She took the corner at seventy miles per hour, swerved between a Mack truck and a minivan, drove up on the median to bypass traffic and gunned the engine on I-35.

The radio crackled. “Ambulance 41, what’s your ETA?”

“1600,” Harper answered.

Linc trembled like a newborn babe.

“Keep your granny panties on,” Harper said. She loved breaking in the newbies. Linc was a fresh graduate right out of the community college program. He broke into a cold sweat. Aw, the smell of fear!

“Check your balls,” Harper said, “You’re gonna need ‘em.”

She slammed on the brakes a half block from the call.

She spoke into the radio while grabbing her gear.

“Dispatch, Ambulance 41 on route.”

“Gunshots fired…officer down!”

Dang it! The
pop, pop, pop
of gunfire echoed in the distance.

“Stand down 41, stand down.”

Linc breathed a deep sigh of relief. He clicked the seat belt.

“What are you doing?” Harper asked.

“I’m following orders.”

“There are kids in there.”

“Look, I don’t get paid enough to dodge bullets, not in my job description, besides, kids die every day, sad but true.”

Harper glared at the paramedic with his spikey mouse brown hair, baby face and puppy dog eyes. She punched him in the face. He yelped. “What the-”

“Get out of my rig.”

Blood sprayed from his nose. “Motherf-” he sputtered, “You broke my nose!”

“Good.”

Linc stumbled out. Harper locked the doors.

“What am I supposed to do?” he said holding his dripping nose with both hands.

“Walk your lazy ass on,” Harper said. She slung the medical bag over her shoulder and ran towards the gunfire.

Officer Donavan McClain sat in the airport lounge in civilian clothes. He stretched his long legs. Kimber, his latest flavor of the month, straddled him. Her huge tits bounced against his muscular chest. Other women scattered throughout the terminal glanced enviously.

Donavan was 6’3, sun kissed gold hair, face chiseled to perfection, piercing blue eyes, a strong jawline and oh so kissable lips. His big rugged hands wrapped around Kimber’s tiny waist. He couldn’t wait for some R & R, laying naked on a beach with the delectable Kimber beneath him. She had wind swept corn silk hair, slanted green eyes and pouty, rosebud lips. Gentlemen prefer blonds – Hell yeah they do!

He planned on having his wicked way with her this weekend. Harmless fun, no strings attached, no tearful demands, zero drama, just basking in the sun. Their flight to The Bahamas was boarding soon. Kimber rubbed herself against him. She had no inhibitions. She didn’t care if they were in public.

She nipped his ear. “I can’t wait to ride you,” she purred.

A sexy grin tugged at his full lips. He looked over her shoulder and froze.

The breaking local news had images of police cars, flashing blue and red lights, pedestrians far behind police tape. The banner read: Bank Robbery – Developing Story. He scanned the aerial footage from the news helicopter. The neighborhood was close enough to Aberdeen by the Lake, a suburb of Austin, Texas. Any one of his officers could have responded to the call, their lives on the line.

Kimber nibbled on his ear. His eyes were riveted to the TV screen in the terminal. A plane took off, another landed, and a boarding call came over the PA. Donavan moved Kimber gently away. “I have to make a call.”

“Oh phooey.”

Sometimes he wished she wouldn’t speak. The woman looked damn good but he couldn’t carry on an intelligent conversation with her. He reached in his pocket for his cell and dialed.

“Yo,” his friend, Detective Cole Eastman answered.

“What’s the damage?”

“Bank robbery gone south, eight hostages, the negotiator is in route, shots fired, wait – aw hell no.”

Donavan felt the blood rush to his head and roar in his ears. The helicopter captured a shot of an ambulance. He saw the number on the white roof, 41.

He stood up so abruptly. Kimber tumbled to the floor. “Ow-eee,” she said.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “I have to go.”

“What?”

The ticket agent announced boarding in their row.

“But our flight-”

“I can’t, gotta go.”

Donavan took off down the terminal, he ran past shops, the shoeshine man and luggage buggies. He flashed his badge at a security checkpoint and charged down the escalator. By the time he reached his car, his cell phone rang.

“McClain.”

“Dude, you won’t believe what she’s done now.”

The
she
in question could only mean one person. Harper Grant.

Chapter 2

Harper crawled over broken glass to get to the wounded police officer. He sat against his squad car near the rear tire.

“Jake?”

He did a double take when he saw her.

“Amazon?” he said hoarsely. Donavan had called her that back in high school and the name stuck. She called him Thor in return for his big, blond Viking looks.

“Not safe, go,” he rasped.

