Movement at the side of the car caught his eye and he turned in time to see a wide-eyed, blond woman swing a shovel at his head. His temple exploded and he went down into instant darkness.

Then, nothing. He had no idea how long he was out. He came to with a jolt, his head on fire. “What? Where?” he mumbled, feeling for the massive lump already forming on his temple. “God.” Blinking, he forced his eyes to focus as his memory returned and he found himself half-sitting in the passenger seat, his door still open. “Scott?” He turned to find the attorney slumped over the steering wheel, bleeding profusely. Was he even alive?

Angus fumbled for the guy’s phone on the dash. The blood all over his hand made it slippery, but he managed to punch out 911.

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” a young female voice said.

“I have shots fired and need an ambulance,” he said tersely, his head swimming, as he gave the address. Nausea rolled up in him, and he dropped the phone, turning to puke outside his open door. Then he gasped, sucked in air, and turned to help Scott. “Where are you hit?” He felt around Scott’s forearm and found two holes. What about the head? “Hold on, buddy. I hear sirens.” They were faint, but getting louder.

Angus might’ve passed out again, and when he came to, EMTs were rushing around and Scott was already loaded into an ambulance. “I’m okay,” he said to the man checking his pulse.

“No, you’re not,” the guy said. “We need to get you to a hospital. There’s a second ambulance that’ll be here in just a couple of minutes.”

“No.” Angus tried to stand. “I’m fine. I’ll be okay.”

The EMT stood back to get out of the way. “Sir? There’s been a shooting here and you have to stay.”

Who had hit him in the temple? Who were those kids? “Listen. I have to go.”

“Not a chance,” said a low voice.

Angus turned to see Tate standing at the rear of the Jag, his bald head gleaming. “Hey. Is Scott alive?”

“Barely,” Tate said, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Step this way, Angus. Now.”

Angus caught the glint of the attacker’s gun by his foot. He walked toward Tate and away from the gun. “I’m not armed.” Which turned out to be unfortunate. He let Tate secure the weapon while he leaned against the vehicle to regain his equilibrium. “There was one shooter and one young woman with a head-splitting shovel.” He hadn’t recognized either one of them.

Tate handed the weapon over to a tech. “You’ll have to come down to the station with me and make a statement. Unless you need a doctor?”