Maliki (Guardian Defenders Book 2)

by Kris Michaels

  He put the glass down as he heard, "... no shit, they found another dead girl."

  "Fuck, no way? Who? Are they from around here?" The conversation between two men a few seats down drew and held his attention, but he kept his eyes focused on his drink.

  "Dunno. That makes three in like the last year, yeah?"

  "Something like that. Yeah, three. There was that first girl, the one that everyone said was an OD. She was from, like, two towns over. Someone said she was a tweaker."

  "Then that college kid. Did they say how she died?"

  "Not that I heard. The upper crust keeping that shit on the downlow, yah know."

  "She wasn't from one of them families."

  "Nah, but I heard her people work for one of ’em."

  "So this one?"

  "Man, I dunno."

  "Fuck, she wasn't, like, mistreated, was she?"

  "Like I said, I dunno. Curt didn't say."

  "This used to be a safe place to live."

  "Used to be. Too easy to get drugs now."

  "Right? Pills. I mean, when we were growing up, man, it was weed. Nothing addictive."

  Mal rolled his eyes at that comment, taking another drink of his beer.

  "My cousin Masey was caught up in that stuff. She got hooked on that Oxy. Said it was easy to get."

  "Damn doctors overprescribing is what is hooking people on that shit."

  Mal gave a mental shrug. There might be some culpability within the medical field. He'd give the local that point.

  The bartender appeared in front of him. "Haven't seen you around before. Are you new to the area?"

  "Nah, grew up around here." Mal drained his glass and nodded when the bartender offered him another.

  "Yeah? I've lived here for almost thirty years. Where did you go to school?" The man was probably Mal's age.

  "Europe."

  "Ah..." The man nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. A suspicious look crossed his face. "Slumming it?"

  Surprised at the comment, the snort of laughter that emerged was honest. "Nah, I walked away from that life and joined the Air Force, pararescue."

  "What's that?"

  Mal thought about his response for a moment. "Pararescue airmen are the Air Force's elite. We performed rescue operations for troops that were in need of medical assistance no matter where they were located, no matter the branch of service."

  "No shit? Wow. You don't usually hear that type of thing from the Royals."

  "Royals?" Mal chuckled and shook his head. Yeah that was an apt description of his parents and their friends in the area.

  "Meh… it's what we call them here in town. Didn't take you for one of them. You got the look of hard work around you. They usually don't. You know those office-worker types."

  Joseph's constant taunt flashed through his mind, and he smiled. "I know the type."

  "What brings you back?"

  Mal didn't answer, instead his attention shifted as a woman brought a platter from the kitchen. His steak was the size of a hub cap, but damn he was going to do his best to finish the thing. "Thank you."

  The lady smiled. "Enjoy." She lifted on her toes and the bartender gave her a quick kiss before she spun and headed back into the kitchen area.

  "Damn, this looks fantastic."

  "My wife, Jennie, is a good cook. I'm Daryl Cochran." The man extended his hand. "I own this place."

  He reached over his food and shook the man's hand. "Maliki Blue."

  Daryl tilted his head. "Blue?" He shook his head. "I know most of the families around here, don't know any Blues."

  Mal cut into his steak and lifted his fork to his mouth. "When I left the life, I left the name."

  "Damn, clean break, huh? Well, good on you. Seriously. I've never heard of anyone walking away from a silver spoon." Daryl used a towel and polished the bar in front of where he stood. A man down the bar lifted his glass and the bartender responded, leaving him alone. The steak was cooked to perfection. He basically ignored the baked potato and green beans and feasted on the grilled goodness.

  "Another?" Daryl strolled over to him, pointing at his empty glass.

  "No, two is the limit. How about some club soda?"

  "Coming up." Daryl produced a large glass and filled it with ice then hit it with the soda.

  "How long you plan on staying in the area?"

  "I don't. In for a command performance and then back home."

  "Where's home?"

  Mal chuckled, the guy should be an interrogator. "Lots of places, but most recently Nevada." He wasn't going to peg his location for anyone. The Rose was off limits, so Nevada was as close as he'd acknowledge.

