Page 60 of How May I Please You

“Move, and I’ll blow your goddamn head off,” the man says, before leaning down and looking into the car directly at me.

The ringing in my ears fades out and is replaced by the sound of my own blood rushing through my veins. I can’t even think, let alone move, as I realize I’m staring directly into the eyes of Captain Saunders.

chapter

thirty-eight

“Captain Saunders,” Journey exclaims from the passenger seat, and I don't have to look over at her to know that she’s totally shocked by this big asshole’s arrival. I’ve heard the name before. He’s her boss, so it’s almost fitting that he would be the person to bring the chase to a close.

As I hold my hands in the air, my heart actually slows down. It’s as if the organ knows that it’s over and has accepted that there’s no need to panic. We’ve been caught and I know there’s nothing we can do about it. We had a good run, but the last thing I need is a trigger happy cop unloading on me in front of Journey. I don't want that as the last image she has of me in her head, so I stay still and listen as this fucker talks to us like we’re his children.

“I never thought it would come to this,” he says, squatting down next to my door. His gun is now pressed against my cheek, but his eyes are on Journey. “I vouched for you a lot, Monroe. I thought you were one of us, and I didn't believe any of the shit Internal Affairs told me they found in their investigation. I argued that they’d gotten it wrong—that you were a good cop who would never suppress evidence and protect a criminal. But here you are strapped in right beside him.”

Journey swallows hard and I want to turn to her, but the second my muscles flinch Saunders shoves my face with the barrel of his gun.

“Don't even think about it, Godric,” he tells me before looking at Journey again. “You know, I’m not even supposed to be here. IA told me to stand down. They wouldn't even let me bring you in for questioning or conduct the interrogation because it’s their case, and I had to sit out pending my own investigation. Yeah, they’re looking into the entire department now, but none more than me. They want to make sure I didn't help you in some way, so they shut me down and told me to watch from the fucking sidelines. But I’m a goddamn captain. No asshole from another agency is going to tell me what to do, especially regarding one of my own detectives.

“So I listened in on my scanner for news of your arrest, and lo and behold, there’s a goddamn high speed chase taking place on Highway One. I had to see it for myself, so I jumped in my car and hit the roads adjacent to the highway, following the prompts on the scanner about your location. Then a fucking fireball shot up into the sky and I knew you wouldn't be stupid enough to just keep going straight if you managed to make it out of it. I saw you exit and knew I had to stop you.

“Now that we’re here, we’re doing this my way. It’s almost like it was fate. IA should've never told me to stand down, now they’re all locked up on the highway trying to block off traffic and check for casualties from the accident you caused. I should've been the one to bring you in anyways. So as much as it breaks my heart, this is fitting. Now please do me a favor, and don't do anything that is going to make me have to shoot you. I like you, Detective Monroe, but I know what you’ve done. I know they're accusing you of helping this piece of shit hide a body. I know they’re accusing you of killing Detective Winter, and I know they found Summers with his throat slit just a little while ago. I can't imagine you doing those things, but I can imagine him doing them, and love will make people act surprisingly awful. You love him, but you shouldn't have to go down for the things he has done. Please don't make me kill you over him. Follow my instructions and this will end peacefully. Now both of you get out of the car with your hands where I can see them.”

Saunders keeps his gun trained against my face as he opens my door for me from the outside, and I do as I’m told, keeping my hands in the air. It kills me to know that this is it. I exited the highway at the exact spot that this fucker was driving. He recognized Journey’s car and took action. Maybe he's right about it being fate, because if it isn’t destiny then I must have the absolute worst luck in the world to have escaped the highway directly in front of a police captain. Sometimes fact is stranger than fiction.

I try my best to think as I plant one foot on the ground to stand, hoping I can come up with some sort of idea to get out of this, but when the cold metal of a gun barrel is pressed firmly against your skin you know a simple twitch of his finger could end things. I have no options right now and it tears me apart. I’d rather go down fighting and get killed than let him humiliate me like this.

