by A. E. Via
“Head’s up, Ruxs. Twelve o’clock.” Michaels hurried and Ruxs and Green both dove behind a concrete posts right as shots fired towards them. The man was firing an automatic from behind another crate that had to be weapons inside it.
“I don’t have the shot.” That was all Michaels had to say right before the SWAT sniper on the far end took the man out with a shot to his neck. Michaels never tried to take a kill shot if he didn’t have to, he took perps’ down enough to protect his team. With SWAT you gambled at your own risk.
He heard the weapons beside him but didn’t turn to look. Eye always in his scope he saw the SWAT snipers were sending warning shots to the ground at the west side as men scurried out of the one door on that end. They stopped immediately and raised their hands to the air. After watching a few more seconds and not noticing any further threats he heard Day call out the ‘clear.’
“Nine o’clock.” The man to his left called after Michaels had moved back from his rifle. Looking to his left he didn’t see anything.
What the fuck?
“About a hundred and fifty meters.” The man said into his mic, looking up the block.
“Goddamnit” Michaels growled when he looked and saw a man with a large duffle bag on his shoulder running away.
“Go get him, Michaels. If you lose him you’ll be sorry.” God growled. He saw his Lieutenants running back through the warehouse right before he made it to the door on the roof. Barreling down the stairwell he took the steps seven at a time, using the rail to keep himself from face-planting on each landing. The building was only eight stories and by the time he busted through the door he could see the helicopter hovering over the street a couple blocks up. Fuck me.
Taking off at a sprint, he ran as fast as all his gear would allow him. Looking up he saw the chopper moving further up street. Pumping his legs faster, he heard sirens in the distance but knew he couldn’t solely rely on them to catch their perp’. This was their bust, they were responsible. Please don’t have the drugs, please don’t have the drugs. He chanted as he turned the corner, praying he’d see a cruiser soon. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out how that guy got past them. Not only the men outside but all four snipers as well. Unless there was something underground. Augh. He still had a half a block to go and a turn to make on McDaniel Street.
He heard shots fired and saw the chopper had to bail out. Oh no. His chances of catching this guy had decreased exponentially. There were stores, buildings, apartments, a pizza joint, a bar, back alleys, a shit load of hiding places on this street. Fuck. With his weapon aimed at the ground he jogged up the street, peering through store windows, noting if anything had been disturbed. A few people stood outside a store and he quickly approached, out of breath, and asked had they seen a man run through here. Hurrying back inside they shook their heads, not wanting to be a part of anything. The chopper made a wide circle and came back around, hovered for a few seconds over him and moved forward. Nothing.
“Shit.” He yelled. Knowing he’d fucked up. He was their eyes he was supposed to see everything.
Sweat pouring down his face, he turned and saw the cruisers speeding up the street but he had nothing to tell them. He had no clue where the guy had run. How the fuck did a man escape that kind of bust with a big ass duffle bag and not get noticed? Unless he had help. He ran up the steps to apartment building and quickly looked under the stairwell…nothing. Huffing a tired sigh he went back out the door and saw his team’s SWAT vehicle pull up to the curb. God stepped out, looking like he was ready to choke him. Not saying another word he turned and got back inside leaving the door open for him. He would rather be anywhere than in that vehicle right now. He almost felt like walking all the way back to headquarters.
He was hoisted inside by Ruxs and Green slammed the door behind him. Cruisers still ripped up and down the alleyways but that asshole was gone. He was goddamn Houdini, disappearing into thin air. They were all silent. God’s anger was palpable in the confined space and it was stifling him. Michaels reached for his collar and tugged at it, needing air. God watched him, his green eyes boring into him, telling him he was pissed and disappointed. They didn’t lose men. They damn sure didn’t lose evidence. He’d made both his Lieutenants and his team look bad and that was the worse feeling in the world to him.
“Did he get the money or the drugs?” Rivers finally asked after they got onto the interstate.
“The drugs!” God roared.
Oh hell. Not the drugs. Months worth of work, surveillance, inside informants, recon, all that manpower and hours put into this case… and the drugs were still on the street.
If the ride back wasn’t hard enough, sitting in their department waiting for the Lieutenants to come out of the Captain’s office after getting their asses chewed out was ten times harder. They had a tiny window to track down this guy and get those drugs back before they were lost for good.
Chapter Seven
Why run? It’s just gonna piss me off. Judge hit the brake hard in his jet black RAM1500 and skidded to a stop at the end of the sidewalk, glaring at his terrified bounty. Determined green eyes stared right back at him and Judge immediately recognized the look. The convict was going to give it everything he had because he wasn’t going back to jail without a fight. The man took off up the sidewalk like a base runner aiming for home plate.
