Reckless Behavior

by L. A. Witt

  If I’d been agitated leading up to this, I was downright twitchy now. Gaze still fixed on my kids, I motioned for my own passengers to get out. They were cuffed, but could still operate the doors, and in a matter of seconds, I heard each door in turn open, then close. More feet crunched on gravel. Then, several paces behind me, they all stopped.

  Emily clung hard to Casey. She watched me like a hawk, her eyes wide, but she didn’t make a sound. Dear God, I hoped it was because her brother had told her to stay quiet, not because she was too traumatized to speak.

  “All right.” I tried not to shift my weight. Partly to keep my poker face intact, and partly to keep from leaning on my furiously aching foot. “Everyone’s here. You’ve got the pardons.”

  “Yeah.” He narrowed his eyes. “But I know you, Ruffner. You’ve got something up your sleeve.”

  My blood turned cold, but I didn’t let it show. “I just want my kids back.” I motioned toward the three cuffed cops. “I brought what you asked for. Let’s—”

  “And you know, I’ve given it some more thought, and . . .” He cocked his head. “What guarantee do I have that someone won’t blow off my head as soon as you have what you want?”

  Behind him, Casey shifted uneasily, tucking Emily’s head under his chin and flicking his gaze around our surroundings.

  “Just give me back my kids,” I said, hoping it came out as more of a growl than a plea.

  Blaine tilted his head toward the three cops. “Take off the cuffs.”

  I’d expected as much. The only reason I’d cuffed them in the first place was to give me some leverage. So, one by one, I took off the cuffs. Then I faced Blaine again. “There. Now give me back the kids, and they’re all yours.”

  “Actually, I have a better idea.” Blaine waved Casey closer. My son approached, but hesitantly. Blaine locked eyes with me again. “As a show of goodwill, I’ll let you have one of them back now. The other stays with me until I get to the border.”

  My stomach flipped. Kidnapping was a federal offense—state lines wouldn’t save him now, and hell if I was letting him take one of my kids to Mexico or Canada. “That wasn’t our deal.”

  “No, but I don’t trust a man who’s willing to turn on half the force.” He sneered at me. “I need some insurance so I know I’m going to get out of here alive. So, I’m keeping one of them”—he gestured at the kids—“until I’m over the border. And if I see so much as a speed trap out there . . .” That maniacal grin slowly came to life. “Well, as I’ve said before, you won’t like what happens.”

  I ground my teeth, reminding myself that once he had Gronkowski and Wiles close by, this would all be over. We weren’t taking it to any goddamned border. They’d arrest him well before that. All I had to do was play along until the chess pieces were in place.

  I released a resigned breath. “Fine.”

  Blaine smiled, and it definitely wasn’t that pretty-boy golden-cop smile that had annoyed me from day one. Something far more chilling. “Good. So.” The smile turned to a sociopathic smirk, and he waved toward the kids. “Your choice.”

  “My—” I almost choked. “Are you shitting me?”

  “No.” He batted his eyes. “I told you—this is a show of goodwill. So, pick one. You’ll get the other back at the border.”

  Horrified, I shifted my gaze to Casey. With the subtlest tilt of his head, he indicated Emily. My heart physically hurt. I wasn’t choosing between my kids. I sure as fuck wasn’t letting one sacrifice himself for the other, because God knew Casey had no way of knowing this was going down right here, right now. As far as he knew, he was volunteering to go with Blaine, and there was no guarantee he’d be let off at the state line.

  But I also couldn’t justify letting Emily stay in the middle of this. If things got hairy, Casey had the situational awareness to take cover, and the physical strength to at least try to defend himself. She was four.

  And Blaine had better be hoping this all went smoothly, because there wasn’t a jury in the land that would convict me for tearing him limb from limb.

  I swallowed. “Emily.”

  Casey’s lips twitched, but he slowly eased his sister to the ground. He whispered something to her. She didn’t let go, but he said something else, and she reluctantly did. As soon as she was out of his arms, she sprinted past Blaine, and I crouched as much as I could in the boot so I could hug her.

