Burnout (NYPD Blue & Gold) (10 page)

The kid spun and dragged Abby with him. “Don’t come near me.” He pointed the gun at Cassie.

She held up her hands again. “Okay, I won’t. I just want to talk.”

“About what?” he shouted.

Cassie could smell his sweat, the heat radiating from his sick body. Abby shut her eyes as tears streamed down her face. Joey whimpered for his mother as another customer pulled him aside.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” She had to work at keeping her voice soothing and steady. “We’ll try to get the register open for you, won’t we, Rose?” She shot Rose a meaningful look.

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Rose began pressing every button on the uncooperative antique.

Abby’s strangled sobs tore at Cassie’s heart. Shock and stress could hurt the baby as much as lack of oxygen. “Listen to me.” She held out her hand, taking another step closer. “We’ll get it open somehow, I promise. But don’t hurt Abby. That’s not what you came in here for, is it?”

Keep him talking.

“No.” The boy’s eyes suddenly swam with tears. “My freaking bones hurt so bad. I just need the money.”

“I know. I really do.” She did know, having seen it all too often when she’d worked the streets in uniform. Withdrawal from prescription pills could make an addict so desperate they’d do anything.

Rose caught her attention and shook her head. Cassie understood the message. The register wasn’t going to open. She needed something to negotiate with, a way to stall for time. Time for Mike to get there.

Cassie’s short life in Hopewell Springs flashed before her eyes. What she intended to do next might very well be the last thing she did on this earth.

“Listen to me,” she said softly, “the cash register is jammed shut. I have an idea how to help you, but first you have to do something for me.”

Chapter Nine

Free chili my ass.

Forty-eight hours after Cassie had spiked his chili and Mike was still pissed as hell at the thought of all the hot sauce he’d nearly ingested.

He should have known nothing that came from Cassie would ever be free. The woman was a redheaded devil incarnate, and she needed an exorcist. Females confused the hell out of him, but he understood enough about women to get that Cassie was seething. Looking back, his gut told him it had something to do with Moira. Although how Cassie could misinterpret a little peck on the cheek as something romantic was beyond him.

“Problem, Chief?” Jimmy knocked on Mike’s open door and parked his butt in the chair opposite the desk. “You’ve been cranky as hell the last couple days.”

Mike grunted. “Wouldn’t you be, if someone intentionally dumped a gallon of hot sauce into your chili?”

“Ahhh.” Jimmy grinned, then leaned back in the chair. “So that’s why you bolted from the Nest the other day without eating your chili. Well, what’d you do to her?”

Mike glared at his deputy chief. “What did
I
do?”

Jimmy chuckled. “You must have done something to piss her off that bad.”

“Not a goddamn thing.”

“Ya know, Chief,” Jimmy said, massaging his chin, “there are some pretty strong currents between you and Cassie. As your deputy, I’d never presume to know more than you, but it’s been my experience a woman doesn’t up and do something like that for no reason at all. So, again I have to ask, what did you do to her?”

Mike could only stare at Jimmy. “You’re insane.”

“Probably.”

“Lose the stupid grin. And don’t you have something useful to do, like, I don’t know, police work?”

“Ten-four, Chief.” Jimmy smiled ear-to-ear over his shoulder as he hightailed it out of Mike’s office.

Shaking his head, Mike turned his attention back to the ever-growing stack of reports piling up on his desk that he needed to review and sign off on. Five minutes later, he threw down his pen.

He vacillated like a ping-pong ball between wanting a repeat of what had happened with Cassie on the road and wanting to keep his distance until he learned more about her. His emotional scars ran deep, and getting close to a woman again still scared the hell out of him. So why did the thought of sweet-talking the truth out of Cassie bring a smile to his face?

Pounding boots nearing his office had him glancing up expectantly.

“Mike!” Jimmy stood in the open doorway, his expression grim. “There’s an armed robbery in progress at the Nest.”

Cassie
.

Mike stood so abruptly his chair rolled back on its wheels and slammed into the bookcase behind his desk. He stormed past Jimmy and, in a voice calmer than he felt, called to his dispatcher, “Maddy, tell all units there’s an armed robbery in progress at the Nest. Approach code two and stay out of sight. Tell them to wait for me and Jimmy. Get confirmation from every unit that they understand those orders.” After Maddy nodded and began radioing his commands to the patrolmen, Mike turned to Jimmy. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Jimmy grabbed his arm and sent him a look of warning. “There’s more. It’s a hostage situation.”

The full meaning of his deputy’s words hit home. Cassie was in the Nest, along with Rose, a full staff, and who knew how many patrons.

He turned back to Maddy. “Let all units know and call in county SWAT.”

As he and Jimmy ran out the front door, Mike’s heart threatened to ram a hole through his Kevlar. The thought of Cassie or anyone else in his town getting hurt, or worse…

Not again, not on my watch.

