20. Derrick

CHAPTER 20

Derrick

Raleigh’s hot, soft mouth is suddenly on mine, and I’m half tempted to let it stay there.

If only she hadn’t 1) stolen my vintage mid-life-crisis-car last night, 2) crashed it into a ditch, 3) demanded to be brought for a ride along only to insult my twenty years on the force to my face, and finally 4) run off at the first chance she got after telling me she wouldn’t.

I grip her by the upper arms. She groans into my mouth, her body softening against me- until I shove her off.

“We’re not doing this-” I start to say, then pause. My thoughts have been tumbling between the information provided by Emma Clarke, the possible identity of her boyfriend, and how either of them relate to Silver- but now they sharpen. For the first time, I realize Raleigh’s eyes are wild. Her body is shaking. She’s clinging to the front of my shirt like I’m about to disappear. My attention is on her now, and nothing else. “What’s wrong?”

“She- she had a gun,” Raleigh splutters. “I thought she was going to shoot you -”

“Who- Clarke?” I demand.

She nods frantically. “She grabbed it from the couch- it was in the back of her pants when she was talking to you. The whole time. I thought- I was afraid-”

I cup her cheek with one hand. “No one’s hurt, Raleigh” I tell her, keeping my voice calm and measured. “I’m okay. You’re okay.”

If Clarke had a gun, I have to assume it was for self defense. I was a foot taller than her and probably twice her age and weight. It also seemed like she was home alone. For all she knew I could’ve been impersonating an officer to get her to answer the door. Regardless, she was nervous during my questions but not unreasonably so. She met my eyes with her gray ones often enough. And her hands never strayed behind her back.

Still, I can only imagine how terrifying it might have seemed to Raleigh. For the second time during our strange acquaintance, she’s had to wait to see if someone with a gun will shoot me while I’m trying to be diplomatic. This intense reaction is probably due more to our previous run in with Silver than the moments that have just passed.

Raleigh leans in again. She’s craving comfort, and she’s looking for it in me.

This time, I meet her halfway.

Her mouth is already open for mine. She’s hungry, frantic. Her teeth drag against my lower lip as she climbs into my lap and I grip her hips in my hands. I can’t trust a word out of this woman’s mouth, but I can trust the truth of her body. Her heat, her heartbeat. These things can’t lie to me.

She buries her fingers in my hair and under the collar of my shirt. I plunge my hands up the back of hers- no, mine , she’s just borrowing it. Is now a good time to demand she give it back? I’m already hard underneath her. With just a little fabric shuffling, I could sit her down on my cock and let her ride me until the last of her fear has been converted to ecstasy. I want that. I want to make her feel safe again.

Raleigh throws back her head, tearing her mouth free of mine but baring her neck for me. I kiss my way down her throat, breathing in the fruity scent of her hair mingling with my own dryer sheets. When she stiffens, I don’t immediately notice.

“We’re not doing this,” she suddenly says- throwing my words from a minute ago back at me.

“Mmph- what?” I mumble. I’m already down to her shoulder, stretching my borrowed shirt as far open as it will go to kiss across her collarbone. The shirt is halfway off of her already. I really should just tear it off.

“I’m not having sex in front of your dogs,” Raleigh hisses.

Oh. Right. I completely forgot that the boys were in the backseat. Their windows are cracked and the day is mild, so the few minutes they were in the car while I was questioning Clarke weren’t a bother. But I can understand how unappealing it might be to fuck in front of them.

Besides the fact that she’s shaking with trauma from the last time we were forced to have sex in front of a voyeur. This moment would be funny, except for that sticky context.

Not to mention we’re sitting in the middle of a suburban neighborhood. Literally anyone could walk by and see us. What the hell is going through my brain right now?

“Okay,” I say, fully aware that I’m crumbling to her will yet again. “Let’s go home, then.”

That I’m going to spread her out on the bed beneath me and fuck her until she’s screaming my name in gratitude goes unsaid, but is absolutely understood.

Raleigh nods and settles back into the passenger seat. As I pull us away from the curb, my hand rests unconsciously on her thigh. I don’t know if the instinct is to keep her where she’s supposed to be or comfort her with physical touch, but her trembling finally goes still under my palm.

We leave the suburbs behind and are on a main road back to my side of the city when I notice headlights following a little too close behind me. It’s pretty damn rare for a person to drive recklessly around a police cruiser that they can clearly see, but to brazenly tailgate one? I slip into the right lane with the intent to fall behind this guy and then pull him over- but when I get over, so does he. And he’s closer than ever.

All right, what does this clown want?

I put both hands on the wheel and start looking for the nearest parking lot on my right to loop through. On my left, another car is passing me. Or I think it’s going to pass me, until it starts to match my pace. I give it my full attention, my muscles tensing.

We’re being boxed in.

And then I recognize the car- right as its passenger window rolls down and a hand holding a gun pokes out.

It’s the Buick.

“GET DOWN!” I shout, and slam my foot on the gas.

