Sworn to Protect (21 page)

“Shut up, idiot.” He laughed in spite of himself. “You’re gonna be next, and then we’ll see who’s making fun.”

“No way, not me.”

Shane walked outside and punched Daisy’s contact button. After the third ring, she picked up.

“Hey, sexy. Are you home?”

“I wish. Taylor and I caught a break on one of my main cases. I can’t say much on the cell, but you can probably guess which one.”

“Ooh, I hope it pans out,” she said, sounding excited. “You going to be late?”

“Looks like. Drew has to stay with Tommy and Shea again, not that he minds. I just wish I wasn’t constantly shoving him out the door this week.”

“Now, you know he doesn’t feel that way at all. That boy and Tommy are like brothers already.”

“I know. I’m the one taking it hard, and he probably hasn’t given it a second thought.”

“That’s right. So stop worrying about him and focus on your job so you don’t get hurt. Call me when you’re done?”

“You’ll be asleep by then, sugar. We’re talking the wee hours, most likely.”

“I’ll sleep better once you call and tell me you and Taylor are okay.”

He smiled. “All right. I can do that.”

“Be safe.”

“You know it.”

They said goodbye and hung up. For the first time, it had hovered on Shane’s lips to say
I love you
. It was a strange feeling, but good, too. After tonight, he was going to find a special time and place to let Daisy know exactly how he felt.

He just hoped she trusted him enough to return his feelings.

•   •   •

They got to the park early and Taylor backed the Chevelle into a stand of trees as far as he could. They were a bit close to the meeting site for comfort, but they were hidden in the shadows and they had a plan.

Working quickly, they spread out the tarp and draped it over the car to cover the whole vehicle. The material was a little short on the sides, the bottoms of the tires exposed, but other than that, it should do the trick. The shiny parts that would reflect in the lights were covered, and they should blend right in to the foliage.

Next Taylor took out his pocketknife and cut a hole in the material over the windshield, just enough of a long slit for them to see through. “That should do it.”

“Now we wait.”

Lifting the tarp on the passenger’s side, Taylor crawled in and scooted over to the driver’s spot. Shane followed and resumed his seat, then shut the door. They both lowered their windows, and then Shane readied the listening equipment they’d borrowed from the station. Checking his watch, he saw it was only eleven.

“So, did you always want to be a cop?”

Taylor groaned. “Why do you always want to play
This Is Your Life
when we’re on stakeout?”

“Do we have anything else to do? Humor me.”

His friend huffed. “No. I wanted to be an archaeologist. Okay?”

“Wow. That sounds really boring.”

“I knew it! There’s always something wrong with what I say.”

“Not true. I merely said it sounded boring—to me. I’m sure digging around in the dirt for old dead shit is fascinating to some people.”

“
Boring
people. You think that’s me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I’ll have you know I’m completely fascinating when I want to be.”

“Like when?”

His friend stumbled on that one. “Um, when I’m . . . tying up my lovers and spanking them until they squeal ‘Daddy’! I’m not boring then,” he said smugly.

“When you’re
what
?” Shane’s eyes widened, then he chuckled at his friend’s grin. “You’re a lying sack of shit, Kayne.”

“On that one,
you’ll
never know.” He glanced at Shane. “So, same question.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I guess as a teenager I wanted to be a rock star, but not being able to play or sing a note of music sort of hindered that dream.”

“That might be a problem.”

They shot the breeze for a while longer, then lapsed into silence as the time for the meeting approached. Both of them held binoculars, waiting. The tension slowly began to mount, as it always did when the rendezvous was close. At ten minutes until midnight, it appeared the wait was over. Headlights loomed, then were doused as the car approached.

An old four-door sedan drove into the lot, and Shane could see two men sitting in the front. They appeared to be waiting, most likely for the supplier. When the second car appeared, the familiar thrill of the unknown began to sing in his blood. The anticipation of the hunt.

Holding up his binoculars, he observed the second car park facing the first. A man in the second car got out, and he was alone. Shane noted he was on the beefy side, though not fat, and looked like he could hold his own in a fair fight—not that there was any such thing as a fair fight among their kind. He also had short hair, glasses, and a goatee. The most notable thing of all was the black leather bag he was carrying.

“Bingo,” Taylor said in a low voice.

Thanks to the listening equipment, their voices came through pretty well.

“Whatcha got for us, man?” one of the pair asked, stepping out of the car.

“You know what. I got some grade-A Iron Man here. These babies work better than steroids and uppers combined. Ultimate performance enhancers.”

“Except for the part where the clients are keeling over.”

Goatee shrugged. “You want to apply for fuckin’ FDA approval? Or should we get down to business?”

“No, man, we’re cool.”

“Now look at the product and exchange the money,” Shane murmured.

Goatee sat his bag on the hood of the car while one of the pair retrieved a similar bag, theirs blue. Each party unzipped their own bags and removed a packet for inspection. Goatee handed over a bundle that looked like a quart-sized Ziploc bag, and received a fistful of money to count. Leaning over, he did a quick check of the cash, while the two other men did the same with the drugs.

“Looks good,” Goatee said. “We’re done here, for now.”

Then, they exchanged the gym bags.

“Gotcha,” Taylor hissed. “Let’s go!”

Reaching out his window, he yanked the tarp sideways and cranked the Chevelle at the same time. It started with a throaty roar and the headlights blasted the three men, freezing them like deer in front of a semi. Taylor peeled from their hiding place and the tarp fell away as they gained speed, closing the distance between them and the men.

Taylor hit the brakes and they threw open their doors, using them as cover.

