Page 86 of Entangled

A nagging pain started to ache in Cara’s side, but she pressed the heel of her palm against it to soothe it as best she could. Her phone rang once more, and Gian’s number lit up the screen.

Even though every single part of her screamed to pick up the call and hear his voice, because it would calm her like nothing else, Cara didn’t do it. She didn’t want to scare him, or worry him. The situation was … well, bad.

Really fucking bad.

Cara decided to call the emergency line back, just to let them know an update on the situation, and why the call had been ended in the first place.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your—”

“Active shooter at Carolina’s House on the Fifth,” Cara interrupted, keeping an eye on the locked-in door. “I was just on the phone with a dispatcher, and accidentally ended it. We have the housing and dining wings locked in, but the main entrance, bottom floor, and offices are not secure.”

“Units are on route to the scene, and one has already arrived, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

She still didn’t relax.

Not for a minute.

And especially not when the dispatcher said, “We have a confusing report coming in from the first unit, could you clarify the situation? One shooter or two?”

Cara’s brow furrowed. “Just one, why?”

“There are running vehicles outside of the shelter’s main entrance and a witness told police that two men entered the shelter five minutes ago. With weapons visible.”

“This began at least fifteen minutes ago,” Cara whispered.

“Yes, I can see when your first call came in, ma’am.”

Cara wasn’t sure why she felt the need to ask, but the question spilled out anyway. “What are the models of the vehicles outside the shelter that the witness saw the men come in?”

“Um … a Lexus and a Mercedes.”

Gian.

Gian couldn’t get rid of the image of the brain matter splattered across the welcome sign behind the shelter’s receptionist desk. He’d thought something was wrong when his phone call with Cara ended abruptly. He knew something was wrong for sure when—after driving like a bat out of hell—he found the front of the shelter dark, without the usual warm lights brightening the entrance.

Inside, two dead women sent him running for the offices wing. Dom stayed in the entrance to help the frightened, shocked women that had been spared.

“Cara!”

Gian checked office after office, but found nothing. A few of the staff had locked their doors, too, but he didn’t think Cara would be in an office with someone else. She had called from her office phone, and that was why he went looking there first. He’d put together what she had said about the risk level for an altercation due to a new woman at the shelter, and figured … the altercation happened.

Halfway down the hallway, he heard a snarling voice coming from behind the exit doors. He wasn’t sure where that led to, but he knew the shelter was sectioned off to make it feel more home-like, and less like a complex.

“Get those fucking doors open,” a man barked. “Right now, or I’ll blow your fucking head apart.”

“Please, listen. The doors can’t be opened. Please don’t—”

“Open the fucking doors!”

“I can’t open them!”

The woman’s resounding cry that followed her statement had Gian picking up his pace. Already, he had his favorite Berretta at the ready. He shouldn’t be walking around with a gun, anyway, not with the cops being so hot on his ass, and the time he had just served for illegal weapons possession.

Gian figured having a gun now was a damn good thing.

“Bitch, I’m gonna kill you.”