Crash Into Me - L.A. Fiore Page 0,33

I would bet he had Nordic in his backyard. There was a partial tattoo on his arm of what looked like a snake, and he had a scar along the back of his neck that ended at his jawbone. I was sure we’d find his mug shot.

“Hurry up, old man,” he shouted, as the hand with the gun shook, his shifty gaze going from Duke to the door.

The door opened again, and based on how young he was, I was guessing the beat cop was a rookie. He was fast, pulling his gun, but it shook almost as much as the meth head’s. Shit. Just what the situation needed. Glancing back at the people behind me, I ordered quietly, “Move to that corner, go.”

They shuffled, which brought the assailant’s attention to us. “Don’t you fucking move!”

“Take the money and go,” I said.

“Shut up, cunt.”

“This is a cop hangout, and it’s lunchtime. You’ve got about five minutes before that door opens on a wall of blue. Take the money and go.”

Duke held out the bag, the rookie was looking at me now. I gestured for him to lower his gun; he hesitated, but he did and even stepped out of the path to the door, but I saw the look. He was pursuing once the perp took off and, damn, but he couldn’t have been on the job more than a few months…more courage than sense. Fucking hell.

“Now’s your chance,” I said.

He wasn’t as dumb as he looked when he ran out of the store.

The rookie was ready to pursue, but looked at me for the ok. Letting the perp go, and picking him up later was my preference, but it was lunchtime, and this was a cop hangout, so there were going to be unsuspecting cops heading this way. Would the meth head panic when he saw blue and open fire? By how twitchy he’d been in the shop, I was thinking yeah. Fuck. Chasing down a fucking meth head, who was high and unpredictable, was not what I had in mind for my lunch break. But better me than the rookie.

“Call this in and get statements,” I ordered, and then flew out of the shop. Running through the crowd, some of who had been pushed to the ground by the assailant, I caught up to him. He swung around, gun in hand, but I tackled him because the priority was to get the gun away, so there was no collateral damage. It went flying out of his hand. He was pissed, shoving me off him, before he landed a punch to my cheek. Stars filled my vision, but I dodged the next punch, and landed one to his gut. He took another swing, clipped my chin. I landed one to his jaw, but I think I hurt my hand more than I hurt him. I charged, using my shoulder to his gut, knocking the air from his lung, but I didn’t realize how close to the curb we were. He went down and dragged me with him. Luckily for me, he hit the street with me falling on top of him and not the other way or he’d have crushed me. He flipped me; my back hit the street, as he lifted his ham-size fist. Before he made contact, he was being pulled off me. Breathlessly, I said to the beat cops that came to my aid, “I tired him out.”

There was now an audience and other cops because, as previously mentioned, it was lunchtime and a favorite street for the brothers in blue. Vin from Vice grinned. “Lying down on the job, Molly?”

I rolled my eyes at his comment, but I didn’t move from my prone spot on the street because, damn, the assailant was strong. As the adrenaline subsided, I felt the pain to my face. I was lucky he didn’t break my jaw, but if that last punch had connected, he would have, or my nose, or both.

“You on vacation?” I glanced up at Zac, he was grinning at me, as he offered his hand.

I took it, then flipped him off, when I got to my feet. Vin fell into step next to us. “I wasn’t pursuing,” I said. “But there was a rookie at Duke’s, a real Dirty Harry vibe.”

They both understood immediately.

“I think the dude broke my face.”

Vin studied me. “It might be an improvement.”

I flipped him off, too, and then laughed, which turned into a whimper because it hurt to laugh. “I didn’t