Motherfucker. Judge hit the gas hard, his large back tires spinning on the hot asphalt, burning the rubber down, leaving a cloud of white smoke behind him. He kept his eyes on his prize barreling up the nearly empty street. Thank goodness it was a quiet town, Judge could get in, do his damage and get the hell out. He was almost to end of the road when he cut the wheel hard and turned his back end to face the sidewalk. He hit the button on his dash and dropped the back gate of his truck. “Get’em, Book” he hissed and that was all it took for his one hundred and fifty pound Great Dane to leap out the back and take off towards his guy. Bookem was the only partner Judge needed. The two of them together were flawless. Although his best friend was getting up in age he was still strong and fast.
When his bounty saw Bookem jump down out the truck it was almost comical. The man looked like he’d shit himself. Spinning and cutting between two parked cars, the desperate man ran into a backyard, getting hung up in a close line first before diving underneath the raised trailer. Judge followed his dog’s bark and growls, walking around the back of the doublewide trailer. He shook his head at the absurdity of the ridiculous attempt at hiding. He squatted and ruffled Bookem’s scruff. “Good boy, good boy.” His dog immediately calmed down, his bark easing to a warning growl, sensing that Judge had it under control. “Where the hell is he going under there, huh?” Judge smirked still petting his dog. He bent and looked under house. It was raised a good thirty inches off the ground and Judge had a clear view of the man inching his way into the corner.
“If I have to send Book under there to get you, it’s not going to be pretty what part of your body he uses to drag you out of there. He hates going under houses.” Judge said in a calm voice.
“Figures they’d send you, Judge. Well fuck you! I’m not going back to jail!” The man yelled angrily.
“You kinda are.” As if Bookem agreed the dog let out a sharp bark, pacing anxiously behind his master. It was pretty quiet out and he knew the man could hear him. After a few seconds his hope that no one was home in the trailer was squashed when the back door was abruptly opened and a woman in a thin pink robe stuck her head out and yelled, “What the hell are you doing in my yard?”
Judge could see here hair was shaved close on one side and the other side had long red locks hanging from dark roots. The woman was brave to yell at him especially looking the way he did. His big tattooed arms were on full display since he’d shed his foot length leather coat. The black, sleeveless, skulls t-shirt was well worn as were his all black leather pants. His black riding boots were more for kicking ass than riding his bike, which he rarely got to do anymore. His almost black hair
was messy and out of control on top of his head, in fact the only thing groomed about him was his beard. Which had grown long under his chin in the last couple months.
If his appearance wasn’t enough to deter people from staring at him too long, or pissing him off period, his hardware surely did the trick. His black felt-handled ten inch, serrated blade was sheathed and strapped to his right thigh. With his coat off you could see two black handles of his identical Sig Sauers tucked in his waistband at the small of his back. Bounty hunting was a very dangerous job.
Although he had it suspended around his neck, Judge reached in his back pocket for his official identification, flipping it open, he held it up, revealing his license on one side and his gold finish marshal-style bounty hunter badge on the other. “I won’t be but a minute as soon as I get the rodent from under your home.”
“What the -. Vermin.” She said disbelievingly, stepping out onto the porch.
Judge tucked his ID away and held both hands up. “Please don’t come out here miss. This man is a convict and I don’t what you to get hurt.”
As if Judge’s words lit a fire under her, she scurried back inside the door. “Oh my goodness. Should I call the police?”
“Nope. I got him.” Judge said and squatted back down when Bookem started growling, never taking his eyes off their man. It looked like he was moving back towards them.
“You come out quietly and don’t do anything stupid, Tony. I’m really not in the mood.” Judge said, stepping back. “You try to run again and I might just choose to put some rock salt in your ass instead of chase you.” He heard the man curse a few times but wasn’t concerned. He and Tony had did this dance before, having caught the guy six different times for skipping bail. Tracking him this time had been rather easy, having known all the man’s hideouts. Tony knew he was going back to jail and he’d have no choice but to show up for court this time. Judge waited another thirty seconds before growling himself. “Get the fuck from under there right now. I don’t have the time or patience for this bullshit, Tony.”
Bookem began to growl again once Tony got closer. Judge saw a dirty hand appear first before Tony’s head. The guy was a nasty mess from crawling under there and Judge wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Dumbass.” He hissed before reaching down and angrily yanking Tony all the way out. He pulled the man to his feet, like a ragdoll. Tony wasn’t scrawny, Judge was just big and strong as fuck. He zip tied Tony’s hands in front of him and used his collar to drag him alongside him. He heard the woman call out a thank you. For what? Judge wasn’t quite sure – as he made it back to his truck.
The back was still down and he nodded his head at Tony to climb inside. He stopped helping his catch up into the large hooded cab when he was kicked in the groin by a woman he’d caught eight years ago. Now he stood back and waited. He had a foot stool for the shorter people in the backseat but Tony was tall enough to climb up in there. He waited for Tony to scoot to the back before he lifted the gate, closed and locked it. The long cab of his truck had a specially made elevated hood. He could transport his bounty back to whatever jurisdiction they belonged in semi-comfortably. The bedding was padded and he had some blankets back there as well. There was an anchored cooler attached to one side of the truck, for them to hydrate along with protein bars and fruit. A bounty hunter’s license could be suspended and possibly revoked for unjust treatment of their prisoners. The outside of the hood had a piece on either side that could slide back, leaving a small screened portion for sunlight and fresh air. But of course there was vents inside for climate control.
