“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…”
“You know, nobody tells you how fucking bad it hurts to get shot in one of these things.”
“What if he shot you in the head?” I replied, tears pouring out of my eyes.
“Would you still love me if I wasn’t quite as beautiful?” Nathan replied, offering up a faint smile.
I nodded mutely, meeting his gaze. “I saved you,” I whispered. It was the only thing I could think of, the only thing I knew to say.
As sirens approached form around the corner, Nathan grinned. He nodded and pulled me into his arms.
“I owe you one,” he replied, holding onto me as I swayed in shock.