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“Out of the way, pal!”
Gumshoe’s gruff, gravelly voice rang out from behind Phoenix before the detective’s full body weight checked him and sent him flying to the ground.
The scene unfolded as if in slow motion as Phoenix’s understanding lagged to catch up. His first thought was, Damn, guess he really doesn’t want me on this crime scene. Before he could get irked about the rude shove, however, gunfire sounded above, and Gumshoe fired back.
Phoenix registered it through the shock and confusion: He’s protecting me… At that moment, his ankle twisted as his foot made awkward contact with the parking lot pavement. He cried out as a jolt of pain shot through his leg and he crumpled to the ground.
Adrenaline coursing through his limbs, he rolled over to take stock of a sight he’d never forget: Dick Gumshoe, shielding him with his body, muscles bulging as he exchanged fire with a distant figure on a rooftop.
Gumshoe inhaled sharply. The arm of his grubby coat began to glisten dark red. Still, he reloaded and fired several more shots before the figure fell out of sight and everything went quiet for a moment.
“Let’s go,” the detective barked. He helped Phoenix to his feet, but Phoenix’s ankle buckled, and he cried out at the pain.
“Shit…” Gumshoe muttered to himself. Without hesitation, he scooped Phoenix up to his chest—with a wounded arm—and booked it out of the parking lot. Additional bullets chased them, near misses, as Gumshoe rounded the corner with Phoenix in tow.
As Phoenix clung to Gumshoe for dear life, his heart did something strange. It leapt not at the intensity of the situation, but at the sensuous strength of the detective cradling him against his chest, the way his sweat glistened in the moonlight.
“Uh…thank you!” Phoenix stuttered when they’d reached safety, feeling oddly shy.
Gumshoe just shot him a proud, lopsided smile. “Just doin’ my job, pal.”