Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
All right, all right. Arguing over a crowd control call simply wasn’t worth the effort, especially since chances were the fire would be put out in mere seconds. I raised a palm with as much forced graciousness as I could muster. “You want this call? You got it. No need to get your jockeys in a bunch.”
Derek responded with a smug smirk as I turned to go back to my car.
Butthead.
I climbed into my cruiser and cast a glance back at Brigit, whose chin was coated in fresh saliva. She probably thought the burning garbage smelled yummy. “Know what, pup? You’re twice the partner D-Derek ever was.”
Despite the drool, it was true. She wagged her tail in agreement.
As the fire truck pulled up, my radio crackled to life again. “Armed robbery in progress at Cowtown National Bank on west Rosedale. Who can respond?”
I grabbed my mic from the dash and squeezed the button. “Officers Luz and Brigit en route.”
Derek turned in the doorway of the sub shop and cut a hard look my way. Undoubtedly he’d heard the exchange through his shoulder-mount and now regretted insisting on taking the fire call. Ha! A bank robbery would be a lot more interesting than setting up saw horses and directing traffic around the fire trucks. A robbery would be scarier, too, but I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let my fears hamper me.
I flipped on my lights and siren and raised a hand in good-bye, treating Derek to my smug smirk this time. “Karma’s a bitch!”
Chapter Two
Sub Sandwich to Go?
Fort Worth PD K-9 Officer Brigit
All in all, Megan wasn’t a bad partner. She brushed Brigit every night, a hundred strokes. She let Brigit sleep in bed with her. She even bought Brigit her favorite treats when they went to the grocery store.
But now? Megan had driven to a sandwich shop and left the windows cracked, treating Brigit to the mouth-watering scents of turkey, pastrami, bologna, and meatballs. Smoke, too, but Brigit’s superior nose could nonetheless distinguish the scents. Brigit had hoped Megan would return to the car with a sandwich, but she’d come back empty-handed. Brigit had wagged her tail, hoping Megan would take a hint and go buy the dog some fresh meat. She hadn’t.
Ugh.
Humans could be so difficult to train.
At least things seemed to be picking up now. The siren whooped and Megan was driving like a bat out of hell. That could mean only one thing.
They were about to see some action.
Brigit lived for action.
Chapter Three
Phase One: Complete
Smokestack
One of them had a personal score to settle. The other had his dignity to avenge. But Smokestack? Heck, he was just along for shits and giggles. So far there’d been quite a few giggles thanks to that special banana nut muffin he’d eaten earlier.
Cannabis. The breakfast of champions.
He might have no education and no job training, but he was a master at manipulation. Hell, for two years he’d had his parents convinced he was attending college when in reality he’d dropped his classes each semester, got a refund of the tuition they’d paid, and spent his days—and his parents’ money—at pool halls and strip clubs. But that money had all been spent now. He’d managed to snag a credit card a drunk had dropped under the next table at a strip club, but that was a short-term solution. Sooner or later the guy would realize he’d lost the card and it would be deactivated.
Convincing the other two to rob the bank had been a cinch. Both were down and out, throwing themselves a pity party when they’d gone out for beers after last night’s meeting. All he’d had to do was play on their fragile egos, convince them they’d been treated unfairly, and persuade them to fight back against the injustices they’d suffered.
“You were victims!” he’d exclaimed with outrage. “Only a couple of total pussies would take that lying down.”
He’d suggested this little escapade because he liked to start fires. The fact that he’d also get a one-third share of the take was icing on the cake.
Without an education, steady job, or discernible abdominal muscles, it was hard enough getting laid. The girls he went after tended to be streetwise, less gullible. Add in the fact that his crash pad was his childhood room in his parents’ house, and he was constantly getting derailed. But he and his cohorts had come away from the bank with nearly three grand. The other two didn’t know it yet, but the bank was just the beginning. With any luck, by the end of the day he’d have enough cash to buy himself a year’s supply of chronic, a lap dance from redheaded Ruby at club Blue Balls, and a new apartment so that he could finally move out of his parents’ place.
Yeah. Things were definitely on track now.
Chapter Four
Hop on the Bus, Gus
Megan
I punched the gas on my cruiser. Seth looked over from where he hung from the fire truck, a perplexed expression on his face as I sped away from the curb. Of course he knew nothing about the bank robbery. I’d fill him in later—assuming, of course, that the robbers didn’t fill with me lead. In that case he’d just have to read about it in the paper.
The woo-woo-woo of my siren acted like an electronic cheerleader, telling me to Go! Go! Go! before the robbers got away with two bits, four bits, six bits, a dollar!
Fueled by adrenaline, I hooked a right on Rosedale, rocketing down the street as drivers pulled to the right to let me by. As much as I hated to admit it, I liked the sense of power my authority gave me. As a child I’d been helpless to stop the bullies who’d teased me about my stutter. But with my badge, weapons, and cruiser, I sure as hell wasn’t powerless now.
I sped past a bus stop where an inordinate number of people seemed to be disembarking. But there was no time to ponder the situation. I had bank robbers to catch. I only hoped the robbers would realize resistance was risky and surrender quickly. On the bright side, if they decided to come out of the bank with guns blazing, at least it was a pleasant day to die.
A quick prayer couldn’t hurt, right?
Less than a minute and a Hail Mary later, my cruiser whipped into the bank parking lot, tires squealing as I braked to a quick stop. Screech!
My pulse thrummed and throbbed, and a sticky, anxious sweat coated my skin. I yanked my gun from my belt and slid out of the car, letting Brigit out of the back and ordering her to stay by my side. Her unique skills could be useful in taking a suspect down or chasing them should they attempt to flee. Still, as always when I deployed her, my heart squeezed a little. Sure, she was a tool, a piece of equipment designed to assist me in my work. But she was also a sentient creature, a living being, not to mention my partner, roommate, and fuzzy-wuzzy buddy. The decisions I made could put her life at risk. If anything happened to her, could I ever forgive myself?
I forced the thought from my head. I couldn’t think about that now. The two of us had a job to do.
With my K-9 partner by my side, I hunkered down and ran as fast as I could to the brick wall next to the front doors, plastering my back flat against it.
What was going on inside?
Had the men who’d held up the bank taken hostages?
Had anyone been hurt?
I pushed the button to call dispatch. “What’s the status at the bank?”
“We don’t know,” the dispatcher said. “We got a quick call from someone on a cell phone two minutes ago but the call dropped.”