Eleventh Hour

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