Chapter 7

7

T ossing and turning, unable to sleep longer than fifteen minutes at a time, Nat finally sat up, put her feet on the floor and grabbed her cell phone to see what time it was.

Four-seventeen am.

Running her fingers through her hair, she looked back at her pillow then at the shard of light from the streetlight just outside her window shining across the foot of her bed. Blowing out a breath, she pushed off of her mattress and shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen.

Turning on the light over the stove, the dimmest bulb in the house since her eyes were already burning, she popped a pod of dark brewed java into the coffeemaker, gave the flashing button a punch with her index finger, and stood watching the precious liquid fill her cup. Holding the mug with both hands, she turned around and leaned her backside against the counter.

Sipping the hot coffee, she thought about everything her grandmother had told her. Most of it made sense. Nat did feel kind of weird and really wonderful things from the moment she met Rafe that made absolutely no sense. And, she could see his Dragon as plain as day, but how could Nona think it was okay for the Universe or the Goddess or God himself to dictate who she was supposed to love – who she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with?

What about free will? What about dating? What about getting to know the dude before committing to eternity?

Eternity!! Oh. My. Goddess. Thanks for the curveball, Universe. Way to freak a chick right outta her skin…

What if she couldn’t stand being near him after a couple of years? The facts were the facts. She hadn’t had a relationship last longer than a couple of months… ever .

Something always happened. The guy would complain about her work schedule, or not like the way she talked everything over with Nona. There was even a time that one of the guys she was dating looked her right in the eye and said, “I want a woman who will stay home, have dinner on the table every night at six, and have my babies.”

“And I ghosted that son of a bitch. Didn’t answer a single call, text, or email. Threw away the flowers he sent and mailed his shit back to him in a box marked ‘Go Away’ .” Her voice sounded hollow as it floated through her dark, empty kitchen. “What if Rafe is the same? Everything I know about Dragons, which wouldn’t fill a thimble, says they are Alpha to the core, headstrong as a mule, and demanding as all get out.”

She pushed off the counter and walked towards the living room. “I can see us butting heads before this whole ‘eternity together’ thing ever kicks off. He’s gonna pull some Caveman bullshit and I’m gonna shoot him in the…well, umm, knee with my Sig Sauer.” She stopped mid-step. “Do bullets hurt Dragons? Can a Dragon be killed?”

Refusing to dwell on things that blew her mind, she shuffled across the room and sat in her huge, overstuffed recliner. Putting the footrest out, she grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV. Sandra Kelly with Channel Four Early Morning Report was cheerfully reporting on a four-car pileup on I35 and the ticker at the bottom was reporting the dismal results of the Stock Market from the day before.

Flipping the channels, she landed on the Food Network and half listened to Rachel Ray making brunch as she reluctantly reached for the old, thick, heavy-as-hell book her grandmother had given her the night before. She’d read a good part of the history of the Dragon Guard when she got home but her eyes had gotten so heavy she was finally forced to go to bed. By all accounts, they were not the evil beasts all the fairy tales made them out to be.

“And that’s because ‘the Others’,” she made air quotes with the first two fingers on her free hand, “perpetuated the stories with the hopes that humans would never come looking for them.” She mimicked Nona’s voice, shaking her head and turning to the page where she’d left off and continued reading about the Dragon Kings, the Knights, and the Mage who’d made it possible for them to become one being.

Lost in the words, wondering how old Rafe really was, she got to the part about the significance of a Dragon’s Mate and how the Elders had prayed for days and days to the Universe. On one hand, it stretched her imagination to its lengths, but on the other, she knew of her own ‘Gift’ and couldn’t discount that there were others, too.

What must it be like to have a lifespan of hundreds or even thousands of years? What had Rafe seen? How had he handled all the changes of the world around him? Had he always been in some kind of law enforcement or in the military? It was all so mind boggling, completely and totally something out of one of the Sci-Fi Fantasy novels Marietta, the Dispatcher was always reading.

