PLAYED - A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE (53 page)

“C’mon!” I shouted at a teenage girl who froze when
she saw my lights. She hesitated, trying to figure out which way to go. “Get
the fuck out of the way!”

Up ahead, Kimball’s car was making steady progress
toward the red light. It wasn’t going to stop. I was going to have to take more
drastic measures.

I rammed the front of the girl’s car, pushing her
aside as she screamed and dropped her hands from the wheel. I’d barely dented
her bumper, but the way she acted, you’d think I’d driven her off a cliff. I
shook my head and made eye contact with her as I passed, letting her know that
she was a fucking idiot as I made my way through the sea of other cars smart
enough to part for a police vehicle.

Kimball—or whoever was driving—wasn’t making any use of
the turn signals. When they changed course suddenly on Carthage Avenue, taking
out a fire hydrant as they jumped the curb onto the sidewalk, I almost
side-swiped a delivery truck trying to follow them.

Jesus,
I thought, watching bystanders scramble to avoid the
cruiser hurtling down the sidewalk to bypass the traffic. This was bad.
Really
bad. And I was going to need a miracle to keep up.

“Southbound on Carthage, K,” I yelled into the radio
as I weaved through the cars desperately trying to get out of my way. It wasn’t
easy, given how narrow the lanes were.

“10-4, car nineteen. Chopper inbound. Please halt
pursuit, K,” dispatch answered. I could hear the tension and pleading in the
operator’s tone now, but I still had no intention of listening.

I wasn’t going to let Nathan die. And that was exactly
what would happen if I gave up and let them take him away.

I should’ve never left you,
I thought as I
kept my eyes on the figure in the backseat of Kimball’s cruiser. There was no
doubt in my mind that it was Nathan. I thought of how terrified he must be.
I’m
so sorry.

I’d let him down, just like I’d done to Jenny. I had
turned my back on him when he had needed me the most, all because I didn’t want
to admit the truth about myself. Even after all this time, I couldn’t embrace
my feelings for him. I’d loved and desired that man since the first time I laid
eyes on him… But this wasn’t over. Like Nathan had said, I couldn’t change the
past, but I could sure as hell alter the future.

Another idiot driver pulled over the wrong way, but
this time it happened in front of Kimball’s cruiser. It gave me just enough
time to catch up, and soon I was bumper-to-bumper with the renegade cop car
ahead of me.

I tried to remember the training I’d received as a
traffic cop. I needed to get him off the road, and fast. But how the hell was I
supposed to do that with so many other cars in the way?

Backup hadn’t arrived. There was no one to throw down
any stop sticks, no one to help me herd the cruiser out of traffic or cut it off.
I was utterly alone, and unless I could get ahead of them somehow, I was
screwed.

Then I realized where we were, and where they were
headed. He was trying to outrun me into the warehouse district, where no doubt
the Paddies were waiting. If I let them make a right here, they’d be well on
their way.

But if I pushed
them left…

I whipped into the right lane, then back hard to the
left, slamming into the side of Kimball’s cruiser and pushing him through the
intersection. With oncoming traffic headed right at us, he had no choice but to
turn left toward the bridge instead of right toward the warehouses. I was right
behind them, already unfastening my holster as I laid eyes on what I was hoping
for.

The bridge was up. A transport vessel not unlike the
ones Wallace had used to ship his girls was passing through toward the open
ocean. There was no escape except back the way they’d came, and there was no
way I was letting them get through me.

Kimball’s cruiser skidded to a halt. I turned my own
car sideways, blocking him from making a U-turn and coming back around. Then I
exited my vehicle and took aim at the driver, the supposed rookie I’d seen
exiting the station. Kimball was nowhere to be seen.

I pushed any thoughts about what had happened to him
out of my mind as I lowered my finger onto the trigger. “Out!” I screamed so
loud I thought I’d ruptured my throat. “Out of the car! Now!”

The perp unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door.
This was too easy…

“Hands up!” I ordered, approaching him around the front
of my car. “Do it now!”

He obeyed, falling to his knees before I’d even told
him to. He must’ve known the drill.

“Lock your hands behind your head and put your face on
the ground!” I barked, getting closer to my target. He was helpless and prone,
both of which were good things. He couldn’t have been anything more than a
lackey for the real threat, but thankfully, they were back the other way
waiting on a delivery that would never come.

I looked up when Nathan opened the back door. I saw
him peek around, his eyes wide, his face pale.

“Sandra,” he
breathed. “Jesus Christ.”

“Stay in the car,” I told him, pulling my cuffs out of
my belt and snapping them onto the perp’s wrists. I’d never heard such a
satisfying sound in my whole life. I pulled him up and brought him back to the
car, intent on getting Nathan out before anything else happened.

“Get down!” Nathan shouted suddenly.

Another sound cut through the air, and something hot
whizzed by my face. Glass shattered and I dropped like a stone, the man with
the scar falling limp against me. He’d taken the bullet meant for me.

Scrambling, I pushed myself up just over the driver’s
seat of the ruined cruiser, reaching out and gripping the radio transmitter.

“Shots fired!” I screamed into the radio. I could feel
something wet and warm dripping down my cheek, but I had much bigger problems.
Gunfire was still pelting the car, obliterating the back window.

