Chapter 24

"Get your fucking head in the game, man. What the hell is wrong with you?" Chase asks. He checks his pistol and pushes it into his leg holster a little harder than necessary before adjusting the Velcro on his Kevlar vest. "You've been weird all day. Did something happen with Lorelei?"

I shrug. "Nothing you need to worry about." It comes out as a grumble.

Chase furrows his brow and runs a hand through his hair. He knows something's wrong. He's my partner, and the way I told him to not worry about it isn't even how I talk to him when I tell him to go fuck himself.

It would help my mood for this bust if I had actually been able to sleep last night. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep without talking to her. I picked up the phone from my bedside table more times than I could count, my fingers hovering over her name on my contact list.

Her face when I called what she did trashy – I may as well have torn a ball off myself. It hurt that I made her feel that way. She's not trashy. In my anger, I just thought it was trashy to leave my mother weed-baked goods. The more I get to know Lorelei, the more I would never want to hurt her. She's too precious. Too gentle and kind. Too sexy for words. The hurt I saw on her face was the low point of my life, and I'm the first to admit that I'm usually harder on myself than I should be.

I've had a lot of low points.

And the comment about Bogey was way out of line. I don't think Lorelei's a shitty dog owner. I think she's an amazing pet parent. I think she's amazing in general. I was just mad that Mom ate Lorelei's brownies.

I sure as shit couldn't admit that Lorelei had some good points last night.

Mom was in a good mood last night, eating, and had some color in her cheeks. Should I look away from the drug usage for her sake?

One thing I'm sure of is that I should apologize to Lorelei. I should go over there, take her flowers, and tell her I'm sorry. A little voice in my head whispers that I should go ahead and tell her that I love her. I push that voice down because she won't accept it after last night. What kind of maniac barges in and says the things I did and then comes back the next day to profess his love?

No. I can't see her today. I need to wait a few days until everything blows over. Hopefully, I'll have had a chance to sleep by then. She'll be cooled off, and we can talk like adults.

It'll be fine.

But why does it feel like it won't be fine? Something about it feels so final.

I can't think about this right now. I have a house to bust, a meth dealer to charge, and a case to finish. Personally, I can't wait to hand this over to the prosecutor now and move on to the next scumbag.

"I think I do need to worry," Chase says, pulling me out of my guilty thoughts. "In case you don't know where you are, we're about to walk into a drug dealer's house without any idea of what we're walking into, and you just put your Kevlar on backward."

I look down and undo the vest from around my body, turning it around in silence. "I'll be fine. I need a cup of coffee and some adrenaline. I got this. We got this. Lambert's ex said he has a couple of pistols. Chief wouldn't even give us SWAT since other dealers get a magical heads up when they've done that lately." I waffle my head back and forth. "Until they find their leak on SWAT, we're it."

Chase scoffs, pulls my pistol from my own leg holster, and checks my magazine for me, pushing the magazine back into the weapon with a click before he puts the weapon back in my holster.

I shut my locker and glare at him before he can reach for my shoulder holster weapons. "I'm not a rookie. I know how to handle my service piece."

"Just checking," he says, not even making our usual inside, juvenile joke about handling our service pieces. "I don't know what's going on, Liam, but this is life or death for both of us. Nobody would miss us, but Cooper and Resnik have families, so get your head out of your ass."

I nod and exhale. It won't help anything if I get nasty with my partner and best friend. It'll just heap on more guilt and add someone to apologize to. "Let's do the thing, then. You ready?"

We move in silence up to the porch, our black outfits camouflaging us in the lack of moonlight. The fact that it's a new moon tonight was one reason we pushed to hurry the warrant through. A simple call to the utility works has the streetlight across the street on the fritz. Our eyes adjust quickly to the darkness, but anyone looking out a window would be hard-pressed to see us as we temporarily duck behind the bushes until Cooper and Resnik get into position at the back of the house.

Our watches are synced, and we have a timer set. When it goes off, we'll go in simultaneously. Our warrant is no-knock, and Jacob's ex-girlfriend had an old key. Resnik and Chase both have copies of the key in their hands, and we hope Jacob isn't smart enough to have changed the locks. He's exceptionally smart, but my impression of him is that he's trusting of anyone he lets close, even if they're no longer close.

Everyone has their weakness.

The timer pings on our watches, and we move, Chase ahead of me as he makes short work of the lock. I have my gun drawn and cover Chase as he pushes the door open. I wait a beat for him to draw his weapon, and we hear the backdoor open at the same time. A quick look to the back of the house shows me Resnik and Cooper have their weapons drawn and are sweeping the kitchen. Chase sweeps the living room, and I nod at Cooper.

