Free Taming Johnny by Kaylie Newell Page A

streets down, he slowed, the centrifugal force sending her shooting forward and the seatbelt biting into her neck. He hung a left and for a second she pictured the cruiser toppling onto its side and sliding into the ditch by the side of the road. But amazingly the tires gripped the pavement and they made the corner with nothing more than the slight whine of rubber on asphalt.
    She was afraid to speak, let alone ask any questions. She’d heard the word “gun” and that about summed it up for her. Maybe she’d take him up on that vest after all.
    The dispatcher spoke calmly through the radio and she tried in vain to make out what was happening through the numeric code they used. She got about half of it. Enough to wish she’d chosen another night to ride.
    As they neared River Front Avenue, she could hear sirens wail in the distance. They were the first on scene. Johnny cued the mic on his shoulder. “Four Baker Eight.”
    “Four Baker Eight, go ahead.”
    “I have a civilian rider. I’ll be staging a block away.”
    “Copy.”
    Pulling the car up to the curb, Johnny shoved it into park and looked over at Emma. “You okay?”
    She loosened her grasp on the seat and wiggled her numb fingers. “Just a little nervous, I guess.”
    Reaching behind her, he retrieved the rifle hanging in the back window. “Don’t get out for any reason. None at all. Got it?”
    She nodded.
    “If you have to, you know how to use the radio. But everything will be fine.”
    She nodded again.
    “Hey.”
    She felt her eyes bulging. “Huh?”
    “Relax.”
    He looked confident, formidable with the rifle in his hands. He also looked drop dead gorgeous. She summoned some confidence of her own. “Okay.”
    Opening the door, he swung his legs out.
    “Be careful,” she said.
     

Chapter 9
     
    The minutes seemed to stretch on for hours, with Emma constantly craning her neck to try and catch a glimpse of what was going on inside the market. The radio was no good—the only thing coming from it was the emergency beacon, letting other officers know to hold their traffic until the officers on this call were clear.
    Wiping her hopelessly sweaty palms on her slacks, she pictured Johnny as he jogged off down the sidewalk in the light of the streetlamps. He’d looked so in control, so unafraid. It made her wonder if he feared anything. A man who had completed three tours of duty in Iraq and made it through in one piece had to be hardwired with a certain amount of bravery. Or maybe it was just stupidity, a way of thumbing his nose at fate. She wasn’t sure yet.
    Finally, after half an hour of waiting, Emma caught sight of him walking back toward the cruiser. He cued the mic on his shoulder. “Four Baker Eight,” she heard him say through the radio. “Code four.”
    For the second time that night she sagged in her seat. No more ride-alongs. This was too much of a roller coaster. She’d leave the adventure to the lieutenant.
    “Hey,” he said, opening the door. “You okay?”
    “I’m okay. Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine.” He gave her a slightly amused look, like he wasn’t used to being asked that particular question. “Turned out the gun wasn’t loaded. The guy was stoned out of his mind. County took him in. Made for an interesting evening. You?”
    “Oh, I just sat here, afraid you were going to get your head blown off. Other than that, it was great.”
    She leaned forward so he could hang the rifle back in the window.
    “You don’t have to worry about me, Beaumont. I can take care of myself.”
    “Well, of course you can take care of yourself. But there are some things that are out of your control.”
    “Not much.”
    Typical. He was so cocky. “Don’t you believe in fate?” she asked. “Destiny?”
    “As in, ‘I’m destined to get shot’?”
    “No.” She frowned. “As in you’re destined to be in a certain place at a certain time. That people or circumstances are put in your path for a reason.”
    Reaching for his