Nothing Special VI: His Hart's Command, page 8
part #6 of Nothing Special Series
Hart wanted to groan. His hand looked so large against Free’s smooth jaw. He’d put it there himself, which meant he wanted it there. Wanted his touch. God, all he’d ever wanted was someone to want him back.
Free closed his eyes, his dark lashes lying provocatively on his face. He turned his head and kissed the inside of Hart’s rough palm. He thought his dick was going to punch through his cargos. He couldn’t look away. He watched in agony as those warm, full lips ghosted over his skin, placing gentle kisses over the hard callouses. “Damn. I just want one hour alone with you.”
Hart’s chest rumbled. I need more than a fucking hour. “You’re killing me, Len.” His voice didn’t sound like his own. He could imagine those pretty lips doing things that would make him lightheaded. Free’s tongue sneaked out and stole a taste between his middle and pointer finger. Oh gawd. He was leaking now.
“It’s killing me too. I need you,” Free confessed. “I need time alone to talk with you.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Okay, there was only so much he could take. Because he could see all the need in Free’s gorgeous eyes, and it went a lot further than physical. The way he’d clung to him downstairs after being upset, and now the way he touched him so confidently. With such trust. Free was a man who needed his mind and body moved. It was why he wanted to kiss, hug, touch…and talk. Hart needed the same exact thing. Times ten.
Feeling braver, Hart leaned in and tenderly pressed his lips to the fleshy lobe of Free’s ear. He knew his voice was a throaty growl, but he said his words as quietly as he could, “Tonight, I want to hold you in my arms. In my bed. I need that.” Hart held his breath.
Free adjusted himself in the chair, looking as if he could no longer sit comfortably. Hart knew the feeling. His balls were full and throbbing, and his cock had stretched down his thigh at an awkward angle. “Yes, god. Yes, I want to give you that, Ivan. Very much,” Free breathed against his throat.
They were cheek to cheek. Naturally, as Free made him sweet promises he began to turn his head inward, seeking out that hot mouth that’d just burned his palm with kisses. His chest was vibrating, his breathing ragged and his palms felt like sponges, damp and heavy. None of that stopped him. Nothing could put the brakes on the inevitable.
“Boss! We gotta go. A 10-80 just barricaded himself in an abandoned house.” Fox’s loud order yanked him out of his lust so fast he felt disoriented. “We’re suiting up.”
“Damnit. Be right there,” Hart managed. Fox disappeared just as fast as he’d inconspicuously come.
When he turned back, he expected to see immense disappointment on Free’s face but all he saw was understanding and respect. “Go. Sounds serious.”
Danggoneit. Not a barricade. “It’s a high-speed chase that’s resulted in a standoff.” Sometimes those could take hours, especially if there was potential harm to nearby civilians. They could have to evacuate a neighborhood first. “I’m so sorr—”
“You’ve done nothing to apologize for. Go on now. You have an important job to do. Just…” Free brushed his fingers along his beard, “be careful.”
There was such sincerity in his voice, in his expression. Free speed-walked with him to his office door, where his team was bustling to get their vests and protective gear on. Their response time was less than ten minutes. In four minutes, they’d all be in the APC and roaring through the busy midday traffic. He could see Carlos in his office ready to get him loaded up. He turned to Free, whispering, “Will you wait for me?” He always loved the idea of someone to come back to after an op.
“I’ll be right here when you get back,” Free answered passionately before his beautiful face disappeared behind the closing elevator doors.
Hart
“Getting on the interstate is a terrible idea. Traffic is gridlocked,” Pepper informed them. His booming voice could easily be heard over their APC’s engine. He sat directly behind Dinah as she maneuvered the big beast onto Peachtree Street. The red and blue lights were swirling, and the sirens roared as his sergeant laid on the horn, but there wasn’t much room for the multitude of cars of ahead of them to move unless they drove onto the sidewalks.
“Command to Alpha Ten, come in.”
