The Strong Silent Type

“Think it’s the same ones who pulled the past four jobs?” she asked, slamming her hands back on the dashboard as Hawk made a razor-sharp left.

Horns blared at them from all directions, the sound blending in with the screeching of brakes.

He didn’t even appear to think about the question. For once, his answer was fired out. “Probably.”

Most people knew enough to quit while they were ahead, but those on the other side of the law were a special breed. The brains they were issued at birth weren’t the garden variety that enabled them to exercise restraint, to consider consequences instead of gains.

She shook her head as she saw scenery whiz by. Not a single red light had caught them. “I guess success makes you bold.”

Hawk was tempted to ask just what it was that had made her so bold and brassy, but he knew he’d probably get an answer several paragraphs longer than he was willing to bargain for. So he kept the question to himself, letting it die a natural death.

He wondered if she knew that he’d be willing to talk more if she talked less. Maybe it was just as well things went on this way. Talking led to places he wasn’t willing to go.

For the life of him, Hawk had no idea what the chief had been thinking, teaming them up like this. The man was her uncle, for God’s sake, he had to have a clue as to what she was like. For his part, Hawk came home every night, thinking about headache tablets and missing his old partner, a man who knew the value of silence and didn’t speak until he was spoken to. In three years he and Edmunds hadn’t exchanged as many words as were wont to fly out of Cavanaugh’s mouth in three hours.

He damned Edmunds for getting in harm’s way and then deciding the gunshot wound had been an omen that he’d used up his share of luck. Edmunds was now behind a desk, pushing a pen, which he found preferable to pushing up daisies, he said. The request for a desk job coincided with Cavanaugh’s partner retiring. From what he’d heard, it was her second retiree. Hell, he would have retired, too, if it meant finally getting a little peace and quiet—and putting a lid on this damn restlessness he felt inside.

Reaching his destination, Hawk abruptly brought the unmarked squad car to a halt in front of the building in question. They had beaten the uniforms getting here, but then he’d expected nothing less. That had been his intent all along.

The Wongs’ apartment, according to the terrified daughter who placed the call, was located on the second floor—2E. Hawk lost no time, jumping out of the vehicle and slamming the door in his wake. He didn’t bother to look over his shoulder to see if the blond, blue-eyed bane of his existence was behind him. There was no need. If he’d learned nothing else in the past nine months, it was that the woman stuck like glue.

Probably had something to do with the fact that the rest of her family was in law enforcement, he reasoned. She’d been raised teething on a night stick and obviously felt she had something to prove.

Well, not to him. The one thing he would have liked her to prove was that she had the brains most people were born with. That meant not rushing into the heart of danger every time it reared its ugly head.

That he did was another matter. After all, he was a man. Men were supposed to do this kind of thing. Besides, he hadn’t anything to lose. The way she talked, Cavanaugh loved life. That meant she had everything to lose.

He, on the other hand, had never loved life. He tolerated it, just as it tolerated him. As far as he was concerned, he and life were nothing more than less than friendly adversaries.

Ignoring the startled inquiry of the doorman, Hawk tore into the building and quickly took the stairs to the second floor. The echo of footsteps told him she was right behind him.

His eyes took in everything in one swift, sweeping glance. The stately hallway before apartment 2E looked ready for photographing. Peaceful, elegant, it seemed an unlikely setting for a home invasion. Which was just what made it ripe for one.

Motioning Teri to the left side of the wide door while he took the right, Hawk strained to hear the sounds of discord coming from inside the apartment. Just the faintest of whimpers seeped into the air. His eyes met Teri’s. She nodded, indicating that she’d heard it, as well.

Holding his fingers up, Hawk did a silent count to three, then spun and kicked open the door, his service revolver poised to fire at anything that moved. He yelled out, “Police!”

His voice swiftly drowned in the onslaught of screams, curses and confusion.

In a split second, Teri saw six people, two elderly, two middle-aged and two children, in various stages of terror, frozen in place. Their arms were raised above their heads and they were obviously the victims rather than perpetrators.

Two others were fleeing to the end of the apartment—toward the apartment’s fire escape, if she didn’t miss her guess.

“Freeze!” Hawk shouted, but neither of the two men did.

Instead, both men, small, agile and athletic, propelled themselves through the open window and were gone in less time than it took for the scene to register.

Hawk was in hot pursuit. “Stay here,” he tossed over his shoulder, expecting her to obey. He should have known better.

“And when the hell did you become the boss of me?” Teri asked. Half a step behind, she followed him up the fire escape to the roof where the robbers had gone less than a minute before.

Hawk didn’t bother answering her, knowing it was useless to waste the energy or the air. Instead, he was focused on the two burglars who moved with the speed of men who had done this kind of thing more than once before. He was convinced that these were the men who had been reported breaking into homes, terrorizing their marks before they made their escape.

Grasping the black, newly repainted railing, he swiftly made his way up.

Sick, sick people, he thought, having less regard for the men he was chasing than he would for a beetle that crossed his path.

If he could have gotten a clear shot, he would have tried to wound the one closest to him in the leg. But if he took the time to aim, they would get too far ahead of him and he wasn’t about to risk firing wildly. What went up came down if it didn’t find a target and there were innocent bystanders on the street watching this minidrama unfold.

Why didn’t they all go home and just let him do his job?

Reaching the roof, Teri scanned it from one end to the other, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. The area appeared almost eerily still. She’d expected to see the two robbers trying to make the daring leap from one roof to the other. Buildings in this part of the city were structured close together enough for the reckless to attempt a leap.

Nothing came but the sounds from the street below.

That and a pigeon circling around overhead, looking for somewhere to land.

And then suddenly, Teri saw the glint of sunlight hitting metal. It was coming from behind the raised skylight.

Her heart froze. They were going to shoot him. Instinct rather than cold observation kicked in and she shoved Hawk out of the way.

“Gun!” she yelled by way of a warning and an explanation as Hawk went down, uttering a very terse oath centered around her.

The second she got the word out, a volley of gunfire echoed in its wake.

Out in the open, exposed, Hawk quickly darted toward the roof’s entrance.

Teri fell in behind him, although not as quickly as he would have figured she would have. Ordinarily, the woman was like his unshakable shadow, always less than half a breath behind, more than likely usually half a breath ahead. Concern instantly reared its head. Why was she dragging like that?

Sending a hail of bullets in the direction of the skylight, attempting to keep the burglars pinned down, Hawk looked behind him toward Teri. Like as not, he figured she probably saved him from getting shot. He owed her and he always paid up what he owed.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

For a moment, she didn’t hear him. The gunfire and pain blotted almost everything else out. And there was this strange buzzing in her ears that came accompanied by volleys of heat. When his words finally managed to echo in her brain, she forced a smile to her lips.

“Too much paperwork involved when your partner dies on you.”

Cavanaugh’s voice was strained. Even over the gunfire he could hear it. Hawk looked at her again, more closely this time.

And saw the blood that stained her jacket.

A barrage of curses materialized in his head, masking the deep concern he felt. “Damn it, are you hurt?”

She forced a smile to her lips. Was that concern? Sure it was. Looked bad on your record, two partners getting shot in less than a year.

“Just ketchup,” she managed to quip. “I’m a sloppy eater.”

Damn it, she was cracking jokes when that scum had just shot her. Shot her with a bullet that had been meant for him. She could have been killed.