Page 4 of Forced Into Your Arms
He started to pull the trigger again then stopped and turned his head … straight toward me. Even from where I stood, I could feel him looking at me.
Not because I'd witnessed the shooting, but because he'd just realized... I'd heard every damn word.
My pulse slammed against my ribs as I stood here frozen, staring at the man in all black with the hoodie.For one terrifying second, neither of us moved. He slightly tilted his head, his gaze never leaving mine. I couldn't see his face beneath the shadow of the hood, but I knew he was still looking straight at me.
"Her." The word was barely above a whisper, but it carried through the garage like he’d shouted it.
Another man stepped out from behind the SUV, his gun still hanging at his side. Unlike the first one, he hadn’t bothered covering hisface. I caught the outline of a beard before he looked in my direction.
He asked, "What about her?"
"She heard us."
Shit.
My stomach dropped as I instinctively took a step backward, then another. Before I could turn and run, the man bleeding in front of me tried to say something, but the words got caught behind a mouthful of blood. He staggered another step before grabbing the side mirror of a parked car to keep himself from collapsing.
The two men exchanged a look then one of them started toward me. Every survival instinct I had screamed for me to run, but my legs refused to cooperate. The only thing separating us were a few parked cars.
He closed half that distance before the sound of approaching sirens echoed through the garage. Not one… but several. Almost at the same time, the employee entrance flew open, and two hospital security officers came running outside.
"What the fuck is going on?" one of them yelled.
"There!" someone screamed, pointing in our direction.
The bearded man cursed under his breath. His attention shifted from me to the growing crowd filling the garage. Nurses, visitors, security... people were everywhere now.
"Damn," the bearded man then hissed. "We gotta move."
The one in the hoodie didn’t move right away. He looked at me one last time, almost like he was irritated. Like I was a problem he'd have to come back and deal with later.
A second later, both men took off toward a black SUV parked near the far end of the garage. Tires screamed against the concrete as the vehicle sped toward the exit, disappearing before anyone could get anywhere close to it.
Everything around me sounded muffled.
People were yelling. Someone was crying. Another person kept shouting for an ambulance, not realizing we were standing less than fifty yards from one of the busiest emergency rooms in Atlanta.
"Oh my God..."
The wounded man collapsed to his knees and that was all it took to snap me out of my shock.
I dropped my bag and ran.
"Sir!"
He hit the concrete just as I reached him. Blood spread beneath him so fast it made my stomach turn, but the nurse in me took over before panic had a chance to.
I dropped to my knees, pressed both hands against the gunshot wound, and applied as much pressure as I could.
“Stay with me,” I said firmly. “Look at me. Do you hear me?” His breathing came in short, uneven gasps as his eyes fought to stay open. “Stay with me… please.”
He tried to speak, but nothing came out except blood.
"Hey." I pressed harder. Warm blood soaked through my hands and onto my scrubs, but I didn’t care.
Footsteps rushed across the garage.
"Trauma team!" someone shouted. "Move! Move!"
