Chapter 9
NINE
Jordon watched the hands on the clock roll around.
Though two hours in this room felt like twenty.
He’d never felt so caged in all his life.
His parents’ wealth ensured the world was laid at his feet.
A blessing and a curse because he wanted to make life on his own terms, putting in the hard work and netting his accomplishments.
His father understood, but his mother not so much.
Since the call with her was dropped, he imagined she’d spun out calling on everyone she knew for favors to find out what was going on with her little boy.
Something he’d always be in her eyes despite the advancements he’d already made in his career.
He could hear his mother now. “Jordon, you’ll always be my baby boy.”
The gunman hadn’t stopped pacing except for a few short breaks. His eyes were clear, his pupils not pinpricked or dilated. Jordon could rule out drug use, but the man was antsy regardless. Though taking over a hospital at gunpoint was bound to do that to anyone.
Jordon was just happy the gun was out of his face. But he didn’t miss that the gunman kept it close, holding it in his hand as he moved around the room. He had taken his backpack and set it on the counter, though.
Colby Mahoney lost interest in his paper a long time ago and was sitting stiffly on the couch.
Jordon knew he was married and a father of one.
Leah Winters had dropped behind the couch when the gunman burst into the room but had since been directed to take a seat.
She was only in her mid-twenties and a mother herself to two girls.
They kept looking at Jordon as if he could rectify the situation.
But he had no plans on being the hero. He’d watched enough crime dramas to know the hero was always killed. No, he’d stay seated on this cushioned chair, still and subservient until the cops shut this down.
After all, his five-year plan certainly didn’t include being shot in the hospital where he worked. And it certainly didn’t include risking Maria’s life or their baby’s.
There was at least one other gunman who had spoken over the man’s walkie-talkie. There could be more, including others on this floor.
Jordon kept returning his gaze to the gunman’s backpack.
He didn’t seem to worry about it as much as keeping a hold on his gun.
But Jordon didn’t miss that periodically the man would pass a glance across the room.
It was one of those times that Jordon followed his line of sight and noticed something was sticking out of the back flap on the bag.
Definitely an electronic device. Probably a Wi-Fi jammer.
Jordon was quite certain it was what the man had in his hands when the call with his mother was dropped.
It was probably why his phone still didn’t have any bars.
But how could he expect to get his hands on it without getting a bullet in the back?
The gunman stopped his pacing and picked up Nurse Mahoney’s newspaper from the coffee table and started flipping through the pages.
Mahoney met Jordon’s gaze, and he didn’t care for the flicker in the nurse’s eyes.
He had a tendency of being impulsive in his work, sometimes rushing ahead without approval from a doctor.
Jordon shook his head, hoping Mahoney would take the direction.
Instead, when the gunman turned his back, Mahoney slowly got off the couch.
Stupid man! It would only take a split second for the gunman to turn around and pull the trigger. Just a split second…
Winters quietly hissed at Mahoney and passed a panic-stricken look at Jordon.
Their efforts to caution their colleague were ignored as Mahoney hurried toward the gunman, the soles of his shoes slapping on the floor.
Jordon watched in horror as the gunman spun. The rest played out in slow motion. Almost as if time stood still.
The blast of gunfire, followed by Mahoney’s screams. They came through dampened to Jordon’s ears as if from a thousand miles away.
Winters jumped off the couch and hid behind it. Her hysterical cries sounded like they were coming from a great distance.
Jordon’s ears were ringing but he noticed that the man was standing there looking from Mahoney to his hand, as if the gun were a foreign object and he was trying to make sense of what had happened.
If Jordon was going to do something, with the gunman in a trance, now might be the time. He hurried over to the backpack and lifted the electronic device out. It was a jammer, just as he’d thought. Now, he just needed to find the power switch and turn it off.
“I’d put that back in the bag if I were you.
” The man’s voice rolled over Jordon’s shoulders as if dry ice, sending chills through to his toes.
He braced for the feeling of a bullet tearing through flesh and bone, while a projection of his future played out in front of him.
Maria in a white dress smiling and saying, “I do.”
“I said, put that back!” the stranger roared.
All Jordon had to do was smash the jammer to the floor, but he froze. Just because the man hadn’t shot him yet, didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Jordon didn’t want to die. He wanted the chance to prove himself as a great father. To be a great husband. He raised one hand in surrender. “I’m putting it down.”
“No funny business.” The man’s voice trembled this time. Regret at shooting someone, or riding an adrenaline high because he had. Maybe both. But it was possible Jordon was being too generous to assign this man feelings of empathy considering what he was doing, what he had done.
Jordon put the jammer on the counter. It was out in the open, and should he get a clear opportunity to destroy the thing, he would. His fear be damned.
“Back to your chair. Now!” the gunman barked, guiding Jordon back to the chair he’d been in before with a wave of his gun.
Jordon sat down and got his first look at Mahoney.
The nurse was back on the couch, a hand over his upper left arm.
Blood was pouring out between his fingers.
