Free Sheriff (The Police Trilogy, #3) by Alexis Shore Page B

to be part of the official report, at least, not for the time being.
    “I’ll write it up, don’t you worry,” she said, affecting a playful tone and a flirtatious manner.
    It seemed to do the trick, and he moved off to start interviewing civilians.
    Eve waited a while, and when she was sure no eyes were on the alleyway, she walked down into it and started to look around.
    There didn’t seem to be any sign the Strike Team had been here, let alone cuffed gang members. As far as she could see, there were no spent cartridges, and the only sign of any gunfire was the slumped corpse. The Crime Scene guys would be here soon, and she was sure they would find as much as she could see.
    That is, nothing.
    It didn’t make sense that the team had bolted with their prisoners either. Surely they would just be an encumbrance, something to slow them down. She shivered at the thought of what they might have planned for those goons, and she just hoped that Brandon could reign in their wrath.

Two
    “H oo boy,” Conrad called into the air, the adrenaline clearly rushing through his body.
    Brandon couldn’t let himself feel the same kind of elation. The cuffed goons tossed in the back of the SUV were a portent of something to come, he was sure of it.
    Conrad lurched the vehicle around the corner, and the whole Strike Team leaned with the turn. Brandon heard the oof noise as the goons in back were tossed into the side of the wheel arch. They knew enough not to complain vocally though.
    “Who the fuck was the IA badge?” Brandon said, affecting an outrage he didn’t feel.
    Relief, that was all he felt, relief that she was safe.
    “And what was she doing there?” he added, even more irked.
    “You heard her,” Conrad said, smiling, just pleased to be alive. “She responded.”
    “Since when do IA get our backs?”
    “Since today son,” Conrad replied firmly.
    Brandon sank into a feigned sulk, and made sure Conrad saw it. He was pretty sure the point had been made, and that Conrad had bought his indignation. But he was equally sure that the same nagging doubts were gnawing away in Conrad’s head, and to vocalise them so they could be dismissed seemed like good policy.
    There was no good reason why Eve should have been there.
    Brandon was just thankful that she was.
    She’d saved his life; and he’d returned the favour.
    And that kiss.
    Brandon revelled in the memory for as long as he dared, then shook the thought from his mind, focussing now on the journey they were taking. He needed to be sure of their final location, and he kept pretty good track of each turn they made, each doubling back they took, and each blind diversion Conrad affected.
    When the car finally pulled to a halt, Brandon knew exactly where they were.
    The whole team climbed down from the massive silver SUV, its paintwork shining and chrome finish glinting in the midday sun.
    Brandon realised he may at last be about to get something on these slippery bastards. Every punch, every choke hold, every violent outburst would be caught on the microphone taped to his chest; and then his mission would be over – that would be enough to shut down the team and see these men thrown off the force, at the very least.
    Conrad moved to the rear door and opened it upwards, reaching in and roughly grabbing one of the goons by the collar, yanking him out and onto his feet.
    They squared up, the cop a good foot taller than the criminal, who eyed him from below with a steel like glare. Conrad’s jaw twitched, and suddenly he span the goon round and slammed him forward so his face was on the floor of the truck.
    Brandon stepped closer, ready to capture the beating on tape.
    He heard the click of metal, and the familiar clatter of cuffs being removed.
    A smile turned up the side of his mouth as Brandon realised that Conrad was about to give the goon a fighting chance, before all of the team descended on him in a flurry of fists and boots.
    Conrad hauled the man back upright, and