“I suggest you both leave now.”
My voice is firm and steady. I’m not scared. I’ve been trained to remain calm in many different situations. The trick is to not let your mind wander. Focus on nothing but the threat in front of you. Neutralize the threat.
“We won’t be doing that, cop,” the taller of the two utters as he spits the last word out, as if he has a bad taste in his mouth.
I guess that means he’s not a fan of the police.
The other guy snickers at his words as his dirty eyes roam down my bare legs.
Go ahead, sleazeball, look all you want. It’ll be your downfall. And the distraction I need.
“The kid.” My head snaps back to the other one. “Where is he?” All the hairs on my body stand. Gabriel. They’re after Gabriel, but why?
Drago? Maybe. No, it can’t be . . .
I don’t have the time to question the whys. The cop in me will have to stay at bay for the most part. No way will I allow these men to take Gabe from here—from me.
They’ll have to kill me first.
Fuck oath.
This has nothing to do with it and everything to do with my love for the boy sleeping only a few steps down the hall behind me.
“What kid?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest. I doubt they believe me. They obviously got in using Ms. Lincoln’s key after all . . .
No thinking, Brianna.
Focus.
“Nice try.”
I’m guessing the taller one of their duo is the ringleader since he’s the only one speaking.
“Yeah, nice try. Like my brother said, sweetie,” shorty finally speaks, confirming my suspicions they’re brothers. He’s younger too; could be just out of his teens.
Oh, I got your sweetie.
“Shut the fuck up.” The older brother turns, shoving the other in his shoulder, making him damn near fall to the door, but he manages to catch himself after stumbling.
“Ooh.” I shake my head, making a tsk-tsk sound, “I don’t think you were supposed to let the cop know you two are related,” I chime in, pointing between them.
“Where’s Acerbi’s kid?” big brother demands to know.
So they are here because of Drago. But is it for him or . . .
“Get out now!”
That does nothing to deter them. In fact, they both move my way instead, at a slow pace.
I take a deep breath to prepare myself mentally for what’s about to happen. I would prefer to have a weapon on me, but I don’t. There is no way I have enough time to run to my bedroom to grab my secondary firearm—a Glock .380—from the drawer in the nightstand next to my bed. I can’t reach my department issued weapon either and my last option is a no-go too. The path to the kitchen where I keep another one of my personal handguns above the stove in a cabinet is blocked.
I’m shit out of luck for a weapon right now.
Guess I’m about to find out what all the hours I’ve spent training with Nikki Lockhart has taught me.
My eyes flicker back and forth between both men. The shorter one will reach me first. Different scenarios and outcomes run through my mind. I have many options, but only seconds to form a plan. I’m banking on them both thinking I’m easy prey because I’m a woman.
I won’t be.
I may not be the tallest or toughest female in the department, but I’m far from being the weakest. I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been in.
They don’t know that. No way they could.
I force my body to relax, even though it’s screaming to tense as these two thugs close in on me. When Shorty is close enough, I drop my ass, bend my knees and spring upward as I kick my foot and leg out directly in the path of his knee. My foot lands on the mark, making him scream in pain and drop to the floor.
“What the—”
His brother is cut off when I throw my body—all one hundred and thirty-one pounds—into him, knocking him back. But before I’m able to push myself off, his hands grab me around my biceps, squeezing tight.
“You little bitch,” he spits in my face before tossing me backward where I fall, landing on my backside.
“Guess the cop is a little tougher than you thought, huh?” I probably shouldn’t be goading either of these men. They obviously aren’t the friendly type. But hell, they came into my home, threatening to take my baby. They are lucky I don’t have a gun. If I did, both might just be dead.
They will not take Gabe while I’m breathing.
“My leg.”
I glance to the other guy. He’s still on the floor a few feet away, holding his kneecap with both hands.
“Suck it the fuck up and get up,” his brother yells.
I take the opportunity to jump to my feet and then take a step back, gaining a little distance between us
“I can’t. She broke my leg. That bitch broke my fucking leg.”
He’s damn near in tears, making me feel victorious. His leg isn’t broken. At least I don’t think it is, but I’d bet money his kneecap is dislocated.
“You need some titty milk to help dry up those tears, ya baby?” I can’t help myself.
My laughter quickly evaporates when my attacker lunges for me. I side jump, getting out of his path, then I’m able to get behind him where I quickly hop onto his back. Being quick, I wrap my legs around his waist and punch my fist into his ear. I can’t allow him to gain his bearing back if I’m going to pull off this move.
He stumbles back, but I wrap one arm around his neck, attempting a rear naked choke, then grab ahold of my bicep with my hand. I’ve never tried this. It’s an advanced move that Nikki hasn’t taught me how to properly execute, but I’ve seen Jase Teller do it many times. I’m praying watching him was enough.
I just need him out long enough to allow me time to get to one of my guns.
I may not actually kill either of these men. I’m a cop after all. But they will be limping out of here in handcuffs—or cuffed and rolled out on a stretcher.
He goes down to one knee. I think it’s working so I tighten my grip, squeezing as much as I can.
