There. A branch snapped, and rocks shifted. He was taking his time, sneaking around the corner. I had two options; I could run and possibly get shot in the back or I could stand my ground and try to shoot him before he shot me. As he rounded the corner, I picked option number three.

I dropped to the ground and squeezed the trigger. His shot rang out, aimed at where I had been only moments before. But mine was already ripping through his leg. He let out a strangled yell and fell to the dirt.

“Drop the fucking gun, Carl!”

“You shot me,” he shouted. “Oh fuck, that hurts, man. Fuck!”

I dragged myself to my feet and jogged over to where he sat on the ground, dazed and holding his bleeding leg. Blood had already soaked through the jeans and was making a sticky mess. While he was distracted, I took the opportunity to kick the gun away.

“I’m surprised you can feel anything, considering how much meth you’re on.”

He blinked up at me. “What happened?”

“Hands behind your back. Now,” I said as I kept my gun trained on him. “Rourke!”

“Right here,” my partner called as he rounded the house and joined me. “He had his girlfriend tied up in there. She’s a mess.” He stared at me. “What’s wrong with your arm?”

“Dislocated. Can you cuff him?”

“Shit,” Rourke said as he took out his handcuffs and walked over to Carl. “On your stomach, come on.”

Rourke made quick work securing Carl and called in for an ambulance. Once the call was in, he shushed Carl and took off his belt. Working fast, he tightened it around the man’s leg.

“You’re fine, drama queen,” Rourke told Carl, giving his leg a little slap. “The bleeding is already slowing.” Rourke rose to his feet, a grin stretching his lips. “How the hell did you manage this shit?” he asked as he waved a hand toward me. “You always have to choose the path of most resistance.”

“You told me to take the back, asshole, remember?” I nodded to Carl. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, he’s good.”

“Fuck you! He shot me!”

Clearly, Carl disagreed. Rourke ignored him and checked out my arm. He whistled as he took it in and grimaced.

“Can you pop it back in and stop staring at it?” I asked.

“They say you’re not supposed to do that, you know? Protocol is to wait for the ambulance.”

I was going to put one of my boots right up Rourke’s ass. He knew damn well I wasn’t going to wait around until the ambulance showed up just to do the same thing. I stared at him until he caved.

“Alright, stop pouting, princess. Brace yourself.”

I holstered my weapon and leaned against the wall of the house. Rourke took hold of my arm more securely, examining it closely. I closed my eyes and waited, bracing myself. Just when I opened them to yell at my partner, my shoulder cracked as he popped it back into place.