Chapter 6
Ryder
E lara ducks and immediately retreats behind a pillar, and I make a run for it behind a wooden box. We don’t know exactly where the shooter is, so until we have some sort of visual, this is our best bet. I peer over the top of the box and out the window. I swear I see movement in the warehouse next door, but I can’t be sure.
Before I crouch back down behind the box, I glimpse Bardot. He’s asphyxiating on his own blood as it flows down his neck. While holding the gunshot wound with his one hand, he slowly moves the other towards the front of his coat, sliding his fingers against it. After a few moments, he stops moving all together. Fuck.
Not even fifteen seconds after he becomes motionless, gunfire breaks out again, but this time, I can see where exactly it’s coming from. The shooter is on the same floor as us, but in the warehouse next door. He’s got a clear shot into this building. Seems he’s switched weapons though, because when he shoots again, it’s not a quiet pop like it was before. This is ear-splitting. This motherfucker went from a sniper rifle to a semi-automatic. Our pistols are definitely going to be useful here… Not .
I look over at Elara, who is still behind the pillar. “What the fuck do we do now?!” I yell.
“We don’t exactly have a weapons advantage here, so we have to come up with something else!” she shouts back. “NO SHIT!” I scurry over behind another box, hoping to get a better vantage point. I look towards where the shooter is, aim the best I can with this distance, and fire three times. Bang, bang, bang! The first bullet misses completely, the second hits the window he’s shooting out of, shattering the glass, and I see the man dodge the shards. The third hits the metal rim of the window I just hit and ricochets, going I have no clue where.
The shooter pauses, I'm assuming, to reload. I shout at Elara. “Cover me!” She nods and moves around the pillar enough to aim, but is still clear of the firing zone. I run around the boxes as he begins shooting again. He’s got his finger glued to the damn trigger, and bullets continue to fly. Good for me, this guy has the aim of a stormtrooper in using a semi-automatic. Elara is shooting back at him, having about the same luck as me. She got a shot closer to him, but nothing that will stop him.
A few more feet and I’ll be back behind cover. He shoots another, but of course, this one hits a pipe and rebounds and goes right into the side of my thigh. I wince in pain, but it’s silent compared to the gunfire raining around the room. I make it the rest of the way to cover. I’m pretty sure the adrenaline in my veins is pumping way more than I think it is because this does not hurt as much as it should.
I get into position on the other side of the pillar and start returning fire. And after a few more minutes, he stops. I don’t think we hit him. “Stay here, in case he starts firing again. Maybe I can use this to my advantage; run over and catch him by surprise.” I don’t like it, but I don’t think she’ll change her mind.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. What if he hears you? That vest is not going to be much help with the gun he has.” I don’t even finish my sentence before she is halfway down the stairs. Yeah, I didn't think that would work, but it was worth a shot. “If I don’t have confirmation in three minutes, I’m coming over there!” I whisper-yell, unaware if she can even hear me.
I keep my eyes on the window next door as I glance at my watch every so often to time Elara. He hasn’t fired a single shot. Maybe we did hit him. Three minutes is coming up fast and just as I get up to go towards the stairs, I see movement. I move closer to the window while remaining out of range of getting shot. Again . I peek out the window to the other side and see Elara at the window, giving me a thumbs up to say ‘it’s clear’. I walk as fast as I can down the stairs and over to the warehouse, not wanting to injure my leg anymore. Not that the pain has kicked in yet, anyway.
This building is even more dingy than the one we were in. Surprised I don’t hear sneezing. I make my way upstairs to where Elara is and see she is standing over… nothing. “Where is he?” I ask, looking around. “Not a damn clue. By the time I got up here, he was gone. Took everything. He even took the shell casings.” I groan. “Well, we know he’s experienced enough to know about tracing bullets.” I acknowledge. “Maybe he’s military or something?” Elara proposes, making me chuckle.
“Not with that stormtrooper aim the way he was using the semi.” She snorts in response. “Well, I think it’s safe to say we know one thing.” I turn to look at her and we say almost in unison. “We need to talk to Holloway again.” This is our most logical next step, but this case is getting more and more confusing. Why would Holloway lie? What did Bardot not want to get him involved in?
About twenty minutes later, other agents and the medical examiner arrive and we explain what happened. Elara and I both talk to Hartwell and he wasn’t exactly thrilled with us. He was pissed we didn’t call for backup when Bardot called, but he did understand us, not wanting to scare him off by coming in ten against one.