  “Daddy!”

  “Hey, pumpkin.” I indulged in a few seconds to hold on to her. Thank God she was alive. Then I pulled myself together and said, “Honey, I need you to do something for me.”

  “’Kay.”

  “See the car behind me?”

  She nodded against my shoulder.

  “I want you to go get in the backseat. Get down on the floor, and stay there. Okay?”

  Another nod.

  I loosened my embrace, but she only tightened hers. “Daddy . . .”

  “I know, baby.” I pressed a kiss to her temple, and mentally ripped Blaine’s still-beating heart from his chest. “I need you to do that for me, okay?”

  Silence. But then, just as reluctantly as she’d let go of Casey, she let go of me. Tears were streaming down her face, and her eyes were wide with confusion and fear, and I was pretty sure I actually felt my heart break.

  I nodded toward the car. “Go, baby. Please?”

  Her features crumpled a little, like she was about to burst into sobs, but then she glanced back at Casey, who gave her a nod. Without looking at me again, she trotted past me. The car door opened. Then closed.

  I met my son’s gaze. His expression was unreadable. If ever I’d needed a motivation to survive this, I sure as shit had one now. I needed him to know why. That I could never in a million years choose between my kids. Maybe he’d forgive me. Maybe he wouldn’t. But I needed him to know.

  Slowly, I started to stand, faltering as my ankle violently protested. “Okay.” I showed my palms. “So what—”

  “You son of a bitch!” Casey roared. He shoved Blaine aside and lunged at me. His fist connected with my face, knocking me off-balance, and then he hit me again, and we both toppled. Pain and shock vied for dominance. “What the—”

  Casey forced me down, and everything seemed to still for a split second as he whispered, “Sniper.”

  A second later, a gunshot echoed through the plant. A bullet zinged off something.

  Suddenly the whole world exploded with activity. Shouts. People running. Casey hauled me up, and we stumbled toward my car. Another bullet ricocheted off the frame, dangerously close to both Emily and Casey. We ducked behind the trunk, my ankle on fire, and I tried to get my bearings. I’d lost track of the three cops. They’d likely taken cover, and Blaine . . . where was Blaine?

  Shit. As I tugged my weapon out of my ankle holster, I turned to Casey. “Get in the car with your sister. Both of you, stay down.”

  He swallowed. “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine. Blaine isn’t the only one who brought a sniper.”

  Casey’s eyes widened. Then he did as he was told and disappeared around the side of the car. The door slammed, and the car rocked a little as he got in. It wouldn’t stop a bullet from a high-powered rifle, but it was better than being out in the open.

  With my kids as safe as they could get, I scanned my surroundings for Blaine. I started to get up, but . . . big mistake. Oh fuck. Pain.

  Another bullet shattered the back window. I thought I heard Emily cry out.

  Another. This one way too close to my head.

  I needed to get better cover. But I couldn’t—

  Casey grabbed my arm, pulled me partway up, and dragged me around the side of the car.

  “I thought I told you—”

  “You looked like you could use some help.”

  Not Casey.

  “Darren.” I stared at him. “What the fuck? I thought—”

  “Yeah, I know.” He was kneeling beside me, craning his neck to peer through the windows. “Di
d you really think I’d let you go in alone?”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “And you’re out of the line of fire. You’re welcome.”

  I actually managed to laugh. The last place I wanted him to be was in the middle of this, but I was damn thankful he was here. “You see him?”

  Darren shook his head. He had his pistol tucked close to his chest, and he squinted at our surroundings. “I’m not sure if he’s in the car, or if he—”

  Gunfire. No bullets came near us, though, and those sounded like rifles.

  Darren touched his earpiece, probably pressing it closer to make sure he heard properly. Then he muttered, “Roger that. Any visual on Blaine?” Pause. “Copy. Keep an eye on him in case he decides to get stupid.” He turned to me. “He’s behind the car. Sniper’s been neutralized.”

  Thank God for that.

  “You’d think if he wanted to kill me, he’d have done it last night,” I grumbled.

