Jori was cross-eyed angry when she exited Law’s cruiser to buy herself coffee. He wouldn’t apologize? She didn’t need him to drop even a dime on her. She’d buy her own damn coffee.
That’s what she couldn’t get over. She’d lost a night in restless agitation over his inexplicable behavior. Then to get a call from him before dawn making some crack about how he was probably interrupting her beauty sleep. She should have told him where to go and how to get there, and then packed and driven back home.
As if getting her a cup of coffee would make up for his Neanderthal—wait, that might be disparaging Neanderthals. She’d recently read something about them being more intelligent than formerly thought.
She pulled open the door, bells jingling. The air inside rushed out to greet her like a drunken Santa, wrapping her in a too-familiar embrace and greasy peppermint breath. It took her three steps to realize that everyone else in the store was staring at her. No, not her. But staring all the same.
A creepy-crawly sensation zipped up the back of her neck into her scalp as she saw too late what was going on.
Oh God. Oh God. The words went into a permanent loop in her brain as she realized that a robbery was taking place.
A scraggly man in a hoodie stood at the counter talking loud and fast. His head swiveled toward her, exposing a lean face, sunken eyes, and wisps of long brown hair sprouting from the edges of the hood. He shouted something at her.
She couldn’t hear him above the roaring in her ears. She could only stare dumbly back at him. His hand was in his pocket. Something bad was in his pocket.
Another of the customers motioned her back but her legs no longer worked.
Only when the man in the hood turned away to shout at the cashier to hurry could she move.
She turned her head back, telescoping her mantra into hope as she sought through the plate-glass window the gaze of Lauray Battise. He would make it okay. She knew that with absolute certainty.
*
Hoodie pushed through the doors, shouting over his shoulder, “No police!”
Law held his breath as Hoodie took but a few more steps, then he moved rapidly to place himself between the perp and the store door. No going back in.
“Police officer. Stop. Drop your weapon.”
Hoodie stopped short, turning to look at Law. He saw the gun, going bug-eyed and slack-jawed with amazement.
Law steadied his weapon, his voice loud and sharp. “Stop. You’re under arrest. On your knees.”
“Fuck that!” Hoodie dropped the bag of cash and took off across the parking lot, using both weapon-free fists to pump the air as he ran.
Law was after him even before he’d completed the split-second decision: shoot or pursuit. The reasoning took a slow second.
No way to know if the pocket held a gun, knife, or nothing.
There were bystanders in the parking lot and beyond. A shot might go astray.
No K-9 to chase down Hoodie’s sorry ass.
Pursuit.
Hoodie beat sneakers across the concrete, heading for the street and traffic. Law could hear sirens closing in fast as he gave chase. All he had to do was get Hoodie on the ground and hold him until the cavalry arrived.
Law increased his stride and pace. Each footfall jolted his left side, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but that he didn’t trip, didn’t fall. He was closing in on his target with each step.
“Stop. You’re under arrest.” The words exploded out of him.
He caught Hoodie by the back of his jacket with his gun-free hand and jerked, hard. The action sent them stumbling then sprawling onto the curb and half into the street.
He didn’t think about his prosthesis as they went crashing onto the concrete. Or as Hoodie thrashed around, kicking and bucking, knocking them both repeatedly against the curb. All he felt was the shot of satisfaction that he’d outrun a sumbitch who had two good legs, and taken him down.
“You’re under arrest. Hold still, dammit.”
*
“Good takedown, Trooper Battise.” The Springdale police officer, a young man fresh out of the academy grinned as he glanced back at his vehicle where Hoodie sat cuffed and sobbing like a child. “Outrun by a one-legged man. He won’t live that down in lockup. Wait till my sergeant hears about this.”
Law smiled and nodded, still a little winded as he sat on the curb. He needed to get up but he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like what happened when he did.
“Law.”
He turned and saw Jori coming toward him. He pushed himself to his feet, wincing against his body’s protest of pain. He didn’t have time to register it. Jori plowed into him, her arms going around his waist to lock her body into his. He gritted his teeth as he felt a great wave tremble through her. “Thank you. Thank you.”