Cop (The Police Trilogy Book 2) (3 page)

Five

Eve watched Brandon’s ass as he left the room, heading for the elevator. Her nipples were poking urgently through her blouse, and she was wet as hell for him right now. A huge part of her wanted to run after him, push him into the elevator and fuck him, but the tiny, more vocal part, knew it could never happen.

She found herself wondering what it would feel like to kiss him, to push her tongue into his mouth and feel him sucking on it, as his hands found her tits and worked their magic on her body.

This couldn’t go on.

She couldn’t spend the day aroused like this; she had work to do, a crooked cop to catch red handed – not easy when her clit was becoming more and more insistent, and her carnal urges were becoming too great to ignore.

A few paces took her to the window, and she parted the blinds with her fingers, looking down to see the nose of his car emerge from the underground lot below.

And suddenly she was overwhelmed with a deep sense of foreboding.

It was a feeling she couldn’t shake, even as she went back to her desk and prepared herself for the working day.

Over the next few minutes it grew and grew, a nagging sensation in the pit of her stomach, and she became more and more worried about it.

It subsumed any sense of arousal she had felt, and finally she gave in to it.

She scooped up her gun from the drawer, and was clipping it to her belt even as she strode quickly towards the elevator. The button lit up and she impatiently jabbed at it, listening to the motors bringing the car back up to this floor. When the doors slid open, she saw Cyrus looking back at her.

“Morning,” he said, a lascivious grin on is face, and she knew what he was thinking.

“Not a chance,” she rebuked, passing him on the way out as she stepped in.

“For old time’s sake?” he asked pathetically.

She stabbed the door close button and hopped from foot to foot as the interminable decline lasted forever. The moment the doors opened, she sprinted out into the underground lot and quickly clambered into her car.

The engine was roaring and she had made up most of the ground to the ramp before she realised she had no idea where she was headed. The hood lifted up as the car clattered onto the ramp, and the morning sun washed into the cabin with a scorching heat and brightness that made her baulk.

She didn’t stop at the top of the ramp, just pulled straight out, risking the ire of other drivers as she merged. A few horns honked in annoyance, but she didn’t care, and pushed the accelerator closer to the floor, weaving maniacally from tiny gap to tiny gap.

Her best option was to head to Brandon’s station house, hoping that she hadn’t missed him before he left with Conrad and his Strike Team.

The traffic began to thin a little, and she put some more speed into the engine, listening to it growl mechanically beneath the hood.

Up ahead she saw the entrance to the station house, just as a giant SUV pulled out and onto the road. She caught a glimpse of Brandon sitting in the back, and eased off the accelerator, putting a few cars between her and them. She was fully trained at this kind of surveillance, and had no worry that she might be spotted.

Seeing Brandon staring out of his window with a wistful look on his face had gone some way to alleviating her sense of foreboding, but it was still there, firmly rooted in her stomach, not even close to letting go.

They travelled a few blocks, their vehicles invisibly linked with a thin thread, hers matching their speed with a practised ease, until the SUV pulled to a halt in a handicap spot outside of a diner.

Eve parked up across the street in a place that afforded her a good view into the diner, its huge windows offering a clear line of sight all the way to the counter. She watched the four men climb from their car and wander slowly into the diner, taking a seat by the window, purposely placing a holdall in plain sight.

She followed the gaze of Conrad, and saw a small gathering of men in gang colours on the corner opposite.

Somehow, she knew that bag was meant to antagonise them, and sure enough they soon became restless and piqued.

She looked from them back to the diner, to see Brandon ordering from a pretty waitress he thankfully showed no interest in. Then he stared out of the window, a slight smile plastered permanently on his face; and she wondered if his thoughts were following the same line as hers had earlier.

Eve licked her lips, then darted a nervous glance back at the gang on the corner. She had no doubt something was going to kick off, and she reached for her gun, cocking it a few times to check the mechanism, before chambering a round and holstering it once more. Then she unclipped her seat belt, and let it slip back off of her shoulder, before unlatching the car door so she could easily climb out with speed if need be.