Hart lifted the radio mic. “This is Alpha Ten.”
“Be advised the negotiator on the scene has escalated the threat level to yellow. Two known suspects are inside on the second floor. Shots have been fired. Suspects are considered armed and dangerous. The structure is considered unstable, you copy?”
“Copy that, command,” Hart answered.
“ETA to the scene, Alpha Ten?” Command asked.
He recognized Susan’s voice. She worked at headquarters and was the best at keeping a level head on the air. No matter what situation he found himself in, she always remained calm and focused. When he needed information, he got it from her quickly. She was his top choice for heading up mobile command when he needed them on-site.
“Stand by.” Hart turned to Pepper for better navigation. The officer was staring intently at his small tablet-like device as he tried to find them a route that would get them there the fastest. But Atlanta traffic was no joke. “Come on. We gotta do better than this.”
They were stopped again. Traffic creeping by. Motorists tried to wiggle and inch out of their way but there was hardly anywhere for them to go. “There’s a bad accident nine blocks up.” One of his snipers, Stewart, chimed in as he listened on the coms. “Officers are rerouting.”
“Get out the damn way, people!” Dinah yelled, only going a few feet, then having to stop again.
Hart lifted the mic to relay their delayed timing, just as his phone vibrated. He frowned, quickly scanning the screen. The number was weird, all zeros. He almost shoved it back into his pocket until he read the text.
Unknown: Follow the green arrows.
The light they approached was red. They all were. Hart glanced around. The radio buzzed with activity and updates on their barricaded suspect. The negotiator wasn’t getting through and the men were still firing off warning shots for the officers on scene to stay back.
His team was calling out possible routes, even considering riding on the outside of the APC to direct cars out of their path. All dangerous and time-costly options. The stoplight in front of them immediately switched to a green arrow pointing right. It wasn’t the direction they needed to go, but it got them away from bumper-to-bumper traffic. All of the lights ahead turned green, one after the other, and the traffic began to budge enough for Dinah to move. He concealed his smile when he figured out who was helping them.
Len. There was no one else that could manipulate traffic signals as easily as him.
“Turn right, Dinah,” Hart told her. She gave him a curious frown but followed his order. His phone buzzed again.
Unknown: Keep following the lights.
His team grew quiet behind him, no doubt wondering what had made him tell Dinah to go in the opposite direction and mysteriously all the traffic lights worked in their favor. Free discreetly navigated them down Seventh Street using the traffic signals crossing them over Juniper. The area was riddled with construction workers repaving one side of the street, the other lane blocked off to through traffic. They had a clear path. Hart pointed for Dinah to ignore the detour signs and floor it down Piedmont. Not one red light was visible. All green. Traffic flowed easily when they got onto the two hundred block of Fourteenth Street as motorists moved to the far lane to let them fly by.
“Alpha Ten to command. ETA four minutes,” Hart responded. They’d made up their time and were back on schedule.
“Ten four, Alpha Ten. Be advised the threat level is red. Copy?”
“Copy that.” Hart tucked his phone away. He was going to thank Free so hard later. He knew it was him, without a doubt. He was somewhere virtually watching him. And the thought excited Hart.
“We got images, Captain,” His technology officer said.
“Find us an entry point, now. We have no time. Threat level is red,” Hart responded calmly. He let his team brainstorm about their best level of defense to protect the other officers, and the easiest non-violent entry possible to get the suspects out safely and unharmed.
As they entered the run-down neighborhood—currently blocked off by three police cruisers—and rounded the corner of Spring Street, the circus came into view. Dinah stopped and let two of their snipers out to get to their perch. About ten to twelve marked and unmarked units were posted out front, the officers shielded behind their vehicles as one of the suspects bellowed obscenities and orders from a second-floor window. The house was abandoned like most of the properties on this street. Hart didn’t see any nosy bystanders lingering around the yellow caution tape. He was thankful that the beat officers had properly contained the scene. There was nothing worse than them arriving to news cameras and innocents in the way. Dinah forced the large APC onto the lawn of the ramshackle home.
