Man with the Muscle

by Julie Miller

  “I’ll kill you first, bitch.”

  Alex’s dark eyes narrowed.

  Understand me, sweetheart. Please understand.

  “You know, it’s not politically correct, but…I’d really love to see someone put Smith and his Bad Boys in their place.”

  “Shut up.”

  Captain Cutler took a step forward. “Son, this is going to end badly for you. Put down your gun. There are five of us.”

  “And one of her.” Audrey grimaced as the gun ground into her scalp. “Now back up.” Alex’s commander retreated a step as Sly turned his focus back to the more immediate threat. “Give me your damn keys or I’ll do her right in front of you.”

  “Alex?” Audrey heard the spooky calm in her own voice and braced herself. “Give him the keys.”

  ALEX NODDED, HATING WHAT she was asking of him—and loving Audrey Kline for being smart enough, brave enough and trusting enough to ask it.

  Could you stand to lose her?

  He reached into his pocket for his key ring. “My grandpa says a class act is a class act in any situation. You’re all class, Red.”

  “What?” Sly frowned. The bastard didn’t know it yet, but he was doomed.

  “Take my keys.”

  Alex tossed them. In the split second it took for Sly to release his grip on Audrey to catch them was all the time it took for Alex to attack. He charged up the stairs, lowered his shoulder and rammed Sly in the gut, taking him down to the porch as Audrey jumped to the side. Sly kicked. He punched. Alex grabbed at the wrist that held the gun, and managed to hold on, cursing as the kid rolled over on his wounded shoulder.

  But Alex was too fired up to really comprehend the pain. This sicko had threatened Audrey, maybe hurt her, frightened her. Two people were dead in her front yard because this jackass thought he had the right to take down the woman he loved. No way. No. Freaking. Way.

  With a surge of pure adrenaline to fuel his strength, Alex called on every fighting skill he’d ever learned—on the street and at the police academy. In a matter of seconds, he had the advantage. He was on top. Sly was unarmed. And when he tried to rise up to hit Alex’s wounded shoulder, Alex finished it.

  One punch. Down and out. The white cap went flying and Sly collapsed onto the porch, his eyes woozy, the fight knocked right out of him.

  Spent, chilled, breathing heavy, feeling every ache of the past few minutes, Alex pushed himself up to his hands and knees and then wearily rolled to his feet. He turned, stumbled forward—seeking one face, one reassurance.

  Holden and Captain Cutler had Audrey secured behind them, but she was already pushing her way through. Trip was kneeling beside Sly and rolling him onto his stomach so he could put handcuffs on him.

  Alex held out his right arm and pulled Audrey as tight against him as he could hold her. Her arms anchored themselves behind his waist as he pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered against her ear. “You’re right, Red. That did feel good.”

  THE POLICE CARS AND ambulances were wheeling through the gates as the men of SWAT Team One finished securing the scene.

  Alex was trying to brush the hair off Audrey’s face, find her mouth, find out if she was okay. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want this to happen this way. I told you to stay in that room. You’re not supposed to be in the middle of my—”

  “Your world?” She pulled Alex down to the step beside her and reached into her pocket.

  Ah, hell. Either the shock from getting shot was wearing off, or he was getting sentimental himself, but he was grinning like an idiot when she pulled out his bandanna and pressed it against his wound. He jerked at the stabbing pressure, but his eyes never blinked, never wavered from hers.

  “This is my world, too, Alex. But we’re going to make it better. Together—we can make it better.”

  She leaned over and kissed him gently on the mouth. He moved his lips against hers and she kissed him again.

  “You earned your keep this time, shrimp,” Trip intervened, pausing as he walked Sly down to the driveway to razz Alex one last time. “You think he’s one of us now?”

  Rafe Delgado joined in. “Let’s see. He took out five perps before we got here and he’s got a bullet hole in him—I think he’s passed initiation.”

  “Welcome to the team, Taylor.” Trip made some sort of snorting noise that Alex barely heard as he leaned in to kiss Audrey again. “Oh, now he’s gonna go and spoil the moment by getting all mushy with his girl.”

  Alex tunneled his fingers into Audrey’s hair, touching her, verifying with his own hand that she was alive and safe. And his. “Damn straight.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Messy. Messy. Messy.

