Bad Boy's Touch (Firemen in Love Book 3) Read Free Page A

women?
    “Where's Rico?”
    “I dunno, man. You, go and find him. Martin, get the car ready. I'll keep this bitch busy.”
    This was about the five hundredth time I'd been called that word since I joined the force. Even now, years later, it still stung.
    I dove behind my cruiser, praying that the hunk of junk could stand up to gunfire. Where was the radio? I needed to call for backup, now.
    I grabbed for it, but it wasn't on my belt.
    “Officer Finley, come in please. Finley, come in.”
    The noise caught my attention. There was the stupid radio, right in the middle of the alley! Must have dropped it when I ran for cover.
    No way could I risk my neck to go after it. Using the cruiser's radio, too, was equally dumb. The moment I poked my head up, I was rewarded with another bullet zipping my way.
    “You're a terrible shot, fool. Just blast her already!”
    “I ain't gonna kill a cop. You think I wanna get life in prison?”
    They were arguing. Distracted. This might be my only opportunity.
    The back door to Twinkles was so close. I clutched my gun to my chest and ran.
    “Yo, she's getting away!”
    “Who gives a shit? We're getting Rico out and that's it.”
    The door, thank God, was unlocked. I slipped inside, trading the filthy alleyway for a dark, seedy bar. They had the music turned up so loud, the bass booming and shaking the floor, that it seemed nobody heard the standoff happening just outside.
    The door I'd entered led me through the kitchen and bar. Cooks and other employees gawked as I made my way through the room.
    “Excuse me, Kingston Police.” I showed my badge. “Have any of you seen a couple of strange men coming through here? One is Hispanic, dark skin, scar down the side of his face.”
    They just stared. The dishwasher shrugged and continued scrubbing his pots and pans. One of the cooks muttered something in what sounded like Portuguese.
    “Uh, okay. Guess not. The other guy was handcuffed, and...” My heart pounded. “And shirtless. Lots of tattoos.”
    I left out how delicious that chest of his looked, or how much I secretly enjoyed putting my hand on his solid, muscular back.
    Stop it. Don't be a moron, Mad. Yes, he's gorgeous, but you're supposed to be arresting the guy.
    A minute ago, I was getting shot at by gangsters. Now here I was, drooling over Brett Silver like a preteen girl with a celebrity crush.
    “So, uh, I take it you haven't seen him either.” My voice cracked. The staff exchanged glances. “Thanks anyway.”
    “ Eeek! ” A woman's shriek pierced my eardrums. “What are you doing in here? Get out, creep!”
    I followed the sound of voices from the kitchen, down the long hallway, to a closed door that said “Dressing Area” on it.
    “Take it easy, Candy. I'm not staring at your boobs.”
    “You're not supposed to be back here! I'm calling Tom.”
    There were two males and a woman talking in there. Brett?
    I opened the door slowly so it wouldn't squeak. There was a wall just ahead, separating the entrance from the rest of the room. I hid behind it and listened.
    “I just need to borrow one of your bobby pins.”
    A man groaned. “What the hell are we doing in here? The cops'll be all over this place in minutes. We should be getting far away as possible.”
    “Yeah, but we're not going nowhere with these cuffs on. I heard you can unlock these puppies with a bobby pin.”
    Oh, this was comedy gold. I should have hurried in there to nab them, but this was the first time I'd had a good laugh in weeks.
    “Here, Ian. Just take it and get out. The other girls will be coming in soon, and if they catch y'all, you're gonna be in serious trouble.”
    “Just give us a second, will you?” Ian grunted. “There's the keyhole. Maybe we just stick it in there and turn, like a real key.”
    Brett sighed. Even his sigh was so sexy, it made me tremble with desire.
    I hated it. Hated how readily my body reacted to his presence. Hated how much it flattered me to be hit on by a handsome