Protect and Serve (10 page)

“C’mon!” I shouted at a teenage girl who froze when she saw my lights. She hesitated, trying to figure out which way to go. “Get the fuck out of the way!”

Up ahead, Kimball’s car was making steady progress toward the red light. It wasn’t going to stop. I was going to have to take more drastic measures.

I rammed the front of the girl’s car, pushing her aside as she screamed and dropped her hands from the wheel. I’d barely dented her bumper, but the way she acted, you’d think I’d driven her off a cliff. I shook my head and made eye contact with her as I passed, letting her know that she was a fucking idiot as I made my way through the sea of other cars smart enough to part for a police vehicle.

Kimball—or whoever was driving—wasn’t making any use of the turn signals, either. When they changed course suddenly on Carthage Avenue, taking out a fire hydrant as they jumped the curb onto the sidewalk, I almost side-swiped a delivery truck trying to follow them.

Jesus,
I thought, watching bystanders scramble to avoid the cruiser hurtling down the sidewalk to bypass the traffic. This was bad.
Really
bad. And I was going to need a miracle to keep up.

“Southbound on Carthage, K,” I yelled into the radio as I weaved through the cars desperately trying to get out of my way. It wasn’t easy, given how narrow the lanes were.

“10-4, car nineteen. Chopper inbound. Please halt pursuit, K,” dispatch answered. I could hear the tension and pleading in the operator’s tone now, but I still had no intention of listening.

I wasn’t going to let Nathan die. And that was exactly what would happen if I gave up and let them take him away.

I should’ve never left you,
I thought as I kept my eyes on the figure in the backseat of Kimball’s cruiser. There was no doubt in my mind that it was Nathan. I thought of how terrified he must be.
I’m so sorry.

I’d let him down, just like I’d done to Jenny. I had turned my back on him when he had needed me the most, all because I didn’t want to admit the truth about myself, about my feelings for him. But this wasn’t over. Like Nathan had said, I couldn’t change the past, but I could sure as hell alter the future.

Another idiot driver pulled over the wrong way, but this time it happened in front of Kimball’s cruiser. It gave me just enough time to catch up, and soon I was bumper-to-bumper with the renegade cop car ahead of me.

I tried to remember the training I’d received as a traffic cop. I needed to get him off the road, and fast. But how the hell was I supposed to do that with so many other cars in the way?

Backup hadn’t arrived. There was no one to throw down any stop sticks, no one to help me herd the cruiser out of traffic or cut it off. I was utterly alone, and unless I could get ahead of them somehow, I was screwed.

Then I realized where we were, and where Kimball was headed. He was trying to outrun me into the warehouse district, where no doubt the Paddies were waiting to kill Nathan. If I let them make a right here, they’d be well on their way.

But if I pushed them left…

I whipped into the right lane, then back hard to the left, slamming into the side of Kimball’s cruiser and pushing him through the intersection. With oncoming traffic headed right at them, they had no choice but to turn left toward the bridge instead of right toward the warehouses. I was right behind them, already unfastening my holster as I laid eyes on what I’d been hoping for.

The bridge was up. A transport vessel not unlike the ones Wallace had used to ship his girls was passing through. There was no escape except back the way they’d came, and there was no way I was letting them get through me.

Kimball’s cruiser skidded to a halt. He had nowhere to go. I turned my own car sideways, blocking him from making a U-turn and coming back around. Then I exited my vehicle and took aim at the driver, the supposed rookie I’d seen exiting the station. Kimball was nowhere to be found.

I pushed any thoughts about what had happened to him out of my mind as I lowered my finger onto the trigger. “Out!” I screamed so loud I thought I’d ruptured my throat. “Out of the car! Now!”

I could hear a chopper incoming as the perp unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door. I wasn’t about to look up to see if it was a news crew or one of ours, but I hoped to God it was the latter.

“Hands up!” I ordered, approaching him around the front of my car. “Do it now!”

He obeyed, falling to his knees before I’d even told him to. He must’ve known the drill.

“Lock your hands behind your head and put your face on the ground!” I barked, getting closer to my target. He was helpless and prone, both of which were good things. He couldn’t have been anything more than a lackey for the real threat, but thankfully, they were back the other way waiting on a delivery that would never come.

I looked up when Nathan opened the back door. I saw him peek around, his eyes wide, his face pale.

“Chandra,” he breathed. “Jesus Christ.”

“Stay in the car,” I told him, pulling my cuffs out of my belt and snapping them onto the perp’s wrists. I’d never heard such a satisfying sound in my whole life. I pulled him up and brought him back to the car, intent on getting Nathan out before anything else happened. “Get down!”

Another sound cut through the air, and something hot whizzed by my face. Glass shattered and I dropped like a stone, the man with the scar falling limp against me. He’d taken the bullet meant for me.

Scrambling, I pushed myself up just over the driver’s seat of the ruined cruiser, reaching out and gripping the radio transmitter.

“Shots fired!” I screamed into the radio. I could feel something wet and warm dripping down my cheek, but I had much bigger problems.

Like the gunfire still pelting the car and the shattered cruiser window behind me.

