Badge of Honor (The Town of Pearl 9)

“Great, another fucking wild goose chase. Let’s head home. It’s been a long day,” she said.

“No. We stay and check this out. It has to end here, Lauren. It has to finally be over.”

“Yeah well, this is a bad neighborhood. There’s a crack house on every corner and the Tenth Street gang. They’re badass and then some, as we know firsthand. Considering the raid didn’t stop them, I’d say we should keep our distance, call for backup even,” she pointed out.

“I know, but that piece of shit Miklos has been hiding out for the last eight weeks. He’s our guy. He’s the one responsible for those seven murders, including that family of four. He killed Monica that night you were all working undercover in the club. The Feds fucked up the entire case and so did the state police. This fuck is going down. He’s a wanted felon, a cop killer, and he’s here. You’ve been wanting this asshole as much as I have.”

“I understand that, but we don’t know who’s in there. We should wait for backup. Hercules and the others should be here in five minutes.”

Frankie stared down into her eyes. “You want to wait, you wait, but I’m going in before we

lose Miklos and the others again.”

“Frankie, just hold on for another few minutes. I’m calling Jonathan.”

Frankie rolled his eyes. “You sure you’re not fucking him? You need him for every fucking move you make.” She shot Frankie a dirty look. She knew he was just jealous. Although she’d never done anything with Frankie, he still had a protectiveness over her and she thought an attraction since that night she went undercover and Monica was captured and killed. But she avoided that complication big time.

As she turned away from Frankie, she called Jonathan.

“You don’t move a muscle. I’ll have a team over there in ten minutes. There’s a SWAT in the area and Hercules and his men are on their way. Tell Frankie to get his shit together,” Jonathan told her over the phone.

“Fuck, we need to move. A car just pulled up,” Frankie said then moved forward.

“Frankie. Frankie, damn it, wait for backup,” she whispered hard.

“Lauren, you tell that partner of yours to sit tight.”

“Police. Freeze,” Frankie yelled out, gun drawn and pointing toward the car illuminated by the street light. Two men stood there, including the one they were looking for, Miklos.

She drew her weapon and backed Frankie up as Frankie approached.

“Cops. What the fuck?” one of them yelled out.

“Drop the phone and put your hands on the hood of the car,” Frankie gave the orders and no one moved.

Miklos looked so pompous as his eyes went from Frankie to her and then he winked. She got a bad feeling.

“No. You drop your weapon and place your hands on the car, pigs,” the guy spat back.

“Put your fucking hands on the car now,” Frankie yelled and was moving closer.

“Frankie,” she whispered, but he didn’t listen.

“Bad choice, cop.”

The sound of gunfire filled the night. Frankie fell to the ground, his gun going off and hitting one of the men. The others fired upon them and she started shooting, taking out two of the men and hitting Miklos in the shoulder. She needed cover as the car doors opened and more men got out. She was outnumbered as she ran for cover in one of the buildings. Pulling out her phone, she called for help. “Officer down. I repeat, officer down.” She rambled off the address and reported that shots were being fired upon her.

She stumbled over bodies, druggies out cold or high. She was shaking, her adrenaline beginning to kick in and overpower the fear. But still her body shook as she tripped and fell twice going up the dark stairway. The place reeked of vomit, shit, and garbage. She ran into one man, dirty smelling, clothing soaked in his own vomit. “Hey, baby.” She shoved him away and tried running despite the darkness and uneven flooring. She had nowhere to go.

“Where are you, copper? You’re going to die, bitch,” the gunmen taunted her in the darkness as she wedged herself between a closet and a doorway in the pitch black. The light from the streetlights caused a light glow in the room. She could barely make out the figures. One, two, three, maybe four men. Could she take them out? Could she take all of them?

“She’s in here. I smell her perfume,” one said.

Something crawled across her foot. She kicked at it and a gun went off. One of them shot at her. On instinct she fired as the bullet whizzed by her head, hitting the wood behind her. She heard the grunts. One, two, three, but the fourth was on her fast, striking her and dragging her from the closet.

They fought, hand to hand combat. He was bigger, stronger, and out of his mind. She couldn’t give up. She wouldn’t die out here in the middle of some crack house at the hands of gang members. She thought of Frankie and hoped he wasn’t dead. But he’d taken multiple shots to his body. She continued to fight but his strikes caused more damage as she lost her breath. She saw the gun, dove for it, and turned and shot as he jumped on top of her.

She couldn’t move. A gun went off. She felt the hit to her side. She shoved the body off of her and tried to scramble to her feet. Two more shots. She jerked as they hit her. She hoped the vest protected her but it hurt like a son of a bitch. She roared in anger. She wasn’t going to die here. She couldn’t die. Not like this.