Two bullets ricocheted off the APC like pebbles. “All right these guys are done talking. Let’s get them out of that house and out of this neighborhood, fast.” Hart and his team immediately burst into action. The entry team quickly filed out of the back of the vehicle and lined up along the side of the armored car, keeping themselves protected from the threat of more fire. His bravo team stayed inside on the comms, relaying new information to them as it was received. His lead sniper took up position on top of the vehicle behind the roof shield.
“Sienna two is in position, copy,” his second sniper called out. She was responsible for finding her own best vantage point. And she was always faster than her partner.
“Copy.” Hart pressed the communications button on his chest. “Sienna three, what’s your status? Over.”
A few seconds passed before his third responded, sounding short of breath, “Sienna three in position, copy.”
“Roger that,” Hart answered. His team was ready. “Alpha Ten to command.”
“Come in, Alpha Ten.”
“We are in position; do I have command?” Hart asked. The police negotiator stayed in charge of the scene until he officially turned it over to SWAT. There could only ever be one commander on site.
“Ten four, Alpha Ten. Negotiator released at three-oh-five. SWAT has command. You are green for entry, Alpha Ten. Over.”
“Copy that.” Hart released the mic button. He turned to his right, Fox ready for his order. “We’re good.”
Another shot was aimed in their direction. His team was completely protected by their vehicle but once they moved beyond it, the threat was real.
“STAY BACK. GET OUT OF HERE! JUST GO AND I WON’T SHOOT ALL OF YOU!” a gunman yelled from the shattered window. It was so grimy Hart couldn’t get a good look at the suspect before he had to duck back behind the truck. Regardless, they weren’t there to gather intel or to build a case. At threat level red, they didn’t have the luxury of continuing with negotiations or trying to get the suspect’s name and history to research. Hart’s years of experience told him that sometimes a barricaded suspect couldn’t be talked down. They knew there was only one option for them. Imprisonment.
Hart’s IT officer held out the tablet-like device with the layout of the abandoned home. “We have heat signature images from Sienna two’s scope. She confirmed no one else is inside except our two suspects. One suspect is shooting, the other is crouched down in the same room at the east wall. Unknown if he’s armed.”
“Alpha Twenty to Sienna two.” Fox held his mic.
“Sienna two.”
“Is the second suspect a hostage?” Fox asked, staring at the screen as well. The man was hardly moving and he wasn’t retaliating.
“Negative. Just refusing to come out. Copy.”
Hart nodded. He glanced to the upper level then down again. He had to make a swift decision. The gunman was still swearing and issuing threats, including killing himself. “Let’s give them one last warning.”
“Ten four,” his negotiator inside the APC responded. Damn, he loved his team. They all knew exactly who he was talking to and when to answer. They knew their positions, their duties, and they executed them flawlessly. He was proud to be a part of this squad.
“This is Atlanta PD SWAT! We have the area completely surrounded and all exits blocked. This is your final opportunity to come out slowly, one at a time, with your hands in the air!”
The gunman clearly heard the warning through their amplified speaker then fired off another shot as a fuck-you.
Every now and then, Hart would get a glimpse of the suspect’s face. He spoke and acted like he was on something, like he wasn’t in his right mind. Usually, when criminals saw their truck roll up as brashly as they’d done, it wasn’t long before they were surrendering with their hands to the sky. But, not this time. This time they’d put all their constant practice to good use.
“He may be going for suicide by cop,” Fox growled, tightening his helmet. He had his special ops assault rifle nestled against his chest as he narrowed his eyes. “What’s the word, Hart?”
“We’re gonna have to smoke ’em out. They’re not gonna let us get any closer. And I’m not taking the risk with him still firing. We don’t know how much ammunition he has, or if he’s got any other weapons. The lower windows are boarded up. We’ll have to fire the gas into the second-floor windows.” Hart instructed them.
