Officers were establishing a perimeter around The Warehouse. The Buick blocked the single door entry point. He knew from attending at least part of a few bouts that there was a dock rolling door a few feet from the single entry door in the front, and one side door. Erick, Aaron and Jake flanked him as they made their way across the street to a cluster of officers who seemed to be in charge. Cole shoved the personal out of his mind and switched on his cop persona. “We need to get a perimeter established—” “Cole—” “And start coordinating with the officers—” “Cole!” Aaron grabbed Cole’s arm and jerked him around. “Man, get a fucking grip.” “I’m doing my damn job,” he snapped back and ripped his arm out of Aaron’s grasp. “Your fucking wife is in there, you’re not calm.” “The hell I’m not.” He jabbed his finger against Aaron’s chest. “We’ll get everyone together, coordinate a perimeter, get some eyes on the side door and wait for the negotiators and the command center to get here.