  "Yeah? Hot there, ain't it?"

  "So hot you could broil the devil's balls on the sidewalk."

  Daryl barked a laugh and shook his head. "Too bad you ain't sticking around, you're all right."

  Mal drank his soda water and leaned to the side reaching for his wallet. "What do I owe you?"

  "With the beers, it comes to thirty-two dollars."

  Mal retrieved two twenties and dropped them onto the counter. "Thanks for the food and the conversation."

  "Come on back if your command performance gets extended."

  "Will do." He hit the door and headed to his SUV. His boots crunched the gravel under his feet, but he pulled up short. Gooseflesh formed on his arms. What was it? A sound? What had he heard? He canted his head and listened. A low moan. Sprinting toward the sound he did an immediate assessment of the area. Fuck, he wasn't packing. He slowed his approach and scanned the area. There. A body, near the trees. Another quick scan. Fuck it. He had to go in. Keeping low he crossed the open area and kneeled down near the person.

  A woman. Fuck, she'd been shot. Gut shot. The woman, hell, the girl, moaned.

  "Hey, it’s okay. I'm a doctor. I'm going to get us some help. You stay with me, yeah?"

  He grabbed his phone and hit his emergency contact number, keying the speakerphone, which he dropped beside the shooting victim.

  "Operator Two Seven Four."

  Mal ripped the woman's shirt open to expose the wound, leaving her bra on to cover her. "Thorn Operative 6. I have an emergency at my location. I need ambulance and police response, gunshot wound." He lifted her shirt. Two entry wounds. Low. Whoever did this meant for the woman to suffer. She moaned again.

  "Affirmative. Standby."

  "Hey, can you hear me? What's your name?" No answer. There was no compromise to the woman's airway, and she was still breathing. Assessing circulation, Mal tore off his Henley and wrapped it as tight as he could around the woman's wounds. Although there wasn't a lot of blood loss, the swelling of the woman's abdomen wasn't a good sign. Probable internal bleed.

  She wasn't coherent. He found a pulse point. Damn it... thready and weak.

  "First responders are en route to your location, Thorn Operative. Is there need for sanitation?" The operator's voice was steady, and given the stress of the volatile situation, he appreciated the professionalism.

  "There will be law enforcement involvement. I found the victim when leaving a local establishment. Advise Thorn Operative One. He'll ensure protocols are followed."

  "Affirmative. Your responders are two minutes away," the woman informed him as the shrill wail of a siren pierced the silence. "I hear them. Make that call."

  "I have already sent notification to Thorn Operative One. I'll stay on the line until you have emergency responders on scene, or you clear me."

  "Roger that." He checked for a pulse. "Fuck. Guardian, I have no pulse. Initiating CPR."

  "Affirmative. Time now is 21:23."

  A mental count started. Thirty compressions, at least two inches in depth and two breaths. Thirty compressions, two breaths. Thirty compressions, two breaths. Mal wasn't aware of responding personnel making their way to him until he saw the paramedic kit drop beside his victim. A face appeared across from him. "How long have you been doing compressions?"

  "Guardian, time!"

/>   "23:24. CPR time elapsed two minutes, one second." The operator responded.

  "Can you continue while we prep to take over?"

  "I've got it." Mal continued counting and breathing for the girl, checking for a pulse when he performed the rescue breathing.

  "Ready to transfer, sir, on the next breath."

  Mal nodded, sweat dripped from his brow as he pushed in that one-hundred compression per minute beat that he'd learned so fucking well. He counted out loud, and at thirty, he moved and the medics took over.

  "Excuse me, sir. We'll need to talk with you when you..." The female voice behind him irritated him.

  Without looking at who he spoke to, he snarled, "Fuck off." Turning to the medics he stated, "I'm a doctor. I'll relieve you if you need it."

  The paramedic doing the compressions acknowledged him before he stopped, and the other gave two rescue breaths and felt for a pulse. He held up a hand. "We have a pulse. It’s weak, but it’s there. We need to move. Now. Doc, pull up that gurney, will yah?"

