Frank walked in a circle, shaking his head and muttering to himself. Then he turned and pounded his fist on the desk. The woman jumped, one hand flying to her throat. The guard reached Frank then, closing his hand around his elbow. He immediately started to struggle against the guard’s grip.
Stay out of it, Story. It’s none of your business.
But something wouldn’t let her walk away. Obviously, her neighbor had more than a few problems, but at the end of the day, wasn’t he simply a man trying to care for his mother? A mother who would be home alone, possibly in need of medical attention. If he got locked up or detained for causing a scene at the hospital, no one would be there to assisst her.
If she could help his cause in any way, she needed to step in. Story made her way toward the desk and leaned forward to get the administrator’s attention. “Excuse me—”
Everything moved so quickly, she hardly had time to comprehend it. With a burst of surprising strength, Frank yanked his arm free of the security guard, knocking him momentarily off-balance. His hand shot out and seized the gun holstered to the guard’s hip. For a split second, the four of them froze. Story’s eyes shot to Frank’s face, but his attention was centered on the gun as if he couldn’t believe he actually held it in his hand. The guard lunged, but Frank swung it around and pointed it straight at the man, who immediately ceased all movement.
Another guard hastened toward them from her right and Frank noticed, too. She watched through wide eyes as his predicament registered on his face. The second guard would draw his gun any second and fire on him, but he couldn’t remove his aim from the first guard or he would be tackled.
Frank had no options. Or so Story thought.
Suddenly, he turned, grabbed her arm, and thrust her in front of him. With cold metal pressed against her neck, she watched both guards automatically hold their hands up over their heads. Her legs threatened to give out beneath her as fear, cold and sharp, lanced through her.
Behind her, Frank shook, his breath rapid and hot against the top of her head. “Oh God, oh shit. I’m sorry. No, no, no,” he whispered. Then he started dragging her backward toward the bank of offices located behind the administration desk. Despite her overwhelming anxiety, she knew better than to struggle. Obviously, Frank didn’t make a habit of handling firearms and it would be unwise to startle him. As they backed into an empty office, she cast one desperate glance at the lobby. For once, the hundreds of medical personnel and visitors weren’t rushing to get where they were going, instead watching the unusual scene unfolding before them.
Just as the door closed and cut off her line of vision, she saw Daniel a few yards away, watching with a look of horror on his face, gun drawn at his side.
…
Daniel didn’t have any awareness of the rush of activity taking place around him. An unknown length of time passed as he continued staring at the closed office door, trying to see through it. His nightmare was coming true in front of his face, only this time he wouldn’t wake up from it, shivering in his apartment. However, just like the event that had caused his nightmares, the outcome of this hellish situation rested entirely on his shoulders. And this time the stakes were much higher.
He’d entered the lobby just in time to see Story stop and turn toward a man arguing at the customer service desk, recognition sweeping across her features. Something in the man’s voice had immediately caught his attention, sending a warning signal to his brain. In addition to his extensive training in dealing with the emotionally unstable, his experience with Nora had given him the innate ability to detect notes of hysteria in people’s voices.
A tingling had begun at the back of his neck, quickly spreading through his entire system, his heart beating loud and insistent in his ears. It had suddenly become vital that he keep Story away from that man. Something was definitely wrong. Automatically, his hand had slipped inside his jacket and closed around the butt of his gun, but dammit, there’d been too many people in the way. He could barely draw breath with her name stuck in his throat.
That’s when everything went to hell.
Story, his Story, trapped in an office with a mentally ill man wielding a gun. He couldn’t fathom how they’d gotten there, only that he hadn’t been quick enough. Hadn’t gotten to her in time. Just minutes ago, he’d been worried about her leaving the state. Now he faced the possibility of her…no, he couldn’t think about that. Refused to.
The present snapped back into focus with the sound of sirens in the distance. If he didn’t pull himself together and focus, he could lose her. Daniel forced himself to build a wall around his emotions. Story’s life was in the balance. He had to find a way to get her out safely.
Everything he’d worked and trained for had prepared him for this moment. His hand fumbled in his pocket where his phone buzzed incessantly.
“Chase,” he answered, knowing dispatch would be on the other end. “I’m already here.”
A minute later, NYPD officers and Emergency Services members swarmed the hospital lobby. He made eye contact with Matt, who entered holding a sniper rifle, although in this case it wouldn’t do them any good considering Story and the hostage-taker were holed up inside a windowless office. “What do we got?” Matt asked, tossing him a bulletproof vest. Several other ESU members formed a circle around Daniel as their eyes swept the lobby.
He took a deep breath to ease the overwhelming anxiety. “One male perp with a handgun. One female hostage. I witnessed him prior to taking the hostage and we’ll be operating under the assumption that he is suffering from a mental illness. That means the perp cannot, under any circumstances, feel threatened or we risk the life of the hostage. She appears to know him in some way and that might work in our favor.”
Daniel nodded at the tech specialist who approached the circle, gear slung over his right shoulder. “I need the phone number to that specific office line immediately.” He looked at the rest of the group. “Get into position, but keep your distance. If he opens the door, we don’t want to spook him with guns in his face. Do not fire unless you cannot miss. I can’t stress the importance of that.” He looked Matt in the eye. “The hostage is Jack Brooks’s daughter.”
And the love of my life.
…
Story sat cross-legged on the office floor watching Frank pace back and forth in front of the door, blocking her escape. His demeanor did nothing to reassure her. With each passing minute, his desperation seemed to grow, his mutterings running together until she couldn’t make them out. He gripped the gun in a shaky hand, waving it to emphasize specific words in his tirade, clearly having lost his grip on reality.
She tried to focus on the positive. Ten minutes had passed since entering the office, which was a good thing. Having read Jack’s book, she knew that the first few minutes of a hostage situation were the most dangerous. She hadn’t resisted in the slightest, another point in her favor.
She’d yet to actually address Frank, taking the time instead to gain her composure. Remaining calm was essential. The ten minutes had served to cool the adrenaline spiking through her blood and she felt capable now of taking the next step. Asking the right questions and listening. Unlike most hostages, she had the advantage of already knowing her captor’s motivation. Medical care for his mother. Now she had to find a way to get it for him.