Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
I cuff the other guy’s wrist and then stand up, breathing hard as chaos ensues all around me.
I spot a biker waving a knife at another biker, so I rush over, pushing two guys out of the way as I go.
“Freeze!” I shout as I pull out my taser. “Drop the knife.”
He growls as he turns to me, swinging the deadly knife around. When he takes a step toward me, I shoot him with the taser, dropping him. He shakes and seizes up as he hits the pavement, but before I can cuff him, someone grabs me in a headlock from behind.
“Fuck,” I grunt as he squeezes my neck and whips me around. I grab his leg, lift him up, and slam him onto the pavement. I learned that move in police training.
But it’s not enough. He holds on through the impact, squeezing my neck with an iron grip.
A siren rings out and I’m happy that we’re going to have some backup until I realize it’s not a cop siren. It’s the firefighters.
I’m starting to get lightheaded as he continues squeezing my neck. I’m pulling his arm with all my might, which is allowing a little bit of air to get through, but it won’t keep me awake for long. I don’t have much leverage from this angle.
I see the firetruck rolling into the parking lot as the edges of my vision begin to blur.
There are people fighting all around me. I have no idea where Henry or Emmanuel are. I have seconds until I pass out.
Then I see him.
Graham West leaps off the firetruck and runs over. He pushes someone out of his way, sending them flying onto their ass as he comes for me.
He slams his fist into the man holding my neck, landing four hard punches. The arm goes loose around my neck and I yank it off, taking a deep breath of sweet glorious air.
“Thank you,” I say as I look up at him, my voice as hoarse as a three-pack-a-day smoker.
His sexy eyes linger on me so he doesn’t notice the guy approaching behind him. The biker punches Graham in the back of the head and then grabs his neck.
I lunge forward and crack the biker right in the nose, sending him flying backward. I rush over as he lands and punch him two more times before turning him onto his stomach and pulling out my second, and last, pair of handcuffs.
“You’re under arrest, you prick.”
I look around and most of the guys are fleeing on their motorcycles. Emmanuel has about eight or nine men tied up with zip ties. Henry is watching them as Emmanuel grabs another biker by his leather vest and yanks him back.
James, the tattooed fireman, has his fists up and is fighting three guys at once. I run over to help him, but Graham grabs my arm.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “You’re bleeding.”
I feel the hot blood from my temple dripping down my cheek. I didn’t realize I was injured until he said it. But there’s no time to focus on that now.
“I have to help James.”
I turn to rush over, but Graham doesn’t let go. “He’s fine.”
“He’s fighting three guys!”
Now two. Now one.
He drops all three of them easily with quick surgical punches and fierce devastating kicks.
The parking lot empties out really fast now that us cops are getting the upper hand thanks to the firemen.
The prick who sucker punched me tries to run away with his hands handcuffed behind his back, but Graham grabs him by the hair and yanks him back. He falls to the ground at my feet and kicks my leg.
“Don’t touch her,” Graham hisses, about to crack him in the nose.
I step in and stop him. “He’s under arrest,” I say, grabbing the guy’s arm. “And he’s under my protection.”
I drag him over to the group of other guys heading to the county jail as Marv comes out of the bar. He’s older than I thought he’d be with gray hair and a limp.
“It’s not even Fight Night,” Henry says as Marv limps over. “What happened?”
“Some shit disturbers from out of town,” Marv says, glaring at one of them on the ground. “Started a brawl with the local guys. Hope you don’t mind that I called the fire department. Thought you guys could use James’ help.”
“Let me clean that gash for you in my truck,” Graham says in a low voice as he steps beside me.
“I’m working,” I say, walking over to join my fellow officers.
Henry is still breathing heavily and bleeding from a cut on his swollen lip, but Emmanuel doesn’t look injured or tired at all.
“Where are we going to bring these guys?” I ask them. “We don’t have the transportation or room at the police station to hold them all.”
“We’ll just make sure they don’t come back,” Emmanuel says as he glares at the group of guys sitting on the pavement with their hands bound behind their backs.