Free The Betrayed by David Hosp

accident.” He pointed to the yellow lettering on his own vest. “See? This makes clear which team you’re on. And like you said, we’re better off going in with a strong message.” Cassian picked up the other vest and held it out to his partner. Train could be stubborn, he knew, but he generally gave in to reason.
    The huge man rolled his eyes as he slipped off his suit jacket. It was a struggle for him to get the vest around his frame, and once it was on it looked comical, the protective padding covering only a small portion of his chest. It was all Cassian could do to suppress a smile.
    “Don’t fuckin’ start with me,” Train warned his partner, sensing the younger man’s amusement without even looking up.
    “What? You look great,” Cassian deadpanned. “I’m sure it covers part of your heart, at least.” He caught Train’s glare, but looked down at his watch to avoid eye contact. His face became serious. He looked over at the two remaining officers, who were similarly clad in protective gear. “It’s time,” he said. “You boys ready?” He could feel the tension in all of them. As a cop, there were few things more dangerous than walking into a crack house. There was always the very real possibility that one of them might not walk back out alive. It was one of the things about the job that had taken Cassian a while to get used to, and as he snapped his spare gun into his ankle holster, his mind went to his brother. Then he looked up at Train. “You good to go?” he asked.
    Train picked up the shotgun, which he’d rested on the hood of the car as he pulled on his vest. He pumped a round into the chamber. “Let’s get this over with,” he said.

Chapter Eleve n
    T RAIN COULD FEEL HIS HEART beating as he and Cassian came up the street from the east. Minnelli and Jackson simultaneously hurried in from the west, the two cars converging directly in front of the derelict house. The approach allowed them to get a good look at the entire block to scope out any hidden dan gers. The street was quiet, though, and they exited their cars quickly.
    All four of them ran silently up the front steps and fanned out on either side of the door. Train held up his hand, counting to three with his fingers, and on signal Jackson stepped in front of the door and kicked in the decaying portal.
    “Police!” Train shouted. “Everyone down on the ground!”
    The interior of the house was dark, and it reeked of sweat and sex and despair. There were five people in the main room, lounging in various states of drug-induced stupor. Two of them—a young man and an older-looking woman—were fully unconscious, splayed out on the floor in a corner of the room on top of each other, bare from the waist down. The other three—two teenage girls and a man who looked to be in his early twenties—were reclining on a torn, stained sofa in the middle of the room. They looked up in confusion. One of the girls cracked a nervous smile and covered her face bashfully.
    “Down!” Cassian shouted at the three on the couch, pointing his gun at them. “Get down on the floor!”
    The three addicts continued to stare at the officers. The young man’s mouth worked back and forth involuntarily.
    “Down!” Minnelli, the youngest of the officers, shouted again, getting frustrated. “On the ground!” He reached out and grabbed the man by the back of the neck, pulling him forward and forcing him down on the ground. The physical contact seemed to break the spell.
    “Hey!” the young man protested. “Fuck! Get off!”
    “What are you doing!” one of the girls shouted. “Lay off him!”
    “You too, girls, down on the ground,” Train said loudly. His voice was more controlled, but he held the shotgun at attention. Both girls on the sofa looked at each other and moved slowly onto the floor.
    “Fuckin’ cops,” one of them muttered.
    Once they had the three addicts on the floor, Train looked up at the other officers, who had done a quick