Title: Trouble comes in Twos - Part 18

I've been on this side of a gun before, but never this close. I didn't liked it then and I especially don't like it now.

Newton and myself are sitting on the couch in the living room, Newton having given up immediately as soon as he saw me coming back into the living room with my hands up and James's Beretta stuck to the side of my head. I'm definitely pissed off at Newton. A cop doesn't just give up their gun. Of course, I gave up my gun and he's carrying it in the waistband of his jeans. But then having a 9mm pressed into my forehead was a deciding factor in my decision.

"James, honey," Mrs. Gallot pleads with him, "Just let them go. We don't want any trouble."

"Just shut up!" James screams, pointing the gun at her and Mr. Gallot, both sitting on the tiny love seat next to us.

Four hostages. Not good odds for us.

"James," I catch his attention. "What do you want?"

Jetson seems to have aged this sixteen-year-old young man and not surprisingly. The Louisiana juvenile camps are a breeding ground of testosterone and caged hostility and in dire need of being brought into the twenty-first century. Unfortunately, whether it's juvenile jail or adult prisons, the incarcerated come out with more criminal knowledge than they did going in. And a lot angrier.

"I want my brother released, that's what I want!" James screams in my face, pressing his gun against my forehead again.

I'm really beginning to dislike this kid on a personal level.

Negotiation is not my area of expertise but I don't have much choice here.

"I'm sure the local police would be happy to discuss that with you, James, but holding four people hostage isn't going to help him or you," I say in a very calm voice. "You are in control. We know that and you also know that there are police on the way."

James's face twists into a mix of fear and anger as he nudges my head hard with the automatic. "Then I guess we should be going now." He takes a couple of steps back and waves his gun at his two relatives and Officer Newton. Moments later the two civilians are tied back to back to each other and stuffed into a closet with a handcuffed Newton. After James jams a chair under the handle of the closet he keeps the gun to my head and makes me cuff myself.

"Where are we going, James?" I ask calmly. I can't show fear or anger to him, either would just endanger me further.

"Move," he orders, nudging me towards the back door.

We walk out and down a path that leads blindly past some dense bushes and trees. When our destination comes into view, all I can do is curse silently. The cold tendrils of fear run up my back at the sight of what must be the Little Tchefuncte River.

Not good. Not good.

If I'm lucky, he'll let me go before he escapes in the small motorized boat tied up to the dock. If I'm not lucky, he'll keep me with him. Since he didn't lock me in the closet with Newton, I'm betting on the latter.

I can hear sirens in the distance as we get closer and I know that help is on the way.

"Hurry up," James snarls, jabbing me in the side with his gun.

"This isn't going to work, James," I try to tell him, but he pushes the gun harder into my ribs. My already sore ribs.

OK, now I'm even more pissed off.

I brace myself and after a few steps onto the dock, I fake a stumble on the rickety boards, twist and take a step back into his body. The hand, with his gun, slips under my arm and I grab his wrist with one hand. Even with my hands handcuffed, I have enough slack to smash my elbow into his face and shove his unbalanced body back. Still holding his wrist, I slip my other hand over the one grasping his gun and point it away as I turn my body to him and yanking his arm around harshly so he has to flip over onto his stomach or risk me dislocating his arm.

Kneeling down onto his back, I struggle with him. He's strong, but my training in unarmed combat balances his raw youthfulness. Plus I'm a bit more angry than he is.

"Don't move!" I yell at him, twisting the gun loose out of his grasp and then pointing it to the back of his head.

He's still for a moment and I take that time to pull the gun away from his head and grab my gun from the back of his waistband with my free hand, before putting both guns to his head.

"I mean it, Jacob... Do not even move an inch. If you understand, say yes. Just yes, no bitching, no cussing. Just yes," I tell him, my voice hard and cold.

His body tenses under my knee and I prod the back of his head with the guns. How does it feel asshole?

"Try it, or do you think you dodge bullets?" I growl and press my knee harder into his kidneys until he grunts in pain.

"Yes. I understand, yes! God, ease up already!"

I shift a little of my weight off the knee, after waiting a moment just to make sure he understands who is in charge now. That's right, jerk... the woman in handcuffs is in charge.

The sirens are very close, so close that I can hear car doors and police officers yelling.

"BACK HERE!" I yell at the top of my lungs.

I can hear footsteps coming from behind the screen of bushes and the most glorious sight hits me.

Nikki leading the charge, gun out, with Officer Harkins right behind her, a close second. Wow. I let my eyes look her up and down for a minute.

My heroine.

"Hi," I greet her with a little smirk, looking up at her through my bangs.

"Hi," she answers back, blowing out a breath of relief that I'm OK, then stepping off to the side to let Harkins by. I stand up slowly, letting him cuff James and pat him down. I hand him James's weapon and holster my own.

"Newton and the Gallots are in the house, locked in the living room closet. Other than that, they're fine," I tell him.

"I got a couple men checking out the house now. Good job, Detective," he offers then gives me a wry look. "Nice cuffs there, Delaney."

I grimace in embarrassment and shrug slightly, "He got the drop on me and then thought I'd look better with a bit of stainless steel accessorizing.

Two more Folsom officers come up and Harkins hands off James to one of the men, and the three men lead him away telling him his Miranda Rights.

"She's fuckin' crazy!" James complains to them while trying to twist around for a last look at me.

"Keep walking," Officer Harkins orders, prodding him forward.

Stepping off the dock, I walk up to Nikki holding out my cuffed hands.

Nikki smiles sexily and holsters her weapon, then placing her hands on her hips. "Something I can do for you, Detective?"

"Funny lady." I pointedly raise my hands up a little more. "Nikkkkiiii..."

"Heh..." she chuckles and gets out her handcuff key. Stepping up closer to me, she whispers, "Are you sure? I mean, you look really good in cuffs, Sugah."

My lips purse as I try to control my smile. "I'd love to discuss this further... at another time." I force a stern glare at her, which she just laughs away.

"I'll take that as a promise," Nikki whispers as she unlocks my cuffs. I put them back in the holder off my belt and rub my wrists.

"No offense," I start as we begin walking back to the Gallot house, "but I'd really like to get out of this town."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "What? You don't want to come out to the house again? You. Me. No Darius."

"No Darius? Deal, as long as we don't leave the house to go into town," I reply, somewhat serious about Folsom.

"No leaving the house?" Nikki's voice grows low and husky, "I'm sure something can be arranged."

TBC