This City Is On Fire

It's hot outside. Sweat is trickling down my face; falling down my neck and into my shirt and making it cling to my body. My feet are pounding against the pavement, and all I can hear is the thud. I'm trying to forget everything that happened in the past few days, because tonight Michael and I are making our move with the stakeout and I need to be focused. I told Maddie I was going for a run to clear my head, but all she did was look at me with that worried expression before she told me to be careful.

By the time my feet finally stop moving I'm standing outside that coffee shop, looking at it with distaste as I remember everything it's done to me. For a moment I just stand there, hoping that maybe I'll see her. I know her routine, and I know she should be here, but I can't find her. After what feels like a lifetime the door swings open and Emma appears. She's wearing the same black T-shirt she was wearing the day we met and jeans that cling to her body.

She's smiling at something, but I can't see what it is. I follow her gaze across the street where David is leaning against her sleek black SUV with a grin. I shake my head and turn around, not wanting to watch the exchange between the two any further. I don't like the way he looks at her, it feels wrong and different from the way I used to. His smile seems forced, and his eyes don't meet hers. Leave it, I tell myself, knowing I need to push all this aside before Michael comes around in a few hours.

When I get back to Maddie's Michael's black charger is parked outside and he's leaning against the hood with his mouth set in a straight line. I wave, and motion to the house before I slip in through the garage door with him on my heels. I peel off my soaked grey t-shirt and replace it with a black one and kick off my tennis shoes.

"We still on for tonight?" I ask, wondering why he's here so early. Michael nods and tosses me a bottle of water he got from the fridge.

"Yeah, I'm just making sure you're still up for it." I tense at that statement but manage to keep the anger out of my voice.

"I'm ready man. It's done." That surprises him a little; I guess he thought I wouldn't really leave her. I knew he underestimated me sometimes.

"You got everything we need?" He asks, seemingly eager to get our little show on the road.

"Yeah, it's all right here." I toss him a black duffle bag and pull my other gun out of the drawer beside my bed. Michael slings the bag over his shoulder and heads outside, leaving me to gather my thoughts before we head out. A soft knock brings me back and I turn to meet Maddie's soft eyes.

"I don't know what you boys are doing but I'm sure it's dangerous. So I'm asking you to please, for the love of God, be careful." A cloud of smoke follows the statement as I lean in and kiss her cheek.

"We'll be careful. I promise." While she doesn't seem completely satisfied she accepts the promise and watches me as I leave and jump into the chargers passenger seat, her lips pursed as she meets her son's eye. He smiles, and Maddie returns it before retreating into her house, another cloud of smoke trailing behind her.

"Alright, let's go," I say, clapping my hands together eagerly. Michael gives me a look but starts the car and shakes his head at my enthusiasm. The loading dock for the trucks is about an hour drive from Maddie's and by the time we get there it's almost sunset, only a few hours until Gomez's boys are supposed to show up and check things out.

"Guess we'll be here for a while," Michael says, pulling out a pair of binoculars and trying to see if anything's happening yet. From our spot behind a large red crate we can see the majority of place, and everyone that comes and goes. We take turns watching, and occasionally Mike gets a text from Fi, asking how things are going or one from Sam asking why he didn't get to tag along.

Finally it's my turn once again to be lookout and by now it's almost pitch black outside except for the small orange glow that's coming from the street lamps down the block. I'm leaning back against my seat when a beam of white light illuminates the dock and I can see figures running to check out the trucks and the crates.

I nudge Michael, who was beginning to doze off and hand him the binoculars, pointing to the small group of maybe four or five men. They had guns tucked into their waistbands and a few had tattoos up and down their arms. Michael and I shared a look; these guys were the real deal. They moved quickly and almost silently; no wonder they'd never been caught.

Michael is watching intently beside me, trying to focus on every detail so he knows what to say when we send him in to meet the boss man tomorrow. I begin to smile, because this has gone better than I expected, but it's quickly wiped from my face as shouts are heard and huge white spotlights light up the place. I hold my breath and Michael stiffens beside me; this is not good.

I peer around the edge of the crate and see patrol cars and at least a dozen officers lined up in front of them with their guns drawn. Their screaming at Gomez's men, telling them to put their guns down and for a moment I wonder if our problem was just solved for us and we can go to our client with some good news.

But all of a sudden a crack that reminds me of thunder echoes through the night and my blood runs cold. The screams become panicked and more shots are heard. Two of Gomez's men are lying dead on the ground and one turns to fire one last shot. There's silence followed by one last scream, and I see a body drop to the floor. Someone is standing over top of what looks like a man, and begging him to get up. As my eyes adjust to the bright light I can see who it is and the world seems to stop turning.

David Patterson is lying on the ground, his head turned slightly to the side so I can see his face. His eyes are glazed over and a tiny stream of blood trickles from his mouth. He's still, so still in fact I can't see the rise and fall of his chest. I feel sick all of a sudden.

Michael is beside me with wide and panicked eyes and I know this has turned into something bigger than just us. I look back at David and now there's someone standing over top of him, pressing down on the wound in his chest. Emma is screaming at him, begging and pleading and I can see blood running down her arm. Michael can see her two and one of his hands grips my shoulder, as if to remind me where my place is.

I don't try to move though, whether it's from shock or anger I'm not sure. But one thing I do know is I will find these guys and we will bring them down. Whether Michael wants to help or not.