Page 22 of Finding Home with You

Joe: what’s your ETA? Looks like it’s going down tonight.

“Fuck,” I say, slamming my hand on the steering wheel. I hit the call button and Joe picks up immediately. “What the fuck is happening?” I shout.

“Got word from one of the informants,” he says, his voice tense. “The deal got moved to tonight, fuck knows why, but the Captain made the call, we’re going in. How far away are you?”

I indicate my turn off. “Two minutes max,” I answer, ignoring the blast of a horn as I cut someone off. “You think our guy’s been made?” I ask, wondering if we’re about to walk into an ambush.

Joe’s silent for a second before saying, “I don’t know, don’t think so, but I guess we’ll find out tonight.”

“Fuck,” is all I can say, knowing this could turn into a total shit storm. We should abort, this is far too rushed and as capable as my team is, this won’t give us enough time for a proper strategy meeting before we walk into what could potentially be a fucking disaster. “I’m pulling in now,” I say as I turn into the parking lot. “I’m gonna head straight to the locker room to get geared up. Make sure everyone has their vest on and plenty of clips. We’ll move out in ten, briefing on the road.”

Thirty minutes later the two black vans containing my team and two others are parked a short walk from the warehouse this is all supposedly happening in. I’m still in the jeans, boots and sweater I drove down in and even though it’s freezing outside, I’m sweating under my vest right now. In my hand is a large black flashlight and in my shoulder holster, my Glock is loaded and ready to go. I have another strapped to my ankle and four clips of ammunition in my pockets.

And in my chest, my heart is pounding like a motherfucker.

There’s something about tonight that has me feeling really uneasy. I can’t work out if it’s the adrenaline of knowing there are likely to be arrests and possible shootings or the fact that it’s all suddenly happening a lot earlier than we expected.

I pull out my phone to make sure it’s on silent and notice a text message from Erin. She must have sent it when I was getting organized back at the station. I check the time on my watch before quickly opening it.

Erin: Let me know that you got back safe. Next time I’ll come to Boston – it’s not fair you have to keep doing all the driving x

Her words make me smile, despite the shit storm that’s about to go down. I love that she not only wants to see me as badly as I want to see her, but that she’s prepared to come down here for the weekend, even knowing I’ll have a shit ton of work. Just the thought of being able to come home to her warm body in my bed would be amazing.

“Let’s move out,” comes the sharp order through my earpiece, snapping me back to the present. I shove my phone back in my pocket without responding and signal my team to get their asses outside and ready to go.

In silence the six guys from my team and I all walk toward the far side of the warehouse. None of us knows exactly how many will be inside. We’d thought this was happening in two weeks and we’d have more information by then.

“I want complete silence at all times. No one speaks unless it’s to relay or respond to an order, got it?” I say into my mic.

The guys all respond quickly, and I know I don’t even need to say these words. The team is good, they’ve been trained by Beck, and I know I can rely on every single one of them to have my back tonight.

When we’re in position, we sit and wait as the first team storms the front of the warehouse. At first nothing happens, but suddenly all hell breaks loose.

“Get the fuck in here,” someone barks through our earpiece. “It’s a fucking ambush, multiple targets, shots being fired…”

Right on cue, the sound of gunfire rings out and I’m ordering my team inside. The rear entrance is dark and there are boxes everywhere, allowing us to sneak into where the action is.

Inside, it’s fucking chaos and I can already see two bodies lying in pools of blood beside boxes of guns. Evidently the deal was going down tonight, but somehow, they also knew we were coming. I knew this didn’t feel right, but right now I don’t have time to think about any of that.

“Take up positions, flanking and cover for team one,” I say to my team. I move to the front, sliding behind a box that puts me up close with the action. Across from me, I see Joe and the rookie, Pete, do the same thing and when Joe glances at me I give him a quick thumbs up to let him know we’re all set.

The third team storms from the side, and before anyone knows what’s going on, the targets have been pushed back so they are all now in our line of sight. I see Joe stand and give away his position, his gun trained on the back of one of the gun dealer’s head.

Just as he says, “Drop the gun, fucker,” I see another dealer take a step toward Joe and level the barrel of his gun at Joe’s head.

“How about you drop yours?” he says, a grin on his face that tells me he isn’t afraid of putting a bullet in a cop.

Neither of these guys has seen me, and as I glance at Joe again, I see him give me the subtlest of nods, letting me know I should take the shot. Taking a deep breath in a bid to calm my nerves, I force my brain to focus, remind myself that I’ve shot a target dead-on at this distance a thousand times before.

Without saying a word, I stand; take two steps toward the dealers and Joe, my finger on the trigger.

“I won’t say it again, cop,” the guy with his gun on Joe says. “Drop the fucking gun.”

Joe actually grins before he says, “Too late, buddy.”

I squeeze the trigger and before I can exhale, the bullet enters the guy’s left temple; a spray of blood covering his buddy before Joe quickly moves and disarms him. The guy I shot, falls to the ground with a loud thump, his gun clattering beside him.

By the time I glance at Joe again, my heart is pounding in my chest, going a million miles an hour as I desperately try to maintain a level of calm. As soon as I register that Joe has got this guy’s weapon, I turn and take in the rest of the room. Our two teams have pretty much incapacitated everyone by now and a number of the guys are already in cuffs.

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