The man sagged.
His hand finally opened, and the pistol dropped, hit the boards, and skidded under the bench where Lucia had been standing.
"Down. Stay down." Doyle's forearm was a bar across the man's throat.
Dawson and Jasper barreled through the door, weapons drawn.
"Police—down, down, hands where I can see them," Dawson said. He paused, lowering his weapon. "I'll take it from here."
Dawson holstered his piece while he placed a knee in the perp's back, snagged his arms, and cuffed him. "Jasper, read this guy his rights, put him in the back of my patrol car."
"You got it, boss."
Sterling rolled his shoulders and winced. He glanced down. His favorite shirt now had a hole that couldn't be repaired and a stain he wouldn’t get out. "I hate getting shot," he mumbled.
"That's a fucking graze, you drama queen." Doyle stood two feet away with his hands on his hips and a shiner on his cheek.
Sterling had no idea how that had happened but was glad he wasn’t the only one with a battle wound. He took in a deep cleansing breath as he glanced around the lobby. His ears were still ringing from that shot going off too close to his face.
"Have to say, I'm glad you remembered our signals," Doyle said.
"Me too." He laughed. "Otherwise… well it could've been worse."
Doyle ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm just glad no one was hurt. But some of these people are going to have a hard time sleeping tonight."
Sterling nodded as he watched people hug, cry, and console one another. This town had seen more than their fair share of trauma. But not everyone experienced it up close and personal. "The people of Calusa Cove are tough. They'll pull together and help each other."
"Looks like they already are," Doyle said.
Sterling's gaze had already landed on Juniper, who stood with the young mother and child she'd helped when the situation first escalated. But before Sterling could excuse himself, Hayes was in his face.
"Let me take a look at that." Hayes pointed to his biceps.
"It's fine. Just a scratch. I've had worse."
"I'm sure we both have. I still want to look at it." Hayes tore the sleeve back. "Pain anywhere else? Any other injury I need to examine?"
"Just the arm."
"Hold this." Hayes pressed a wad of gauze into the furrow and Sterling held it, and the pressure hurt in a way that was almost a relief.
He followed Juniper as she made her way to an older man sitting alone in the corner with his elbows on his knees and his hands holding his cheeks.
She was a compassionate woman. Sterling had seen that a million times at the bar between giving away a few free lunches when people were down on their luck or just lending an ear. Juniper had a kind heart.
But tonight, she’d shown something else, and Sterling wasn't sure where to file it. He could add it to his paranoia that she'd been watching him. Because in the world of covert ops, that made a whole lot of sense. His self-sarcasm wasn't helping because part of him actually believed she could be part of some bizarre sleeper cell. Stranger things had happened.
Add in the fact that he watched her reach for a sidearm that wasn't there. It was a split second, and he'd barely had time to register it during the chaos, but he was sure it happened.
Not to mention, she knew how to handle herself and everyone around her. Cool and calm under pressure.
But that now added a different question. Because that kind of reaction screamed training—law enforcement training.
Christ, he had fucking problems. Perhaps dating wasn't a good idea for him. There was a reason he'd remained single for his entire life.
"This is going to sting," Hayes said right before he doused Sterling's arm with a cold liquid.
Sterling grunted and flinched. "I swear, you get off on hurting people."
