Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 105667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Fuck you,” Goose snarled.
They hefted a medium-sized safe onto the wobbly dining table and Ronowski quickly pulled a small device from one of his pockets. He attached it to the front of the safe, next to the lock. Putting his ear to it, he listened intently as he turned the dial.
“I knew it. Dirty-assed cops!” the angry man yelled, bolting to his feet. God moved so fast Syn didn’t have a chance to react. God’s large hand gripped the suspect around his throat and lifted him several feet in the air before slamming him down onto the unforgiving floor.
“Ouch town, population you.” Day chuckled.
Fuck. Syn’s head was spinning. Something wasn’t right. God didn’t have a warrant, he hadn’t read the man his rights, and no one was calling this in. Oh fuck me ... this can’t be happening.
"You alright over there, Detective Sydney?”
Syn blinked and realized that beads of sweat were dripping down his face and his weapon was still out. Everyone else had returned their weapons to their holsters. Syn hoped he wasn’t witnessing what he feared he was.
“Jackpot,” Ronowski said.
Syn spun around and watched the smooth-faced Detective pull out stacks of rolled money. He didn’t know exactly how much, but it had to be at least ten to twenty thousand since the rolls contained hundred dollar bills. Ronowski turned and winked at God, and Syn narrowed his eyes. Please someone pull out an evidence bag. Please. He watched Ronowski’s bright blue eyes turn to Day and he’d be damned if the man he’d heard such wonderful stories about didn’t reach into the safe and pull out several rolls of cash, putting it into the lining of his vest ... God and Ronowski following suit.
“Got a payday on your first seize. Looks like your lucky day Sydney.” God’s look was a warning when Syn refused to pocket any of the money.
Read Next: Here Comes Trouble
The Story of Detective Ruxsberg & Detective Green
Chapter One
“Ruxs watch out for the - Oh shit!” Damn. Not another cyclist. Green floored his huge RAM2500, barreling around the corner of Marrietta Street, keeping a close eye on his partner as he chased down one of their informants. He couldn’t jump the curb, onto the sidewalk to cut off the chase there were too many pedestrians. Ruxs needed to get the bastard to turn off of the street into one of the many deserted alleys. Green divided his attention between maneuvering through the thick mid-afternoon traffic and not losing his partner. He roared the engine around a slow-assed Buick and flew through another red light, just lightly clipping the back end of a MARTA bus. Opps. Thought I cleared that. Fuck.
He saw Ruxs double his efforts, landing a hard slap to the informant’s shoulder that sent him flying into an old lady, knocking her bags out of her hand. Green thought Ruxs had him but the fucker shimmied out of his coat, taking off again, cutting in between an office building and a parking garage. Green couldn’t get over to cut down the small street with him. He gunned it, turning onto Cone Street. He’d cut him off at the other end. He blared his horn. Traffic was at a complete stop waiting on the light to turn. Fuck it. He cut the corner of the sidewalk, sending a metal trash can flying up into the air. At least there were no people on the sidewalk this time. He was almost to the exit of the alley when a he saw bright blue and red lights come up fast behind him and blast his siren. He ignored it, swerved over two lanes and put his front into the narrow opening of the alley. If their informant wouldn’t have had his head turned to check Rux’s closeness, he would’ve seen Green’s truck and avoided slamming into the front of it. That had to hurt.
Green was out of the truck, coming around the front end just as Ruxs was picking up their man and throwing him back against the hood.
“Do you have to do that? I mean there’s a dumpster right there.” Green frowned at his partner. “Look at that dent, man.”
“Shut up, Green.” Ruxs huffed.
Green smiled teasingly, he knew how much Ruxs hated chasing. He stood there with his arms crossed over his broad chest watching their informant, doubled over from the pain of hitting his truck and for running the last ten minutes.
The police tires squealed to a stop right next to Green’s back end. They both turned when the young cop jumped out, yelling at them to raise their hands above their heads. The cop finally got a good look at them and rolled his eyes, lowering his weapon. “Ruxs, Green, should’ve fuckin’ known.”
“What’s up Michaels.” Green shook the rookie’s hand. He was one of the few uniforms that actually liked the guys on their task force.