Page 9 of Her Protector Daddies

“What the hell?” Trask demanded, shoving the radio back into its holder when I handed it back to him. “That’s not our patrol. Let someone else pick it up.”

“No,” I snapped, wrenching the wheel and forcing the car into a less than legal U-turn.

“Why?”

“I know that address.”

4

TYLER

“7-Adam-13, show us Code 6-Adam at the 451; stand by for backup.”

I removed my gun from my holster, sent Trask a glance over my shoulder telling him to keep up, and slowly approached the apartment building in question. Keeping my breathing steady, I took the steps two at a time as silently as I could manage until I was pressed low against the peeling beige wall.

“Lamb, what’s so important about this place?” Trask hissed under his breath. “No one of worth lived around here.”

I didn’t respond, partly because I knew I wouldn’t be able to say anything kind in response. Sure, this was a rough neighborhood but anyone worth their salt in the Vice division knew all about Marcus Hartley. Before his rather public and dramatic fall from grace, the guy was a legend.

“Watch my six,” I whispered, slowly pushing up from my haunches and peering over the window ledge. Unfortunately, the curtains were drawn tight, denying me any hope of getting a lay of the land before we entered.

“Anything?”

I shook my head. We would have to breach without having any idea of what would be on the other side. Slowly, I approached the door, keeping my gun close to my chest, then I knocked sharply on the closed door.

“LAPD, anyone home?”

There was no verbal response, but something clattered inside the home. Given the nature of the call, I wasn’t taking any chances. I backed up from the door, then surged forward with a powerful, solid kick just below the lock. The front door of the apartment burst open with a loud clatter and bounced off the inside wall as Trask and I moved inside with our weapons raised.

“LAPD!”

Two tall, dark shadows suddenly crashed into one another and scrambled out of the kitchen, presumably toward the back door.

“Trask, out back!” I yelled as I sprinted forward, but before I could engage in a full chase with the two suspects leaving the property, something much worse caught my eye.

Tied to the chair with belts was an unconscious woman. Half of her face was bruised with blood seeping out of the corner of her mouth, and her vibrant auburn hair spilled messily out of a plait dangling down one shoulder.

Keeping one eye on her, I moved to sweep the rest of the apartment to ensure there would be no nasty surprises. The back room, bathroom, and bedroom were all clear, so I hurried back to the victim and pressed two fingers to her throat. A strong pulse fluttered against my fingers and a pulse of relief shot through my chest.

She was alive.

“7-Adam-15, send RA to my location. Single female breathing but unconscious. Requesting backup and airship. Two male assailants fleeing the property, Officer Trask is in pursuit.”

Confirming she was alive, I sprinted out the back of the apartment building to see if I could get any hint of where those two suspects had gone, with one hand on my radio ready to check in on Trask and see how he was doing. Just as I made it down the steps, Officer Trask appeared at the mouth of the back alley, panting heavily.

“Trask!” I sprinted down the alley toward him. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Trask waved one hand. “I lost them two blocks over. They piled into a silver SUV and took off.”

“Shit. Okay, call it in and put out a BOLO on the suspects, then set up a perimeter. I’ve got one victim inside,” I instructed.

“No problem, boss.”

Back inside the apartment, I holstered my weapon and started to untie the woman. She still hadn’t woken up and as much as I was trained not to, it was tough not to let my mind run with what could have happened here. The apartment was utterly ransacked but the mess wasn’t enough to hide the needles by the sink or the tell-tale smell of heroin lingering in the air.

As soon as she was untied, the woman started to slump forward. I caught her in my arms, then scooped her up and gently laid her down on the kitchen table. As she settled, her head rolled to the right, revealing a bleeding head wound that had been hidden by her fallen hair.

“Shit,” I breathed out hard, then I hurriedly searched through my belt for some packing. This constituted an emergency, right? Pressing the packing gauze to her head, I applied as much pressure as I could while trying to piece together what was going on here.

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