Lethal Force by Trevor Scott Page B

noise stopped him in his tracks.
    Damn it. The man had heard him.
    Jake dove to his left just as the first bullets flew through the air, the loud sound echoing through his ears and the lead striking the windows behind his position, smashing glass out into the darkness.
    He held his gun aimed at the door frame, not wanting to kill this guy, but not wanting to get shot either.
    â€œThis can end one of two ways,” Jake said. He waited for some response. Nothing.
    Knowing he was vulnerable lying on the floor, Jake rolled to his left and up to his knees, the gun still pointed at the doorway.
    As the gun rounded the corner, Jake opened fire with three rounds just as the other man’s gun went off striking the floor where he had been. Jake’s bullets crushed into the door frame sending wood flying.
    Jake thought for a second and then opened fire on the wall with three more shots. But he guessed the walls in this old house were thick enough to stop his 9mm rounds.
    If they kept going like this, they would be at a stand off until one of them ran out of bullets or got in a lucky shot. He had to make something happen.
    When the gun showed around the corner this time, Jake shot, the man shot, and instead of pausing Jake ran to the living room, dove through the door firing three more times as low as he could. He hit the ground on his back, his gun aimed at the spot where the man had been.
    The man was down on the carpeted floor holding his leg with one hand and reaching for his gun with the other. His glasses sat askew on his face.
    Jake rushed over and kicked the gun away from him.
    â€œWhere’s the scientist,” Jake yelled, his gun pointed at the man’s head.
    â€œYou better kill me,” the man said, his accent much like that of the men who had kidnapped him in Washington. “Or I will kill you.”
    Laughing under his breath, Jake said, “I don’t think you’re in a position to do that.” Looking closely at the man’s wound, he could see that the bullet wound to the man’s thigh was serious. Jake had nailed him in the femoral artery. He thought back at how he had held his girlfriend in Austria with a similar wound, and how she had bled out in less than ten minutes. “You’re dying.”
    â€œI’ve been hit worse than this.”
    â€œThat’s a femoral shot,” Jake assured him. “You will bleed out in ten minutes.” He checked his watch. “Eight minutes. Where’s the man? Better yet, why did you kidnap the man?”
    The man bit down on his lip. “Screw you.”
    â€œJust answer my questions and I’ll put a bullet in your head. Otherwise we sit here and watch you bleed out. Your choice.”
    â€œYou are cop,” the man said through grit teeth. “You must call ambulance. It is your duty.”
    Jake smiled. “First of all, I’m not a cop. And second, it wouldn’t matter if I did call one. They wouldn’t get here in time. Especially for a cop killer.” He hesitated and let that set in. “Now tell me what I want to know.”
    But the man seemed to be fading out. His head started to swirl from side to side as the blood flowed from his body. He would pass out soon from the lack of oxygen to his brain. And then his heart would stop pumping blood. The steady spurt of blood from his leg would then ooze out until he was truly dead.
    Damn it. Jake knew there was nothing he could do to change the man’s fate. As the man sunk down onto the carpet farther, the hand that had held his wound let go and the blood flowed quicker into the puddle that had formed.
    Jake checked his watch and saw that he needed to get going or his ride would be gone. He checked the man’s pulse. He was dead. Then he patted him down and found two extra magazines inside his pockets, along with a set of keys. But no identification. Not that Jake expected any. This man had been a professional. He picked up the dead