Tease Me(8)

Oh fuck.

“Becca?” I answered, my voice thick with sleep. “What’s going on?”

“Scott,” she said between sobs. “He’s been shot.”

My heart stopped beating. “What?” I asked, the breath leaving me.

“He’s been shot,” she repeated.

“Where are you?” I said, throwing the covers back.

“Home. They called me and…and…” She broke down in sobs. “I’m freaking out.”

“I’m on my way,” I said and hung up. I threw on jeans and a t-shirt, jammed my feet into boots, and raced out the door. I jumped in my squad car and turned on the lights.

Misty would be proud.

I gripped the steering wheel. I shouldn’t have hung up so soon. I should have asked more questions. Who shot Scott? How bad was he injured? He was alive…wasn’t he?

I stomped on the gas, driving around a car. I flipped on the siren.

“Get the fuck out of my way!” I yelled to oncoming traffic. Didn’t they know to pull the fuck over? My heart hammered the entire drive to Becca’s. She was standing outside, waiting for me. We raced to the ER, speeding down the dark streets.

I pulled up to the ER doors and ran in. I held up my badge to the young woman behind the desk. “My brother,” I panted. “Detective Scott Morgan. He was shot.”

The girl looked at my badge then got up, telling us to wait. Becca clutched onto my hand. The double doors to the ER swung closed behind the attendant. The faint sounds of laughter echoed through the halls.

Minutes painfully ticked by before the attendant came back.

“Someone will be right out to get you,” she told us. “You can have a seat.”

Becca leaned forward. “He’s okay?”

The attendant raised one eyebrow. “I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.”

Neither Becca nor I moved. Another minute went by before the doors swung open again. Scott walked out, his white dress shirt splattered with blood. His left arm was in a sling, and his dark hair was a mess. His detective badge bounced with each step. He looked like a fucking hero in a movie.

“Scott!” Becca cried and flew to him. She wrapped her arms around him, and he pulled her in with a one-armed hug. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, baby,” he breathed and kissed his wife.

“What the hell happened?” Becca leaned back to look into his eyes.

“Ran into a bit of trouble at the bar,” he said.

“You got into a bar fight?” Becca recoiled.

Scott flicked his eyes to the people sitting in the ER waiting room. I got it right away, but it took Becca a while to know he couldn’t talk about it in front of civilians. We moved outside. The ER was buzzing with police officers, all raging about what had happened. I stayed close behind Scott. I wasn’t leaving until I knew the story. I felt like a tag-along, not important enough for my peers to address me. I didn’t care. I needed to know who shot my brother.

“Spill,” I said, looking at his arm in the sling.

“I went to the bar with the boys,” he started. “Ya know, casual drinks and food.”

I waved my hand in the air, wanting him to get the point.

“I knew something shady was going on,” he said, unable to keep the smile from his face. “We were in the back of the bar, and I could see a few guys in the alley. When I stepped out to investigate, I realized it was a drug deal.”

Becca clutched him, realizing this could have ended way worse.

“Calaveras again?” I asked.

Scott nodded. “We think so. The lab will confirm it when they analyze the cocaine. Took a bullet to the shoulder but I got ‘em.”

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

My eyes widened. “You arrested more Calaveras men?” Dammit. I didn’t mean to sound like a fangirl.

“Three more.”

Becca hugged him again. “We are so lucky to have you.”

I slowly let out a breath and closed my eyes in a long blink. I could have been there. I could have been the one to bust a drug deal. I could have been the one with a devil-may-care smile on my face, blood on my shirt, and my arm in a sling, telling tales about my bullet wound. But no…I chose to be a lame-ass and go home to sulk.

Wait, what? I was jealous of my brother for getting shot? What the fuck was wrong with me?

I pushed my shoulders back, nodding along with what Becca was saying. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I was jealous. It was insanely stupid to want to get shot.

But I did.

I didn’t really want the pain that comes along with it, but I wanted everyone to know I was brave and could handle rough, tough Calaveras dealers. The wind picked up, blowing through my thin shirt. It was right then that I knew, no matter what, I was going to prove myself.