The four of them were happily eating their breakfast now, but she could see a growing look of unease on Brandon’s face, and she realised he too had now clocked the gang on the corner.

That was something at least.

And then she caught a glimpse of a few gang members surreptitiously slipping off down the block, darting into an alleyway she guessed would take them round the back of the diner. She looked back to see that the Strike Team hadn’t seen any of that.

The moment she deduced what was happening, the remaining three gang members pulled out their guns and started walking towards the diner. Inside, she saw Brandon upend a waiter and put a gun to his neck.

Within seconds, the window exploded and all hell broke loose.

And inside, they were about to flee into a trap.

Eve swept from the car, gun in hand, traversing the road quickly, using the cars to cover her movement.

Inside the diner, she saw Conrad stand up and fire off a series of shots that slowed the progress of the three gang members somewhat.

She reached the building at the corner, ducking behind a newspaper vending machine, and getting a good view of the front entrance of the diner.

Some more shots rang out and she heard a scream of agony. When she looked, two of the gang were down, and the third had bolted behind a mini van.

Eve couldn’t see into the diner save through the glass door, and she had no way of knowing who was inside or where they were.

People were running past her now, their haste fuelled by fear and self preservation. She used the melee as cover, and moved from behind the vending machine, trotting across the road and falling behind a parked car. Peeking through the door windows, she could see a bit further into the diner now, and saw Brandon getting up and heading for the door.

And she also saw the remaining gang member heading for the same door from the other side.

Shit.

She stood up and aimed her gun, just as Brandon came through the door and walked into the muzzle of the Uzi.

Three squeezes of the trigger, and three shots hit the gang member in the back and shoulder. He fell to the ground, his gun clattering on the sidewalk, and she saw Brandon looking back at her, wide eyed with fear and gratitude.

She came round the car and kicked the Uzi towards Brandon. He picked it up and she was overcome with the urge to wrap herself into his body, to plant kisses on his mouth and face, to show him just how grateful she was that he was still alive and unharmed.

But she heard her voice, business-like, the way it should be in this sort of situation.

“Did they go out the back way?”

“Yes,” he replied, moving off down the side of the diner to find the alley behind.

“It’s an ambush.”

She fell into step behind him.

“Shit.”

At the corner, they stopped, and he peeked round, swearing to himself again.

“You have to go,” he said, turning to look back at her.

“What?”

“You can’t be here.”

He was right, but there was no way she was going anywhere.

“You called for backup, I was close and responded.”

“Right, how often is IA rolling on the street?”

Without waiting for a reply, he bolted off and down the alleyway.

Fuck.

She moved up and peeked around, seeing him creeping up on the Mexican stand off that was unfolding between the rest of the Strike Team and the remaining gang members.

His intervention might just be enough to tip the balance.

Eve watched as he caught their attention, and everything changed.

The dynamics shifted, and the Strike Team suddenly had the upper hand. In a flurry of motion and a cacophony of shouting, they descended on their targets, disarming them and putting them in cuffs.

Conrad grabbed the bag from the floor and hitched it over his shoulder.

Whatever it had been about, it was in the bag.

Eve felt something cold pressing into the back of her neck.

“Don’t move Chica,” a voice hissed into her ear, and she put up her hands, letting her weapon dangle from her finger.

The muzzle of the gun dug into her neck and urged her forward. She nearly tripped as she went, feeling him behind her as he forced her down the alleyway with a gun to her head.

“Look what I got,” he called out, and everyone stopped to look at her.

She was a hostage now.

The last bargaining chip on the table.

Dear Valued Reader,

I very much hope you enjoyed part two, and thank you for supporting an independently published story. If you enjoyed it, I’d be very grateful if you’d spread the word, maybe with a short, and honest, review on Amazon.

To be the first to know when I release a new title, why not sign up for my exclusive newsletter, by clicking the following link? You’ll also get a FREE short story by way of thanks.

Click here to sign up for my newsletter.

I won’t share your details with anyone else, and I will only send newsletters when I have a new release to share with you.

Many thanks

Alexis x