Aimee Thurlo - Alpha Warrior

She took a deep breath. If she had to accept help, then it would be on her own terms. She’d take responsibility for herself and demand a say in every decision that affected her. Not that Nick would make that easy. He was obviously strong-willed—but so was she.

NICK LED DREW ACROSS the bullpen and picked up his badge and handgun from Captain Wright.

Nick then went to his bullpen work station and began transferring his case files to Koval’s network folder. “I could have closed this gun-running case if I’d been given just a little more time,” he said, and muttered an oath.

“This is no picnic for either of us,” Drew answered, putting on a borrowed coat. “But maybe this will be over soon. Detective Koval might find some answers after he does a little more digging.” Seeing the open skepticism on Nick’s face, she added, “But you don’t think so, do you?”

“Unless it’s an ex-boyfriend stalker, cases like these can often take weeks—or months,” he said, then finished transferring the electronic files to Koval. Taking folders containing the hard copies from his bottom drawer, he strode over to Koval’s desk and dropped them down with a thump. “My files and my notes. Now you’ve got everything.”

“You said you were close to identifying the arms dealer supplying those cartels south of the border. Just how close are you?” Koval pressed.

“I had a contact who was going to set up a buy. If the supplier matched the photo of The Coyote we’ve got on file, I was set to take him down. My contact’s name is on the file, but he won’t deal with anyone he doesn’t know. I spent months getting him to trust me.”

“Maybe another detective can get in using your name.”

Nick shook his head. “Too dangerous. Whoever takes over the case will need to build some street cred and work their way in.”

Returning to Drew’s side, Nick led her to the side door. “From this point on, you’re going to do exactly as I say,” he snapped. “Follow my orders and we’ll both stay alive.”

“No problem—just as long as I happen to agree with what you’re saying.”

“My job’s to make sure nobody snatches you, or worse. If I tell you to do something, do it.”

It was that same no-negotiation tone her father and uncle had been famous for at home, and it made her bristle. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at him. “We have something in common, Detective Blacksheep. I want to stay alive, and you want to keep me that way. But I won’t be treated like an idiot. We’ll work together to accomplish our mutual goal, but I’m not your subordinate, and never will be. Am I clear?”

“Perfectly. But here’s the thing. When people are coming at you with fists or guns, there’s no time for discussions,” he said, glaring at her. “I’m trained to deal with life-and-death situations. You’re not. If you want to live, do as you’re told.”

“I know the difference between an emergency and an insufferable ego. Do you?”

He muttered something incomprehensible under his breath.

She took a calming breath. “I get why you’re angry, but don’t take your frustrations out on me. There are a lot of women who’d probably be thrilled to let you take charge and follow in your footsteps, but I’m not one of them.”

Nick ran an exasperated hand through his hair. So much for the sweet young thing he’d wanted to comfort. A day that had started off wrong was getting worse by the second.

“Wait right here—inside the building and away from the front entrance. I’m going to get my Jeep.” It hadn’t been a request, but he could see her weighing her options. “You want to avoid becoming an open target.”

Accepting the logic, she nodded. “I tend to react very badly to people who give me orders, so think of me as an intelligent asset, not just an added responsibility.”

“Stay here,” Nick repeated, then hurried to where he’d left his Jeep. Unfortunately, he learned from one of the mechanics that his MDT had been sent to the shop to have the power supply replaced, so he’d have to do without it until a spare was located. He could have taken one of the department’s unmarked cars, but they were all easily recognizable fleet vehicles.

Five minutes later they were headed west on Central Avenue, away from the city center. Pulling up to a stoplight, Nick looked around, always on alert mode while a sitting target.

“The arms dealer case sounded interesting. That Coyote person, do you think he lives in Three Rivers?” Drew asked, mostly to make conversation.

“I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation,” he said. “Especially someone else’s.”

“Are you going to stay in this foul mood forever?” she countered. “For the record, if I’d been given a choice, I wouldn’t have chosen you either.”

That was a first. He’d never had much of a problem with women, except for the ones who wanted a “relationship.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. If you’d had your choice, who would you have chosen? That crime-scene tech who went queasy carrying your purse? Or maybe you would have rather had by-the-book Koval.”

“Actually, Nick, I wouldn’t have picked a person at all. I’d have chosen a forty-five Colt, like my father carried, and found someone who could teach me how to use it.”

He laughed out loud. “If it’s any consolation, my nine millimeter SIG Sauer and I will be right by your side.”

Drew adjusted her shoulder belt, then slipped her hands under her thighs. She hadn’t been able to stop shaking since they’d left the station. “Something’s not right,” she said, looking through the rear window, then out the side mirror.

“What’s up? Do you see something?”

“No, but I’m getting a very bad feeling—the creepy crawlies, you know?”

Nick glanced in the rearview mirror, and as he did, a sedan came out of a side street and drove up slowly. The driver eased forward, then casually pulled up beside them in the left-hand lane.

Nick glanced at the driver, but all he saw was a dark cap pulled low over the man’s face. The man leaned over toward the open passenger-side window as if about to ask directions, then suddenly raised a pistol. “Stay away from Drew!” he yelled.

Nick stomped on the gas pedal at the same time he shoved Drew down on the seat. The Jeep roared into the intersection just as the man fired. Nick felt a thud behind his back as he swerved to his left, cutting off the shooter’s car, then shifted gears and floored the Jeep.

Drew raised up slightly to look in her side mirror. “He’s still back there, trying to come up on my side now.”

“Stay down!” Nick pumped the brakes, then drew his handgun and looked to his right, ready to fire if the shooter pulled up even.

As the shooter’s car swung wide left, crossing the center line, Nick also cut left, sliding around the corner and taking the cross street.

Slamming on the brakes this time, Nick pulled a one-eighty, sliding completely around in the road. Shifting down, he floored the pedal again and raced back to the intersection.

“Now we’re on your tail,” he muttered, concentrating on his next move.

The sedan had more horsepower than his Jeep and was pulling away. Steering with his left hand, Nick called police dispatch as he continued pursuit right into the warehouse district.

“We’re going to lose him,” Drew shouted, trying hard to keep the fleeing car in sight.

“No way.” Nick shifted down.

The sedan took another right and Nick went after it, brushing a metal trash can that was spinning like a top after being struck by the sedan.

“Which way did he go?” Drew asked, when they reached the next street.

Nick screeched to a stop. “There,” he pointed.