ARROGANT BRIT (A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE) (70 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. 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.
Even after all this time, I couldn’t embrace my feelings for him. I’d loved and
desired that man since the first time I laid eyes on 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 they were headed. He was trying to outrun me
into the warehouse district, where no doubt the Paddies were waiting. 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 us, he 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 was hoping for.

The
bridge was up. A transport vessel not unlike the ones Wallace had used to ship
his girls was passing through toward the open ocean. 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. 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 seen.

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!”

The perp
unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door. This was too easy…

“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.

“Sandra,” 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!” Nathan shouted suddenly.

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. Gunfire was still pelting the
car, obliterating the back window.

The window was 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?
 
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 I had the misfortune of meeting in
Nathan’s mansion: Francis O’Rourke.

I
stared right into his beady, snake-like eyes as he reloaded a pistol and raised
it to fire again. I ducked out of the way of the hail of bullets, covering my
ears from the sound. I thanked my lucky stars they were using low caliber hand 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 anything bigger.

I
grabbed Nathan’s pant leg and pulled him down beside me. The windshield
exploded, sending shards of glass after us. “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. I rose up, firing in his direction. I was
blind this time, shooting where I assumed he was, but I missed by a country 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 gunshot reached my ears. Three or four rounds followed
from O’Rourke’s glock. Nathan fell backward even as I stood, giving me the
perfect shot.

One bullet left… The asshole just shot Nathan…

I was
going to have to fire left-handed. My right was mangled by glass and
practically useless. 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 as I fell next to Nathan’s body, my hands
clawing at his shirt and ignoring all the pain that was shooting from my palm.

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

I nodded
as I stared at him, tugging at his shirt. The dark vest peeked out from under
his stylish button-up. “Oh, thank God…” I whispered. “You idiot. You colossal
idiot…”