Hearts of Blue
Page 9
“Both of you need to back off. This is your last warning,” I shouted with authority. When neither of them heeded my advice, I started to approach. Somebody placed their hand on my shoulder, and I turned swiftly to find Tony standing there.
“Let me help,” he said, and I nodded, allowing him to go ahead of me. Grabbing one guy’s arm and twisting it behind his back, Tony managed to subdue him, while I went straight for the other man. Sliding my baton back in its holster, I pulled out my cuffs.
“Hands above your head,” I ordered, making the mistake of touching his shoulder. He interpreted it as a sign of aggression, too drunk to realise I was a police officer, and swung around. Luckily, I managed to duck quickly and avoid a blow. Seeing he’d missed his mark, he threw another punch, but I was faster. Sidestepping the hit, I grabbed his other arm and locked it firmly behind his back.
“You fucking bitch,” he slurred, struggling in my hold.
“Oi,” Tony shouted, seeing him resist me. “Do as the constable tells you.”
“Piss off!” the drunk spat as I slapped a pair of cuffs on him.
“Stop acting like a twat,” a bystander put in. It didn’t help matters.
The drunk man grew incensed and lunged for the bystander. I was momentarily distracted, and he slipped out of my hold. Still cuffed, he dove forward and head-butted the man, who threw his hands out in an effort to defend himself. A couple of people tried to break up the scuffle, but it only resulted in more fighting. Soon I was standing in the middle of a riot, and I couldn’t see Tony anywhere. My heart rate picked up, my palms growing sweaty. How the hell had things escalated this quickly?
Bodies seemed to be everywhere, and before I could react, somebody ran right into me. I caught myself before I fell, reached for my baton, and ordered several rioters to cease and desist. The thing was, there was one of me and dozens of them, and they completely ignored my instructions. I approached two men, both in their mid-twenties, my baton out. I shouted a warning, but neither of them listened, so I gave one of them a measured blow to the shin. He immediately turned on me.
“Get down on the ground,” I ordered at the same moment he grabbed for my baton. I levelled a kick to his abdomen and he bent over, knees hitting the tarmac. Just as I about to pull out my second pair of cuffs and arrest him, a glass bottle somebody had thrown came sailing through the air, hitting me right on the forehead.
“Shit,” I swore, growing dizzy, and saw the man crawl forward to steal my baton once more. Before he could get away, somebody slammed their foot down on his wrist and I heard a voice threaten, “Drop the stick and fuck off.”
Looking up, I saw Lee, but I was too busy trying to regain my composure to pay him much attention. A second later he was in front of me, his hands on my face. “Karla, are you okay?”
“I’m…I’m fine,” I said as he settled an arm around my waist and pulled me forward.
“No, you’re not. Come on, let me get you out of here. It’s not safe.”
The urge to protest almost bubbled out, but my head hurt too much to speak. Lee’s body heat sank into me, warming my bones. He kept glancing at me in concern as he led me away from the rioting. Seconds later I was standing in a narrow doorway as he crowded me in. I allowed my weight to rest against the wall while he pulled a napkin from his pocket and began dabbing at the cut on my forehead.
He muttered angrily to himself, but I was too out of it to properly listen to what he was saying.
“Where’s Tony?” I finally managed to ask in an unsteady voice.
Lee’s hand paused. “Lanky bastard? Didn’t see him.”
I tried to push him out of the way. “I need to go back and help.”
He stood firm, his hands bracing my shoulders. “You’re hurt. You won’t be any use. Now hold still and let me clean you up.”
I took a deep breath and went quiet. This was probably the closest we’d ever been, and I found myself studying his face. He was concentrating on dabbing the blood from my forehead, so I had a chance to properly take him in. God, he was handsome. There was a hardness to his features, and I felt a strange need to smooth my fingers over the crease between his eyebrows. It seemed like he worried for me, which made those butterflies begin to flutter once again.
My eyes traced the lines of his strong jaw, angled cheekbones, and masculine lips. Then I looked up and found him watching me study him. Those lips I’d just been staring at now curved into a smile. His body moved forward, his heat surrounding me, and against my own will I trembled.
“Oh, Snap, what are we gonna do?” he whispered right into my ear, and I flushed the second his breath hit my skin. The way his weight pressed on me wasn’t unpleasant.
The noise of people shouting and glass shattering rang out, but somehow Lee’s presence seemed to mute everything. All I could hear were his breaths and mine. All I could smell was his soap and cologne. His fingers came to my neck, but my collar was too high for him to be able to access much skin. Still, the parts of me that he was touching were on fire.
“Do you feel dizzy or sick?” he asked, and I shook my head. I’d had a concussion enough times in the past to know I didn’t have one then. Our gazes locked, and I wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed when he asked another question.