  He pounded on his steering wheel with both fists, wailing his fury against the black steering wheel until his fingers went numb.

  How could Smith’s men be so stupid? He had everything under control, everything in place to get Demetrius released after serving just a few months on a minor drug charge. Audrey Kline would have looked like a fool trying to pin that kid’s murder on him. Like a pitiful, pretty little girl playing grown-up in a courtroom she could never hope to command. She wouldn’t be able to save her own skin, much less the world if they’d let him destroy her the way he’d wanted.

  He killed Trace Vaughn for them. After following Audrey and her bodyguard boyfriend from the Fourth Precinct station to that drab neighborhood where shopkeepers sold groceries and souvenirs to other working-class clods, he’d prepped an explosive for Tyrell Sampson’s car. Yes, he was under police protection, but he’d be released after testifying. And all Demetrius had asked him for this time was retribution. Kill any Triple B who betrayed him, scare the others back into line so that they’d carry out his wishes even if he went to prison.

  But tonight those idiot Bad Boys had taken the bomb and used it to go after Audrey themselves.

  Idiots. Idiots. Idiots.

  He spied the pack of cigarettes lying on the seat beside him and picked it up, tapping it on his hand three times and pulling one out. As he slipped the filter between his lips, he noticed one cigarette still sticking out of the pack. He pushed it down, taking an easier breath once the symmetry of the rectangular package had returned.

  But it was only one easy breath. He felt the agitation growing inside him again as he watched from the shadows of his parking space. He lit his cigarette and counted the parade of police cars and the coroner’s van driving in and out of the Kline estate. He didn’t care how many Bad Boys were dead, how many went out in ambulances. He didn’t care if the cops rounded up the ones who got away.

  What he cared about was that Audrey could have gotten hurt. She could have been killed in that blitz attack.

  And it wasn’t their place to kill her. That was supposed to be his prize.

  He inhaled a deep drag off the cigarette and tried to think. He wasn’t done toying with Audrey, but the police would be all over her now—not just that pint-size cop and his SWAT buddies. It would be harder to get the messages to her. Harder to be there to watch her suffer. It would be damn near impossible for her to lose that trial now—if nothing else, after such a blatant, violent attempt on her life, she’d win the jury’s sympathy vote. And the press’s.

  He took another hit off the cigarette. He could see it now—she’d be in all the papers again, but this time as a hero.

  All he’d asked for was a little patience, the opportunity to carry out the plan in his way. But Demetrius’s buffoons had ruined everything. He needed to end his ill-advised alliance with the Broadway Bad Boys and come up with a new plan.

  Yes, that was it.

  Audrey Kline wasn’t the only woman who’d lied to him. Who’d led him on. Who’d wronged him. Let her have her moment of glory. There were easier targets who could give him just as much satisfaction. Maybe even more.

  He knew countless ways to make his enemies suffer.

  He pulled out the ashtray, snuffed out his cigarette and smiled.

  He’d move on to the nex
t victim.

  AUDREY SAW THE BEADS OF perspiration dotting Demetrius Smith’s upper lip and squelched the urge to smile. She set down her notes, took a deep breath and strolled back to the witness stand.

  “So you admit that Tyrell Sampson was telling the truth.”

  “I told that fool to change jackets with me and keep his mouth shut. And then none of us would get taken in.” Demetrius smacked his hand against his thigh. “But I only shot that kid in the leg. The most you can get me for is assault. Tyrell’s the one who put that bullet in his chest.”

  “Your Honor…” Cade Shipley rose to his feet, slowly buttoning his suit coat, acting as if he wasn’t worried that his client was destroying the defense he’d so carefully put together. “My client is charged with murder. That’s the crime Miss Kline should be trying. All she’s doing with this line of questioning is confusing the jury as to the legalities—”

  “Is there an objection in there somewhere, Mr. Shipley, or are you just making a speech?” Judge Shanks groused. “I didn’t think so. Miss Kline, continue.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” She turned to Demetrius once more. “So you admit to shooting Calvin Chambers in the leg?”

  “Tyrell said there were a couple of Warriors running through my yard, spying on us. In my territory. We shot a couple of times into the air to scare ’em off.”

  “But you didn’t hit the two Westside Warriors on the scene.”

