Finding Chris Evans: The 9-1-1 Edition by Erin Nicholas Page B

helmets. They looked like a battalion of soldiers ready to storm the enemy. That wasn’t good.
    “Do you have a jacket I can wear?” she asked Gary.
    He hesitated for a moment, then he nodded. “For both of you. And I need you to take a walkie.”
    “Both of us?” she repeated. Then she felt Chris come up behind her.
    “Yes, both of us.” His face was grim when she looked back at him, but he took one of the jackets offered and started to put it on.
    Her heart thudded against her chest. “Chris, you can’t—”
    “If you’re going in, I’m going in,” he said firmly. “I’ll let you take the lead. You do the talking. But I’m going with you.”
    For a moment, her mouth went dry and her palms got wet. Taking this risk for herself was scary, but the idea of Chris going in where a guy was waving a gun around—yeah, that was a different story. And she suddenly understood where he was coming from.
    “You know we can’t wait and you know we can’t have these guys go in—”
    “Yes, you’re right on that call. We have to get in there. But no one goes in alone and you go in safe.” He swallowed and finally met her gaze. “Or as safe as you can be.”
    Britt just nodded. A minute later they both had vests on, Britt had the glucose monitor from the bag and Chris carried the walkie-talkie so he could communicate with the cops as needed.
    They started for the front of the store. Britt’s heart was pounding, but she forced herself to focus. She needed to do this job and she needed to do it well and now .
    She held her hands up as she approached the door and saw the man just on the other side of the glass. Chris did the same, showing the walkie-talkie and nothing else in his hands.
    “What do you want?” the man yelled through thick glass.
    “My name is Brittney. This is Chris,” she told him. “We’re paramedics. We’re here to help your son, sir.”
    She saw the man frown and realized that he didn’t really understand how serious this situation was. If he wasn’t a custodial parent, it was very possible he had no idea how to handle a hyperglycemic event.
    “You’re not a cop?” he asked.
    “I’m not.”
    “I took my kids because—”
    “I don’t care,” she interrupted. “I’m here to help your son. Period. It doesn’t matter to me why you have him or what you’re doing here or what happens after he’s okay. I’m just here to make him okay.”
    The man glanced back behind him, then back to her. “I don’t want to lose him.”
    “If he doesn’t get treated right away, you’re going to lose him. For good,” she said bluntly. “He’s going to die. How about we deal with that first and the other crap later?”
    The man nodded.
    “So, here.” She squatted by the door and put the glucose monitor down, then stepped back.
    “What are you doing?” he asked.
    “Britt—” Chris started.
    “You don’t have to let me inside,” she told the man. “Just prick his finger and tell us the number.”
    “I—” The man looked over his shoulder again.
    Britt got right up at the door. She could feel the tension pouring off of Chris but he didn’t stop her or speak. But just having him there was distracting. Not only was she worried about him and what this guy might do, but she hated how clearly worried Chris was about her. This was a mess. Neither of them could be this distracted on the job. Especially in high stakes’ situations like this.
    “Look,” she said firmly to the man, concentrating on what they were there for. “You have to do it or you have to let me. I’m not kidding. You have to do it now.”
    The man looked down at the monitor, then over his shoulder again. Then he turned the lock on the door and pushed it open. “Okay, you can come in.”
    Just then she heard the wailing of an ambulance siren coming closer and she almost wilted with relief. “The ambulance is here. Let me get some more supplies,” she told the man.
    He scowled at her. “No.”
    “This monitor is