by Leah Ashton
“What—” Nate began, but Oscar interrupted again.
“If you’d been wired up to our comms, Brayshaw, I would’ve told you to step aside. Fridge and Smithy are trained for that type of shot, and their firearms are more accurate.”
“But if they hadn’t been there, Fiona would’ve been dead.” She stared at the short glass of gin and tonic in her hand. “Because of me.”
“And if I’d done my job properly, she would never have been in danger,” Nate added.
Oscar groaned, and then buried his head in his hands. “Jesus Christ, guys, I get it. We all get it. You aren’t perfect. You made mistakes. But you should both know that life isn’t like the movies. No one is perfect. Elite SWAT isn’t perfect. We make mistakes. But we’re a team, and the team succeeded today. And you were both part of that team. Okay?” He shoved his bar stool back and stood, then downed the last of his bourbon. “I’m heading home. You two need to talk or decompress or something, and if you’re still both self-flagellating tomorrow; sign up for some of the psych services. They’re good.”
With that he was gone.
Leaving Nate and Lou alone.
Chapter Nine
Oscar hadn’t even left the bar before Nate had slid from his bar stool to the one his sergeant had just left unoccupied.
Lou looked up at Nate, who now sat really close to her. Oscar hadn’t seemed so close, even though she was certain Nate hadn’t slid the stool closer. But wasn’t that just the thing about Nate? When he was in her vicinity he seemed to just consume space. Consume air, even. Consume her, really. If she was honest.
That had always been the problem, hadn’t it? He had always done this to her.
It had seemed romantic back then. Now, it just pissed her off.
She was an adult now. Not some starry-eyed girl.
“Can we talk?” Nate asked. “I think it would help.”
Just as when he’d asked at Fremantle station, and even when Oscar had suggested it, her immediate instinct was to refuse.
As if not discussing what happened would negate it.
She wished. So, in the spirit of now being an adult, she nodded.
And also, in the spirit of being an adult, she met Nate’s gaze.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “For not thanking you straight away for what you did. I was too caught up in – what did Oscar call it? Self-flagellation? – to do the obvious thing. The stupidly obvious thing.” Lou swallowed. “Thank you for saving my life, Nate.”
Nate held her gaze. “I would’ve done the same for anybody.”
He was being factual, so his words didn’t sting. “I know,” she said. “But today you saved my life, so I’m thanking you.”
He nodded. He’d had longer hair when they’d be dating – the type that would flop forward onto his forehead and that he’d rake backwards with his fingers absent-mindedly all the time. More than once, her own fingers had tangled in that hair.
His hair was nothing like that now, being buzz cut short.
I wonder how it feels?
No, she reminded herself. She would not wonder about that.
Nate’s gaze was impossible to read in the moody lighting of the bar, but his forehead was creased in thought.
Suddenly, his hand reached out, and his fingers brushed against her neck – just below where the bullet had burnt its path.
Lou went absolutely still at his touch, forcing herself not to lean into his fingers before remembering to lean away.
“Don’t,” she said.
His hand fell away, but he still leaned close, his gaze still inspecting the mark on her skin. Then his gaze flicked up, to mesh with hers.
Moody lighting be damned, she saw too much in that look: too much of the past.
Tonight, she didn’t want to deal with all those messy emotions. She’d had enough to deal with today without Nate doing something stupid like talking about what they’d once had together.
“Lou—” he began.
“I didn’t shoot,” Lou said, cutting him off. “That’s what happened to get me to E-SWAT. I was at a domestic, this guy had just stabbed his wife, and then he came at me and my partner with a knife. Just kept coming.” Lou took a sip of her drink, but there was only ice left now. “He slashed at my partner, and got him too, there was so much blood. The suspect wouldn’t drop his weapon, he wouldn’t back away.” Lou swallowed. “He just kept coming at me, and coming at me, until he had me backed up against a wall, and I still didn’t shoot. I couldn’t do it. I choked.”