The window attached to the back door.

The back door Nathan had been shielding himself behind.

“No!” I hissed, keeping low as I headed for what I was sure was a body. A thousand possibilities raced through my mind, none of them good. Was Nathan dead? Was he injured? How bad was it? Where had he been hit? At that level, it had to be his face. Had they blown his brains out? Had they won?

But as I came around the side of the door, there was no blood, only glass fragments I did my best not to kneel on.

“Nathan!” I cried. He was lying across the backseat, hands over his ears to block out the continued gunfire from the other side of the street.

He had listened to me, and it had saved his life.

I positioned myself behind the door and peeked up through the broken glass. Just behind my cruiser, two black town cars were blocking traffic. Men were shielding themselves behind them, men I instantly recognized, and one who stood out in particular.

The Paddies were here, and so was the man who had nearly killed me in Nathan’s mansion: Francis O’Rourke.

I stared right into his beady, snake-like eyes as he fired again. I ducked out of the way of the hail of bullets, covering my ears from the
rat-a-tat
sound. Automatic weapons—my favorite. I thanked my lucky stars they were using submachine guns and not something bigger. The car stood a chance at stopping a stream of nine millimeter slugs, but it would melt under fire from an AK.

I grabbed Nathan’s pant leg and pulled him down beside me. The windshield exploded, sending shards of glass after him. Those rounds would rip through the cruiser’s seats with no problem. I didn’t want any of them to find a home in Nathan.

“Move,” I told him, pushing him toward the back of the car. “Keep down!”

He did as he was told, keeping low as he moved behind the trunk. I waited for the gunfire to die down before popping around the side of the door, setting my sights on the men flanking Francis out in the open.

Pop, pop, pop.

Three shots, one man down. I didn’t relish it, but I did feel relieved. That was just one more asshole who wouldn’t be firing at me anytime soon.

I couldn’t hold my position. The cruiser door could only take so much. I joined Nathan around the back of Kimball’s car, resting my back against the bumper as I asked him: “Where’s the other officer? Where’s Kimball?”

Nathan regarded me grimly. “Dead. All of them are.”

I nodded. I’d figured as much. I remembered Marco coming around the corner with that envelope in his hand, the fear in his eyes when I’d seen him. He was in on it, I was sure. But what about Kimball? Had he died a hero, or a pawn?

The gunfire let up again and I swung around the side with a clear shot at the man on Francis’ left. I fired twice this time and saw him go down, blood spraying from his shoulder. It wouldn’t put him entirely out of the game, but it’d have to do.

“Detective Williams!” I heard O’Rourke crow from beyond the cruiser. He sounded closer somehow. “How nice to see you again.”

“Backup’s on its way,” I warned him through gritted teeth. “They’ll be here any second.”

“Not with that traffic,” he answered, and I raised up, firing in his direction. I was blind this time, shooting where I assumed he was, but I missed by a mile. He’d moved forward and behind my car, leaving his men behind. I imagined that said a lot about him.

“That’s ten shots, detective. My guess is you’ve got one left.”

I closed my eyes. He was right. That last barrage had been a Hail Mary, a desperate attempt to keep O’Rourke at bay or take him out. But I’d failed.

I always failed.

I looked at Nathan. He was staring at the street, at the glass surrounding him. I put my hand on his.

“Hey. Hey, look at me,” I said, and he raised his gaze. “We’re okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

He looked into my eyes. Then he smiled.

“Yeah,” he said. “We are.”

He raised my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles softly. And then he stood even as I grabbed at his shirt, trying desperately to pull him back down.

“Goddammit, Nathan! No!”

“Here I am!” Nathan said, hands up above his hand as he side-stepped out of my reach and around the side of the car. “Shoot me. Just leave Detective Williams alone.”

“For fuck’s sakes!” I hissed, pushing myself up to stand. I laid my hand right into a patch of glass and screamed as it bit into me, driving shards deep into my palm. Safety glass, my ass!

I had to stop him. I had to save him. Backup wouldn’t arrive in time for any of that.

I pushed myself up with my other hand, switched my gun to my left, and rose up just as the sound of a gunshots reached my ears. Three or four rounds, a quick squeeze of fire from O’Rourke’s Uzi. Nathan fell backward even as I stood, giving me the perfect shot at Francis O’Rourke.

One bullet left… The asshole just shot Nathan…

I wasn’t left-handed. My right was mangled, practically useless. But I didn’t have time to think or strategize. I had to pull the trigger. Now.

I pressed my right hand up under the stock to steady it, ignoring the white-hot agony that flooded all the way into my shoulder. Then I blew out a breath and pulled the trigger, my eyes never leaving Francis’ baby blues, not even for a second.

That was how I knew how this would end: when I saw how surprised he looked.

The gun clattered onto the asphalt as Francis went down from a neat entrance wound to the chest. I dropped my own gun, hardly believing what had happened as I fell next to Nathan’s body, my hands clawing at his shirt, blood pouring from my palm.

“Chandra,” Nathan coughed, opening his eyes. “You’re bleeding. Are you okay?”