  “No, they were already gone. I didn’t know that kid was there.”

  “The one you shot in the leg.”

  “Demetrius!” Shipley warned.

  “What? I said it. I shot him in the leg.” He scowled at Audrey. “Book me on that, sister.”

  Audrey smiled right back. “Your Honor, may we approach?”

  Judge Shanks waved Cade and Audrey to his bench.

  “Your Honor,” Cade began, “opposing counsel is badgering my client.”

  The judge shushed him and pointed at Audrey. “She gets to talk right now. Miss Kline?”

  “Your Honor, I just wanted to give Mr. Shipley a heads-up. If you recall the details of the medical examiner’s report, Calvin Chambers was wounded in the chest. But that wasn’t the kill shot. He bled to death—from a gunshot wound to his femoral artery.” She turned to Cade. “Your client just confessed to murder.”

  ALEX WAITED A HALF HOUR for Audrey to accept her last handshake and for the courtroom to clear before he stood up from his seat in the back. “Congratulations, counselor.”

  “I won.”

  “That’s right, Red. You did it.”

  “I won.” Her cheeks bloomed a bright pink as she shook off her staid, proper, public demeanor and shot her arms up into the air. “I won!”

  Reveling in her emotions, fists pumping, she ran through the gate, straight down the aisle and leaped into Alex’s chest, hugging him tight around the neck as he swung her around. It wasn’t the easiest thing to hold on to her with his left arm tied up in a sling, but he’d damn well do whatever he had to to keep this woman close to him. Forever.

  “I have to call Dad at his office and tell him the good news. I think he’ll be proud of me. I’m proud of me.”

  “Add me to the list, too.” When his shoulder started to ache, he set her down, but he couldn’t let her go. He brushed aside the auburn tendril that had fallen across her cheek and pressed his lips to the warm spot there. “I bet if you come with me to the Shamrock Bar tonight, you’ll find a whole room full of cops who’ll want to shake your hand and buy you a drink. I know of at least five SWAT cops who’d like to drink a toast to you for getting Demetrius Smith off the streets and pretty much decimating what’s left of one of the most dangerous gangs in town.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you, Alex. And the rest of SWAT Team One.”

  Yeah. He owed a lot to Trip, Rafe, Holden and Captain Cutler.

  “Not just to keep me alive or to keep the press at bay or to keep my father from worrying himself sick about me—but I needed you to believe in me. I needed you to help me understand that I could do this.”

  “I never had any doubts.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Audrey.” So she’d proved him wrong. She’d shown him that first impressions weren’t always the right impression. And he’d be forever grateful for that lesson. He leaned in to kiss her. “You’re right. Point taken.”

  “Wait.” She pressed her fingers against his lips and pushed him away. “I’m not done talking.”

  “I conceded the argument. You’re sure you don’t want me to kiss you?”

  “Alex.” Her fingers trembled against his mouth with a gentle, tempting caress.

  She was probably remembering where the last few kisses between them had led, and the courtroom probably wasn’t the best place for that kind of interpersonal communication. With a reluctant sigh, he pulled her hand down and laced their fingers together to walk her to the front of the courtroom and collect her things. “Come on. We can continue this discussion at home. Trip’s waiting outside to drive us. If the Rich Girl Killer had anything to do with this nightmare, I’m not taking any chances. I asked the guys to help me keep an eye on you until I’m back at a hundred percent.”

  She pulled her hand from his. Planted her feet. “No. I mean, yes, that’s really generous of them and I can never thank them enough for all they’ve done. But I have something private to say that can’t wait any longer.”

  She tilted her chin to that vulnerable angle that had first tempted him to take her in his arms. But he listened. Audrey Kline had something to say, so he listened.

  “I love you. Just in case it isn’t perfectly clear. Just in case you think you’re the only one who can say it or I don’t know how to say it or I’m afraid to say it—I just want you to know that I love you, Alex Taylor.”

  He smiled. “Trip can wait. Now can I kiss you?”

  She smiled. She wound her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers. “I’m done talking. It’s time to do.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-7630-1

  MAN WITH THE MUSCLE

  Copyright © 2010 by Julie Miller

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  *The Precinct

  **The Precinct: Vice Squad

  †The Precinct: Brotherhood of the Badge