Page 17 of Trigger's Temptation

“You little cock tease,” Ramirez spits out blood and charges at me like a three-hundred-pound linebacker.

He slams my head into the brick wall, making me dizzy. He has me pinned against the wall with my hands above my head before I can shake off the dizziness. He holds my hands with one of his and brings the other one down to the waistband of my jeans and begins to fumble with the zipper and button. Shit, he’s going to rape me right here if I don’t do something.

Focusing on my training from the academy, I bring my knee up and slam it into his balls as hard as I can. I kick and punch his sorry ass until he starts crying and begging me to stop.

A gunshot rings out. My pulse surges, adrenaline roaring in my veins. I leave Ramirez a sniveling, pathetic heap lying against the alley wall and sprint toward the sound.

Rounding the corner, I spot a small body crumpled on the ground. My heart plummets to my toes. “No!” I scream, sliding to my knees beside him.

Rauel.

His face is pale, his breath ragged. Blood pools beneath him, soaking into the cracked asphalt.

“Rauel!” I cradle his head, my hands trembling as I check for the wound. Blood pours from his abdomen, hot and sticky against my palms.

“I’m so sorry, Rauel.” Tears blur my vision. “I should have been here. I should’ve protected you.”

His eyelids flutter, and he coughs, crimson staining his lips. “Not…your…fault,” he rasps, his voice weak but steady.

I shake my head, tears streaking my cheeks. “Stay with me. Please. Don’t give up.”

One hand presses against the wound, desperate to stem the bleeding, while the other fumbles for my phone. The screen is cracked from where Ramirez slammed me against the wall, but it still lights up. I swipe up with shaking fingers and dial.

“This is Officer Faber, badge number one, one, three. seven,” I stammer, my voice quivering. “Officer needing assistance. A teenager with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. Severe bleeding. I need an ambulance to…” I rattle off the address and hang up.

“Help is on the way, Rauel. Just hold on,” I whisper.

His eyes meet mine, glistening with tears of his own. He lifts a trembling hand and grips my wrist, his strength fading.

“Don’t…blame…yourself,” he breathes before his head tilts slightly to the side.

“No! Rauel, stay with me!” I cry, pressing harder on his wound as his blood soaks through my fingers. “You hear me? Stay awake!”

The faint sound of sirens in the distance brings a sliver of hope, but it feels impossibly far away.

“Please,” I beg, my voice breaking, “Don’t leave me.”

Rauel raises his right hand and captures mine, still trying to stop the bleeding. “Can…you…do…” he coughs up more blood.

“Shh, Rauel. Don’t talk. Save your energy.” I coax him to stay still.

His hand tightens on mine. “Promise me…” Rauel’s lungs are rattling as he struggles for breath. “Get…these…fuckers…” Then his grip on my hand goes limp, and Rauel takes his last breath.

“No, no, no,” I beg everyone and anyone to help us. Save him. I begin CPR, but it’s too late. Rauel's lifeless eyes stare into nothing as his soul leaves his body.

The ambulance arrives a few minutes later, lights flashing in the darkened alley. EMTs rush to Rauel, their faces grim as they assess the situation. I’m forced to step back, my hands and clothes stained with his blood.

One of them glances up at me, his expression heavy. “He’s gone,” he says quietly. “DOA.”

My knees threaten to buckle, but I refuse to let myself collapse. Not here. Not now. Rauel’s lifeless body is carefully lifted onto the stretcher, and the image burns into my mind. I failed him.

Behind me, I hear heavy footsteps. Turning, I see my commanding officer striding toward me, Ramirez trailing behind him like a smug, wounded predator. A bloodstained rag covers his face, but his eyes gleam with triumph.

Shit. I’m toast.

The look on my CO’s face tells me everything. He’s already decided who’s to blame, and it isn’t Ramirez. Whatever bullshit story he spun must’ve been enough to bury me.

Without waiting for the inevitable lecture, I pull the badge from my chest and hand it over. There’s no point arguing, it would fall on deaf ears. My hands are still trembling as I walk away, each step heavy with rage, grief, and shame.

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