White Night

Chapter 42

Nikolai pulled her into him like a giant sweaty mantis devouring its prey. He must've slithered through the door behind her. Sticky hands clawed at her jacket, then traveled down her arm toward her weapon. She slanted her gun arm away from him, but there still wasn't enough space to raise it between them and end the fight. Spinning away, she jammed the heel of her free hand into his nose.

"You bitch..." he spat, staggering back, crimson flowing from his snout.

Connors started to lift her weapon and he rushed her, slamming her into the wall behind, forcing her skull into the jagged bricks and reigniting the ache at the back of her head. She was pinned against the wall, his hot heaving mass grabbing at her limbs like a drunken prom date. She jerked a knee at his groin and he pulled back a few inches, enough to let her slide out from under his bulk, but his hand was still clamped on her arm. He jerked her back, swinging a sharp kick at her leg.

Son of a bitch, he'd seen her walk.

She let her leg go loose, and his foot glanced off the inside of her knee with a dull ache. Damage averted...except now she was pissed...

Throwing herself into him, she swung the butt of her gun into the side of his head.

Nikolai's hand released her arm as he tottered sideways, but she was far from done. As she launched herself forward to take his legs out from under him, a hand tightened on her shoulder. She spun and kicked at the new guy's groin in time to see Ross swing himself out of her way with millimetres to spare.

He shook his head as he surged past her and intercepted Nikolai, who was starting to run again. Ross caught him easily and twisted an arm behind his back before marching him back toward her. Taking no chances, she kept her weapon on him as Ross pulled Nikolai's other arm behind him and clicked the cuffs onto his wrists.

Suddenly, Nikolai's mouth dropped open as his eyes widened and he bolted out of Ross' hands, barging past her and back through the door he'd originally slithered out of. Ross' face quickly formed the same gaping expression as shots rang out behind her, and they both charged into the building after Nikolai.

Nikolai was waddling toward the back door, his arms still cuffed behind him, as Ross crashed into his side, sending them both rolling into shelves of bottles. They were in a small auto parts store, the scent of oil and fuel additives mixing with fresh rubber and solvents.

Connors peered out the narrow window next to the door as she called it in. "10-13, officers requesting backup at the corner of 1st and Denton. Shots fired. Repeat, shots fired."

Almost on cue, bullets flew through the window, showering her with glass and sending Ross and Nikolai diving to the ground.

"You okay?" she shouted.

"Yeah." Ross dragged Nikolai across the linoleum until he was by her side. "I need to secure the back, you got him?" he asked.

"Yep." She stood on his cuffed arm.

"We just want Nikolai!" a male voice shouted from outside. Not a Slavic accent this time, Latin?

She looked down at him, her foot still firm on his arm. He looked back at her with pleading eyes, but handing Nikolai over wasn't an option. He was in their custody, under their protection.

"Just give us Nikolai!" the voice repeated, but she wouldn't respond. Silence would buy them time.

Sirens wailed in the distance and she took another breath. When you called for backup at NYPD, you got it. Whether by car, boat, helicopter, or horse, everyone responded to a 10-13. The only question was if they made it in time...

Metallic containers crashed in the back, but she couldn't see anything past the storefront itself. The linoleum emitted light screams as heavy objects were dragged across it. It had to be Ross, trying to secure the rear door. If it wasn't him, then the store had just been breached and backup would be too late.

Carrying forty-six rounds on her, she'd probably used ten, with six left before a reload. Glancing through the front window, she caught sight of one of the gunmen repositioning, but he was gone before she could aim. Breaking glass clinked across the street, but she couldn't see from where. Footsteps slapped hurriedly across the floor, sending her pulse galloping until she saw it was Ross.

"Back door's secure."

"They're repositioning," she said.

"No windows in the back, just the door. You call it in?"

She nodded quickly.

"We should—"

A rectangular flash of red flew through the window and crashed onto the floor. Clear liquid gushed from the container, and the smell was unmistakable.

Gasoline.