Page 48 of Fanatic

Jesus, was this amateur hour or what? Sirens wailed in the distance, and I guessed the cops were coming. In front of them, though, roared Harleys, and four bikers headed towards me from Piedmont. A flurry of bullets hit my car again, and I ducked down and curled into a ball as the bikers got closer.

Someone was screaming mindlessly as I watched Scythe, Bishop, Nash, and Narcissus pull up behind gawkers who had stopped close by. Moving forward and using the cars as shields, they drew guns, aimed and began shooting.

“You can’t shoot at us!” the mouthy fucker screeched.

Curiously, I popped my head up and saw a scrawny guy running towards the Devil’s Scythe, firing as he did so. Calmly, I lined up and took him down. My shot got him dead centre of his back, and he went down.

“One left, I think, Scythe!” I yelled. My head was on a swivel for the offender when I was tackled hard from behind. I hit full force on my front, and my face smashed into the ground, and I tasted blood.

“Willow!” several yells echoed. They began running towards me but were pushed back as they were shot at again.

Someone grabbed my hand and rapped it hard, trying to make me lose grip. I slammed my head back twice and heard a nose crunch. The fool clutched his nose, which lessened his control over me. I twisted and took my chance and got him in the groin with a punch.

An animalistic scream escaped him as I hit a second and third time, and he fell backwards. I shoved upwards, kicked him in his face, and knocked him out.

Cars screeched behind me.

“I’m ASAC Ware of the FBI, we’ve got one shooter left!”

“Are you okay, ma’am?” someone yelled as I slumped down against the side of my car.

“Need cuffs,” I called.

A female officer scrambled across the small gap between their cars and mine and cuffed the unconscious asshole.

“Reaching for my badge, officer,” I said as I reached inside my coat.

“Know who you are, Ma’am. We were informed an agent was on scene,” she responded as I showed her my badge. My eyes felt like they were swelling.

“What’s your name?”

“Philips.”

“My face a mess, Philips?”

“Ma’am, you’re fucked up,” Philips replied.

I laughed. “Sounds about right,” I complained as I heard more sirens. “Fuck my life.”

Chapter Ten.

Fanatic

By the time we arrived, the shootout had ended. Emergency personnel filled the area. Agitated, I kicked my stand down and was off the bike before anyone could stop me. Barrelling through the crowds, I searched for Willow.

Police tape had shut the scene off, and I noticed Willow’s SUV parked at an angle and shot to shit.

A cold feeling hit when I saw a guy behind it in handcuffs and clearly dead, as he wasn’t receiving attention. Determinedly, I headed straight for the cordon, ignoring the cop who tried to stop me.

“Willow!” I bellowed, making people jump and stare. An officer stepped forward and put his hand up in my face.

“Willow, Agent Ware, where is she? Is she hurt?” I demanded.

“Step back, this is a crime scene,” the officer replied.

“Fuckin’ aware of that, do you think I’m stupid? Where is Agent Ware? Willow!” I yelled again.

“Sir, if you don’t calm down, I’m going to have to arrest you,” the cop threatened.

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