They jumped into the Explorer and sped down the road, red and blue strobes flashing. A block from the Nest, Mike shut off the lights and pulled over. From their position, they could see the front of the restaurant and eyeball two patrol cars. He grabbed the microphone, ready to give his commands, but stopped.

“Fuck.” He slammed the steering wheel with his fist. Parked outside the Nest was Tim Harding’s neon blue Honda. Mike’s gut told him Harding was behind the robbery. He keyed the mic. “All units maintain position.”

In rapid succession, all units confirmed his command.

He shook his head. “I should have seen this coming.”

“Seen what coming?” Jimmy asked.

“Blue Honda.” He inclined his head to the car. “I pulled it over for speeding. I knew something was wrong with that kid. I’d lay odds he’s the one holding up the Nest. C’mon.” He grabbed a set of high-powered binoculars from behind the driver’s seat. “Let’s get a bead on what’s going on inside, then you can put that hostage negotiator training I sent you to last year to good use.”

They slipped out of the Explorer and took up position behind the rear bumper. Mike held the binoculars to his eyes and scanned the interior of the Nest. His grip on the binoculars tightened. Tim Harding stood near the register, shaking like a street sign in a hurricane. The kid held a gun to Abby. Then Cassie came into view. She held out her hand as if she was talking to Harding.

What the hell is she doing?

He shoved the binoculars at Jimmy and gave him a quick rundown on the situation. “Give me two minutes, then make the call to the Nest.”

Jimmy yanked a cell phone from his breast pocket. “What’s your plan?”

“I’m going in through the back. From the look of him, Harding’s so high he might do anything. We need SWAT, but if shit goes down before they get here, I want to be inside.”

Mike pounded the pavement at a dead run to the rear entrance of the Nest, keeping out of sight of the restaurant’s front windows. Sweat dripped down his temples as he ran into the Nest’s rear parking lot. As ordered, a third patrol car guarded the area from a distance. Mike pressed his back to the wall next to the Nest’s kitchen door and turned off the radio on his belt. He pulled out his Glock and eased open the screen door.

Chuck, Leo, and Danny huddled near the opening to the dining room. “Chuck,” Mike whispered loud enough to get their attention. He indicated they should come to the back of the kitchen. When they did, he whispered, “Get out of here and don’t come back.”

When the three of them had left through the screen door, Mike surveyed the kitchen. The heat was like an inferno. Something bubbled away furiously on the stove, spewing thick red blobs of sauce onto the floor.

Crouching low, he inched forward, keeping out of sight of the dining room. Cassie’s voice filtered into the kitchen.

“Tell me your name,” she coaxed.

“Tim.” Harding’s voice trembled. “My name’s Tim.”

“Mine’s Cassie.”

Mike thought her voice eerily calm, given the dire circumstances.

“Tim, I’ll get you some money. I’m going to help you, but I need your help, too. I can’t do this without you. You have to do something for me. That’s the only way this will work.”

Mike narrowed his eyes. Cassie was using all the right words. Same as what they taught at hostage negotiator school. Harding wanted something, but he’d have to give something back. A negotiation. Which was how most hostage situations ended. Unless someone died before help arrived.

Not this time.

Mike crept closer. Keeping low to the floor, he eased out of the kitchen just enough to assess things in the dining room.

Harding gripped Abby around her throat. Cassie stood a few feet away from them. Anger twisted his stomach into knots. Abby was a hostage and Cassie was in the line of fire. He needed better odds and fast, but from the way things were going down, the county SWAT team would never get here in time.

“I know you’re scared, and I know you hurt real bad,” Cassie went on. “But if you don’t ease up on my friend’s neck, you’ll choke her to death. I know you don’t want that.”

The kid actually responded and loosened his hold. Abby sagged with relief.

“Please, Tim.” Cassie held out her hand. “Abby’s pregnant. She can’t take the stress. What I want you to do is let me take her place. That’s the deal if you want the money.”

No! No fucking way!

Mike didn’t want to see Abby hurt, but he sure as hell didn’t want Cassie to sacrifice herself, either.
He’d
gladly take Abby’s place if he could.

“I know you don’t want to hurt Abby or her baby, but you might accidentally. If you let her go, I promise I’ll take her place and get you your money. Okay?”

What money? What about the cash register?

Cassie took a hesitant step closer to Harding. “Okay?” she repeated.

Harding’s left leg twitched uncontrollably. The kid was about to lose it, but to Mike’s immense relief, Harding nodded. “Okay. Come ’ere, but slow.”

When Cassie was a foot away, Harding shoved Abby from him and grabbed Cassie. Mike wanted to growl as Harding gripped her around the throat. The sight of Abby in his clutches had been bad enough, but when Harding laid his sweaty hands on Cassie it made him want to rip the kid’s heart out. When he pressed the gun to her head…

…Mike wanted to kill him.