The first bullet punches a hole in my driver’s side window, missing my head by inches. Raleigh shrieks and ducks. I don’t even have the chance to check if she’s hurt before a second bullet shoots past the back of my head. Three more shots ping off the side of the cruiser as I pull ahead.

Or I think I pull ahead.

My cruiser judders and lurches to the right. The Buick dropped back to keep pace with the first car, and now it’s trying to crash me by shoving my rear left bumper. I counterturn to avoid the spin and push the cruiser harder.

As soon as we have an inch to breathe, I hop on the radio.

“10-33! 10-33! Two vehicles in pursuit, requesting backup-”

The Buick hits me again, and I have to drop my mic to focus on the wheel. It’s difficult to see past the glare of the headlights and the fact that I’m keeping my head ducked as much as possible, but it looks like someone’s leaning out the passenger window of the first car.

Fuck-

Bullets spray the bumper of the cruiser, puncturing fiberglass and my rear windshield.

If they shoot out my tires, we’re dead.

The radio crackles. “Confirm, officer. Pursuing two vehicles?”

I snatch the mic again. “Two vehicles in pursuit of me ! Four known suspects, suspects armed, shots fired!”

I have to drop the mic to switch lanes so I don’t bulldoze a minivan ahead of me. Behind me, my pursuers miss the minivan by inches.

Between ducking bullets and avoiding a PIT maneuver, I’m also fighting to lead this chase somewhere productive. Namely, the nearest police station, which is still several blocks away. Thank god these streets are three lanes wide and relatively empty. I’ve got room to switch lanes, so long as my pursuers allow. I flip on my lights and sirens, making myself as loud and obnoxious as possible, hoping that will encourage anyone in my way to get the fuck out of it.

Unfortunately, the light ahead of me is red, and I can’t stop. I pray to god people are hearing my sirens come and are hesitating to drive through the intersection, but I won’t know if I’m clear until I’m clear. The last thing I want to do is cause a pile up.

The other last thing I want to do is slow down and let these armed street thugs put a thousand holes in my body, Raleigh’s, and my dogs’.

I blow the light, flying through the intersection at almost ninety miles an hour with my two pursuers barrelling behind me. The only poor car trying to cross slams on its brakes and swerves, but thankfully, it doesn’t look like it’s been hit.

Ahead of me, coming out of a side street, a police car’s lights snap on like fireworks in the sky. I shoot past him, and he screams out onto the main road behind my two tails.

The first car to start this merry chase instantly breaks off down the next side street. Maybe he’s hoping to distract the cop, or maybe he just doesn’t want to get caught now that there’s backup. Either way, I hope my colleague caught the license plate, because he stays on the Buick’s bumper and lets the other car go.

Ahead of me, another cop car is coming in our direction, lights on but no sirens. When they spot me, their sirens start screaming, and they pull a U-Turn so sharp I smell the burn of rubber as I shoot past them.

Now I’ve got one tail, and the Buick has two. Its passenger stops shooting, and even though I can’t see into the windshield through the blinding headlights, I can feel the gears turning in its driver’s mind. To continue pursuing me, or to give up and focus on losing its own pursuers?

Is Silver himself driving that car, or is he the one firing the gun? Which will he choose, when he’s so close to getting his revenge on me?

The Buick turns sharply, pulling a shocking U-Turn that both my colleagues have to swerve to avoid. It shoots back down the street driving opposite of traffic, narrowly misses an oncoming truck, and bounces over the median. My backups pull a safer U-Turn at the next light and take off in pursuit.

Instinctively, I almost follow. My heart is pounding. My mind is blissfully free of doubt. Training and experience are driving me now.

As dangerous as the last several minutes have been, I haven’t felt so alive in a long, long time.

Then I hear Raleigh’s voice, tiny and terrified from the passenger seat.

“D-Did you lose them?”

She’s still folded forward, her arms over her head. I reach for her with my free hand, my fingers tingling, and grip the back of her neck.

“They’re gone,” I pant, and realize for the first time that I’m out of breath. “Are you hurt?”

There’s glass everywhere from my shattered windows, but I don’t see any blood on her. I can feel her trembling again under my palm, and fury surges in my chest. For the second time, I have to fight the instinct to join the pursuit, just to run down Silver myself and make him pay.

I have a civilian and two dogs in my car. They have to be my priority.

“Are you hurt?!” I demand, hoping to god nothing happened to her.

“I d-d-don’t think so,” Raleigh grits out. She presses her forehead into her knees, and I can feel her back rise and fall as she forces herself to breathe more steadily.

I check my rearview again. No vehicles following, but I do see my dogs. Alive and well, but panting with anxiety. I want more than anything to pull over for all of them so they can take a second to breathe, but I don’t dare. I have to find us a secure place first, and since I can’t go to the station with Raleigh and I can’t go home if there’s still a chance I’m being followed, that leaves one last place.

The only house in the world I’ve ever truly felt safe.