We don't announce ourselves as we move through the main level. There's a basement where Carlton sleeps, according to the ex-girlfriend, and an upstairs where Lambert sleeps. Both need to be cleared.

The sound of tires on the gravel outside indicates the beat cops are on the street to catch anyone we miss if they run or if Carlton bolts from the sliding door entrance to the basement.

I put up a fist, stopping Chase and getting Cooper's attention. Once I have eye contact with Cooper, I point to him and Resnik and point to the basement. They can get Carlton.

Chase and I move up the stairs in perfect academy training formation. My pistol is up and pointing to the top of the stairs while Chase brings up the rear, pointing his weapon to the landing on the other side of the stairs.

It's obvious everyone in the house is sleeping.

Not for long.

Commotion comes from the basement, and Carlton lets out a muffled scream. Lambert must be a light sleeper or actually awake because he mutters a cuss word in the far bedroom as Chase and I haul ass up the stairs.

But we're not fast enough.

Shots ring out as Jacob Lambert appears in the doorway. His short blond hair is rumpled, and his small gold earrings shine in the dim light coming from a lamp in his room. His t-shirt is dirty, and he's wearing black underwear that only enhances his pale skin. He's the stereotypical picture of every man arrested in the middle of the night.

"Move!" I say, pushing Chase through the hall bathroom door just in time.

I dive toward a guest room door across the hall from the bathroom, but it's locked. A stinging pain rips through my left shoulder, and somewhere in the hubbub Chase screams my name as I fall back against the guest room door.

Chase shoots. At least, I think it's Chase. Bullets ping back and forth as I stay against the wall, dragging myself along the hallway. Thankfully, Lambert ducks behind his bedroom door to avoid Chase's bullets. He must see Chase as the bigger threat and aims toward the bathroom with most shots.

"Liam! Status!" Chase yells, clearing his magazine and reloading. The sound of his used magazine hitting the floor and Chase's heavy breathing is somehow comforting. It's only because I know him so well that I hear even a glimmer of panic in his voice.

"I'm hit but fine. It's just a scratch. Stay where you are."

I roll my shoulder a bit. It may be just a scratch, but it's bleeding like a stuck pig. I can't deal with that now because shots come from the basement. Chase and I look at each other with wide eyes. I hope those bullets aren't in Resnik or Cooper. I also hope they aren't in Carlton since he's just a teenager, but I also want my guys to go home.

"Jacob, this house is surrounded if you check your window. You aren't getting out of here," Chase says. "We have a warrant for your arrest for drug trafficking, possession, drug manufacturing, possession with intent to sell, felony weapons violations, and probably a few I'll have to look up when we read your rights. Not to mention you shot at police officers and injured one. Put the weapon down and come out of your room."

"Fuck you, pig!"

Why do criminals call every cop a pig? I work out and only eat one doughnut a month. It's really hurtful.

"Drop the weapon and slide it out of the room."

Jacob's response is to fire two bullets through the wall in protest. At least that's two fewer bullets he has in the gun.

Chase sticks his head out of the bathroom, and I wave him back. I point to the room, and he shakes his head at me. He knows I'm going in alone. I can't risk us both being shot. There's another scuffle coming from outside at the front of the house. Carlton must be out there with the police, and I count on that noise distracting Jacob enough so he'll look out the window.

I make my move, pushing through the doorway just as Jacob fires another shot. The bullet grazes my arm a little lower than the first one, and I duck behind the bed, lift my weapon, and blindly shoot. I normally wouldn't attempt that without knowing exactly where every person in the house is, but I know Chase is still taking cover.

Jacob curses and goes down with a loud grunt. My cop instincts won't let me trust him, though. I commando crawl around the side of the bed and peek around the corner of the box springs. Jacob is on the floor, and I point my gun at him again, hoping he's down for the count.

"What's happening?" Chase yells.

"Suspect down. Stay where you are," I say calmly.

I creep over to where Jacob is spread eagle on the floor, a wound in his leg.

Fuck, he shouldn't be out with a leg wound, especially if I didn't get the artery. He knows I know he's faking, and he slams the door with his foot before I can get my hand on it. He comes off the floor, throws his fist, and knocks my gun to the floor.

He's fast. Too fast. His movements aren't that of a normal human, even one on an adrenaline rush because the police came into his house. Something is wrong with the way he's moving. It's jerky and faster than me, and I'm quick.