It’s too quiet. The only sounds in the room are coming from my strained breaths and my assailants winding down.
The other brother is a wuss, so I’m not too worried about him. I’ll deal with him when I’m done with this one if he wants to try something.
He’ll regret it if he does.
A few seconds later the body I’m wrapped around goes limp.
I did it. I actually did it.
Go me!
I jump to my feet. Glancing sideways at the other guy, I see he’s still sitting on the floor in the same spot as before—frozen. Scared is more like it.
Turning to go retrieve my weapon, I stop dead in my tracks when I see a third man standing in the doorway. This one has a nickel plated .45 pointed at my head.
Before he speaks, I know he’s Mexican, which verifies the two Hispanic men I’ve already laid down must be too. Unlike them, he doesn’t need any introductions. I know exactly who he is.
Sebastian Diaz.
Criminal.
Dangerous.
Drug trafficker.
Wanted.
“Impressive.” His eyes roam down as if he’s admiring my body; it doesn’t come off sleazy like the other guy, but I still don’t like it. “Almost makes me regret what I have to do.”
He lowers the gun as he walks forward. He doesn’t put it away. It’s still in his hand with his finger on the trigger, making me very unnerved because gun safety one-oh-one states only have your finger on the trigger if you intend to shoot your target.
He doesn’t stop until he’s standing in front of me—too close for my own comfort—but I don’t back away. Something tells me that wouldn’t be a smart move.
He’s a few inches taller than I am. I’m not going to let that intimidate me, so I hold my chin higher and press my lips together.
He rewards me with a smile that sickens my stomach.
I don’t react when he grab
s my ass with his free hand, either. Squeezing my cheek roughly, he pulls me flush with his front, pressing his semi-hard erection against my satin covered center.
The pit of my stomach plummets, but I do everything within my power not to show it.
“After seeing this beautiful ass in action”—he squeezes to the point of pain, but I keep myself from reacting by biting the inside of my cheek—“I want to take you home and fuck it all night long. That badge was right about one thing. You certainly are one hot piece of ass.”
He pushes me backward, and I stumble thinking about what he has just said.
Badge? A cop? What the—
I don’t get a chance to analyze his words long because while I’m catching my balance the guy I choked out starts to come to, gaining consciousness. I glance down, as he’s only a few feet from me. When he looks up after shaking his head in quick jerks, his eyes scream murder. He’s pissed.
As he climbs to his feet, I inch over, stepping closer to the other brother that is still sitting on the floor. He’s unmoving and the least of my worries.
I see the hand coming at me, but he’s too quick—too determined maybe—for me to react in time. The back of the taller brother’s hand lands across my cheek. Something sharp tears through the skin of my lip as he backhands me. He was wearing a gold ring. I remember it now.
The blow knocks me off my feet. My hip and palms crash to the hardwood floor below. He doesn’t stop there.
Pain storms through my abdomen as he kicks me multiple times in the stomach. Some low, some high.
“Ahhhhh,” I let out the first sound of weakness I’ve shown since they entered my home. Even I can only take so much.
“Enough!” Sebastian’s voice booms. “Find the kid.”
“NO!” My yell is croaky at best.
Using the glass surface of the coffee table, I force myself to my feet, pushing the pain to the back of my mind.
Without thinking, I leap for the man Sebastian has ordered to find Gabriel, but I’m met with a palm I didn’t see coming as it clasps around my neck, then he shoves me as hard as he can.
Had I been focused more like the cop I’m supposed to be rather than let fear seep into my head, I might have been able to counter his move and get around him.
Instead, my ass lands down on the glass coffee table.
I’m up in seconds, but as soon as I make a move toward him, a gunshot sounds off, followed by fire lightening into my thigh.
There is no time to think about the pain. I can’t let them take Gabe. No matter what I have to do, I will protect him. They will not get him without one hell of a fight.
“What do you want?” I scream. “Leave the baby. I’ll get Drago to give you whatever it is you want.”
He has to want something from D. That has to be it. There isn’t any other possible explanation.
This goes against everything I know is right. Screw it. I’ll do anything at this point. Make any bargain I have to so they don’t hurt Gabriel.
“Ha!” Sebastian laughs out a loud laugh as he raises the gun at me. “I’m going to get exactly what I want, Detective Andrews.”
“You don’t have to take the baby. He isn’t even Drago’s.”
I’m a cop. I’m a believable liar. I’m trained to be one. To say whatever is necessary to get the answers I seek.
“Don’t bullshit me. I know he is and you know he is.” His lips tip. “But Acerbi doesn’t, does he?”
The DNA test. Only a few people in the department knew about that . . .
“Then what’s your plan? What is it you want exactly?”
Keep him talking. That’s what I have to do. I can do that but then what? Someone had to have heard that shot and called 911?
God, I hope so.
Drago won’t be here for at least another hour and then he’s often late.
Shit, Brianna, what are you going to do?
