Calling the Play Read Free

chest. “My car. And you need backup.”
    At that she barked out a laugh and threw the car into gear. “And that’s you?” she asked, peeling out of the parking space after her quarry.
    “Yes, ma’am,” he shouted over the squeal of tires. “Usually I call the play, but tonight I’m going to follow your lead.”

Chapter 2
    Randi McInish tried to ignore the guy in the passenger seat, but it was hard. He was about six feet two inches of hard muscles in a tight, black T-shirt and blue jeans, with blond hair, dimples, and a great ass. An ass she was going to kick when she finally nailed Tater Sullivan, the drug-dealing piece of shit she’d had to let grope her all night.
    “Name?” she hollered at him as she took a corner with a squeal of tires.
    “Ty,” he shouted back. “Sissy?”
    “Randi,” she said, fighting the steering wheel. The damn thing was tight. She’d thought a Porsche would handle better. She wished she had her Mustang. She’d already be on top of Tater with her own wheels.
    “I like it better,” Ty said.
    She snorted. As if she gave a shit what he liked or didn’t like. Okay, he was hot and chances were she was going to do him later, but whether or not he liked her name mattered as much as what he wanted for breakfast. She had no intention of staying long enough to find out.
    Her phone rang. She leaned forward, keeping Tater’s Mustang in her sights. “Get my phone,” she told Ty.
    “Okay,” he said. “Where is it?”
    “In my back pocket.” She didn’t really want to talk to anyone right now, especially her brother. It was his ringtone. He was going to flip his fucking lid over tonight. Probably already was. He was the lead detective on the case, after all. Without hesitation, Ty shoved his hand under her ass and pulled out the phone, jostling Randi and making the car nearly run off the road.
    “Fuck me,” she yelled. “Ever heard of being gentle?”
    “You don’t strike me as the gentle type,” he said. “Hello?” She realized then he’d answered the phone.
    “What the fuck?” she said. “Who told you to answer it?”
    “You,” he said. “You said, ‘Get my phone.’ ”
    “I meant get it out of my pocket,” she explained. Gunfire rang out and she ducked and swerved. Ty yelped next to her and then she heard her brother Johnny’s voice.
    “Goddamn it, Randi,” he shouted. Ty must have put it on speaker. “Give off the chase, now,” he ordered. “We’ve got him. I’m holding a warrant in my hand. He’s got nowhere to run.”
    “That’s bullshit and you and I know it,” she yelled in Ty’s general direction, knowing the phone would pick it up. “If we don’t pull him in tonight, his daddy’s money and the lawyers will keep him out of jail.”
    “So what?” her brother yelled. “We’ve got the leader of the SUR 13 in custody, half of Tater’s known associates, and your tape and testimony. And enough heroin to embarrass the Feds because this was our bust and not theirs. Did you know the deal involved that much? And who the fuck is in that car with you?”
    “Some big-ass guy named Ty,” she yelled. “I told him to get out, he didn’t, so he’s along for the ride.”
    “It’s my Porsche,” Ty said reasonably.
    “Who the fuck are you?” Johnny asked again.
    “Ty Oakes,” her passenger said. Randi thought the name rang a bell, but just then shots cut through the night a second time. To her shock, Ty laughed like crazy when she swerved and it threw him against the passenger door. “You throw a mean party,” he told Randi. She just grinned, but didn’t take her eyes off the Mustang.
    “
The
Ty Oakes?” Johnny asked, sounding sort of sick. Randi wasn’t sure what that meant.
    “Yep,” Ty answered. “Sorry.”
    “Where are you?” Johnny asked. “I’m sending backup.”
    “We just passed the intersection of Oporto Madrid and Fifth,” Ty told him. “I think he’s heading for I-Fifty-Nine.”
    “Do not get the quarterback