His Hart's Command (Nothing Special 6)

One of his officers stepped ahead, rose over the shield just as it was lowered a fraction, and fired. The gas grenade made a hollow pop as it left the chamber then shattered the window.

Hart’s gunman fell back. The second officer stepped up like clockwork, aimed, fired, and fell back. The shield went up. His first launcher was back in position and ready to fire again. They did that three times. Performed it like a well-rehearsed show. Within seconds the house was smoking.

“Mask on,” Hart ordered. He waved his hand forward and the rest of his entry team filed out of the sixteen-man vehicle and positioned themselves around the perimeter of the house. Hart and his diamond crew were on the other side of the front door. He pressed his mic, “Sienna two, suspect’s positions? Over.”

“Same, Alpha Ten. Over,” his sniper answered.

The front door was already broken and out of their way as they breached the front entrance. Hart breathed evenly through his mask, entering the foggy house. He could hear the suspects yelling at each other, coughing and hacking as they did. Hart motioned with two fingers, directing the partnered teams where he wanted them to go. Even though they’d confirmed the house was empty more than once, they were still required to do a clean sweep.

He silently ordered four men upstairs with him. They kept their rifles up, the butts tucked into the balls of their shoulders. Their steps were as fast and light as they could be on the creaky stairs. His team downstairs was calling out clears as they made their way to the second level.

Hart was just behind one of his shield-bearers. He could hear the suspects fighting with each other to get out of the house, and knew it was their chance to move in while they were distracted. The chemicals in the gas not only made a person’s eyes leak and burn as if acid had gotten into them, but it also caused disorientation and difficulty breathing.

He gave the okay to advance inside the bedroom. One of the hostiles ran out into the hall and directly into Ware’s shield. The huge officer used the blockade like a ram and bowled the man over, knocking him to the floor. Fox and two of his men secured him. Out of his peripheral vision, Hart saw the second man turn his weak 9mm handgun toward them. It was no match for their armor.

“Drop your weapon!” Hart yelled.

He saw the finality in the suspect’s eyes right before he turned his gun on himself and opened his mouth wide enough to take a cannon barrel.

Hart bellowed, “No!”, lunging into action. The shot was ear-piercing in the small room. Brain matter splattered the filthy wall where their suspect had stood, his body crumpling to a lifeless heap at Hart’s feet.

“Goddamnit!” Hart yelled. He stared helplessly at the body. His mind automatically going into overload. Could he have done something differently? Had they moved too fast? Should he have used a flashbang instead of gas? He felt a strong hand on his shoulder but didn’t budge. He just kept staring at the dead man who’d warned them repeatedly to stay back. Maybe I should’ve…

“Hey. That was his decision and you fucking know it,” Fox growled in his ear. “Come on, man. Call it in.”

Hart let Fox tug the strap of his bullet-proof vest until he was looking him in his eyes. He shook his head and stepped away as the blood began to pool around his boots. “Alpha Ten to command.”

“Command.”

“Scene is secured. One suspect detained. Second suspect…dead from a self-inflicted gunshot to the head.” Hart sighed heavily. “Over.”

Hart

“You sure I can’t get you anything to eat or drink? It’s getting pretty late, Hart. There might be a little casserole left. I think,” Carlos said, placing Hart’s knee pads and helmet back into his closet. He was showered and the last of his uniform was put away…the pieces not sprayed with blood.

Hart shook his head, tucking the last of the paperwork into his outbox, that Carlos swiftly yanked up. “I hate they make you stay and do all this paperwork.”

Hart let out an exasperated breath. “We have to do the reports while the incident is fresh in our minds. I’ve told you that a million times. If I go home and go to bed, I might forget an important detail.”

“That’s what the recording officer is for,” Carlos grumbled. He neatly arranged the same stack of files he’d done ten minutes before.

He knew his assistant hated to see him upset and he tried his best to put on an I’m-okay façade, but he was struggling. He kept seeing that man’s defeated eyes right before he’d blown his brains out. Damnit. The office was dark and quiet. Most of his team having gone home. All except him, Fox and Carlos.