“Kill you obviously.” Chills ignite and run the length of my spine. “Take the boy for insurance.” He waves the gun back and forth. “Acerbi made a huge mistake when he pulled his family out of my business two years ago. Now I’m going to ensure his return and tenure. He will take my offer if he wants to keep his kid breathing. And you, cop, will be my message.”
Two years ago?
Why didn’t D tell me this? Why didn’t Drago explain he changed his family dynamics himself?
I knew deep inside he was good. This proves it to me.
And this scum wants to bring him into his folds. Taint him. Bring him into the dirty world of trafficking drugs in LA.
My blood warms. I want to do things to this monster that would be considered unethical of a police officer. I want to watch him bleed. I want to see the moment the light in his eyes dies out.
“Killing a cop won’t just have LAPD after you. You’ll have the whole goddamn state of California and every agency in it wanting to take you down.”
Most of us, that is . . . There could be a leak in the department after all.
He brings the gun up, centering it in front of him, pointing right at me and lets out a sickening evil laugh.
“Do you honestly think I give a damn about LAPD or any other agency in this state? The fucking paperwork will be buried before I’m even a blip on anyone’s radar. Just like it always is.” A quick chuckle breaks from his lips. “And so will you.”
Everything happens in slow motion yet too fast for me to react in time. Shots sound off one after another, but the first shot causes so much agonizing pain that I don’t know how many rounds my body takes. The impact forces me backward, I twist, and then I lose my balance, crashing to the floor. Something sharp and hard collides with my head. The coffee table, I think, but darkness starts to wash over me before I can assess everything. I’m not completely gone when I hear a sound that hurts worse than any damage done to my body. Gabriel’s cries pierce my ears and it’s the last thing I hear.
They’re taking him.
I failed in the most important duty I had—his safety. Everything dims, going completely black.
19
Wake up dammit!”
That voice. I know that voice.
“Yeah, I need an ambulance. Fast, please. Detective Brianna Andrews’ residence. 593 Palms Road, Unit 203. She’s been shot. Bri, open your eyes, baby.”
He sounds stressed—troubled. And who did he say has been shot?
Memories suddenly flood my head and with them comes pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
I try to suck in air, but it only causes more pain.
“Hold on,” he tells someone. “Bri?”
Oh, God, it hurts.
I hurt.
“Off. Get . . . it off.” I can’t breathe. I need it off of me now.
“Get what off?”
I open my eyes, but my vision is fuzzy at first. I can make out Drago in the haze, and I realize he’s leaning over me, looking everywhere but at my eyes. His gaze darts up and down me and his chest heaves like he’s panicking.
“Vest.” I attempt to lift my arm to my shirt but only manage a few inches off the floor before my energy vanishes and I drop it back down.
It feels like someone has taken a steel baseball bat and done a number on my body. There isn’t a single inch of me that doesn’t hurt—some places more than others. There is a fire burning so fiercely in my thigh I start shaking uncontrollably.
Drago must understand I mean the bulletproof vest underneath my shirt because he yanks it open, not caring to unbutton it first. I’m grateful in this circumstance.
I’m met with a small amount of relief when the Velcro is loosened, but then my stomach erupts in pain, followed by a rush of nausea.
I’m going to throw up.
Saliva pools in my mouth like someone has released a damn, opening the floodgates.
I roll to my side despite the protests of sharp pains shooting through my lower abdomen and upward.
Definitely got shot. The bullets may not have penetrated skin, but they’
ve done a number on my innards.
“Hair. Grab.”
He pulls the long strands of my hair out of the way seconds before I lose the contents of my stomach onto the floor.
“An ambulance is on the way.”
I don’t give a damn about an ambulance.
Gabriel.
“Gabe,” I force out as I roll back over.
Planting my palm on the floor, I use every bit of strength I have to push myself away from my puke. Drago grabs my upper arms and a leg, assisting in moving me a few feet away.
Talking is becoming tougher. My ribs obviously took an impact. I wouldn’t be surprised if one was cracked—or even broken.
When I look up, alarm is written all over Drago’s face.
“Where is he? What the fuck happened here?”
“He took . . . him.” My voice cracks, tears threatening to spill.
I let Diaz take him. I didn’t protect him like I’m supposed to.
“Who?”
“Se . . . bastian Diaz.”
The hand he has wrapped around my knee tightens.
“Why would he be here? What reason would he have had?” I can see Drago’s mind churning, but he’ll never guess the right reason. “And why would he take the boy?”
I don’t get the chance to answer—to tell him Diaz has his son.
“Andrews?”
We both turn our heads toward the door as Mike enters, gun drawn.
“Step away from her,” he demands as he aims his weapon in Drago’s line.
“Mike,” I force out but regret raising my voice. “Put it away. No threat.”
Shit.
“Not until he moves.”
“Not going to happen.” Drago inches closer to me as the words fall from his lips, obviously not giving a care despite a gun being pointed at him.
“Mike,” I call out to get his attention on me. “Neighbor. Ms. Lincoln. Check . . . on her.”
“Why are you breathing in gasps?”
“Because she’s been fucking shot!”
Dirty Blue Page 22