Captivated by everything she was learning, wondering if maybe, just maybe, the whole Destined Mate thing was real, she came across a passage that ripped the breath from her lungs – Once the Dragon and his Mate are blessed by the Universe and joined together as Fate has seen fit, the sacred woman will not only share in the longevity of her Dragon, but also his Magic and that of his Dragon King.

Slamming the book shut as she kicked the footrest down and jumped to her feet, Nat tossed the book into the seat that her butt had just vacated and snarled into the empty room while spinning on her toes and stomping to her room, “Dammit Nona, you better be up, cause I’m comin’ in hot.”

Dressing and out the door in record time, she’d just pressed the button her key fob when her cell phone vibrated in her hand. Looking at the number, she slid her thumb across the screen and pressed the device to her ear. “Hale here. Go ahead.”

“Hostages taken at 3525 Sycamore School Rd, Albertson’s Supermarket. Be advised suspect is armed and dangerous.”

“Copy that. Hale in route. ETA 6 minutes.”

“Copy that. Be Safe.”

It never ceased to amaze her how Marietta had trained all the dispatchers to handle the phone like a radio and to always end the call with the words ‘be safe’. It was just an added reminder to watch her ass and get back in one piece.

Flipping the switch that turned on the red and blue flashing lights in the back window and grill of her Mustang, Nat backed out into the quiet street, only turning on the siren when she was on W. Cleburne Rd. Turning right onto Sycamore School Rd, she raced on until she was about a half a block away before killing the siren. Pulling into the far corner of the shopping center parking lot, she whipped in between the two squad cars that were already there.

Out of the car and striding towards them, she caught the radio Officer Tommy Atkins tossed to her. Pressing the button, she advised, “Hale on scene. ETA on Hostage Negotiation?”

“Roger Det. Hale,” Lois, the oldest of the dispatchers, responded. “ETA Fifteen minutes for Hostage Negotiator. Five minutes for SWAT.”

“Roger that,” she acknowledged, handing the radio back to Tommy and grumbling, “SWAT’ll shoot first and leave the questions to me.”

“You know it. Where’s Fitz?” Tommy’s heated whisper told Nat he didn’t agree with the aggressive stance of Woodrow Long, begrudgingly known as Woody, the new SWAT Commander. He was ex-military, pro-excessive force, and a dickhead with a superiority complex. Nat had known him since she was in kindergarten and he was in third grade, and not one second of it had given her any fond memories. He was an asshole, a bully, and a chauvinist – the trifecta of assholeism.

“It’s his day off,” she responded. “Any contact with the suspect?”

“No, not a peep since we got here. He’s cut the phone lines. Did you hear the 911 call?”

“No,” she replied, searching the huge grocery store in the middle of an even larger shopping center for access points and escape routes.

A terrified, squeaky whisper broke her concentration as Tommy replayed the 911 call. “Th-Ther-re’s a man…I m-mean…Earl, Earl J-Jones and h-he’s g-gotta a g-gun and h-he…he’s got Jason, Mildred, and Tracy in the…in the of-f-fice.”

“What’s your name ma’am?” The dispatcher calmly asked. “Are you in a safe place?”

“S-Sally, Sally Ed-dwards.” A hiccupped sob followed by a long pause was followed by, “Yes…yeah, I’m in the milk c-cooler.”

“Okay good, Sally. You’re doin’ really great here. The police are on the way. Can you see Earl or the others?”

“N-no.” Her voice cracked before she begged, “Please p-please d-don’t make me g-go out there. He said…” she sniffled and sobbed aloud. “He s-said he’d kill us all if he d-didn’t…”

When Sally continued to cry without speaking, the dispatcher assured, “You’ve done really good, Sally. Just stay where you are. I’m gonna stay on the phone with you until help arrives.”

Clicking off the recording, Tommy added, “And Sally’s phone is now going straight to voicemail.”

Letting her Gift search for answers, Nat could see two clear ends to the situation in front of her. Number one, she got Earl to give up and everyone lived. Two, she failed and not only was everyone in the store dead, but so was she.

Plan A it is. Now, what the fuck is Plan A?