  “No.” Darren shook his head, still scanning the plant. “Because I think he wanted to kill you in front of your kids.”

  I nearly choked on my own breath. There was no telling if he was right, but I wasn’t putting anything past this unhinged son of a bitch. “Jesus . . .”

  “In his mind, you destroyed his father and made him watch.” Darren squeezed my shoulder, still scanning our surroundings. “He wanted . . . I don’t know. Justice. And destroying you and making your kids suffer is that justice.”

  “Fuck.” I rubbed my eyes. “He had to know there’s no getting out of something like this alive.”

  “Yeah. I think he knew that. As long as he got whatever justice he wanted . . .”

  I shuddered.

  Darren glanced down. “Can you walk?”

  “Not really, but that won’t stop me. Where are the three cops?”

  “Paula, do we have a visual on the others?” Pause. His eyes darted back to me. “Gronkowski is down. Wiles and Folsom are out of sight.”

  I winced. Gronkowski had agreed to help us so he could be with his terminally ill daughter, and now he was hurt. Fuck. This was getting better by the minute.

  “Let’s focus on Blaine,” I said. “The others can’t have gone very far.” And I doubted they’d run. Not with what was on the line. I was more worried they were hurt somewhere.

  Weapons ready, we both got up. My ankle was a mess, but if I just used the boot for balance, putting the majority of my weight on my other foot, it was bearable. Probably thanks to adrenaline and endorphins, and I had no doubt I’d pay dearly for this later, but there weren’t a lot of other options.

  We inched toward the other car.

  “Blaine?” Darren called out. “The whole place is surrounded. You might as well come out.”

  “Fine.” Blaine’s voice came from just beyond his car. “Fine. I’m coming out.”

  Neither of us lowered our weapons. Moving slowly, Blaine rose, hands on his head, and stepped out from behind the car.

  “You win, Ruffner.” There was something his tone that made my hair stand up. “I surrender.”

  “The hell you do,” I muttered just loud enough for Darren to hear.

  Blaine came closer, his expression unreadable but something wild in his eyes. Something insane. He’d been dangerous before, but now he was a trapped animal.

  “Stop right there,” Darren ordered.

  Blaine kept coming. “I told you, I surrender.” He lowered his arms to his sides and shrugged. “I’m turning myself in.”

  Movement behind him drew my attention, and I realized Folsom was heading toward the car. He was crouched low, eyes fixed on his son, and moving with the practiced stealth of a longtime cop.

  Over the hood of the car, his eyes met mine. I didn’t know the man, but I recognized something in his expression. A hint of the telepathy that forms between cops.

  His eyes flicked toward Blaine. Back to me. Back to Blaine.

  I nodded, hoping like hell I was reading him right.

  “Stop,” Darren repeated to Blaine. “I don’t want to shoot you, but—”

  “But I’d be happy to.” I trained my pistol on Blaine’s face. “This really how you want to go down? Because if it is, just say the word.”

  That made him pause. As if he really was unhinged, but not far enough to know how to deal with someone coldly granting him suicide by cop.

  “Andreas,” Darren hissed.

  “Go with it,” I said as quietly as I could. I limped closer to Blaine, grunting when fresh, sickening pain shot up my ankle. “This how you want to end it? All over the headlines as the deranged cop who kidnapped another cop’s kids?”

  Icy fury replaced the insanity. He stared at me over the top of my gun, nostrils flaring and eyes narrow, oblivious to Folsom inching closer.

  Then Folsom’s foot crunched on the gravel.

  Blaine spun around. “What the—”

  Folsom tackled him. In the blink of an eye, he had his son on the ground, facedown with his arms cranked up behind his back. “You’re done, Howie. This is over.”

  Darren and I exchanged startled glances, then lowered our weapons.

  “Either of you got a set of cuffs?” Folsom asked.

  Darren tossed him a pair. Folsom quickly cuffed Blaine, then jerked him to his feet. He looked at him like he was going to give him one of those poignant father-son lectures I always sucked at. Where he told him how this was wrong and he needed to let this shit go, and he’d had so much potential to be a good cop.

