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Chapter 8

I don't get out in the field as much as I'd like anymore. I need to tell Tank to start scheduling me into the patrol roster a couple times a month. It's good to keep my boots on the ground and it keeps the men on their toes when they have to ride with the boss. Thank God I'm not teamed up with Santos this afternoon. I'm feeling the effects of my short night and long morning more than I care to admit. My nerves couldn't take an afternoon of sitting beside a man who is the adult version of a sugared up toddler. Manny is a former sniper and can sit quietly for hours. With Manny, I can focus on the job and get through the afternoon with my sanity intact. I need a quiet afternoon.

As soon as the thought enters my head the radio squawks.

"Unit 1, this is control. We have a silent alarm going off at Mike's Pawn Shop on North Olden Avenue. We have been unable to reach anyone at the store. Uploading address to your GPS now. Over."

I hit the bluetooth to respond. "Roger, control. Unit 1 responding."

The coordinates load into the navigational system and I take a right at the next corner. ETA 8 minutes. That can be an eternity when someone is holding a gun to your head.

"Control, this is Unit 1. ETA 8 minutes. We have anyone closer?"

"Checking now, Unit 1."

I step on the gas and start making my way through afternoon traffic. If the alarm had been tripped by accident, someone would have answered the call.

"Um, Unit 1? Be advised, we have another Rangeman vehicle showing in the location of the alarm. It's the vehicle Steph is using, sir."

Sweet Jesus. "Roger, control. Who's her shadow?"

"Tank, sir. Patching you through now."

"Tank, you copy?"

"I copy."

"We've got a silent alarm at Mike's Pawn Shop. Tracker on Steph's car shows she's in the vicinity. You have eyes on her?"

"Negative. She went into the pawn shop about 5 minutes ago."

"We're still at least 7 minutes out. Recon and advise."

"Roger that. Tank out."

The car is silent until we hear Tank's voice come through the com requesting police assistance with a hostage situation at 1680 North Olden Avenue. Push down the fear. Focus.

I know I'm driving too fast but I can't slow down. Manny tightens his seat belt and grabs the 'oh shit' handle but doesn't say a word. Smart man.

Five and a half minutes later, I spot Tank's SUV parked on North Olden. I make sure I don't slow down too much as we drive past the shop and park out of sight of the front door. Tank moves from the shadowed alley beside the building when Manny and I step on to the sidewalk.

"Report."

"One bandit. Has Steph and another guy hostage in the front of the shop sitting on the floor against the back counter. Back door in the alley is locked. Only other way in is through the front," Tank reports. "Glock 19 is the only visible weapon. The kid is twitchy. Nervous, pacing, agitated. Looked like Steph was trying to calm him."

I hear the asshole in the pawn shop start to yell as my ear com clicks. "Unit 1, be advised, TPD is enroute. ETA 10 minutes. Rangeman Units 2 and 3 are en route. ETA 12 minutes."

Too long. I can tell Tank is thinking the same thing. Push down the fear. Focus. Solve the problem.

"What's the plan?" he asks.

"Can we get in through the back quietly?"

"Negative."

"So we go in the front. Flash-bang and storm. I'll take the gunman, you cover the hostages. Manny, you take out the gunman if he shoots me."

Tank has a brick in hand when I return with the grenades. "On the count of three," I say. "One, two, three…"

I pause half a beat to allow the brick to shatter the glass door ahead of the grenade. Then I'm in through the now empty door frame and grabbing the barrel of his weapon, twisting it hard and feeling grim satisfaction as I break his finger and wrist. I slam him face down onto the floor, drive my knee into his back and pull his arms behind him to cuff him. He's screaming in agony as I dislocate his shoulder and the animal within me feeds on his pain. No one threatens mine without waking the beast.

Manny is there to take over and I move away before I do more damage to the scumbag on the floor. I need Steph. I need to make sure she's okay. I look to where Tank is standing. He has Steph wrapped in his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. What the hell? The other guy looks dazed, but otherwise unharmed.

"Are you okay, Babe? Are you hurt?"

She glances up at Tank and murmurs "thank you" before stepping back and looking my way. "Just a little disoriented and some ringing in my ears. As soon as the glass broke I jumped on poor Stewart, hid my face, and covered my head and ears. I figured whatever was following wasn't going to be pleasant."

Red strobes lit the inside of the shop and we all moved our hands where they could be seen. Trenton's finest had arrived. Wouldn't want to give Morelli an excuse to take me out with a little friendly fire.

"Freeze! Nobody move." Carl Costanza and his partner Big Dog entered, weapons drawn. After a quick glance around they lowered their weapons and Carl zeroed in on me. "What happened?"

I nodded toward the man on the floor. "Perp was holding Steph and this other guy at gunpoint. He was getting increasingly agitated so Tank and I moved in to subdue."

Carl glanced at the shattered door. "What did you do, throw rocks at him?"

"No, a brick and a stun grenade."

"Shit, Ranger. I hope you've got the paperwork for that. The PD doesn't even get stun grenades. They say they aren't in our budget."

I didn't think it would help to mention Rangeman personnel also got better body armor and better weapons.

"My paperwork is in order." He doesn't need to know Rangeman is a licensed military contractor as well as subcontractor for multiple law enforcement agencies, both at the state and federal level. There aren't many destructive devices we can't get our hands on.

"What the hell did you do now, Steph?" Morelli asks from the doorway.

"Nobody died, we don't need homicide," she says, ignoring his question.

"Nobody died, but not from lack of trying by the looks of it. What happened? What did you do?"

I'd love nothing better than to punch the look of disdain off the asshole's face, but like I told Steph a long time ago, I try not to do stupid things. Punching an on duty cop ranks up there.

"I did my job, or at least I was in the process of doing my job when some strung out junkie decided to rob the place," she replies.

I see Tank move to take Stewart's arm as soon as Steph says he's FTA.

"You got the paperwork with you?" Tank asks.

"In my bag," she says, nodding to the messenger bag on the floor.

I'm surprised to feel the weight of her gun when I pick her bag up off the floor. Either I need to work on keeping my expression neutral or she knows me better than I realize.

"I told you I was done settling," she says quietly as she pulls out the paperwork. "That means in my life, in my job, and with my safety."

"Proud of you, Babe." Best not to ask if she'd picked up bullets.