“Yeah, not gonna happen, where are you hit?”

Officer Jake Callahan had a bullet wound to the right leg. Harper assessed him rapidly. Point of entry – upper thigh, clean exit, no shrapnel, close to the femoral artery, one inch to the left and he would have bled to death.

Harper irrigated the wound of dirt and asphalt. Jake grit his teeth. She treated his injury as gently as she could. Harper reached in her medical bag, removed several dressings and applied a pressure bandage. His skin was pale, cold and clammy.

“Jake, if you go into shock, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

He grinned.

“How’s Steph and the baby?”

His eyes refocused. “The baby-”

She could see him fighting to live now. “How old is he?”

“Six weeks.”

“I heard yawl named him something crazy like Apple or Auto Pilot.”

Jake laughed. He grimaced at the movement. “His name is Neo.”

“Oh like Neoplasm, New blood.”

He glared at her. “Neo, from
The Matrix
movies.”

She should have known. Jake was a jock back in high school, he had a limited supply of brain cells. He stood up her friend Emerson for the prom. “Maybe Neo will grow up to be a scientist or a librarian,” Harper said to bait him.

Jake’s bleached out skin flushed with color. Eyes wide in horror, he groused, “My boy ain’t gonna be some book nerd.” God forbid!

“He’ll be an all-star.”

“Golf?”

Jake growled. “Football!”

Harper got in his face. “If you die, I’ll make sure baby Neo becomes a cheerleader, eats gluten free vegan, that’s right, no bacon, by the time I’m through, your son will read Jane Austen, sing Taylor Swift songs and become a tree hugger, liberal hippie Democrat.”

Jake inhaled sharply, he did the sign of the cross over his chest. Harper leaned back on her knees. He would live.

“Give me your walkie,” she said, it wasn’t a request. He handed it over.

“How many gunmen?”

“One but he’s armed to the teeth.”

“Weapons?”

“AR-15s, a widow maker and a 12 gauge shot gun, you packin’ Amazon?”

She showed him her Glock 9mm. He gave her a pointed look. “What? I have a concealed carry permit, look I have an idea.” She told him in detail.

Jake’s eyes widened. “No!”

“As if you have a say.”

“McClain will go nuclear if I let anything happen to you.”

Harper gave an unladylike snort. “Donavan is somewhere in The Bahamas swimming with dolphins and Big Boobs Kimber.”

“Which one is she?”

“The blond with the watermelon tits, talks like a kindergartner, has Barbie stamped on her ass.”

“Oh yeah, she’s hot,” Jake said dreamily.

“If Donavan wants to get an STD more power to him.”

Jake gripped her hand. “Thanks Amazon.”

She nodded. “What channel is the negotiator on?”

“Three.”

“The Sheriff?”

“Channel one.”

Harper zipped up her medical bag.

Jake whispered, “God speed.”

Donavan broke every traffic law known to man to get to her. He growled into the phone. “You tell Jake Callahan, he’s a dead man.”

Sheriff Tate sighed. “If it wasn’t for that gal of yours, Callahan would’ve bled out.”

Yeah she’s a real hero. If Harper survived this, he’d kill her for putting herself at risk.

Donavan bristled. “She’s not mine.”

The Sheriff chuckled. “Oookay, if you say so.”

Donavan’s black Dodge Charger police car whipped through traffic on Airport Boulevard. He nearly took out a jogger on 14th Street, took the ramp on I-35 and gunned the engine like a bat out of hell.

Harper wore Jake’s Aberdeen Police Department jacket and cap low over her eyes. She held up her hands in surrender and walked towards the bank. Her legs trembled with every step, heart shook in her chest, she tried to regulate her breathing.

Harper licked her dry lips. Aberdeen and County police units surrounded the bank. Officers crouched behind open doors, guns drawn. They didn’t have a clean shot of the assailant without risking the hostages.

Shattered glass crunched beneath her military boots. The bank entrance came into view. Hostages huddled behind the ATM, some near the teller’s counter, others on the floor were praying, weeping, begging for their lives. The sight of a hostage clutching her toddler infuriated Harper.

“Stop!” The robber yelled from the doorway. He had oily hair the color of dirty dishwater. His sleet grey eyes scanned the area. Harper froze. She glared at him. “I’m here for the hostage exchange.”

He sneered. “What makes you so valuable?”

“I’m the Sheriff’s daughter and a cop.” she lied smoothly.

The gunman smiled. He had a top row of gold teeth. The idiot!

“Come on in, welcome to the party,” he said, opening the door with a flourish.

BOOK: Slow Burn: A Texas Heat Novel

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