Chapter Eleven
Charlie
I was done with being protected. The captain had gone crazy protective with Brie and me—we were on desk duty and when at home a patrol car sat outside my house. Two weeks of this and I was ready to kill someone. Mickey was going down and nothing could stop that. I wasn’t in some cop thriller, and Danvers needed to get over himself, but it was hard to tell your boss to back the hell off. That would be insubordination, but I might just do it if he sidelined me much longer.
“This sucks,” I grumbled. I grabbed another unsolved file for audit.
Brie groaned. “Totally. We take down the perps everyone hunted and now we have the worst job ever. It’s not supposed to work that way.” She blew out a breath and her fringed bangs floated away from her forehead. “And Tom is my shadow. I can’t breathe.”
“I should go talk to the captain. This can’t continue until the trial, that could be months from now.” I stood up.
Brie stood and grabbed my arm. “Let’s go get a coffee.” She pulled me toward the door. “Tom said they’re thinking of putting us in protective custody...you know, with the Marshal service.”
“Over my dead body.” I fumed. “We’re trained police officers.”
“Didn’t stop them from killing two cops and a prosecutor in Nevada, and no one could prove Franco or Mickey were involved.” Brie shuddered.
Maybe this was more serious than I thought. But if it was, wouldn’t they have acted by now? The waiting might kill me faster than any mob guys. We pushed through the door of the law enforcement center into the hot June day. Two blocks to my favorite local coffee shop. The Roasted Bean had better coffee than any of the chains. A caramel mocha called my name today. I’d have to run extra tonight but it’d be worth it. If I was imprisoned at my desk then I needed the boost of my favorited drink.
“You and Tom have plans for the weekend?”
“We’re headed to the lake again. You could join.” Brie gave me a hopeful look.
“No, thanks.” I wanted no part of the lake parties. My thoughts returned to Joe.
But Joe hadn’t called and I hadn’t seen him again. That was a good thing. Right. Just because my subconscious insisted on dreaming of him every night didn’t mean anything, except I woke up hot and bothered entirely too often.
A soft thud brought my head around. Brie pulled me down and behind a street-side trash can.
“What was—” My hand rested on my gun butt. Another thunk. A silenced bullet?
I pulled my gun and peeked around our meager cover. I didn’t see a shooter. “Let’s move to that car, better cover.” I ran crouched low.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
Then the boom of a regular round split the air. I turned to check on Brie, but she looked as confused as I felt. She wasn’t the second shooter. I motioned for her to join me. “Move it.”
She ran toward me. I surveyed the street. Sun glinted off of steel across the street, and a car roared to life out of my line of sight. The nerves on the back of my neck warned that what came next would be bad. “Flat to the ground.” I jerked Brie’s arm down.
Tires squealed and a hail of bullets hit the car, some flew over and around the car to smack into the plate glass window behind us. Shattered glass and the wail of sirens from the building’s alarm pounded in my ears. I scurried to the edge of the car and aimed at the back of the retreating black SUV. I pulled the trigger and shot again and again. Rounds joined mine. I looked over—Joe Marcone stood on the other side of the street, emptying his gun into the fleeing vehicle.
What the hell? I refocused on the car, only to see the license plate had been removed. Dammit. A shiver ran through me. Where was Brie? Why wasn’t she here beside me?
I turned to see a pool of red spreading across the sidewalk. In the distance I heard the welcome sound of police sirens. “Brie’s shot, call an ambulance.” I threw the words back at Joe as I ran for my partner.
Joe reached Brie as I did, phone to his ear. “What’s her condition?” He spoke into his phone: “Officer down GSW at Main and Hudson.”
I turned Brie over, praying she was alive. A bullet had entered her shoulder. I laid her on her back, stripped off my blazer and pressed it into her wound, hoping to slow the bleeding.
Behind me Joe spoke into his phone but I didn’t catch what he said. I focused on Brie. “You will survive this so I can kick your ass.” A tear escaped and raced down my cheek. Dammit, I would not cry.
Officers surrounded me, giving me a pressure bandage to press into the wound. EMTs arrived next, pushing me aside to rush Brie into the ambulance. I looked around at all the officers. This was a crime scene. I was the key witness but I didn’t care. Regulations could go to hell. I was going after my partner. I turned to Joe, who was talking to one of our veteran uniforms.
“Give me a ride to the hospital. I need to be with Brie and I have to call Tom.”
Joe raked a glance down me then met my gaze. “Across the street, black truck.” We moved in unison, hurrying toward it.
“Detective, you can’t leave,” the officer called after me.
Brie needed me and that was what mattered today. Rules be damned.