Nate was still too close, but now she liked how close he was. She didn’t allow herself to analyse why that was. “What happened?”
“My partner was yelling at me to shoot, but I did nothing. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t squeeze the trigger. Not with …”
Lou put her glass carefully onto its coaster on the timber bar as her words faded away.
“Not with what, Lou?” Nate asked.
“Not with his kids there,” Lou said. “There were two of them, two little girls. They were hiding behind the couch, but I could hear them yelling at their dad to stop.”
“Did he hurt you?”
Lou shook her head. “No. Backup arrived and they were able to taser him. His wife was okay, by the way, after surgery. So was my partner.”
“So, a good outcome,” Nate said.
Lou’s jerked her gaze up from her empty glass to stare at Nate. “Except I couldn’t do my job. Who would the guy had gone after, after me? His kids? Finishing off my partner? There was a guy in front of me who had ticked every box for using lethal force and I hesitated.”
“You would’ve just let him stab you?” Nate asked.
“I guess.” Lou frowned, trying to imagine that playing out. “No. I mean, I don’t know. Maybe I would’ve finally gotten the guts to pull the trigger when I saw my life flash before my eyes or something. But it doesn’t matter, I was in that house to protect those innocent girls, and by waiting, I put them at risk and my own life at risk. It was stupid.”
To Lou’s shock Nate nodded slowly. “It was pretty stupid,” Nate agreed. “Men who stab their wives and terrify their children – and then threaten you with a knife? They deserve what’s coming at them. Sounds like your senior sergeant was right, you do need more firearm training, you need to train enough so that if this type of thing happens again, the right thing to do is instinctive.”
“Really?” she said, with a huff of surprise. “You’re not going to try and make me feel better?”
He raised an eyebrow. He’d shifted slightly and so now the light from the naked globes illuminated the dark bruise on his cheek bone. “You want me to make you feel better about your mistake?”
“No,” she said immediately. “I want it to burn.”
“I know,” Nate said. “I want today to burn, too. Fuck what Oscar thinks.”
She gave a surprised laugh. “I think he just wants us to focus on the stuff that went well, as well as what we stuffed up. Like; you disarmed a murderous gunman, and you saved my life.”
“And you kept a dozen schoolgirls safe, and probably saved Fiona’s life by noticing her in the first place.”
His words were pointed, and Lou blinked.
Maybe she needed to take her own advice. “Fine,” she said, “I’ll take that. But I still didn’t shoot when it mattered.”
Nate shrugged. “You haven’t done your firearms retraining yet, right? I can take you up to the range if you want some extra practise.”
The casual words hung awkwardly between them.
Lou pushed her chair back, and slid off the seat onto her heels. “I’d better go,” she said.
Nate’s fingers snagged around her wrist. “Why?”
He hadn’t moved from his own stool. He just sat there, as casual as his invitation to take her shooting.
Seated like this, his gaze was closer to her eye level. She didn’t need to look up to meet his gaze.
“Because that’s bullshit, Nate,” she said. “We’re
not just going to start hanging out together.”
His thumb slid against the veins and thin skin just below her palm. “Why not?” he asked. “We’re colleagues, and I’m still a qualified firearms trainer.”
Just as he’d been all those years ago, when she’d met him that first day on the range as a cadet.
She looked down at their hands and said nothing.
He followed her gaze, and only them seemed to realise what he was doing with his thumb. That slow, electric slide of his skin against hers.
His touch fell away, and she hated herself for being disappointed.
“We’re not just colleagues, Nate,” she said with more force than she’d intended, her brain unhelpfully sending her vivid memories of waking up in bed beside the man in front of her, those same fingers skimming along the curve of her spine. She shook her head as if to shake those memories away. “We dated. We’ve seen each other naked, Nate, and I’m sorry but I can’t just forget that.”
Shit.
That wasn’t even close to what she’d intended to say.