We are upstairs in the building with Bardot and the medical examiner as she does her thing to collect evidence. She takes probably one hundred pictures before she starts analyzing the gunshot wound. “Bullet got lodged in his carotid. No wonder he lost so much blood.” She states before getting up to get a body bag from the van. I make sure she is out of sight and walk towards Bardot and crouch down next to him. Ah, there’s the pain, goodbye adrenaline, I’ll miss you . “What are you doing? ‘Don’t tamper with the body’ is literally dead body protocol 101.” Elara whispers.
“Before he got shot, he said he found something.” I start as I grab a glove from the box on the table. “Before he died, he moved his hand over this part of his coat.” I carefully open it and check the pocket. “So what?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder. “I think, maybe, whatever he found,” I fix his jacket, so it looks undisturbed. “is in here.” I say, holding up a flash drive.
The examiner comes back up the stairs as I put the USB in my pocket and Elara gets the memo to not mention it. Careful not to put weight on my leg, I get up, grunting softly. I could say something about the bullet in my thigh, but I am not a lover of hospitals. They creep me out. Besides, while we were waiting for everyone else to join the party, I excused myself to go to the bathroom -AKA the field behind the warehouses- and tied a tourniquet so it’s not like blood is dripping down my leg or anything. I’ll stitch it up when we get back to our hotel. And yes, I’m well aware how stupid that may be, but it’s not the first time I’ve done something like this and it probably won’t be the last.
???
As soon as they gave us the go ahead to leave, we got back in the car and headed out. The adrenaline has pretty much fully worn off and fuck does my leg hurt. I don’t talk most of the ride back, out of fear that I’ll have to come up with a lie as to why I look constipated and on the verge of tears. Elara parks the car and gets out. I’m moving a lot slower than I’d like and she notices when she’s halfway to the lobby door and I’m just now standing up. She walks back over. “Are you okay?” I nod and start to walk, limping and damn near falling on my ass right away. “Bullshit. You are not fine.” She rushes to my side and puts my arm over her shoulder, trying to support my weight so I can walk.
We get to the room and she has me sit down on the bed before getting a first aid kit out of her bag. She doesn’t even know what's wrong with me, but she empties the whole thing on the comforter. “What happened? Where does it hurt?” She asks, checking my abdomen for tenderness. I grunt, grabbing the scissors from the pile to cut my pant leg. She catches on and turns her head to look at my leg, noticing the tourniquet. She looks at me wide-eyed before punching my arm. Ow! I knew she was good with a gun, but for her size, I didn’t expect her punching me to hurt that much.
“Ryder, what the fuck?!” she shouts. “You got shot and just didn’t think to fucking mention it? What is the matter with you?” She snatches the scissors from me and finishes cutting the fabric, getting a better look at the wound. She shakes her head every so often, muttering something under her breath. “In my defense, I didn’t really know how bad it was because of all the adrenaline.” I say sheepishly as she glares at me.
She gets a needle and suture from her array of supplies as well as pliers, gauze, and antiseptic. “The bullet is still in there. I have to get it out before it causes an infection.” She douses my leg with the antiseptic, my leg now stinging like a bitch. “Fucking hell!” I yell through gritted teeth.
“If you had said something before, I would've taken you to the hospital and this wouldn’t hurt as much.” She replies matter-of-factly. “Not a fan of hospitals. I planned on fixing it when we got back. Didn’t think it was that bad.” I wince as she uses the pliers to carefully pull out the bullet. “Got it.” She places the bloody bullet in a square of gauze and sets it aside and cleans it up the best she can before grabbing the suture.
“Is there any alcohol in here?” I ask, rummaging through the medical bag. “Not unless you want to drink the antiseptic. I’ll stitch you up and then go get pain meds.” She replies. As she uses the needle and suture, I notice how she sticks her tongue out the side of her mouth as she concentrates. It’s kind of adorable. I stare at her intently as she works her medical skills. She finishes up as she grabs the gauze and antiseptic, gently cleaning the area again.
"Just try to not die on me, alright?" she mumbles, avoiding my gaze. I gasp mockingly, "Is the Elara Cassidy starting to care about her partner that she didn’t want? Are you going soft on me, El?" She rolls her eyes and grins. "No, but you're helpful... and I don't hate having you around." After a few moments of silence, she glances up at me as I study her face. "What?" she questions, putting a large bandage over the stitches.
"You truly are a enigma and I can't figure you out for the life of me."