He watched as the middle-aged man in the Toyota in front of him glanced in his rearview mirror, jerked in surprise, and then glanced nervously right and left, looking for a way to get out of the state police cruiser’s way. It took a few seconds for other drivers to make their way. But little by little Law was able to nudge his cruiser to the head of the line.
As the cross traffic slowed, he swung over in the left-turn lane, blasted his siren, and then when traffic halted for him shot through the intersection.
“Was all that really necessary?”
Jori’s dry tone hitched up his grin as he swung a glance her way. “Hell, yeah.”
She just shook her head but he would swear she was pinching off a smile. Okay then. She was angry. He was angry. But she might thaw. She needed something hot—don’t go there. She needed coffee.
He swung into a convenience store parking lot.
“You’re not planning on buying coffee here?” She sounded as indignant as if he’d scooped up a cup of mud and offered it to her. It wasn’t the thanks he was hoping for.
“You want the real law enforcement experience, you’re getting it.” He pulled into a space before the store’s bank of picture windows decked out with a few strings of twinkling multicolored Christmas lights. “How do you take it?”
“I’ll get it.” She pushed her door open and was out before he could move.
Sam nudged her head through the back window to watch her exit.
Law reached up to cup a friendly hand under her chin. “That didn’t go the way I planned. Women. I swear the sex is alien.”
But he smiled as he watched her walk toward the store. She was mad as hell at him. She had every right. But that didn’t stop him from looking, or appreciating, or wanting.
Her khaki cargo pants fit tight across her gorgeous ass. That flare emphasized her narrow waist. The way her braid bounced down her back had him hard within seconds. All those things—and more, the woman herself—would be sitting inches away from him for the rest of his shift. Untouchable.
He sighed. It was going to be a long day.
Rodeo-ing his way through traffic lights wasn’t like him. Letting off steam and showing off in public wasn’t his way. But something about Jori had him flexing his fingers on the steering wheel, edgy and needing to work off his frustration. Maybe he’d hit the gym again at lunch hour.
He reached over to check his computer when he realized Jori hadn’t moved very much since she’d entered the store. She was stock-still, staring in the direction of the checkout counter.
At that moment she turned her head back toward him. Her eyes were wide with alarm.
Something cold slid down Law’s spine. Time slowed as he tracked back along her gaze, taking in every detail of the scene all at once.
A man stood at the counter. Short. Slim. In a gray hoodie. He could have been paying for a Slurpee except that his right hand was moving about wildly while his left was stuffed in his hoodie pocket. Was he hiding a gun, a knife? The cashier was busy at the register, stuffing what appeared to be money in a plastic bag. Several customers stood well back instead of forming a line.
Jori was between Hoodie and the door.
Law reached for his radio and called it in, identifying himself. Robbery in progress, giving the location and asking for backup. All before his brain caught up with the automatic response of years of training. “Potential hostage situation.”
Law sat two more seconds running scenarios in his head, seeking every tactical advantage. If he found himself in a standoff, or a hostage situation, he would have failed.
One. Too late to back up out of Hoodie’s line of sight. If he hadn’t already noticed the cruiser, he might notice if it moved.
Two. Look for signs of an accomplice in the parking lot. His head swiveled left and right, clocking the perimeter in degrees. No accomplice apparent in parking lot. No unattended vehicle with engine running. Maybe Hoodie was on foot.
Three. Better if he could wait for him to come out, away from those trapped inside, thinking he was getting away with the heist.
Only six, maybe seven seconds had passed since he’d seen that look on Jori’s face.
Law reached to open his door handle and forced her image away. He had a job to do. She wasn’t the only one in jeopardy.
Several young Hispanic men in roadworkers’ gear were headed for the doors. He drew his gun, held up a finger for silence, and motioned them back. He didn’t have to say a word. They backpedaled double-time then scattered, seeking cover.
Law heard a shout from inside. He stepped behind the ice machine, putting something heavy between him and the exit. His nerves stretched, ears straining for but hoping not to catch the pop pop sounds of a weapon being discharged.
Jori was between Hoodie and the door.
Nothing.
Who robbed a convenience store at seven thirty in the morning when traffic would be at its maximum? One desperate amped-up dumbass.
*