Detective Bucky Barnes inhaled the cold night air as he rolled his window down to pour out the three-hour-old coffee he'd picked up at the beginning of his stakeout. Natasha Romanov, daughter of mob legend Ivan Romanov, entered her two-story townhouse fifteen minutes after he'd arrived and hadn't turned on a single light that he could tell. He'd figured she'd gone straight to bed but realized how wrong he was when the cold barrel of a gun pressed to his temple through the open window.
"Sergeant," Natasha greeted.
Bucky cursed himself internally and dropped the now empty cup outside his window as his other hand used his radio to signal silently for help. Then he held both hands up in surrender. "Funny seeing you here, and I'm not a sergeant anymore. You know that, Ms. Romanov."
Natasha didn't laugh, but it was something akin to it. "I don't like being watched, Detective Barnes. What do you want?"
"Same old, same old, you know."
"He's not here, and he hasn't come around lately. He doesn't trust me after what we did."
Bucky took the chance and looked up at Natasha. She was as beautiful as ever, red hair pulled up in a bun and makeup removed. "You told him we're over, right? He can't hold it against you forever."
Natasha sighed and dropped her gun to her side, blowing an errant strand of hair out of her face. "You've never met my father."
"True." Bucky opened his door slowly, telegraphing each movement as he stood. "You're not the 'meet the parents' type. I'd love to, though. If you have any information-"
With a thump, Natasha shoved Bucky against his car and pressed that cold barrel against the hollow of his throat. "I don't, and if I did, I wouldn't give it to you. I know where that info ends up and I don't care to get involved in what my father is building within your ranks."
Bucky grabbed the barrel and pulled it to the side, proving that Natasha's threat was only a bluff. "Wait, what do you mean?"
"Romanov! Lower your weapon!" a voice called from the end of the block as two boys in blue came running to the detective's aid. Natasha glared at Bucky like it was his fault- it was- before swiveling on her heels and firing off two shots towards the men.
"Nat!" Bucky chided and pulled them both to the ground behind the tail of his car. They leaned against the bumper while the two cops returned fire from where they'd taken cover behind a set of trashcans. "Stop shooting at my bosses," he ordered.
"Sorry, but it's kinda my thing." Natasha twisted around and ducked out from behind the car just enough to fire off a few more before coming back and smiling at Bucky. "You're gonna need more backup."
"Natasha, don't..." Bucky warned, but she was already standing up and aiming at the trashcans as she stepped out from behind the car. One of the men leaned out and, in a breath, she let a bullet go. Bucky heard the bang and then the sound of a trashcan falling over. "Nat, stop! Last warning," he yelled and pulled his gun from his holster. She took another step forward and then another bang took out the other cop.
"Crap," Bucky cursed to himself and stood, gun held out towards the redhead. "Romanov, put it down!" Natasha turned to him and raised a brow.
"What are you gonna do, Buck? Shoot me?" She held her arms out wide and smiled. "Go ahead!" she screamed towards the sky.
He should have. The fire in his blood was telling him to do it. She'd killed two cops, men with families, but when the grip on his gun got so tight his fingers turned white, he finally dropped it to his side. "I have to take you in." He holstered his weapon and pulled out a pair of cuffs. "Natasha Romanov, you're under arrest. Anything you say can..."