Judge reached inside his center console and popped his thin sugar cane stick back in his mouth. He was trying to quit smoking and found chewing the natural cane sugar stalk distracting and the sweetness nestled between the fibers, enticing. He got his bottle of water and took a few gulps, squinting up at the warm Orlando sky. He put on his dark shades, cursing the humidity. He hated coming to Florida for a bounty. But he was an independent, licensed bail agent, unlike a lot of other runners who were unlicensed, he was able to enter into Florida and arrest. He pulled back the side panel and spoke through the screen. “There’s water in the cooler Tony.”
“Fuck off, Judge.”
Judge huffed a laugh. “Are you hurt? Do you need medical attention? Blah, blah, blah.”
“Fuck off.” Tony snapped.
“If I wasn’t pleased at how fast I caught you, I’d put my fist in your fucking throat, but the mark wouldn’t fade quickly enough before I had to turn you in.” Judge growled.
“You’re a sadistic bastard. You know that?”
“So I’ve heard.”
Judge’s traveling companions were rarely jovial, considering where they were going. He still had to ask if they wanted medical attention. He had a basic medical kit but it was the law to make sure his prisoner could medically survive the trip. He had to get Tony back to Summerville, SC. It was a six hour trip. Thank goodness he’d rested up yesterday, and wouldn’t need to stop overnight. Still, he wouldn’t be getting back to the Dorchester County jail until at least eight o’clock tonight.
“Alright Tony. You know the rules. This ain’t your first rodeo, man. I’ll stop in two hours in Jacksonville. You can use the bathroom, eat… or not. I don’t really care, and then it’s nonstop back to Dukes.”
“Duke can kiss my -”
Judge slammed the side panel back and locked it, not interested in the rest of Tony’s rant. Judge was Duke’s Bail Bonds number one go-to hunter. The big bail bondsman had several other fugitive recovery agents under his employ but Judge was by far the fastest. He’d done fifteen years in the Army, five of those as a Ranger. Tracking was in his blood. It was all he knew. He sent a text to Duke that he had his jumper and was heading back.
He waited for Bookem to finish his business before opening a bottle of water for him and setting a bowl down on the ground, filling it for him. Judge’s four door RAM only had two front seats, the back seats had been removed to give Bookem a comfortable living space since they were on the road ninety percent of their lives. “Ready to go boy?”
Bookem drank down the last bottle of water thirstily before hopping up into the backseat and making himself comfortable on the massive cushion.
Chapter Eight
Everyone had gotten out of their tactical gear, cleaned up and was waiting on God, Day and Syn to finish whatever plan they were coming up with. Michaels wanted to go somewhere and hide. This was all his fault. The bust would be done and successful if it wasn’t for him. Everyone would be out celebrating or home celebrating the way men loved to. He felt Ruxs slap him on his back on his way back to his chair with a steaming cup of coffee.
“We can see you beating yourself to death, man. Let it rest bud. We’ve all had fuckups, Michaels.” Green said quietly.
“Yeah, man. We’re in this together. We’ll get that bastard.” Powers said. He was their schematics specialist. Not a technical term, but he was responsible for all layouts of buildings and homes they entered. Sitting there at his computer he had to be assessing if he’d missed some kind of underground tunnel or escape route that wasn’t visible in his prints.
Michaels noticed the stress and disappointment the men were trying so desperately to hide. He nodded his head instead of voicing how he really felt.
“No freaking way! Are you insane?” Day yelled, making all the men turn in their direction. His lieutenants and sergeant had been having a stern hushed conversation but it had just turned from stern to serious.
“I need that asshole in custody within the week, Day. How are you going to guarantee me that, huh? If he’s not, then the Chief and the media will have a field day.” God urged, running his hand through his wavy brown hair in frustration.
“I just don’t trust that guy babe. He’s flighty, unpredictable, not to mention, reckless. Not the cool reckless like we are, the kind of reckless that gets people killed. He’d no sooner shot our guy in the back rather than bring him to us.” Day rebutted.
“God wants to use one of his favors and bring in someone on the outside to get back our traitorous informant.” Syn dropped down in his seat like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
A few of the guys looked around at each other before Green asked, “Outside like who…feds?”
“No.” Day mumbled.
God looked up at them, his green eyes glowing with ferocity. His voice was raspy and on the hint of scary when he spoke. “A bounty hunter. The best tracker I’ve ever encountered.”
Syn shrugged, walking over to the IT guys. “Give me everything you’ve got on our lost informant. I want to know every damn thing. Jobs, schools, residences. I need the name and information on every relative, every girlfriend, lover, all acquaintances and business contacts, deceased and living. Nothing is too small or insignificant. I even want to know what this guy’s dog name was when he was in the second grade. … got it?”
