cold too fast for his liking.
“Good old Herman was accredited for twenty-seven murders, but they think there were a lot more.” He stroked his member until he was ready. “I want to beat that number. That really turns me on. To be known for such atrocities does wonders for the self-esteem. Counting you, I now have seven deaths at my hand. Seven, count them.”
He leaned in closer, ready for her now.
“I should reach ten before I do the rest in one explosion. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? One big bang, just like how the Earth started. One big bang and twenty or thirty people will be executed at once. Maybe more, if I can pack them in.”
He touched her cool skin with his member.
“Just like right now. One big bang and you’re done.” He laughed. “I’ll be done, too.”
As he entered her corpse, the snake rattled its cage in the corner.
Chapter 11
The deafening report of Miles’ gun beside Sarah’s face didn’t slow her down. Her right hand shoved the slide back and clicked the slide stop into position all in one fluid motion. The gun was immobilized.
Sarah snapped down at the base of Miles’ forearm and twisted his wrist back as far as it would go.
He yelped at the sudden sharp pain and his grip opened.
In her peripheral vision, she picked up movement behind Miles. His friends were moving in.
The M1911 dropped out of his hand and into hers. With her butt still firmly planted on the hood of the car, she kicked him away with her good foot, dropped the slide stop back into place, slipped her finger inside the trigger guard, aimed and fired.
The first bullet went wide. She fired again, hitting face-tattoo man in the calf. Miles made a break for the bushes.
“Freeze,” Sarah shouted.
She fired twice into the pavement by his feet which stopped him, his hands in the air.
A car squealed to a stop nearby. Doors opened.
“Drop the weapon!” someone shouted behind her.
“Identify yourselves,” Sarah yelled back without taking her eyes off Miles.
Someone whispered, “You gotta be kidding me.”
“We’re the Los Angeles Police. Drop the fucking weapon. Now!”
The third gangbanger had disappeared in the bushes. Miles faced away with his hands up. His tattooed friend writhed on the ground holding his leg, a tight expression of pain on his face.
Sarah released the handle of the gun and let it dangle with her finger inside the trigger guard. Then she lowered it slowly and let it go when it was a foot from the pavement.
The cops moved in fast. One of the officers kicked the gun under Parkman’s rental. He grabbed Sarah from behind and yanked her arms back.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the cop yelled in her ear. “You just shot that guy in the leg.”
“Officer,” Parkman said. “Take it easy. That’s not how it happened.”
The cop turned around. “Stay back there. By the car door. You’ll get your turn. Keep your hands in the air.”
More cruisers pulled in. Two other cops cuffed Miles’ wrists. He cried out when they grabbed the wrist Sarah had wrenched. Two paramedics ran for the guy on the ground.
The cop picked up Sarah’s crutch and helped her to her feet. He attempted to support her, but with her hands cuffed behind her back and no weight on the crutch, she leaned into him too much.
“Shit,” Sarah said. “This isn’t going to work—”
As she started to fall, the cop stepped away. All she could think to do was protect her broken ankle. She lifted it high in the second it took to smash her right shoulder into the cement. The grunt that escaped her lips couldn’t be helped. The wind was knocked from her lungs. As she coughed and struggled to breathe again, Vicky stepped into view, a smile from ear to ear on her face.
“How does it feel?” she asked.
Sarah’s response was another cough.
“I’m Officer Vicky Chard.”
“Good old Herman was accredited for twenty-seven murders, but they think there were a lot more.” He stroked his member until he was ready. “I want to beat that number. That really turns me on. To be known for such atrocities does wonders for the self-esteem. Counting you, I now have seven deaths at my hand. Seven, count them.”
He leaned in closer, ready for her now.
“I should reach ten before I do the rest in one explosion. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? One big bang, just like how the Earth started. One big bang and twenty or thirty people will be executed at once. Maybe more, if I can pack them in.”
He touched her cool skin with his member.
“Just like right now. One big bang and you’re done.” He laughed. “I’ll be done, too.”
As he entered her corpse, the snake rattled its cage in the corner.
Chapter 11
The deafening report of Miles’ gun beside Sarah’s face didn’t slow her down. Her right hand shoved the slide back and clicked the slide stop into position all in one fluid motion. The gun was immobilized.
Sarah snapped down at the base of Miles’ forearm and twisted his wrist back as far as it would go.
He yelped at the sudden sharp pain and his grip opened.
In her peripheral vision, she picked up movement behind Miles. His friends were moving in.
The M1911 dropped out of his hand and into hers. With her butt still firmly planted on the hood of the car, she kicked him away with her good foot, dropped the slide stop back into place, slipped her finger inside the trigger guard, aimed and fired.
The first bullet went wide. She fired again, hitting face-tattoo man in the calf. Miles made a break for the bushes.
“Freeze,” Sarah shouted.
She fired twice into the pavement by his feet which stopped him, his hands in the air.
A car squealed to a stop nearby. Doors opened.
“Drop the weapon!” someone shouted behind her.
“Identify yourselves,” Sarah yelled back without taking her eyes off Miles.
Someone whispered, “You gotta be kidding me.”
“We’re the Los Angeles Police. Drop the fucking weapon. Now!”
The third gangbanger had disappeared in the bushes. Miles faced away with his hands up. His tattooed friend writhed on the ground holding his leg, a tight expression of pain on his face.
Sarah released the handle of the gun and let it dangle with her finger inside the trigger guard. Then she lowered it slowly and let it go when it was a foot from the pavement.
The cops moved in fast. One of the officers kicked the gun under Parkman’s rental. He grabbed Sarah from behind and yanked her arms back.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the cop yelled in her ear. “You just shot that guy in the leg.”
“Officer,” Parkman said. “Take it easy. That’s not how it happened.”
The cop turned around. “Stay back there. By the car door. You’ll get your turn. Keep your hands in the air.”
More cruisers pulled in. Two other cops cuffed Miles’ wrists. He cried out when they grabbed the wrist Sarah had wrenched. Two paramedics ran for the guy on the ground.
The cop picked up Sarah’s crutch and helped her to her feet. He attempted to support her, but with her hands cuffed behind her back and no weight on the crutch, she leaned into him too much.
“Shit,” Sarah said. “This isn’t going to work—”
As she started to fall, the cop stepped away. All she could think to do was protect her broken ankle. She lifted it high in the second it took to smash her right shoulder into the cement. The grunt that escaped her lips couldn’t be helped. The wind was knocked from her lungs. As she coughed and struggled to breathe again, Vicky stepped into view, a smile from ear to ear on her face.
“How does it feel?” she asked.
Sarah’s response was another cough.
“I’m Officer Vicky Chard.”
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