Harding’s arms were covered with scratches. From itching, he’d bet. A sure sign the kid was a pill-head in withdrawal. Oxycontin, he’d guess. The drug of choice by teenagers these days. The high it gave was euphoric, similar to heroin, but when you came down it hurt like hell.

Mike tensed. If he made his move too soon, it could mean Cassie’s life.

Abby ran to Joey, pulling him into her arms. A collective sigh came from the dining room. Rose stayed behind the register while Sue slid into a booth off the aisle. With Cassie’s back against Harding’s chest, Mike could see the controlled fear. Her eyes were wide but not hysterical. She gripped the kid’s sweat-covered arm with both her hands. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but she was holding it together.

Now to get her attention.

He had to maneuver Harding into the kitchen. The kid was so confused and in need of a fix, Mike was certain he was oblivious to the fact there was a cop inside the Nest, ready to take him to the ground.

The ugly, burning memory of his failure six years ago that ended with a woman being brutally stabbed blazed vividly in his mind as if it had happened only yesterday.

He gripped his Glock tighter.

“Where’s the money you promised?” Harding yelled in Cassie’s ear.

The phone at the register rang. Jimmy. Right on time.

Harding jerked his head around. “Don’t answer that!”

“Okay.” Rose held her hands in the air while the phone rang and rang and rang.

“Make it stop!” Harding screamed. “It’s driving me fuckin’ nuts.”

Rose yanked out the phone line. So much for Jimmy’s negotiating skills. Harding squeezed his arm tighter around Cassie’s neck, and she gasped for air.

Sonofabitch, if you hurt her…

C’mon, Cassie. Look at me.

He willed her to look at him. Movement caught his attention. A customer across the aisle had seen him. Mike put his index finger to his lips and shook his head. He glanced back to Cassie. Her eyes widened.

She’d spotted him.

Mike canted his head toward the doorway behind him, hoping she would understand his meaning: get Harding into the kitchen. He repeated the movement. Cassie tipped her head in assent.

That’s my girl.

“The money,” she gasped, locking eyes with Mike’s, “it’s—in my locker.”

Harding put his quivering lips to Cassie’s ear. “Where’s your locker?”

“In the kitchen.”

Quick thinking. Mike nodded to Cassie and inched backward toward the kitchen, crouching on the balls of his feet.

“Show me,” Harding demanded in a shaky voice.

Mike hid behind a solid butcher-block table, keeping an eye on the doorway. It seemed to take forever before he heard them shuffling toward him.

Harding looked around the kitchen. His hand—the shaky one holding the gun—jerked. “Where’s your locker?” The gun was so close to Cassie’s head, Mike had no shot without putting her at risk. This would have to go down another way.

Mike eased his Glock back into his holster.

“Over there.” Cassie lifted her arm and pointed in the direction away from where Mike crouched behind the table. Harding’s red, watery gaze followed her extended arm.

Every muscle in Mike’s body coiled tight like a spring, waiting for an opening.

Cassie clenched her outstretched fingers into a fist and drove her elbow backward into Harding’s ribs. Harding doubled over and released his grip around her neck.

Mike launched and slammed into Harding’s upper body.

The kid crumpled like an accordion. Harding grunted in pain but held fast to his gun. Mike grabbed Harding’s wrist and slammed it again and again on the floor until he heard the distinct sound of bone cracking. Harding screamed and released the gun.

Cassie reached for the weapon just as Mike rammed his knee into the back of Harding’s neck, pinning him to the slick tile. The kid screamed again, writhing in pain. Mike wrenched Harding’s arms into the small of his back and cuffed him, broken wrist and all. He kept his knee planted solidly on the back of Harding’s neck.

Breathing heavily, he glanced at Cassie. She gripped the gun comfortably, steadily in both hands, aiming it at Harding’s head. Her expression was unexpectedly cool. She lowered the weapon and stuffed it into her waistband.

“Are you okay?” he asked between breaths.

She nodded and gave him a relieved smile. “I am now.”

Mike turned on his radio and clicked the microphone clipped to his shoulder. “Suspect apprehended. I’ll take him out the back door.”

He spared another glance at Cassie and thought she’d never looked more beautiful. Her face was flushed and her ponytail was skewed aside in a tangled mass of red waves. Her green eyes were nearly crystalline in their intensity. If he didn’t have Harding in a death grip, he would have kissed her right then and there.

Sirens wailed and tires screeched outside the kitchen’s screen door. Two uniformed officers charged in with Jimmy in the lead. Two others stormed in through the dining area.

“Mike, you good?” Jimmy bellowed.

“Yeah.” He hauled Harding to his feet and handed him over to two of his junior officers. The kid could barely stand, his body was so limp. “His wrist’s broken and he’s in withdrawal,” Mike warned his men. “Take him to the hospital first. When he’s released, take him back to the station for processing.”