“Police! Freeze!” Shane yelled. “Get on the ground!”

The suspects had a different plan. They scattered like cockroaches, diving for their respective vehicles. The two men threw their bag in the car and sped away, but Goatee was a bit more resourceful as he jumped in his car—he’d brought a gun to the party.

Popping several shots in their direction, he sped off after the first car. Shane dove back inside the Chevelle next to his partner as bullets pinged the body.

“Dammit, my car!”

Shane was barely upright before Taylor took off, tires screeching. Shane hung on, gritting his teeth as his partner swerved around the curves after the fleeing vehicles. A high-speed chase through the Tennessee hills was a great way to end up plastered on the side of a rock face. The car careened dangerously, and the taillights of Goatee’s car bobbed in and out of sight.

“Bump him!”

“I will if I can get close enough!”

On a straight stretch, his partner floored it and slammed into the back of the other car. The driver lurched to the side, almost lost control, but came out of the fishtail and sped ahead. Suddenly the bastard braked and made a hard right, heading in a new direction.

“Where does this road go?” Shane called.

“No idea!”

It was hard to hear with the noise of the chase, the wind whipping them through the open windows. The air was damned cold, too. But that was the least of their worries. The road was narrower here, the trees looming close on either side of them, reaching out with skeletal fingers as they flew by.

More dangerous curves, and Shane was turned around. It was so damned dark out here, without headlights they wouldn’t be able to see their hands in front of their faces.

“Taylor, slow down,” he urged. “We don’t know where this goes.”

“He’s getting away!”

“He could be leading us into a—”

Suddenly the car in front of them swerved hard to the left, almost losing control in the process. But as it made the turn, Shane had a split second to see that the road in front of them simply vanished—

And then the Chevelle was airborne for two horrible heartbeats. He had time to yell a profanity, and the car dipped, hit the incline hard, nose down, bucked over the rough terrain for a few feet, and shot straight into the Cumberland River.

Shane hit the dashboard hard, the wind knocked from his lungs as spray blanketed the vehicle and came in through the windows. He didn’t have time to register pain, only the shock of the impact just before the water stopped the forward motion of the car and began to rush in. Christ, it was ice cold. They had to get out now.

“Taylor?”

A groan sounded from beside him. He looked over and could just barely make out his partner beside him, trying to move.

“Come on, buddy! We’ve got to get moving!”

The freezing water was rapidly filling the inside, covering their legs. Moving upward. The situation was dire, and he grabbed Taylor under the arms, hauling him backward, thanking God that in this case, they hadn’t been wearing seat belts. Probably the only time in his life he would’ve had that thought. Because he wouldn’t have had time to work Taylor free.

Reaching back, he tried the door, but by now there was too much pressure to get it open. So he continued to struggle, getting himself out the window first, then grabbing his friend and pulling as hard as he could just as the vehicle went under.

Taylor was jerked from his grasp.

“Fuck!”

Don’t panic. Not now.

Sucking in a deep breath, he held it and dove. Completely blind, he groped for his partner and managed to grab his shoulders. Then he worked to get him under the arms again and haul him backward. Through the window, and, after a few heart-pounding moments, to the surface.

Shane broke free, gasping for air. Coughing, he pulled them toward shore, which was farther than he’d thought it would be. The car had really flown and traveled out a ways before hydroplaning to a stop. But Shane got them to the bank and pounded his friend on the back. Taylor, thankfully, started hacking up a lung almost immediately. It was a beautiful sound.

“J-Jesus, I’m s-sorry,” Taylor stammered with the cold. On his hands and knees, he was shivering.

“It’s okay, buddy. I’ll beat the hell out of you later. For now, we need to see if we can find help. Can you walk?”

“I think s-so.”

“You bleeding anywhere?”

“Honestly, I c-can’t tell.”

“Me, either.”

Gaining his feet took more effort than he would’ve thought. That’s when he realized the pain from the impact was starting to make itself known. That and how very cold and wet he was, and how dangerous a situation they were still in.

If not from the bad guys coming back, then from shock and exposure.

Reaching down, he helped Taylor to stand and then made the guy lean on him for support as they climbed the bank and tried to find the road again. They were going by what scant moonlight was filtering through the thick trees, and it took forever to find the telltale crunch of dirt and gravel that meant they’d located the road.

By this time they were both shaking so hard their teeth were chattering. Belatedly, he realized his cell phone was still in his jeans, but a quick check of the display revealed the thing was ruined, as he’d expected. He stuck it back in his pocket. If they got out of this in one piece, he’d take it to the store and get a new one.

They must have trudged along the road for more than a half hour when Shane spotted lights ahead. Off the road to the right. He got his hopes up and he wasn’t disappointed. Back in the trees at the end of an overgrown driveway was a small, worn frame house. One that was obviously occupied, going by the porch light that was left on. The residents were long asleep by now, but that was about to change.

“C-Come on,” he urged Taylor. “A few m-more steps.”

“O-kay.”

At last they reached the little house and stumbled onto the front porch. Shane rang the doorbell and waited, fumbling his soaked wallet from his back pocket. When there was no movement from inside, he rang it again.

Finally there was a shuffle from the other side of the door. A pause, as though the person on the other side was inspecting the visitors. Shane held up his wallet, badge visible.

“S-Sugarland PD, Detectives F-Ford and Kayne. We n-need some help.”

A chain unlatched and a bolt slid, then the door opened to reveal a slight, elderly man peering at them with a bemused expression. “The police? Out here?” He eyed them from head to toe. “Damn, boys. What happened to you?”