“How did you know where I lived?”
“What?”
“The other week you came by my house. How did you know where I lived?”
“Let me help,” he said, and I nodded, allowing him to go ahead of me. Grabbing one guy’s arm and twisting it behind his back, Tony managed to subdue him, while I went straight for the other man. Sliding my baton back in its holster, I pulled out my cuffs.
“Hands above your head,” I ordered, making the mistake of touching his shoulder. He interpreted it as a sign of aggression, too drunk to realise I was a police officer, and swung around. Luckily, I managed to duck quickly and avoid a blow. Seeing he’d missed his mark, he threw another punch, but I was faster. Sidestepping the hit, I grabbed his other arm and locked it firmly behind his back.
“You fucking bitch,” he slurred, struggling in my hold.
“Oi,” Tony shouted, seeing him resist me. “Do as the constable tells you.”
“Piss off!” the drunk spat as I slapped a pair of cuffs on him.
“Stop acting like a twat,” a bystander put in. It didn’t help matters.
The drunk man grew incensed and lunged for the bystander. I was momentarily distracted, and he slipped out of my hold. Still cuffed, he dove forward and head-butted the man, who threw his hands out in an effort to defend himself. A couple of people tried to break up the scuffle, but it only resulted in more fighting. Soon I was standing in the middle of a riot, and I couldn’t see Tony anywhere. My heart rate picked up, my palms growing sweaty. How the hell had things escalated this quickly?
Bodies seemed to be everywhere, and before I could react, somebody ran right into me. I caught myself before I fell, reached for my baton, and ordered several rioters to cease and desist. The thing was, there was one of me and dozens of them, and they completely ignored my instructions. I approached two men, both in their mid-twenties, my baton out. I shouted a warning, but neither of them listened, so I gave one of them a measured blow to the shin. He immediately turned on me.
“Get down on the ground,” I ordered at the same moment he grabbed for my baton. I levelled a kick to his abdomen and he bent over, knees hitting the tarmac. Just as I about to pull out my second pair of cuffs and arrest him, a glass bottle somebody had thrown came sailing through the air, hitting me right on the forehead.
“Shit,” I swore, growing dizzy, and saw the man crawl forward to steal my baton once more. Before he could get away, somebody slammed their foot down on his wrist and I heard a voice threaten, “Drop the stick and fuck off.”
Looking up, I saw Lee, but I was too busy trying to regain my composure to pay him much attention. A second later he was in front of me, his hands on my face. “Karla, are you okay?”
“I’m…I’m fine,” I said as he settled an arm around my waist and pulled me forward.
“No, you’re not. Come on, let me get you out of here. It’s not safe.”
The urge to protest almost bubbled out, but my head hurt too much to speak. Lee’s body heat sank into me, warming my bones. He kept glancing at me in concern as he led me away from the rioting. Seconds later I was standing in a narrow doorway as he crowded me in. I allowed my weight to rest against the wall while he pulled a napkin from his pocket and began dabbing at the cut on my forehead.
He muttered angrily to himself, but I was too out of it to properly listen to what he was saying.
“Where’s Tony?” I finally managed to ask in an unsteady voice.
Lee’s hand paused. “Lanky bastard? Didn’t see him.”
I tried to push him out of the way. “I need to go back and help.”
He stood firm, his hands bracing my shoulders. “You’re hurt. You won’t be any use. Now hold still and let me clean you up.”
I took a deep breath and went quiet. This was probably the closest we’d ever been, and I found myself studying his face. He was concentrating on dabbing the blood from my forehead, so I had a chance to properly take him in. God, he was handsome. There was a hardness to his features, and I felt a strange need to smooth my fingers over the crease between his eyebrows. It seemed like he worried for me, which made those butterflies begin to flutter once again.
My eyes traced the lines of his strong jaw, angled cheekbones, and masculine lips. Then I looked up and found him watching me study him. Those lips I’d just been staring at now curved into a smile. His body moved forward, his heat surrounding me, and against my own will I trembled.
“Oh, Snap, what are we gonna do?” he whispered right into my ear, and I flushed the second his breath hit my skin. The way his weight pressed on me wasn’t unpleasant.
The noise of people shouting and glass shattering rang out, but somehow Lee’s presence seemed to mute everything. All I could hear were his breaths and mine. All I could smell was his soap and cologne. His fingers came to my neck, but my collar was too high for him to be able to access much skin. Still, the parts of me that he was touching were on fire.
“Do you feel dizzy or sick?” he asked, and I shook my head. I’d had a concussion enough times in the past to know I didn’t have one then. Our gazes locked, and I wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed when he asked another question.
“How did you know where I lived?”
“What?”
“The other week you came by my house. How did you know where I lived?”