The seven-person entry team got into their diamond formation with their three ballistic shield-bearers at the front. Hart was directly behind him, with Fox to his right. Two of his men stepped away from the protection of the vehicle, armed with their multi-launcher gas gun. It resembled a large tommy gun with a six-shot grenade revolver. The two men stood to the rear, ready to fire at Hart’s order. While he and Fox took aim to protect them.
“Alpha Ten to command. Deploying gas,” Hart informed the reporter, who documented their every action from the moment they arrived on the scene. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
His team moved forward, then the big shields slammed onto the ground. Hart could still see the suspect through the clear rectangle on the shield. The man yelled and fired two shots that pinged off their armor. Hart was getting angry. He held his fist up, silently telling his launchers to wait for his clear. As soon as the suspect left the window, Hart motioned them forward with his hand.
One of his officers stepped ahead, rose over the shield just as it was lowered a fraction, and fired. The gas grenade made a hollow pop as it left the chamber then shattered the window.
Hart’s gunman fell back. The second officer stepped up like clockwork, aimed, fired, and fell back. The shield went up. His first launcher was back in position and ready to fire again. They did that three times. Performed it like a well-rehearsed show. Within seconds the house was smoking.
“Mask on,” Hart ordered. He waved his hand forward and the rest of his entry team filed out of the sixteen-man vehicle and positioned themselves around the perimeter of the house. Hart and his diamond crew were on the other side of the front door. He pressed his mic, “Sienna two, suspect’s positions? Over.”
“Same, Alpha Ten. Over,” his sniper answered.
The front door was already broken and out of their way as they breached the front entrance. Hart breathed evenly through his mask, entering the foggy house. He could hear the suspects yelling at each other, coughing and hacking as they did. Hart motioned with two fingers, directing the partnered teams where he wanted them to go. Even though they’d confirmed the house was empty more than once, they were still required to do a clean sweep.
He silently ordered four men upstairs with him. They kept their rifles up, the butts tucked into the balls of their shoulders. Their steps were as fast and light as they could be on the creaky stairs. His team downstairs was calling out clears as they made their way to the second level.
Hart was just behind one of his shield-bearers. He could hear the suspects fighting with each other to get out of the house, and knew it was their chance to move in while they were distracted. The chemicals in the gas not only made a person’s eyes leak and burn as if acid had gotten into them, but it also caused disorientation and difficulty breathing.
He gave the okay to advance inside the bedroom. One of the hostiles ran out into the hall and directly into Ware’s shield. The huge officer used the blockade like a ram and bowled the man over, knocking him to the floor. Fox and two of his men secured him. Out of his peripheral vision, Hart saw the second man turn his weak 9mm handgun toward them. It was no match for their armor.
“Drop your weapon!” Hart yelled.
He saw the finality in the suspect’s eyes right before he turned his gun on himself and opened his mouth wide enough to take a cannon barrel.
Hart bellowed, “No!”, lunging into action. The shot was ear-piercing in the small room. Brain matter splattered the filthy wall where their suspect had stood, his body crumpling to a lifeless heap at Hart’s feet.
“Goddamnit!” Hart yelled. He stared helplessly at the body. His mind automatically going into overload. Could he have done something differently? Had they moved too fast? Should he have used a flashbang instead of gas? He felt a strong hand on his shoulder but didn’t budge. He just kept staring at the dead man who’d warned them repeatedly to stay back. Maybe I should’ve…
“Hey. That was his decision and you fucking know it,” Fox growled in his ear. “Come on, man. Call it in.”
Hart let Fox tug the strap of his bullet-proof vest until he was looking him in his eyes. He shook his head and stepped away as the blood began to pool around his boots. “Alpha Ten to command.”
“Command.”
“Scene is secured. One suspect detained. Second suspect…dead from a self-inflicted gunshot to the head.” Hart sighed heavily. “Over.”
