not going to cower here. This is the second attempt on my life today, and that shooter might have information about why it’s happening.”
She had a compelling argument. But it seemed foolhardy to run into danger, though it was still early evening and the streets crowded. A sniper would certainly be in retreat, and she made a good point about being able to spot him.
He ran a hand across his face and groaned. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
“Of course not. Make the call on the way if you have to. Let’s go.” Without waiting for his assent, she clapped him on the shoulder and ran in a crouch past the remaining front windows. When she reached the door, she scanned the roofs of the nearby buildings, then took off outside. Noel scrambled after her, trying not to show the shock he felt at her audacity. What made her think she could take on a sniper?
For that matter, how had she gotten away from all those gunmen who’d come after her less than two hours ago at her apartment building? And how was she keeping her cool so well? There was more to Yasmine Browder than he remembered. Something had happened to turn his delicate and shy but sarcastic childhood friend into a woman of strength and confidence.
When he stepped out of the restaurant, he saw Yasmine weaving between people on the sidewalk, heading away from the police station. He was loath to leave the crime scene, but there were many eyewitnesses inside who could explain what they’d seen. And when the police finally caught up with him and Yasmine...well, flashing the shield was inevitable at this point.
“Black!” she called him, gesturing while looking down the street. “This way.” He noticed she took care to position herself near garbage cans and mailboxes along the block as she went. She’d learned how to seek cover, how to make herself less of a target. And she claimed not to know anything about these people after her? Believing that was becoming more and more difficult.
He caught up to her. “Don’t run off like that. If we’re going to find this guy, we need to stick together.”
“Yeah, well, if I hadn’t waited for your go-ahead, I’d have him already. The delay cost us. He’s probably long gone.” Her glance at him was not friendly. “I thought Feds were trained to protect the public from danger, not sit around and wait for local PD to think about maybe doing something.”
He felt his hackles rise at the insult. “Listen, Yasmine, I don’t know what makes you think you can—”
“There!” She pointed down the sidewalk, two blocks away. A man with a large black backpack had just crossed the street. There was nothing otherwise incriminating about him, but the moment Noel saw the man’s profile, his newly honed instincts kicked in.
There was something off about that guy, and Yasmine had found him before Noel did. Some new Fed he was turning out to be.
“Come on, Black.” Yasmine began walking quickly down the sidewalk. Noel followed close behind, keeping one hand on his sidearm, but at this distance he noticed again that she favored her left leg. It didn’t seem to slow her down, though, and they started to gain on the man.
Noel tried to memorize a description of the individual as they drew closer. Dark clothing, close-cut dark hair, small ears, sharp nose. The backpack was black and had no logo, and if a shooter had the dexterity to take a shot and disassemble his weapon quickly, it would fit inside the main compartment of the bag.
The man approached the next intersection as the light turned red. Noel and Yasmine were only half a block away. Noel gripped the handle of his sidearm, ready to act. They’d reach the man in a matter of seconds.
The man looked to his left and right as he waited. And then over his shoulder. He locked eyes with Noel and, in an instant, shifted from person of interest to suspect.
The man took off, dodging oncoming cars as he sprinted across the road. Horns blared and onlookers shouted in surprise, and of course Yasmine was right behind, taking advantage of the braking cars to weave the same path. Adrenaline shot through Noel’s system as he drew his gun and raced after both of them.
“Stop, FBI!” His shout only spurred the suspect on. In a burst of speed, the man continued down the sidewalk, pushing people out of the way. Noel ached to stop and help them, to make sure they were okay, but if the runner was also the shooter, he’d do far greater good by catching the man and bringing him in.
“This way,” Yasmine said suddenly, grabbing Noel’s arm and pulling him off course.
“What are you doing?” Noel growled at her, but their momentum had already been redirected as she led them down an alley behind a building. Their path, unimpeded by passersby or sidewalk signage, brought them to the other side of the block. They emerged from the alley moments before the suspect turned the corner, looking back over his shoulder for his pursuers.
With practiced efficiency, Yasmine grabbed the man’s shoulder and pushed him to the ground, twisting his arm behind his back. He tried to rise, but Yasmine managed to grip his other arm and hold them both in place.
“Get off!” The man shouted. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Noel said, training his gun on the struggling suspect. He really needed to find out how Yasmine had learned that move, too. He leaned over and carefully, with Yasmine’s help, pulled off the man’s backpack. The man groaned in pain as Yasmine held him in place. “I don’t want to hurt you, sir, but I am armed and authorized to use lethal force if necessary.”
“Get her off me, man. She’s going to break my arm.”
“You’ll be fine,” Yasmine muttered. “It’ll just hurt for a few days.”
But the last thing Noel needed on his first day as an official special agent was an assault charge on his hands. He kept his firearm trained on the man and waved the backpack. “Yasmine, I’m throwing this to you. Release his arms. He’s not going anywhere. Right?”
“Whatever,” muttered the man.
Yasmine released her hold, and Noel tossed her the backpack. She unzipped it and looked inside, then nodded at him. The gun was there. They had the sniper.
“Who sent you?” Yasmine looked angry enough to rival any FBI interrogator. “Why are you shooting at me? Who shot up my apartment?”
The man on the ground flipped onto his back, looked up at her and grinned. His jaw tensed as though he’d bitten down on something, and a shiver ran down Noel’s spine. Something about this wasn’t right...
Suddenly the man’s eyes rolled up, and he began to convulse.
“Yasmine, get back!” Noel reached for her and pulled her next to him, stepping away from the suspect.
Foam rose from between the man’s lips as he shook. Then, as quickly as it started, it was over. The man didn’t move. His eyes were open and glazed, lifeless. Horror seeped into Noel’s insides as he considered the meaning of the man’s seizure. He stepped up to the body and knelt, pressing his fingers against the side of the man’s throat. No pulse.
“What just happened?” Yasmine stared at the man on the ground. “We had him. We had him and he was going to tell me why I’ve been used for target practice today.”
Noel shook his head and stepped back. “No, he wasn’t.”
Yasmine
