Free Only Love by Victoria H. Smith, Raven St. Pierre Page B

tailing. We headed down a back alleyway with them, and I knew for sure we were off course for the day.
    I cut a look to Don, sighing a little. “Maybe we should just let this one go.”
    Yeah, their music was loud, but my partner needed to keep his cool these days, lie low and not make waves on tiny details. Our precinct was under the public eye again after a case we all thought went cold when Manuel Lopez was put away. He was under the public eye again. Don could be hot headed, but he couldn’t let that rule his actions. Not now. Just not now . We had no idea what we were dealing with in regards to the Lopez case, but if the nightly news meant anything, we had reason to take the reopening of it seriously. Representative Garcia was letting it be well known the family had his support, and it was only a matter of time before the details of that day would be highly scrutinized. If not more than it was before. IA would be asking Don questions soon about the events, and myself by association. I had been there that day, a detail that had followed me every day since.
    This man today and the volume of his music was not a pressing issue, could be overlooked, and if I’d been by myself, I would have given the guy a break. But I was with my partner, and as we continued to follow the vehicle, I honestly didn’t know if he was pursuing out of the obligations of his job or something else entirely. That worried me.
    Don flashed our lights and gave a quick chirp to the car’s siren, my words all but ignored. He slowed down to the speed of the car ahead of us. “Won’t take but a second, kid.”
    A second. Lots of things happened in seconds, careless acts and poor choices, and this felt like it could be one of them. I watched anxiously as he got out of the car. He had his hands on his hips, close to his belt loops, and I noticed his right hand. He had it awfully close to his gun holster, unnecessarily so, and when he stopped in front of the car and settled his hand on top of it, my mental fear came to fruition.
    He was using the position of his hand to intimidate, and I didn’t like that. Not at all.
    The driver rolled down his tinted window, and Don leaned forward, looking inside. The loud music softened and I could only assume the two were talking. I couldn’t hear a word he said at my position, but I was on edge. It felt, for some reason, like I was waiting for something to happen and not knowing what that something was didn’t sit well with me.
    I worked my hands in my lap until my anxiety became too much and I moved one of them, edging back to my own holster. If I had to act, I would, point a gun to talk someone down. It scared the hell out of me that I didn’t know who that person would be.
    Suddenly, my partner rose up his tall frame and he removed his hand from his gun. He turned toward me. Lifting his hand, he gestured me over with his fingers, and that action brought down the previous intensity rolling around in my chest like an angry wave of fire. Don looked nothing but calm. He wasn’t going to do anything.
    I lowered my hand from my own holster and to the door handle, stepping outside. He met me as I just cleared the hood of our car to his side. He had the man’s license in his hand. “I’m going to run his license,” he said, palming it. “Keep an eye on the two.”
    I nodded without question, heading over to the vehicle. I didn’t know what probable cause made him want to run the license, but I didn’t ask. That would be disrespectful, and I trusted Don’s judgment. I got over to the driver window of the car and bent to say good day to him. I did, and noticed immediately he was a kid. He was barely twenty, if that, and had an even younger guy in the seat next to him. The two looked like they were playing thug for sure. All tatted up, they had an anger in their eyes that maybe saw hardship, but fortunately nothing more than that. I knew that look. Saw it every day on the streets and at the precinct, and what