Page 81 of Once Kissed

The distant wails of sirens draw closer. “It’s all right, kid. No one’s going to hurt you,” I repeat, keeping my voice even. Judging by his tears, this has to be his first attempt at a felony. “Call it in, Supreski.”

“This is Officers Supreski and O’Brien. Perp located at the Old Mill Cannery on Stewart and Monroe. No need for backup.”

“Repeat, Supreski?” the dispatcher questions. It’s Gina, and she’s pissed. Like me, she’s probably figuring Joey has a lot of balls.

“Don’t tell them that,” I growl, taking over the call. “Perp located, appears to be unarmed. Immediate assistance requested.”

“I didn’t mean it—I had no choice, you hear me? I had no choice!”

“Kid’s scared shitless,” Joey says, like I’m missing something.

He’s right about the kid being scared. But a scared perp is a dangerous perp. I catch that familiar flash in his eye—the one you expect on cornered beasts. Fight or flight. I don’t want the kid to do either, or to force him to do something he’ll never be able to take back, so I keep my voice steady and my motions careful. “Easy, kid,” I say, edging closer. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The kid swears and starts bawling. He reminds me of the kids from my old neighborhood. Maybe that’s what makes me a little soft, and more than a little stupid. Any other perp would be thrown on the concrete, cuffed, and shoved in the back of my squad car.

“Just cuff him, already,” Joey mumbles, sounding annoyed.

“Shut up, and cover me,” I snap back. Joey expected more of a fight, and the adrenaline pumping through him is making him edgy. I know the feeling, and have felt it a thousand times over, but he needs to stay sharp.

“Turn around, kid. Hands against the wall.”

“I can’t go to jail!” The kid loses his shit, breaking down.

“I said turn around!” Another stupid kid from the street who ruined his life. Armed damn robbery. What a waste.

The kid shakes as he slowly turns and places his hands on the wall.

I tuck away my flashlight and house my weapon, using Joey’s light to see as I reach for my cuffs. Before I can blink, the kid snatches a gun lying on top of the barrel.

“Gun!”

I barely spit the word out. He spins out of reach and into the darkness. I dive as the first shot’s fired, the blast so loud it cuffs my ear.

Five more shots cut through the air.Pow, pow, pow, pow, pow.This time, I don’t hesitate. Kid or not, he wants us dead. I throw my arm out and over the old drum, shooting the kid dead center in his chest, narrowly missing his heart. He slumps to the ground, screaming.

I pounce on him and flip him over, wrenching his arm back and cuffing him. I ignore his agonized screams and yell into my radio, “Suspect shot and apprehended, need EMT at—”

A gurgling sound forces me to whip around. Through the funnel of light streaming from Joey’s discarded flashlight, I see Joey’s slumped form convulse as if seizing.

I kick the perp’s gun out of reach and bolt to Joey’s side. Blood seeps through his open wounds, his gun lying near his outstretched palm. He didn’t get one shot in. Not one. But he took at least three to the chest.

I yell into my radio, “Officer down. Repeat, officer down. Ambulance and immediate backup needed.”

The warehouse doors are kicked open, the voices of my brothers in blue and their racing footsteps echoing from all sides. I’m not alone, but it sure feels that way.

Joey’s trying to form words, words garbled from the blood oozing from his mouth.

I wrench off my jacket, bunching it and pressing it against his wounds, yelling at him to stay with me. But when I look down, Tess’s face looks up.

It’s her broken body, her blood, her eyes fading into death, her hand lifting toward my face.

“Curran!” she cries.

“Curran!”

—

“Curran!” Tess’s voice snaps me out of sleep; so does her grip on my arm.

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