Lupi 08 - Death Magic

give idiots with guns a reason to start shooting.
    He fought to appear calm and gripped Cullen’s shoulder. “Hold,” he said soothingly, feeling the wire-tight readiness in his friend. “Hold.”
    “Get your hands back up!” the guard barked.
    “I’m not going to do that. Do you have a dog, Officer?”
    A fine tremor went down the guard’s arms. He reeked of fear. “Don’t talk shit. You people don’t turn into dogs. I worked MCD back when they rounded y’all up. I know what you’re capable of.”
    Rule doubted that. Not when the man thought ten feet was a safe distance.
    One of the other guards kept his gun trained on Cullen, while the third had holstered his and was reaching for the cuffs clipped to his duty belt.
    Rule’s voice roughened. “Handcuffs are a very bad idea. My friend is seriously injured. He might panic if someone attempts to restrain him.”
    “Cuff him,” the gray-haired guard said hoarsely. “Do it.”
    Rule looked at the EMT standing closest to him. He reminded Rule a bit of LeBron—tall, muscular, with dark skin and a shaved head. LeBron, who’d been killed last month. “I don’t want anyone hurt,” he said quietly. “I can keep Cullen calm, but I’ve failed miserably to calm your gun-wielding associate. You and your friend should move away from the gurney.”
    “Like hell they will,” said a raspy female voice from within the ER. “Their contract says they deliver ’em inside the doors. They’ll wheel him in here like good boys. That your man?”
    “They both are,” said a second woman in a thick, warm drawl. The Rhej, Rule realized with a rush of relief as two women stepped out through the ER doors. “But I’ll share the one on the gurney with you soon as we get him moving again.” She came toward Rule. “I can take Cullen in while you get things straightened out with these boys. They’re scared,” she said, her voice balanced nicely between sympathy and scorn. “You might try looking a little less like you plan to rip out their throats.”
    He’d thought he was. “I’ll stay with Cullen. He isn’t in any shape to be around so many strangers at the moment.”
    “Ma’am,” said the guard with the cuffs, “you have to get back right now.”
    The Rhej ignored him and looked down at Cullen, who lay motionless, his eyes bright and intent and not at all human. She nodded. “I see what you mean. You know me, though,” she told Cullen reassuringly. “I won’t leave you with strangers, no more than Rule will. Belle? We need Rule to stay with our patient.”
    The other woman wore scrubs. She was shorter, heavier, and older than the Rhej, with skin a half shade darker and a face whose lines mapped out weary cynicism. She was light on her feet, though, as she came forward. “Harold, put up the damn gun.”
    “Get back, Belle! You don’t know what they’re capable of.”
    “I know what you’re capable of, and it don’t include putting a bullet in me just ’cause you’re feeling twitchy.” So saying, the woman put her broad body between the guard and the gurney. “Take him in, boys.”
     
     
    “LILY!” Deborah’s pretty eyes widened. “Is it—is Fagin—”
    “Fagin?” It took Lily a second to figure out what Deborah meant. Of course—she’d have seen it on the news. “No, he’s fine. Or he will be, I guess. I haven’t heard anything lately. I need to see Ruben. It’s urgent.” The wind had picked up. Lily wished for a heavier jacket and tried not to shiver.
    “Of course.” Deborah’s gaze flicked to Scott, who stood behind Lily. He’d insisted on going in with her. Couldn’t guard her from the car, he’d said. It wasn’t important enough to argue about, so Lily hadn’t. “This is Scott. Scott, Deborah Brooks.”
    “Ma’am,” he said.
    Deborah opened the door wider. “Come in.”
    Lily walked into warm air that smelled like chocolate chip cookies.
    “He’s in the kitchen,” Deborah said, and started down the hall. Her low-heeled shoes clicked on the hardwood floor. “What’s going on?”
    “Trouble. I need to tell him about it quickly.”
    “I see. I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee, and cookies in the oven. You take your coffee black, I think?”
    “I do, but I haven’t got time. But thanks.”
    “I’ll pour a cup. You can ignore it, if you like.”
    Hinting wasn’t working. “I need to talk to Ruben alone.”
    “We don’t always get what we think we need, do we?” Deborah’s voice remained pleasant.