It was true, though. And mortifying.
Which meant she simply needed to leave The Alibi as quickly as possible.
She didn’t look back as she exited the bar with a stiff, awkward stride, and she had absolutely no idea whether Nate had followed her.
She just hugged her arms tight as she silently berated herself for every mistake she’d made – pretty much ever – and kept her gaze on the steps as she navigated the century-old stone paving in her stiletto heels.
Consequently, Lou didn’t see who shot at her.
But she certainly heard the sound of the bullet ricocheting off the brick wall behind her. And she certainly felt Nate wrap his strong arms around her waist, and yank her backwards into the darkness of the bar.
Chapter Ten
Nate studied Lou as she sat in the furthest corner of The Alibi, tucked into the black leather booth, staring at nothing.
Nate had stepped away from the detectives he’d been talking to at the bar, and now he just looked at Lou.
It had been half an hour since the latest arsehole had tried to kill her.
And despite Elite SWAT swarming over the area, the shooter hadn’t been located.
But several witnesses had seen a large black and chrome motorcycle charge down the street immediately after the shooting, and while none had recognised the gang colours on the back of the rider’s vest, Nate had no doubt that CCTV would confirm what he already knew.
A Notechi had shot at Lou.
And he hadn’t been subtle about it.
The Notechi wanted it known they’d tried to kill Lou. Or at the very least, known that they’d shot at her.
Why?
Maybe murder hadn’t been the aim, as there’d only been a single shot.
But that one bullet had been far too close for comfort.
Not that a bullet anywhere near an innocent person was ever comfortable.
Especially when that person was Luella Brayshaw.
Nate walked over to her. She’d already waved away literally everyone else who’d approached her, and she’d spoken only the bare minimum when they’d been interviewed earlier.
So, he was surprised when she spoke first.
“Can I borrow your phone?” she said, directing her gaze somewhere over his shoulder.
“Sure.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. But rather than handing it to her, he took a seat in the booth and slid towards her.
Lou glared at him, but he ignored that entirely.
Besides, he didn’t crowd her. There was space for a whole other person between them. It was a perfectly acceptable amount of distance between two colleagues.
We’ve seen each other naked, Nate.
No, he couldn’t just forget that either. But that wasn’t what he was thinking about now, although he bloody well had when they’d been sitting together at the bar. She’d been sitting there, trying to distract him with her mistakes, and she’d failed at that miserably. She’d been so completely the Lou he remembered: defiant and strong and fragile all at once, that he’d been dragged back into memories he’d thought he’d forgotten. Of laughter and sex and … and …
But that didn’t matter now.
Now, she looked empty, in a way she hadn’t after they’d finally got off that train. Then it had been about adrenalin and – he supposed, self-flagellation – and she’d seemed stunned but not in shock.
Now her gaze was blank, her body appearing bereft of energy.
Nate handed her his phone after he unlocked it.
“Thank you,” she said. “My phone is in an evidence bag somewhere.”
She immediately typed in a number, then pressed the phone to her ear. “Mum,” she began, “It’s me. Guess what happened again today?”
Nate looked away as Lou spoke, but he didn’t leave the booth.
The bar was a hive of activity – E-SWAT team members, plus standard police – the cops that’d been on duty nearby and responded first, detectives, forensics. The Organised Crime Squad would be here too, for sure – anything involving an outlaw motorcycle gang and they were onto it. Although Elite SWAT worked closely beside them, the E-SWAT team were kind of like Organised Crime’s muscle. If there was a raid, it was E-SWAT knocking down the door and clearing each room. It wasn’t like TV where detectives run ahead of the tactical operators – it was literally E-SWAT’s job to secure a location before the detectives came in.
So, Nate recognised a couple of the detectives in the still dimly lit bar, now long cleared of patrons. They wouldn’t recognise him though; he was always in a balaclava, helmet and his tactical overalls when they’d met him before.