The window was
attached to the back door.

The back door
Nathan had been shielding himself behind…

“No!” I hissed, keeping low as I headed for what I was
sure was a body. A thousand possibilities raced through my mind, none of them
good. Was Nathan dead? Was he injured? How bad was it? Where had he been
hit?
 
Had they won?

But as I came around the side of the door, there was
no blood, only glass fragments I did my best not to kneel on.

“Nathan!” I cried. He was lying across the backseat,
hands over his ears to block out the continued gunfire from the other side of
the street.

He had listened
to me, and it had saved his life.

I positioned myself behind the door and peeked up
through the broken glass. Just behind my cruiser, two black town cars were
blocking traffic. Men were shielding themselves behind them, men I instantly
recognized, and one who stood out in particular.

The Paddies were here, and so was the man I had the
misfortune of meeting in Nathan’s mansion: Francis O’Rourke.

I stared right into his beady, snake-like eyes as he
reloaded a pistol and raised it to fire again. I ducked out of the way of the
hail of bullets, covering my ears from the sound. I thanked my lucky stars they
were using low caliber hand guns and not something bigger. The car stood a
chance at stopping a stream of nine millimeter slugs, but it would melt under
fire from anything bigger.

I grabbed Nathan’s pant leg and pulled him down beside
me. The windshield exploded, sending shards of glass after us. “Move,” I told
him, pushing him toward the back of the car. “Keep down!”

He did as he was told, keeping low as he moved behind
the trunk. I waited for the gunfire to die down before popping around the side
of the door, setting my sights on the men flanking Francis out in the open.

Pop, pop, pop.

Three shots, one man down. I didn’t relish it, but I
did feel relieved. That was just one more asshole who wouldn’t be firing at me
anytime soon.

I couldn’t hold my position. The cruiser door could
only take so much. I joined Nathan around the back of Kimball’s car, resting my
back against the bumper as I asked him: “Where’s the other officer? Where’s
Kimball?”

Nathan regarded
me grimly. “Dead. All of them are.”

I nodded. I’d figured as much. I remembered Marco
coming around the corner with that envelope in his hand, the fear in his eyes
when I’d seen him. He was in on it, I was sure. But what about Kimball? Had he
died a hero, or a pawn?

The gunfire let up again and I swung around the side
with a clear shot at the man on Francis’ left. I fired twice this time and saw
him go down, blood spraying from his shoulder. It wouldn’t put him entirely out
of the game, but it’d have to do.

“Detective Williams!” I heard O’Rourke crow from
beyond the cruiser. He sounded closer somehow. “How nice to see you again.”

“Backup’s on its way,” I warned him through gritted
teeth. “They’ll be here any second.”

“Not with that traffic,” he answered. I rose up,
firing in his direction. I was blind this time, shooting where I assumed he
was, but I missed by a country mile. He’d moved forward and behind my car,
leaving his men behind. I imagined that said a lot about him.

“That’s ten shots, detective. My guess is you’ve got
one left.”

I closed my eyes. He was right. That last barrage had
been a Hail Mary, a desperate attempt to keep O’Rourke at bay or take him out.
But I’d failed.

I always
failed.

I looked at Nathan. He was staring at the street, at
the glass surrounding him. I put my hand on his.

“Hey. Hey, look at me,” I said, and he raised his
gaze. “We’re okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

He looked into
my eyes. Then he smiled.

“Yeah,” he
said. “We are.”

He raised my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles
softly. And then he stood even as I grabbed at his shirt, trying desperately to
pull him back down.

“Goddammit,
Nathan! No!”

“Here I am!” Nathan said, hands up above his hand as
he side-stepped out of my reach and around the side of the car. “Shoot me. Just
leave Detective Williams alone.”

“For fuck’s sakes!” I hissed, pushing myself up to
stand. I laid my hand right into a patch of glass and screamed as it bit into
me, driving shards deep into my palm. Safety glass, my ass!

I had to stop him. I had to save him. Backup wouldn’t
arrive in time for any of that.

I pushed myself up with my other hand, switched my gun
to my left, and rose up just as the sound of a gunshot reached my ears. Three
or four rounds followed from O’Rourke’s glock. Nathan fell backward even as I
stood, giving me the perfect shot.

One bullet
left… The asshole just shot Nathan…

I was going to have to fire left-handed. My right was
mangled by glass and practically useless. I didn’t have time to think or
strategize. I had to pull the trigger. Now.

I pressed my right hand up under the stock to steady
it, ignoring the white-hot agony that flooded all the way into my shoulder.
Then I blew out a breath and pulled the trigger, my eyes never leaving Francis’
baby blues, not even for a second.

That was how I knew how this would end: when I saw how
surprised he looked.

The gun clattered onto the asphalt as Francis went
down from a neat entrance wound to the chest. I dropped my own gun as I fell
next to Nathan’s body, my hands clawing at his shirt and ignoring all the pain
that was shooting from my palm.

“Sandra,” Nathan coughed, opening his eyes. “You’re
bleeding. Are you okay?”

I nodded as I stared at him, tugging at his shirt. The
dark vest peeked out from under his stylish button-up. “Oh, thank God…” I
whispered. “You idiot. You colossal idiot…”