Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
He still wanted to kill me.
A bloodcurdling scream pierced through the air, sending a new wave of chills down my back. That came from the building behind me, second or third floor.
His bullet must’ve hit an innocent civilian.
I didn’t have time to make a decision about what I wanted to do with him. I reared back and came down with a hit to his face, one that should knock him out. It did. His eyes rolled backward, which I’d seen before, but god, I never enjoyed seeing it. It was unnatural. But he was out, and I needed one second, just one, to take a breath, before I shoved myself up and took stock of the scene around me.
People were outside, watching. Phones were up. They were recording this.
Seeing a teenager coming out of the diner I’d just left, fumbling for his phone, I pointed at him. “Call 911.”
When he looked ready to protest because that meant he couldn’t get the video he’d need for fucking TikTok, I yelled, “Now!”
People were pressed against the diner’s window, staring at me. Some went pale. Wide eyes. Stunned expressions with their mouths hanging open. I ignored them all, reaching for my cuffs, but fuck, I didn’t have them on me anymore. That would’ve been my life three days ago.
Seeing a big guy standing on the sidewalk, I pointed at him next. “You!”
His eyes narrowed. He was one of the few without a phone videoing us. Hostility flashed next. He didn’t like cops, I was assuming. “I need you to sit on him.”
Confusion came over him, though he took a staggering step toward me, dressed in baggy sweats and a Giants jersey. He was well over six three and he had a little bit of a belly, but I was guessing most of him was solid muscle. Rough-shaven. “What’d you say, man?”
“I need him restrained if he wakes up.”
“What? How?”
“Sit on him.”
“Sit on him? What the fuck?”
More screaming broke out from above, and I whirled around, trying to locate it. My gun was drawn but pointed low and I ran past him, yelling over my shoulder, “Just keep him there until I get back.”
He was grumbling, but the diner’s waitress was waving for me. I went past Sawyer, a brief glimpse showing me that she was still watching the guy outside. She’d backed up against the wall, clutching her bag to her chest.
“Upstairs!” the waitress yelled, motioning to the back door.
“Stay here,” I said tersely to Sawyer.
She jerked her chin up and down a few times.
I touched her arm, just briefly, wanting to say something to put the blood back in her face that had drained away, but there wasn’t anything I could say. So, instead, I let myself touch her cheek, cupping it for a second. Her eyes went wide, but it was enough for me.
I ran past her back inside.
“The stairs there. They go up to that floor.”
The door was locked. I reared back and kicked it in, hitting the stairs running. As I did, I grabbed my phone and called it in, identifying myself, giving them a location and a brief report of what they should expect. “I’ll need multiple ambulances on scene.”
The operator was swift, replying, “Multiple 10-54 H en route.”
As we were finishing, I got to the second floor and found a child standing in the hallway, covered in blood. He looked nine, staring inside with a dazed expression. The kid was in shock. I slowed, getting to the door, and eyeing him, I moved around him so I could clear the doorway.
A woman was kneeling on the floor inside, screaming, crying, with blood covering her as well. She gasped, seeing me, but I held out a hand. “Miss, I’m—” That’s all I managed before she jumped to her feet, backed away, and pointed at the floor where another woman was lying there.
She screamed, her voice breaking, “Help her! Help her! I don’t know—I don’t know what happened.” Her hands were flailing around her.
“Is there anyone else here?”
“What?”
I needed to clear the scene, make sure it was safe, and as I stepped over the body, the woman in the kitchen began screaming again. I ignored her, doing a quick sweep, but no one else was in the apartment. After that, I holstered my gun and went to the woman on the floor.
I had two sides to me, and both were operational right now.
My heart was pumping. Adrenaline was racing through my veins, but the other side of me locked down. There was a firm divider inside of me, keeping the anxiety, fear, hunger at bay, and the other part of me was where I grew cold. Detached. I needed to be so I was clearheaded as I went through the motions of what I used to do for a living.