  He assisted the crew in getting the woman onto the gurney and followed them as they loaded her up. "Shauna? Is that Shauna? God, no! Please, No!"

  Mal spun as Daryl Cochran pushed through the crowd. A uniformed officer stopped Daryl and asked, "Do you know her, sir?"

  "That's my daughter! Oh God, that’s my girl. Sam! Get Jennie, someone go get Jennie and take her to the hospital." Daryl jumped into the ambulance before the back doors slammed shut. Mal stood and watched as the ambulance tore from the parking lot.

  He turned and looked at the litter the ambulance crew had left behind and leaned down to grab his phone. He thumbed the face and took it off speaker, putting it to his ear. "You still there?"

  "Affirmative."

  "Thank you for the assist."

  "Whatever it takes, Thorn Operative Six."

  "As long as it takes and seriously, thank you."

  He hit the disconnect button and pocketed his phone.

  "Sir, we still need to talk to you."

  Maliki rolled his shoulders. Fuck, the local yokels. He turned around and came face to face with a woman wearing blue jeans and a badge. She had a nine-mil holstered on her hip and her long red hair gathered into a ponytail. She was tall and strikingly pretty.

  "Can you tell me what happened here?"

  He put his phone in his back pocket. He’d say what he’d done was pretty rudimentary, but he answered the question, "I performed emergency medical assistance on a person who had sustained two gunshot wounds to the abdomen. She went into cardiac arrest and I initiated CPR. You saw the rest."

  "Right, and we appreciate you taking care of her, but I'm going to need a few more details." She smiled, but it didn’t reach those big blue eyes. She gave him a slow, assessing, once over, and he did the same.

  "Such as?"

  "May I see some identification?" The woman extended her hand.

  "Sure." Mal retrieved his wallet and handed her his driver's license.

  She glanced down at his ID and flicked her flashlight over the face. "Care to sit down while we do this, Dr... Blue?"

  She nodded toward an SUV parked about fifty feet away. He shrugged, and she held onto his license as they walked to the SUV. The driver’s door was open so he couldn't see what department she was with, city or county, but the blue laser light bar on the top and the cream and brown colors were indicative of a county cop. Mal walked around the vehicle and approached the other door. Yep. Nailed it. County Sheriff.

  She flipped a switch which illuminated the cab of the vehicle and positioned her computer closer to her using the extendable mount on the center counsel. "So, Dr. Blue, would you please tell me what transpired tonight, pertaining to your involvement in the situation behind Shorty's?"

  "I exited the establishment after having dinner at approximately 21:20 this evening. On my way to my vehicle I heard... something. I'm not sure what it was, but I stopped and listened. That is when I heard what I believed to be a person in distress. I approached the scene, determined a safe avenue to the downed person, assessed the threats to the best of my ability, and made the decision to move forward. At that point I made contact with a young female with two GSWs to the lower abdomen. I called my office and had them contact first responders as I provided emergency aid. When the victim stopped breathing and had no pulse, I initiated one person CPR until first responders relieved me of the responsibility."

  The woman blinked and tipped her head. Her high cheekbones and light dusting of freckles were accentuated by the interior light. A furrow buried itself between her light blue eyes. "You're a doctor?"

  Maliki nodded, giving her nothing more.

  "Right… okay. But help me with this if you would. You stated you were going to your vehicle, you determined an avenue to the downed person, and what did you say… you assessed the threats? That is not common doctor speak, sir."

  "Where I work, it is."

  "And where exactly do you work, sir?"

  "I'm employed by Guardian Security."

  "As?"

  "I'm sorry, I don't understand the question." Maliki liked how sharp the woman's mind was, but he wasn't volunteering anything.

  "Are you employed as a doctor with Guardian or do you do other work?"

  "I'm a doctor."

  She lifted her brows. "That's not what I asked you, either."

  "Then let me be specific. I'm employed as a doctor with Guardian Security." Which he was. The fact that he was also training with the hopes of becoming an operative had no bearing. None whatsoever, especially since he hadn't informed Joseph of his intent to be part of the program once his skills were where they needed to be.

