Cuffed Up Again
Twenty Minutes Later
Santos eyes were slowly opening, her head pounding like a construction site jackhammer trying to crack through her skull. She tried to move her hands and felt cold metal around her wrists.
Santos: Handcuffed. Again.
But this time it wasn’t fun. This time it wasn’t Ramirez’s and his skilled tongue.
This time she was cuffed to a stair railing in what looked like an under-construction building, and her phone was gone from her pocket.
Santos: “Henderson… you son of a—”
Henderson: “Sorry about the head, Officer Santos. But you and that detective boyfriend of yours have been making my life very difficult. I figured it was time to return the favor.”
Santos pulled against the handcuffs, testing their strength. They were Standard issue her own, taken from her belt after he’d knocked her out.
Santos: “That detective is not my boyfriend. And whatever you think you’re doing, Henderson, you’re just making things worser for yourself.”
Henderson laughed—a cold, ugly sound that made Santos’s skin crawl.
Henderson: “Worser? Officer, I’m already looking at twenty-five to life thanks to you people. It’s can’t get no worse than that besides the chair. But you know what would make me feel better? Knowing when that pretty boy detective shows up and finds his girlfriend in the same position he left her in last week. Now that would be some good shit, don’t you think?”
Santos’s blood ran ice cold. Henderson knew. He had been watching. But how? And more importantly—
Santos: “How did you get Ramirez’s phone?”
Henderson: “I just followed him sweetheart. Since the first staircase and seen why you call him hurricane tongue. So I was just thinking about do you think she can survive a tornado if was to come through. It’s also amazing what a fake emergency call about his mother can accomplish. By the time he figures out she’s fine and gets here… well, let’s just say the tornado will had finished off what the hurricane couldn’t. That should be enough time to get my point across about sticking your nose in my business.”
Santos’s training warred with her panic. She was a cop. She had been in tight situations before. But could she talk her way out of this one.
The stairwell door above them burst open with a thunderous BANG.
Voice from above: “SANTOS!”
Ramirez. His voice echoed through the stairwell like it was the wrath of God.
Henderson froze in his tornado position, then shouted out curses viciously and ran off.
Ramirez came flying down the stairs, with the swat team behind him three at a time. Ramirez had his gun drawn, with a cold furious look on his face. A look Santos had never seen before.
Detective Ramirez: “Henderson! Stop right there!”
But Henderson was already gone, the back door slamming behind him.
Ramirez skidded to a stop next to Santos, holstering his weapon and immediately checking her over with frantic hands.
Detective Ramirez: “Santos. Santos, look at me. Are you hurt? Did he—”
Santos: “I’m okay. Head hurts. Pride hurts. But I’m okay. Ramirez, he’s getting away—”
Detective Ramirez: “I don’t give a…about Henderson. I care about you.”
He was already pulling out a handcuff key—the universal one all cops carried—and unlocking her restraints. The moment her hands were free, Santos grabbed his jacket.
Santos: How did you know I was here? This is the place you were talking about right?
Ramirez’s jaw tightened.
Detective Ramirez: “No this is not the place. I never told you place. When I got that call about my mother, something felt off. I called her—she was fine. Then I tried calling you and your phone went straight to voicemail. I bugged your car from our first meeting and tracked your last location and—”
He stopped, his hands cupping her face gently.
Detective Ramirez: “Santos, if something had happened to you because of me, and Henderson was using you to get to me—”
Santos: “Hey. Hurricane Tongue. Focus. I’m fine. But Henderson knows about us. About last week. He saw your tongue in action”
The thought of that the Henderson case was not closed. Not even close. And now it’s personal.
Very personal.
Ramirez pulled out his phone, already calling for backup, his other hand still holding Santos steady.
Detective Ramirez: “This is Detective Ramirez. I need units at the Riverside Warehouse district, suspect Marcus Henderson in the area , armed and dangerous. Officer down—”
Santos: “I’m not down.”
Detective Ramirez: “—Officer assaulted and in need of medical attention. And get me Captain Rodriguez on the line. NOW.”
He hung up and looked at Santos with an expression that was part fury, part fear, and part something else entirely.
Detective Ramirez: “First date and I nearly got you killed. That has to be some kind of record.”
Despite everything—the pain —Santos started laughing.
Santos: “Ramirez, I survived Hurricane Tongue in a stairwell. You think I’m going to let some second-rate drug dealer tornado tongue scare me off?”
He smiled then
Detective Ramirez: “Tornado tongue! Did he? You’re insane.”
Santos: “Ohh Hell No! To the man called Hurricane Tongue.”
Detective Ramirez: “Yeah I’ll kick a tornado ass.”
Sirens sounded in the distance, and were getting closer. Backup was coming. An ambulance was coming. Henderson was probably already halfway to the county line.
But for just one moment, Santos leaned her head on Ramirez chest, he then wrapped his arms around her, letting her know she’s safe and nothing else will happen to her.
Santos: “Ramirez?”
Detective Ramirez: “Yeah?”
Santos: “Rain check on dinner?”
Detective Ramirez: “Most definitely. But next time, wait until I call you and it will better lighten with security cameras. And maybe a SWAT team on standby.”
Santos: “You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
Detective Ramirez: “Santos?”
Santos: “Yeah?”
Detective Ramirez: “When we catch Henderson—and we will catch him—remind me that I owe you the best date you ever had in all of the dates you’ve been on.”
Santos: “I’ll hold you to that, Hurricane.”
To be continued……..