“Thanks,” Lou said, and he turned at her soft voice.
She held his phone out. He made sure his fingers brushed hers when he took it back, partly because he was an arsehole who really liked touching Lou, but mostly because he hated how dead her eyes looked. He wanted a reaction.
He got one. She gasped – for not even a second before she swallowed it and narrowed her eyes.
But he’d seen it. Good.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded her head but then squeezed her eyes shut and went still. “No,” she said. Her eyes popped open and she held his gaze. “I guess third time is the charm with people trying to kill you? Once, twice – I shrug it off, it’s part of the job. I care more about what I did wrong than the fact I could’ve died. But tonight …” Her gaze dropped down to the table where she was tracing invisible swirls and circles with a fingertip.
“Tonight what, Lou?” he prompted.
She looked up again, and now her gaze wasn’t empty. Instead it was full. Full of turbulent emotion.
“Tonight, I’m scared, Nate.” She shook her head. “I hate it.”
It took everything he had not to still her fidgeting hands with his own. To squeeze her palm and tell it would be okay.
“Someone shot at you, Lou,” he said. “I—”
“On purpose,” she interrupted. “He shot at me on purpose. I wasn’t some random cop who happened to respond to a domestic violence incident, or who ended up on a train with a madman. Whoever pulled the trigger was shooting at me.”
“We don’t know that for certain, Lou,” Nate said. “Maybe—”
Lou rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Nate. You reckon it’s a coincidence? A Notechi dies on a train at the hands of Elite SWAT, and then a Notechi shoots at someone they think is from E-SWAT who was on that train?”
“You know that’s one line of investigation, but it’s not the only one.”
It was true, but Nate knew he was trying to convince himself more than Lou. He didn’t want to think about Lou being the target of an outlaw motorcycle gang. It terrified him.
Lou smiled without humour, and ignored what he said. “You reckon it was those ‘exclusive images’ from the CCTV at Perth Train Station that gave us away?”
As was customary, neither Lou or Nate’s det
ails had been revealed to the media, but one of the local news stations had run still images taken from the CCTV at Perth Train Station of Nate and Lou boarding the train to accompany their sensationalised ‘Undercover cops save lives’ narrative. That story had been pulled at Elite SWAT’s request almost immediately, but – it would appear – not early enough.
Lou, at least, had been identified. Nate probably too.
“Must be,” Nate said, and wanted to do actual physical harm to whichever news producer thought putting their images in the public eye was a good idea. It wasn’t general knowledge that Carey had been a Notechi, but even so – E-SWAT had an agreement with the local media, and to disregard it this way was bullshit.
And could’ve got Lou killed.
“Mum is freaking out,” Lou said. “So, I had to be all calm and reassuring, like I always am with my work stuff. But this time I didn’t believe it, Nate. I’m freaking out.” She finally stilled her fingers on the booth’s table. “But why would they want to shoot me? I didn’t shoot Carey, and that’s public knowledge. All they know is that an E-SWAT tactical operator shot him, that’s it.”
“But they don’t know which one.” It was Oscar who interrupted, his arms crossed, staring down at them both. “One theory is that you’re a proxy, Lou, for Elite SWAT. They wanted us to know it was a Notechi who fired that shot, there was no attempt made to hide it. The rider was wearing a balaclava and the bike had no plates, but the gang colours were plain to see. That’s deliberate. And I suspect the shot missing you was deliberate, too.”
“So, what was the point of it?” Lou asked.
Nate shook his head. “A warning, a statement, an excuse to shoot at someone? Who knows with these shitheads.”
Oscar murmured in agreement. “Yeah. Your guess is as good as the detectives at this stage. But whatever the Notechi logic, it’s an aggressive move. It’s unusual for an OMCG to go out of their way to draw police attention.”
“So, what now?” Lou said. “If it was just a statement or warning or whatever, I should be safe, yes? I can go home?”