Page 51 of Love Under Protection

He chuckles. “Nope, not at all.”

When we pull up in front of 425 Madison, Harley kills the engine and gets out— - first coming to open the door for me before I even have a chance to do it myself. Thomas greets us, and Harley lets him know that he’ll be right back and to tell whoever asks, it’s official police business, he’s allowed to park there for a minute.

“Uhm. I’m pretty sure I can get inside on my own,” I remind him.

“Yes, dear. I know you can. If you must know, I need to run into my place to grab something I forgot this morning and take a leak.”

I eye him suspiciously because I’m not buying his excuse for one minute.

“If you say so.”

When we get off the elevator on the fifth floor, I make sure to thank Harley for getting me home safely before letting myself into my apartment and heading for the bedroom to change out of my work clothes and into something more comfortable.

Stripped down into a pair of leggings, a sports bra and a t-shirt, I make my way to the kitchen and pour myself a large glass of wine. Liv’s not home yet, so I have the whole place to myself for a little bit longer.

Before I have a chance to sit down on the couch, my cell phone rings from inside my bag that I dropped at the door.

Patrick Flynn’s name flashes on the screen. I highly debate answering it, especially since our last conversation when he called me a gold-digging whore. Deciding that the Flynns are not worth my time, I let the call go to voicemail and completely ignore it. Anything they need to say to me can be said to my lawyer.

Chapter 28

Harley

Seems my little talk with Sawyer worked. Landry confirmed that Sawyer returned to Georgia two days after our run-in and has been laying low. Nothing has come up about it at work either. I knew the douchebag wouldn’t have the balls to try and press charges because I’m not a woman. He only wants to prey on people that he thinks are helpless. We deal with fuckers like him all the time at work. Some learn their lessons. Most do not.

I’m relieved, but I still haven’t shared any of this news with Raylynn, mostly because I’ve been swamped at work and by the time I get home at night, I know she’s already in bed. I’m happy as hell that I’m only working an eight-hour day shift today and that I won’t have to deal with the Saturday night craziness.

With Sawyer out of New York, I sent Landry and Robert back to Florida with a promise that if Sawyer made a move, Landry would reach out to me right away and we’d go from there. In the meantime, the security at 425 Madison is still being extra vigilant and I’ve let a few guys at the department know to keep an eye out when they’re on patrol, without going into too much detail.

Tonight, Raylynn and I made plans to go out to dinner when I get off work to catch up on how her first week at King Cosmetics went and to simply hang out. Over dinner, I’ll update her about her crazy ex.

I’m finishing up with a call on the Upper East Side when my radio goes off again. “11-60 in progress, 72 Street Metro Station. All available units respond. Proceed with caution. Fire and Rescue en route. Possible mass casualty situation.”

“Officer 7971 10-49 to 72 Street Metro Station.”

Lights and sirens on, adrenaline kicks in as I listen to the details continue to roll in over the radio. A jackass with a machine gun has opened fire at the Metro station. This is going to be a fucking nightmare no matter how big or small the incident.

Traffic is damn near gridlocked in the area, so it takes far longer than I’d like for me to arrive on scene.

House 49 is on scene and has established joint command with SWAT. They give me orders to help with blocking off the perimeter and keeping the public out of the way.

The whole fucking mess takes hours to resolve and clean up. When it’s all over, four people have died, including the gunman.

Dinner with Raylynn is, sadly, completely off the table. There was no time to call or text to cancel, and by the time I’m on the way home, it’s closer to ten o’clock. My emotions are still running on high and I know I’m not fit for company until I’ve slept and decompressed.

The radio buzzes to life again two blocks from the apartment building. “10-57 Shots fired East 48th near Madison Avenue. Caller advises female victim being held at gunpoint.”

I’ve immediately got a bad feeling about this.

“Officer 7971 is en route. ETA four minutes.”

Technically I’m off duty, but I know I’m the closest damn officer to the scene.

“Copy. Officer 7971 back in service,” Dispatch replies.

Pulling up to the location, I immediately jump from my car with my weapon out. A nearby citizen tells me that they saw the suspect drag a woman between the two buildings.

I quickly relay the information to dispatch and request backup for the surrounding area as I run headfirst in the direction they were last seen.

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