Detective Ramirez to the Rescue
In the distance, the sound of the roof door opening echoed through the stairwell.
Ramirez immediately moved in front of Santos, his gun drawn again, every muscle tensed.
But it wasn’t Henderson who appeared at the top of the stairs.
It was Captain Rodriguez, followed by half the precinct, all in full tactical gear ready for war.
Captain Rodriguez: “Santos! Ramirez! You two better be alive down there or so help me—”
Santos: “All good, Captain!”
Rodriguez came down the stairs, took one look at Santos’s bleeding head and Ramirez’s protecting her, and he was absolutely no doubt about it that he was putting in for an early retirement.
Captain Rodriguez: “Santos, you’re going to the hospital. Ramirez, we need a statement from you. And both of you are going to explain to me how a simple dinner date turned into a manhunt for Marcus Henderson.”
Santos and Ramirez looked at each other.
Together: “It’s complicated, Captain.”
Rodriguez looked between them, at the handcuffs still dangling from the stair railing, at the blood on Santos’s face, at the way Ramirez still hadn’t quite let go of her arm.
Captain Rodriguez: “You know what? I don’t even want to know. Let’s just catch Henderson, then we can sort out all this mess.”
As the EMTs arrived to check Santos’s injuries and the SWAT team spread out to search for Henderson, Ramirez leaned close and whispered:
Detective Ramirez: “This isn’t over, Santos. Not us. Not by a long shot.”
Santos squeezed his hand.
Santos: “Good. Because I don’t run from storms, Ramirez. I chase them.”
Somewhere in the night, Marcus Henderson was running. But he had no idea that he’d just made the biggest mistake of his criminal career.
He’d gone after Hurricane Tongue’s girl.
And you know what hurricanes?
They always came back around.
[TO BE CONTINUED…]