe black or navy, pulled up next to me. I didn’t see the shooter. Is Chris okay?”
    “She’s fine. Let’s worry about you.”
    An ambulance, a fire truck, and two patrol cars sped into the complex. Marcus stepped into the open and waved his hand. Before he could react, four cops were out of their cars with guns drawn and pointed directly at him.
    “Down on the ground,” one shouted.
    “Worry about the man in the car. He’s a cop and has been shot,” Marcus said as he dropped facedown. He knew the scene looked bad to a stranger. He was naked from the waist up and had blood all over his hands.
    “Dude’s right, the wounded guy is a Dallas cop,” a voice from behind called out. “Says the man on the ground is with him.”
    A boot toe poked him in the ribs.
    “Get up slowly and dig out some identification.”
    He did as instructed. He wiped his fingers on his jeans and carefully removed his wallet. He handed over his private investigator’s license, driver’s license, and gun permit.
    “My pistol is on the top of his car.”
    The officer studied the license and checked the picture. Marcus was edging toward the end of his patience.
    “Hey,” an EMT called out. “This man wants to see his friend.”
      Marcus turned to go check on Wayne.  
    “Don’t make any sudden moves,” the cop said.
    “I’m just checking on my friend.” He turned his back and walked to the stretcher, where they’d strapped down Wayne.  
    His face was ghastly pale, his red hair disheveled and his mouth slack. Marcus had seen that expression in Afghanistan. He clasped Wayne’s hand as one of the paramedics taped down the needle and started an IV drip. The guy glanced up and lifted one shoulder. Was that his silent way of saying the situation wasn’t good?
    “I’ll be fine,” Wayne managed to whisper.
    “Load up.” The paramedic pushed the stretcher toward the ambulance. He paused by the open doors and lifted his gaze. “We’re taking him to Dallas General.” The grim expression spoke volumes. Marcus helped lift the gurney.
    Wayne’s eyelids fluttered closed. The ambulance door slammed shut, but not before Marcus heard words that froze him in place.  
    “He’s coding.” The paramedic’s voice faded as the ambulance sped off.  
    Marcus called Tomas and broke the news.
    Again, Marcus had left Chris and something had gone wrong. He was supposed to be protecting Chris. It should have been him the paramedics were fighting to keep alive.  
    The cop returned Marcus’s driver’s license and gun permit. “You see the shooter?”
    “No. I heard the shot and then came outside.”
    “Too bad.”
    “Detective Kerns said a dark car pulled up, and somebody inside shot him. Bastard never said a word, just sped off. Son of a bitch was gone before I got over here.”
    “Was that his family you called?”
    “His partner.” Marcus sensed Chris’s presence. He knew before looking over his shoulder that she and Diablo had come outside. She stood at the edge of the walk, holding a towel in one hand and the leash in the other.  
    He nodded, holding out his hand to her. Chris and Diablo rushed to his side. The overhead lights cast a shadow across her face. Tension reflected in her eyes. She used the wet end of the towel to wash his hands, the