  Instead, disgust twisted Folsom’s face, and he shoved Blaine at Darren before walking away.

  While Darren read Blaine his rights, I hobbled back to the car to check on my kids.

  It was over. They were safe.

  Now I just needed to see them and reassure them and—

  I almost made it before the pain became too much. Whatever was wrong in my ankle was a hell of a lot worse now, and without the adrenaline and endorphins, it was unbearable.

  I dropped to my knees, barely noticing the crack of my kneecaps on the gravel-littered pavement, or the way that gravel bit into my palms. Had it hurt this much when I’d broken it in the first place? I could’ve sworn it hadn’t. Then again, I’d been unconscious for a little while. That was what I needed now. Darkness. Which probably wasn’t far off. That, or I was going to puke. Maybe both.

  Someone touched my shoulder and helped me turn so I was sitting instead of kneeling. I must’ve been closer to the car than I’d realized, because now I was leaning against it.

  “Fuck,” I groaned.

  “You okay?”

  Casey.

  I blinked my eyes into focus. I was about to tell him that yes, I was fine, when Emily leaped into my lap and grabbed on.

  “Daddy,” she sobbed against my shoulder.

  “It’s okay, baby.” I stroked her hair. “Everything’s okay now.” I kissed the top of her head and looked up at Casey. “You all right?”

  He nodded and gripped my hand almost as tightly as Emily held my neck. “We’re good. And it’s . . .” He threw a wary glance around us. “You guys got him?”

  “Yeah.”

  Casey exhaled. His whole body seemed to go slack, and his lips quivered like he was trying and failing not to break.

  “Come here.” I pulled him closer. He didn’t really break down—just sniffled a bit—but he sure as shit held on. I let my head fall back against the car. The pain was nauseating, but the relief was mind-blowing.

  “Now that is a sight we’ve all been hoping to see.”

  I looked up to see Paula standing over us, and I smiled.

  She crouched beside us. “Anyone need medical attention?”

  “No.” Casey sat up and wiped his eyes. “We’re okay.”

  Paula frowned. “I still want both of you to get checked out at the ER. Just to make sure.”

  Casey didn’t protest.

  “And you.” She turned to me. “That ankle of yours is getting—”

  “I know. Believe m
e. I know.”

  She paused. “Looks like you’re going to have a hell of a shiner too.”

  “A shiner?” I touched my face, and sure enough, my left cheekbone was tender as fuck.

  Casey cleared his throat and sheepishly said, “Uh. Sorry about that.”

  “Nah. That was an impressive right hook.”

  He didn’t laugh.

  “Relax.” I squeezed his shoulder. “I’m pretty damn sure you saved me from taking a bullet. This?” I pointed at my eye. “Is not a big deal.”

  He exhaled and sank onto the pavement next to me, leaning against the car.

  Paula smiled and patted my knee. “You three just catch your breath for a minute. I’ll see about that ambulance.”

  I didn’t think an ambulance was entirely necessary. A car would suffice. But at this point, I didn’t have the energy to argue with her or anybody else.

  The ER didn’t bother trying to separate Emily and me. She’d need a parent with her anyway, and I doubted the jaws of life would pry her off my neck. As it was, she’d clung to me all the way to the hospital.

  While the doctor scowled over my ankle—which hurt like a motherfucker now that the endorphins had worn off—a nurse checked Emily. There’d been some concern she was dehydrated, but she was okay, if a bit hungry. I didn’t think I’d ever seen someone that excited over hospital food.

  She did let me go long enough for me to get some X-rays, but only because that meant passing her off to Darren, who was more than happy to be clung to like a spider monkey. As soon as we were back in my curtained-off part of the emergency room, with my leg elevated and iced within an inch of its life, she was glued to my side again.

  Darren gazed down at us and smiled. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’ll be a hell of a lot better when they get around to giving me some drugs.”

  He laughed as he laced our fingers together. “Say the word, and I’ll rattle some cages for you.”