The Pink Pistol [Girlxgirl]

Chapter 16

(Riley's POV)

I'd only been shot once in my life.

It had been a Thursday, decorated with grey skies and open heavens. My former partner and I were leading a raid at a shipyard intended to bust a drug trafficking ring wide open, when suddenly I turned a corner a little too fast and saw the barrel of a gun aimed squarely at my chest. I hadn't even had time to raise my own weapon before a deafening sound like concentrated thunder ricocheted off the surrounding corrugated metal containers. When I went down, my head hit the concrete. I didn't feel the immediate impact.

What I could feel, however, was a distinct lack of air in my lungs. It seemed as though somebody had just placed a lead brick on my ribs and it was slowly crushing them. Part of me was aware that the bullet was lodged, thankfully, into my Kevlar vest - rather than in my organs. But I was concussed and winded and in shock, so the thought did little in the way of helping. I ended up with bruised ribs and mild nausea; the man that shot me was instantly killed.

Others I knew had been shot sans vest, including most of the people I met undercover and even several of my coworkers on the force. Each of them reported varying degrees of pain and of blood and of panic. None of their stories prepared me for what it actually felt like.

As I fell, my first thought was not of the pain. It wasn't of the jolt that slammed through my upper body, nor was it of the impending ground. My first thought was Daisy. I spotted the sniper in the open window of the adjacent building barely a millisecond before the glass shattered, and all I feared for was her safety. Only when I was laying there, with a white hot pain burning through my shoulder and a small stream of warm blood pooling around me, did I even begin to register the danger this posed to me.

Another plane of glass exploded. I didn't blink when the shards rained down around me. Mostly, it was because I didn't have enough space in my head to process it. Both my concern for Daisy and the agony in my shoulder battled for my sole attention. Is Daisy OK? Am I OK? She's dead. I'm dying. Oh, God, I'm dying.

I was frozen.

"Riley?"

Blonde hair and rosy cheeks intercepted my view of the ceiling, and for a second my relief at seeing Daisy's face soothed my pain. Or at least distracted me from it. She studied my wound with a furrowed brow, but when her gentle fingers peeled my shirt away to get a better look, she nodded in a manner that suggested maybe it wasn't as bad as it felt. Another bullet shot through the window and Daisy shielded me with her body.

"Riley, we need to move," Daisy spoke urgently, but she didn't sound scared. "Where's your gun?"

"No gun," My voice came out fainter than expected, and I found it difficult to form proper sentences. Too much was going through my head all at once and, without warning, I started to burn up impossibly fast. Was that normal? I wasn't sure that was normal. "I'm hot, Daisy."

"What do you mean 'no gun'?" Daisy was in the process of folding up the outer shirt I hadn't realised she'd removed. She pressed it against my shoulder and I groaned through gritted teeth. "Where's your gun, Riley? Your service weapon?"

"Suspended," I just about managed to mutter. My gun and badge had both been taken when Watts sent me on leave. "I'm burning."

"You're burning?" Daisy pressed a cool hand against my skin and frowned. I watched her curse under her breath and then glance uncertainly in the direction of her bedroom. Something was happening behind her eyes; an internal debate. I wondered why she wasn't freaking out, and then I wondered if she really was freaking out but she was hiding it for me. I wondered if we were both going to die there. Daisy looked down at me. "We need to make a run for it. Can you move?"