I slowly step out of the car one foot after the other, and the only time Saunders takes the gun off my flesh is when he has to reposition it as I stand up. It’s also the only time he takes his eyes off Journey, who rustles loudly in the vehicle before stepping out herself. Unlike me, she doesn't put her hands in the air. When we make eye contact, her face is impossible to read. She looks both sad and audacious and I wish I could offer her some comfort.

Is she thinking the same things as me? Would she rather die fighting than go out side by side on our knees? In the garage we shared a look. It was like we were communicating without words, both of us resigned to the fact that tonight might be our last night together. We were ready to die together if it came to that, so when Saunders puts his hand on my back and pushes me toward the trunk of the car, I replay that moment in my mind.

“Put your hands on the trunk. Both of you,” Saunders orders, his gun kissing a spot behind my ear.

I walk with my hands up and my eyes still on Journey. Her face pleads with me, begging me to do something. I can’t let this happen to us. As much as I don't want her to watch me die, I'd rather that than have her watch me be pushed into the back of a cop car with my hands behind my back, knowing the next time she sees me will be in court or on TV, and after my trial I’ll be gone forever. Even worse than that is the thought of her sitting in her own prison cell. She’s a detective who would have to walk the same yard as some of the people she has put away. It’ll be a fucking nightmare for her. I can’t allow this.

“Hey,” Saunders says, digging the barrel into my skin. “Don't get any cute fucking ideas Godric. Hands on the trunk and don't fucking move.” I place my hands on the trunk. “Legs apart.” Saunders kicks my feet to force them apart. “Do you have any weapons on you?”

I look at Journey, who pinches her lips together. Fuck. What is she trying to tell me? “No,” I reply, but I remain focused on Journey’s expression.

She shakes her head slightly, widening her eyes to let me know that she’s speaking to me. I can’t decipher it but I’m not an idiot. She doesn't want to go to prison any more than I do. She depends on me to be her protector and savior. It’s my job as the love of her life and her Dom, and I am failing her right now. No, I can’t let this happen. I can’t fail at being what she needs me to be. I’d rather fucking die.

Saunders finishes frisking me and takes a small step back, then I hear the sound of him pulling out handcuffs, preparing to lock them onto my wrists. I know that once those cuffs are secure, I’m finished. If I don't act now it’ll be too late to ever act again. This is it. It’s now or fucking never.

Saunders reaches up and expertly fastens the first cuff to my wrist using only one hand, then pulls my arm behind my back to prepare to cuff the other. As he reaches up for my other arm, I throw myself backward and crash against him, knocking him down. I spin around with the cuff dangling from my right wrist just as Saunders hits the ground, landing on his back. My heart is jolted back into overdrive as I see the gun still in his hand. I know I have to get it away from him but he moves too fast. I take two steps toward him and he has the gun up and aimed at me before I can take a third. The shot echoes into the night air and I am spun around, bouncing against the bumper of Journey’s car before hitting the ground next to the back tire.

Journey lets out a gut wrenching scream, but she doesn't move. Honestly, I’m just glad I’m still alive to hear the sound of her voice. He didn't kill me, at least not yet. But unlike when we blasted out of the garage into a hail of gunfire, this time I am most definitely hit. The right side of my upper chest quickly feels like it has caught fire, and the flames are licking all the way down to my right elbow. When I look down, blood begins pooling out of a hole in my shirt as if on cue.

“No!” Journey screams.

“Don't fucking move, Monroe!” Saunders shouts from his position on the ground, his gun now aimed at an inconsolable Journey. She can’t see me because I have fallen down, and she thinks Saunders shot me in the head.

“Little One,” I call to her as I place my left hand on the gunshot wound. Journey continues screaming so I have to yell, which somehow makes the pain worse. “Journey, I’m okay. I’m okay, Baby. Everything is okay.”

“Goddamn it, Journey, I said don't move!” Saunders shouts.

Journey doesn't listen, leaning over the edge of the car to make sure I’m alive.

“Oh my god,” she cries, tears cascading down her face. “I thought you were dead. I thought he killed you.”

“No, I’m okay,” I reply, doing my best to console her as the pain intensifies. “I don't know for how long, but I’m okay. It’s nearly a shoulder shot so I think … I think I’ll be fine. Don’t worry, Baby. I’m okay.”

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