Not taking her eyes off the store, she ordered, “Give me a vest and a bullhorn.”

“You sure? Shouldn’t we wait for the Hostage Negotiation?”

Tommy’s questioning, cautious tone had Nat snapping her eyes to his and with what Fitz called her Colonel Beatrice Von Tight-Ass Bitch voice, she demanded, “Give me a vest and a bullhorn, Officer Atkins, or I’ll have you removed from the scene and back on traffic duty. Do you want to tell Jason’s wife, Mildred’s grandkids, or Tracy’s fiancée that you’re responsible for their deaths?”

I hate being a hardass, but damn… Okay, I don’t hate it that much…

Without another word, Tommy marched around the cruiser, grabbed a bulletproof vest and bullhorn from the already open trunk and handed them to Nat. Sliding on the protective Kevlar like it was a second skin, she tightened the straps on the sides and slapped the Velcro into place before taking the bullhorn with a single nod.

“Thanks, Tommy,” she acquiesced.

“Just be safe,” he answered, turning away from her and returning to the side of the car.

Knowing he was only trying to protect her because they’d known each other forever and a day wasn’t enough. She’d had to pull rank. Had to show the other officers that she was in charge and would take no shit. Woman or not, she was a Detective First Class and they would do as she said or pay the price. She’d earned her rank and would be damned if anyone would ever discount her abilities.

Looking at the four First Responders then across the parking lot at the six others who’d just arrived, she turned back to Tommy and his crew before putting the ear bub with a wireless mic in her ear and giving her orders to her backup. “No one, and I mean no one , fires a shot until I give the order.”

Almost immediately the two teams on either side of her responded to the affirmative then came Teams C and D, those covering the back of the building, “Roger that.” Finally, as she was walking out from behind the two sets of four officers that were covering the shopping center exits called out, “Roger Detective. Teams E and F are a go.”

Stopping twenty-five feet from the large glass double doors, she raised the bullhorn and in the calmest, softest tone she could achieve while talking through the most obnoxious mechanical creation, she beseeched, “Earl? Earl Jones? This is Nat Hale. Can you come up to the door and talk to me for a minute?”

No, she wasn’t using all the psycho-babble bullshit the Police Psychologist had told them was ‘absolutely necessary’ to talk to a hostage taker. Nat was talking to Earl Jones, the older brother of Josiah Jones – the first boy she’d ever kissed. Ft Worth may have grown by leaps and bounds over the years since she’d been born, but these were her people and she’d damned sure talk to them like she always had.

An ear-splitting screech of the store’s PA system cut through the early morning haze, causing Nat to jump and the little hairs at the nape of her neck to stand on end.

“I got no beef with you, Nat. Never have. You’re a good girl, doin’ a good job. Call off those boys of yours and go home. Jason and I have some business to discuss.”

Surprisingly, Earl sounded calm, cool, and collected, which freaked Nat the hell out and made the two possible outcomes that were running on a constant loop through her head, stop, flash, and take slightly different courses. Unfortunately, what changed was that in both Earl was now dead.

I just can’t let that happen…

“Thanks, Earl. I appreciate that.” Taking a step forward, she continued, “If you just need to talk to Jason, why don’t you let Mildred and Tracy come on out? I’m sure Mil’s dying for a cigarette and Tracy’s beau is waitin’ for her at home.”

Eerie silence was the only answer she received. Counting to ten, she had just raised the bullhorn again when Earl called out, “I’ll let the ladies go, even Sally. Doesn’t matter that she called y’all. But, there’s one thing I want, Nat.”

“What’s that, Earl?”

“I want you to come in here and talk to this asshole for me. He owes me my back wages. He fired me for no reason. It’s the least he can do, right? He’ll listen to you.”

Before she could answer, Asshole Supreme, aka Woodrow Long, shouted, “Stand down, Detective Hale. That is an order. This is now my crime scene. I have command and you will do as you’re told.”

“Yeah, sure, Woody.” Marching forward, she added, “I’m goin’ in and getting’ these people out. You shoot me in the back and I’ll haunt you ‘til the end of time.”