"Liam!" Chase yells, coming down the hall just in time for Jacob to reach up and lock the bedroom door, Chase not getting a clear shot.

Chase immediately starts shouldering the door, ready to come in.

I have more important concerns. I have no gun, and I need to make sure Lambert doesn't either. He must have dropped it when I got him in the leg.

Sirens approach outside, and I know there's an ambulance here for someone. Hopefully, they won't have to call the morgue for me.

Parts of the door splinter, and Chase furiously kicks and punches at the door as he tries to get to me. Jacob ignores it and hastily searches the room for his gun until I sweep his legs under him.

The problem with Jacob Lambert is his size. He may be the first perp I've tangled with that's bigger than me. He's built like an MMA fighter with two inches on my height. I'm no slouch and can hold my own, but his preferred workout is boxing, while mine is swimming laps and tennis.

In the absence of our weapons, fists have to do.

I take a swing at him and connect with his nose. Blood splatters my face, his face, and the nearby wall. In retaliation, he lunges forward, grabs me around the waist, and slams me into a nearby night table. Sharp wood pokes through my side as my weight shatters the table, and even Lambert grimaces as I slide off the table with a chunk of wood through my side like I'm an extra on Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

I've never felt this kind of pain before. Adrenaline took care of my bullet wounds, but there's not enough adrenaline left to fight the pain from my side.

Wobbling, I manage to stand, which only makes blood pour out of my side as my peripheral vision is suddenly gone. A quick look down shows that blood is everywhere, and I'm pretty sure it's mine. It pools onto the floor and runs down my left leg. I can only see in tunnel vision, but I can see Jacob's hand coming toward my face as he punches me again like it's happening in slow motion.

I give it everything I have, but it's not enough. They teach us in the academy to stay upright as much as we can. If we go down to the ground, that's a different set of skills and not good unless you're a former wrestler.

I go down anyway.

A heavy weight settles on top of me. At first, I think he's thrown furniture on me. Then I realize it's his body, and his hands are around my neck.

Crushing pain moves through my throat and windpipe as he puts his full concentration into killing me. Fear grips me, and I force my head up, headbutting him in the face.

My attempt at protecting myself from being strangled to death is rewarded with a slap across the face. "You're my little bitch now, aren't you?" he taunts. "So, I'll slap you like you're my bitch. Thought you could come in my house and fuck with my business."

"You can't…" I can't speak. The sound comes out as a squeak and requires air to finish. I want to tell him he's not going to accomplish anything by killing me except getting a murder charge on top of everything. Then again, he's going away for a long time. Maybe he thinks it doesn't matter. Maybe he thinks he'll be a hero in prison for killing a drug task force agent.

Pain is everywhere. I want to give up. I think of Mom and how I've been so worried about her pain, especially if the prognosis wasn't good. I was worried she'd feel like this at the end. Is this what it's like to feel so much pain you just want to die? Do you just want to beg someone to end it?

My side hurts, but it's nothing compared to my throat. I can't get air into my lungs, and my eyes feel heavy as blood vessels burst. At least, that's what I imagine is happening when my eyes feel like they'll explode or even pop out of my face. Intense pain and the sudden fear of suffocation move my hands until I'm furiously punching Lambert.

His boxing training must kick in. Or maybe he's just hyped up on adrenaline or his own product enough to have the strength to not be bothered by hard punches to the face. His blood drips onto my skin, and I can't think straight enough to think of something else to do to save myself.

All I can think of is Mom. How will she ever recover from losing me? She won't. She'll be alone.

Amanda. Something happens in my brain, and I hear her. I can't see her, but I hear her telling me to fight and survive.

I furiously claw at Lambert's skin until my short fingernails bend. It's like trying to scratch a tiger. At that moment, I'm sure he's taken his own product. Even with his build and boxer training, his energy is not normal. Our intel never indicated anything about him taking his own product, so this must be new.

Chase. I hope he makes it out. God, please let him go on and do good in the world if I can't. Protect him, and don't let him be too sad.

My vision goes black, and my throat feels like it's collapsing on itself. I can't think. Thoughts of Mom, Amanda, and Chase go out of my head as I sink into death.

A loud bang like splintered wood.

Shouted orders that sound like Chase telling Lambert to do something.

Loud pops like fireworks that make my ears ring.

Something warm hits my face, and a heavy weight settles on me like a weighted blanket. Death?

One last thought, though, and I fight for it. I fight for it because I want my last thought to be of Lorelei. I'll never get to kiss her freckles every night before bed.