Chapter 12

Bruin tensed to run, to kick some foxen tail, when Mac appeared next to him. “Hell, yeah, it is. Rex's brother.” He gestured to the truck. “Rogue, you stay here.”

Rogue grabbed at both of them. “What? Why?”

Bruin had already started forward, but Mac caught up to him. “I'm going to arrest his ass.”

Soren had already scented them. His nose was in the air as he turned slowly and looked directly at Mac, his face a contradiction of emotions, hopeful yet obstinate, caught but not guilty. In one slick move, Soren turned and said something to Willow as he made to get back in his car.

Mac sped up. “Shit, he's gonna run.”

But faster than either of them could move, a black shape shot past them. It was Troy, then another black shape. Trent. Headed straight for Soren.

Soren saw them coming and knew he was caught, he couldn’t get in his car fast enough, but he still reacted, sprinting away from them, up the hill behind the restaurant.

Mac started that way, Rogue too. Mac shouted at her, “Rogue, you stay here. Stay with Bruin.”

Rogue shook her head, laughter in her voice, already running. “No way. What if he climbs a tree or something? You need me.”

Mac wanted to argue, but Trent and Troy were out of sight and there was no time. He took off at a run. Rogue tucked her elbows and hoofed it up the hill, until they were all out of sight.

Bruin stared after them. He would not follow. He needed to stay with Willow and protect her. That truck was coming back, the one with the hitch in its muffler. Bruin ignored it and headed to Willow. Her face was distraught but not at all surprised. Now he would have something to talk to her about. He could explain what exactly was going on. Why her date was being chased into the setting sun like a cartoon road runner.

The sound of the truck with the faulty muffler seemed to pull up right even with him and slow even more. Bruin turned his head that way, but before he could take in more than a general impression of the vehicle, something pulled at his shirt and carved a firebrand along his back at the same time as a gunshot and the sound of metal slamming against metal. It all couldn’t have happened at once, but it had sounded that way. His feet stuttered as an explosion ripped through the early evening humidity, shooting metal into the air and blasting him with heat and fire, dropping him to his knees.

The car he'd been walking past had blown up.

Bruin shook his head and scrambled away from the fire on hands and knees over the burning asphalt, but his first thought was Willow, and he got up to run toward the little sports car that she'd last been standing next to. He didn't see her. Panic tore at him, and still, his senses told him what was going on around him. The vehicle that had slowed was now speeding up. Bruin shot a glance that way, getting a partial plate and description, then dismissing it. For now.

People were streaming out of the restaurant, men and women, in their fanciest clothes. Mac, Rogue, Trent, and Troy, were long gone and did not reappear, leaving Bruin in charge of this mess.

He found Willow on the sidewalk, her hands curled over her head. She'd hit the ground when the car had blown up. Instinct, he prayed, not injury. He knelt by her and touched her shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

She peeked up at him, relief in her face, and shook her head. “No, just scared.” No accent.

“Don't be scared. I'm here now. I'm trained for this kind of thing.”

He gathered her under her knees and her shoulders and picked her up in a honeymooners carry, ignoring the line of people in his mind, and ran with her away from the restaurant, away from the hill, away from the burning car until he found a bench at the far end of the parking lot to set her on. “You stay right here. I'm going to take care of all of this. My name is Bruin, and if you call it, I'll be back to your side in two taps to a bee’s knees.” He glanced over his shoulder at the messy scene behind him. “I'm not going anywhere. I just have to put out that fire.”

She lifted a hand to him but then dropped it, then waved him away uncertainly. He nodded once and headed back the way they had come from. He stopped at the truck first and pulled out the radio mic, switching it to the police dispatch channel. “Central, this is Firefighter 833. Send police backup to Darapaccio's Restaurant for officer SRT-436, he's in pursuit of a fox- ah, of a suspect. He and two canine officers and a civilian are heading north, on foot, behind Darapaccio's into the woods beyond. Also, send me a fire unit. We've got an explosion in the parking lot, unrelated.”

A female voice came back. “10-4, firefighter 833. Do you need medical?”

Bruin glanced back at Willow then looked around the parking lot. Nobody seemed injured. “Not at this time.” Bruin dropped the mic and stepped to the back of the truck, pulling out his tool bag.

He threw it on the ground, hearing the satisfying clunk of the heavy tools within. There was a fire hydrant, but it was almost ten car lengths away from the vehicle that was now fully engulfed. It wouldn't do him any good to open the fire hydrant without some way to direct the water.

He rummaged under all of the items in the police truck that they used for raids and search warrants. Battering ram, no. Lock box of weapons, No. Ammunition, no. A tactical ladder, hmm, no. Oh here we go. He pulled the heavy item out of the truck and set it on the ground, only dimly aware of the people congregating outside the restaurant. As long as they stayed a safe distance away, he didn’t care what they did.

He’d found a ballistic shield. It looked rather like a door but was only about half the size, and heavy. It would not bend under any sort of pressure he could throw at it. He grabbed it out and cradled it under his arm, taking it and the tools to the fire hydrant. Within a few moments, he had the hydrant open and shooting water across the parking lot.

He grabbed the shield and positioned himself in front of the forceful stream of water, bracing the shield with his body and his arms, turning it to direct the stream the way he wanted it, until water shot across the parking lot and hit the flaming car. Within a few moments, the fire was out. Bruin dropped the shield to the ground and took a breather, glancing to his left again to make sure Willow was still okay.

She was watching him, eyes wide, hands folded, looking impossibly beautiful.

He swallowed hard, his throat thick. Time to talk to her. It would be way harder than putting out a fire could ever be.