American Criminal Read Free

stayed out of my way! You just can't help yourself! It’s your fault I have to do this!" a male voice shouted from behind the door.
        "I’m sorry, I didn't mean to," a female voice replied through tremulous sobs.
        That decided it for him. He psyched himself up and knocked hard on the door four times with a closed fist, while placing his other hand on the butt of his holstered gun.
        Silence for a moment. And then, a response.
        "Fuck off! This is private property! I can do whatever I want in my own home! Get the fuck out of here!"
        "I don't think so, asshole!" Burnside shouted back, losing his professional demeanor in the heat of the moment. "Open the door now!"
        Where the fuck is my backup?
        "Look what you did, you fucking bitch! You brought the cops on me! I'm gonna fucking kill you!"
        There was a sickening thud, a heavy object hitting the wall, and then a high-pitched wailing that sent shivers up his spine.
        Instinct kicked in. A feeling of outrage swept through his mind like a violent wind, displacing any thoughts of talking it out with this maniac.
        That piece of shit is going to fucking kill his wife if I don't do something right now!
        Burnside drew his body back against the far wall for a strike. He used a combination of Academy training and sheer rage to kick in the door. He did it on the first try with the assistance of an adrenaline surge. The door flew open on a scene of carnage and disarray. Burnside stared at a living room that had been completely trashed. Every piece of furniture was smashed or overturned, with the exception of a large couch against the back wall and a television in the corner. A hulking man wearing a stereotypical tank-top style "wife beater” t-shirt stood over a woman cowering on the floor with her arms lifted over her head for protection.
        The psychopath did not turn to face the officer. He continued shouting at the woman on the floor while he pummeled her mercilessly with his fists.
        "Get away from her!" Burnside shouted.
        "Get the fuck out of my house!" the psycho shouted back as he turned and faced him.
        Burnside wasn't shocked to be staring into bloodshot eyes that were glazed over from using drugs or alcohol. The psychopath clenched his fists and charged toward him like an enraged bear.
        Burnside only had a split second to respond. In the Academy, they told him he would not have time to draw his baton if an individual was closing from fifteen feet away or less. Without time to think, he chose the option anyway. He pulled the baton from its holster and brought it back, as he was struck by the two-hundred-fifty pound body of his assailant. Burnside’s one hundred-eighty pounds was pushed across the floor and slammed into the back wall.
        Burnside reflexively dropped his baton as he felt sharp pain shooting through his lower back. The enraged psychopath recovered from his bull-like charge and pummeled his mid-section with closed fists. Burnside felt like he was going to cough up a kidney as vicious pain shot through his abdomen. He instinctively reached for his gun and was shocked to find that one of the psychopath's hands had already closed on the butt of it.
        Once again, Academy training kicked in. Burnside used both of his hands to clamp onto the psychopath's hand and began to violently twist his body back and forth. The psycho screamed as his wrist bent unnaturally from the abrupt movement, and he released his grip on the gun-butt. Burnside seized the opportunity to push the offender away with his left hand, while he drew his 9MM with his right. The psycho stepped back and clutched his sprained wrist - apparently surprised he had been stopped in his attempt to get the gun. Before he could react, Burnside brought the gun to bear on his right shoulder and pulled the trigger.
        A deafening, thunderous blast resounded in the confined space as sparks shot from