That location shouldn’t have struck anything vital, but the bleeding needed to be stopped or it would be fatal.
Jordon gestured toward Mahoney. “Let me help him. I’m a doctor. ”
The gunman narrowed his eyes and contorted his face into a sneer. “You’re going to stay right where you are. I obviously can’t trust you.”
In a burst of rebellion, Jordon wished he had just smashed that device and really pissed the man off.
But to what end? A bullet in the head? And while he might be on the losing end of a physical altercation, he had his brains.
“You don’t want him to die. Trust me on that.
If the police find out, whatever you have planned here will be over.
You’ll be happy if you don’t leave in a body bag.
” Courage rose within him as he continued to speak.
His mouth was running off like he was a rebellious teenager again.
“Fine.” The man nudged his gun, pointing toward Mahoney. “Help him. But don’t try any funny business.”
And there it was again. Funny business… It must be the man’s adopted colloquialism.
Jordon hurried across the room, taking his white coat off as he walked.
He lifted Mahoney’s left arm and fed the coat’s sleeve around it, planning to use it as a tourniquet.
Mahoney cried out as Jordon tugged on the fabric and tied it off tightly to staunch the bleeding.
Mahoney’s eyes were clouded over with shock and spiked with adrenaline. For now, his body’s natural defenses were shielding him from feeling all the pain, but that would only hold out for so long.
“He needs medication to help with the pain and surgery to remove the bullet,” Jordon told the gunman.
The gunman shook his head. “That’s not happening. You help him as best as you can. Otherwise, we’re not going anywhere.”
“Then he could die. Is that what you came here to do today? Kill people?” Jordon was shaking with his own dose of adrenaline, and not doing well at keeping his mouth shut. It was a weakness his mother tried to rid him of since he learned to talk.
“It’s none of your business what brought me here. Get back to your chair.”
Jordon left Mahoney with hesitance but tapped the man’s hand before leaving his side. It was the best he could do for assurance. He’d done all he could for now.
He dropped back into his chair, feeling powerless.
If only there was a way to get the man separated from his gun…
But he’d witnessed how well Mahoney’s efforts had gone in that regard and wasn’t in a hurry to try it for himself.
Not considering how close he’d already come to getting shot himself.
And the gunman’s aim was bound to improve.
The next few moments passed in silence. Mahoney was wincing and hissing but breathing evenly. Less blood was seeping through the fabric of Jordon’s coat. The situation seemed to be stabilized. For now anyway. But would it hold out long enough for help to arrive?
It had already been two hours since the lockdown went into effect. If his mother had heard him before the call was dropped, she’d make the police turn up. But what if she hadn’t? Did the cops even know the situation here if people weren’t able to call out?
Jordon’s eyes drifted to the jammer. Even if they were aware, without a means of communication, the cops would remain in the dark. They would stand down. In the meantime, things would play out however these people with the guns wanted. Jordon had to get to that jammer and turn it off.
The gunman had returned to the newspaper, almost as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t shot a man. The observation was chilling.
Was Jordon brave enough to take a chance?
After all, he knew well that life could change in a flash.
Not just with his patients, but look at poor Mahoney on the couch.
He wouldn’t have expected to be shot today.
Life was unpredictable. And in case he didn’t survive this, he wanted Maria to know exactly what she meant to him and that he wanted his future to be with her.
Jordon discreetly slipped his cell phone from his pocket.
No bars, as expected. He still brought up the text thread he had going with her, tapped out a message, and hit send.
Even if she didn’t get it immediately, she would eventually and then she’d know just how much he loved her.
He pushed his phone back into his pocket just as the gunman looked up from the paper.
He was looking straight at Jordon, and his cold, calculating eyes lit as his lips curved into a smile. “Well, I’ll be.”
A sickening dread settled in Jordon’s core.
Call it a gut feeling, but his mother and her insatiable philanthropic causes were going to get him killed.
Usually he wasn’t roped into being a face among them, but last week, he was involved.
His mother awarded full medical scholarships to five students who otherwise wouldn’t be able to afford the schooling.
The announcement garnered media attention and netted an interview at his family home.
His mother touted him and his accomplishments for inspiration.
“This is you.” The gunman held up the photo of Jordon smiling next to his mother. He walked over to Jordon, closing the distance between them to a few inches. The man laughed. “What do you know? My life has just changed for the better.”
Jordon should have known the man would discover his identity sooner than later. But he could use this as leverage. “Let everyone else go. Hold on to me.”
Nurse Winters gave Jordon a hopeful look, as if he was her savior, but she ought to hold on to her optimism. Jordon noticed the gunman’s face was unchanged. There was a calm, somewhat eerie peacefulness to it. Unsettling.
“Please, let them go,” he petitioned again.
The man shook his head, all the while smiling. “This is so much bigger than you and me, kid, but you are a godsend.”
Jordon bristled at being referred to as a gunman’s gift from God. He was just religious enough to take offense.
The man went over to his backpack and dug out a walkie-talkie. He was smiling as he spoke into it. “I just got us some more insurance.”