Page 68 of SWAT

The guy put his hands up and lowered.

Ricardo rested his free hand on one of the girls’ shoulders. “You’re safe now. We’re SWAT We’ll soon have you home again.”

Their sobs increased with what I guessed was relief.

“Everyone, down on your knees. You’ve all got some serious questions to answer. My uniform colleagues will be seeing to you.” Everyone in the room dropped as I swung my gun around it—pale faces that had been drained of lust and bravado.

“I’m going after Sands,” I directed at Sean.

“We’ve got it in here.”

I slipped out and ran up the corridor.

Where the hell had they gone? The place might only have one way in and out but it was a warren.

We can’t lose him. Not again.

I paused on the periphery of the crowd and looked around, weapon held low. “Fuck it.” I wished we had earpieces.

Suddenly I saw movement to my right.

It was Jonathan pushing roughly through the crowd, his concentration straight ahead.

It was then I spotted Sands, shoving his way forward. He glanced over his shoulder and I swear I saw the devil in his eyes.

I’ve had enough of this asshole.

“Stop! Police. Everyone on the floor.” I raised my weapon.

My loud yell created a moment of silence, except for the music, then all eyes turned my way.

“Now!” Jonathan shouted, also revealing his gun. “Get down.”

The crowd collectively sank to the floor. There were a few gasps and curses. I hoped they were all shitting themselves about how they’d explain their presence at Fet to their families.

One man was left standing.

Mark Sands.

He glared at me down the barrel of his handgun.

My weapon was aimed at him. I knew damn well I wouldn’t miss if I took a shot. I applied pressure to my trigger.

“Drop the gun,” Jonathan shouted, stepping over crouching bodies. “Now.”

“Stay away or the whore gets it.”

A little more pressure—if he so much as tensed a muscle in his forearm I was going to blow his brains out.

Sands’ focus was twitching between me and Jonathan.

“You’re going to let me leave,” he shouted, “or I’ll shoot her.”

His panic was rising, which meant his common sense was leaving. This situation was going to hell. I had to get out of it. I had to take him down.

A figure rose directly behind Sands. Unfolding, weapon in hand.

Balko.

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