If You Say So (KPD Motorcycle Patrol 6)

At least, that was what I was telling myself as I pulled around to the back.

However, before I could get into the lot, three young kids practically ran out in front of me.

I hadn’t been going too fast, but I’d been going fast enough that I had very few choices on how to proceed.

I either allowed myself to run into the teenagers—which would be another media circus seeing as there were cameras everywhere—or I lay the bike down and hope that it went far enough in the opposite direction that it didn’t hurt the kids.

I laid the bike down.

Jonah, who’d had a bit more warning since he was on the outside, was able to get into the parking lot before my bike hit him.

The kids screamed and jumped.

I, on the other hand, hit the pavement hard.

My body that was still healing protested the new hurt as I hit the ground hard.

Luckily my helmet did its job, protecting my head.

As did my uniform.

However, my elbows didn’t fare quite as well.

Neither did my forearms.

But, when I finally came to a stop on my back resting against the curb with the teenagers all now pointing their phone at my face and laughing, I didn’t fucking care.

I laid there for a few seconds, getting my bearings.

And Jonah used those few seconds to get off his bike and practically shove all three kids onto the ground as he got them away from me.

They fell like a stack of dominos, and I would’ve laughed had I not been hurting.

“Fuck, man,” Jonah said, sounding frantic. “You okay?”

I gave him a thumb up.

“I now know why the uniform is so ridiculously hot,” I admitted. “Because it’s thick, and meant to protect you.”

“Did it?” Jonah asked, offering me his hand.

I took it and came to my feet, instantly feeling the rush of blood running down my forearms to drip down onto the concrete.

Suddenly there were even more people surrounding us, quite a few of those people shoving cameras in both mine and Jonah’s faces.

“We saw what you did to those kids!” a man shouted. “We got it all on video!”

Jonah didn’t look like he gave one single shit what the man did or didn’t have.

“How about you take that video camera and shove it up your fat—” Jonah started.

But I slammed my hand down onto Jonah’s shoulder, momentarily startling him.

“Help me get this bike up and out of the road,” I ordered, hoping that he would let it go.

He did.

But barely.

Before Jonah or I could get the bike up, though, people started to surround us. Most of those people being teenagers and young adults that were incensed over something we had no clue about.

“What the fuck is going on?” I asked under my breath.

Jonah shook his head. “No fucking clue.”

He helped me stand the bike up between shoving people away from him, and I pushed it into the parking lot into the space that it normally occupied.

I studied the bike, thinking that despite laying it down, it didn’t look too worse for wear.

“Fucking morons,” Jonah muttered, parking his bike beside mine.

Secretly, I agreed.

But I didn’t voice my opinions. To do so would incite the group that had now flooded into the back parking lot.

“Let’s go inside,” I ordered.

“Need to get the gate closed,” Jonah muttered.

I agreed, but without more manpower, it wasn’t going to happen.

I had a lot of confidence in my abilities, but there were about thirty-five or so teens back here.

Some of them were slamming their hands down onto the police cars, while there were a few brave souls that were actually standing on one.

Honestly, I thought they needed to go, too, but I didn’t want to risk my life to get them gone.

I was contemplating what I was going to do when two armored vehicles rolled in and parked. One at the front of the lot, and one at the back.

They had to dodge some teens on their way, but they didn’t stop or slow.

They just drove, knowing that the teens would move or be hit.

All of the teens chose to move.

They did, however, crowd the two vehicles, rocking them back and forth as they began to do their ‘peaceful’ protesting of whatever they were objecting.

The back doors were suddenly kicked open on the closest vehicle.

A red-headed older man decked out in Kevlar and tactical pants stepped out, causing Jonah to breathe a sigh of relief.

“That’s my brother, Downy,” he mumbled. “It’s the SWAT team.”

I watched as the teens around us forgot all about us in order to go to the crowd that was quickly growing around the two vehicles.

“Time to go, children,” Downy drawled, sounding jovial despite the hostile teens that surrounded him.

“We’re not going anywhere!” a young boy spoke up. “You can’t make us.”

“I can,” Downy disagreed. “But I’m hoping I won’t have to.”

“You can’t make us do anything,” a stupidly brave young girl pointed her finger at Downy’s chest.