  "Right. Then let's get your statement down. Are you staying in the local area?" She started typing as she talked.

  "I'm at the Paintville Inn." He told her the room number.

  "What is the purpose of your visit to Paintville, sir?"

  "Why?"

  She blinked and looked over at him. Her long dark red hair slipped from her back falling over her shoulder. "You were involved in an incident tonight. A violent crime. I will ask any question I find germane to determining what happened. Now, what is the purpose of your visit to Paintville, sir?"

  Maliki smiled. Oh, he liked the spunk in this one. She reminded him a bit of Ember. But where Ember was curves and curls, this woman had an athletic build and her hair was straight and thick, but that fire that burned inside… that was almost exactly like Ember.

  "The reason for my visit is not germane to the investigation, in any form, unless you suspect that I was somehow involved in the shooting, which I was not. The girl's father served me dinner, and I visited with him most of the evening. So, my whereabouts from about 20:15 to the time I found his daughter, shot and bleeding, are not in dispute. Considering the severity of the GSWs and the criticality of the victim due to internal bleeding, I would suspect the shooting occurred several minutes prior to me exiting the establishment, and no, neither I nor anyone else heard anything unusual, because if anyone had, I would have responded with assistance sooner. Therefore, based on how quickly everyone inside responded when they heard your sirens, I would assume the assailant used a suppressor of some kind. Now, if you'd like, I will allow a swab of my hands for GSR to confirm I did not fire a weapon." He lifted his hands and shook his head. "Of course, the woman's blood will compromise any swab of my hands. You could test my shirt, which is on the way to the emergency room as a bandage. Or perhaps you'd like my t-shirt?"

  Her eyes lowered and traveled over his chest. He flexed his pecs and biceps on purpose, to mess with the cop. He'd bulked like crazy during the last year's physical training. The woman's eyes snapped away, and she shook her head. Damn, it was all he could do not to laugh.

  She cleared her throat, "You have some pat answers, Doctor Blue."

  "I have the truth, Deputy..."

  She lifted her eyebrows. "Senior Deputy Campbell."

  Maliki nodded. "Senior Deputy Campbell, if you don't m
ind, I'm going to go back to my hotel room and clean up. Then I plan on calling the hospital to check on Daryl's girl. Shauna, right?"

  "Yeah, Shauna."

  "How old is she?"

  She sighed and shook her head. “Early twenties."

  "So... close to your age." He nodded, pigeon-holing the deputy sheriff firmly in her late twenties.

  Her explosion of laughter snapped his attention back to her. "Okay, so you're not as smart as I was starting to believe." When he blinked at her in confusion, she added, "I'm almost thirty-six, Doctor.” She waved at the lighting. "I need to invest in vehicle dome lighting, obviously it subtracts years from one’s appearance. Before I release you, let's get your statement down. You can swing by the office tomorrow and sign it, and I'll need your contact information, cell phone, office phone, the usual information—"

  The radio crackled, "Unit Four, this is County."

  Deputy Campbell picked up the mic. "Unit Four."

  "Roger, we have a fire alarm at the Ogden estate."

  "Roll Hannaford. Tell Granger to stay with the GSW."

  "Hannaford is at a major vehicle accident on the other side of the county."

  "Fuck." The deputy glanced at him before she lifted the mic again. "En route." She yelled at another deputy who was working the crime scene. "Dobson, I'll be back, caught a fire at the Ogden estate."

  The deputy lifted a hand in acknowledgement. Mal exited as the blue lights switched on. She lifted his license. "I'll give this back to you when I see you tomorrow."

  Mal chuckled and shook his head as the woman tore from the lot, sending rocks flying over the asphalt when she merged onto the blacktop.

  "You need any help?" Mal ambled up to where the deputy was standing, taking photographs of the area where he’d found Shauna.

  "No, we got this. Thanks." The man's flashlight strafed the area. He stopped and laid a small yellow triangle with a number on it by a spatter of blood in the rocks beyond the spot Mal had treated the kid. "Make sure you walk that way, okay?" The man pointed back behind him.