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The room door flew open, and two uniformed Scottsdale police officers raced into the room with weapons drawn. “Police! Everyone down on the floor now! Get on the floor, hands behind your heads.”
“Need an ambulance,” I mumbled. “Been shot…”
Someone forced me onto my belly. My arms were pulled behind my back while cuffs bit into my wrists.
I screamed in agony. “I’m shot. I’m shot.”
I caught Rodeo’s and Zahara’s voices shouting above the cacophony of commands from the officers. Or maybe I imagined it.
What felt like days later, the cuffs were removed. I was lifted onto a gurney and was rushed out of the room. Overhead lights blazed past. The vertigo intensified, and for a moment, I felt like I was on a Tilt-A-Whirl, spinning, spinning, round and round.
“You’re gonna be all right.” A
