Possession Read Free

piece of lead into their suspect. Because even though she was there by sheer luck, and she was a federal law-enforcement officer, the local police department would have jurisdiction over the homicide case and over the suspect she was staring at down the barrel of her gun.
    And that he was the suspect in question, the Claude Lafitte the woman at the front desk had told her had rented the room for a few more hours, wasn’t in doubt if only because the other three rooms on the floor had already been vacated and stood empty.
    She heard footsteps on the second set of stairs behind her. She glanced to find two uniformed NOPD officers, guns drawn, running into the hall. When she looked back toward the suspect, she found him gone, the bags he’d been holding on the top step.
    “Damn!”
    Dropping her gun to her side, she dashed for the other set of stairs, watching as the man disappeared down them. She ran after him, yelling for him to freeze. She hit the back courtyard at a dead run, edging around tables and small trees then burstinginto the lobby through open double French doors. One of the police officers came back down the front stairs and reached the open area at the same time she did. She shook her head to indicate she didn’t know where the suspect was.
    An arm snaked around her from behind and hauled her against a rock-hard chest.
    “We meet again, cher, ” the suspect whispered into her ear, yanking her closer and prying the gun she held from her frozen fingers.
    Never in her six years as an agent had she lost control of her weapon.
    Earlier, sexual awareness had made Akela’s heart beat fast; now pure adrenaline had it slamming against her chest. She moved to jam her heel against his instep. He easily avoided the attempt along with the elbow she simultaneously tried to land to his midsection, the double move a standard one designed to catch the assailant off guard so she could gain the upper hand.
    He easily prevented her from twisting from his grasp, his strength more than she could challenge without the benefit of the other two moves.
    He cocked her gun and pressed the cold muzzle against her temple.
    “My worst fear is being killed with my own firearm.”
    The words her Quantico weapons instructor had said on the first day of class rang through her mind. She hadn’t understood the significance of the fear until this minute.
    Lafitte tsked the NOPD officer and his partner who joined him. “No, no, no. You won’t want to be doing that, friend.”
    Akela realized he was nudging her closer to the front door.
    “Hostage situations never end well for the hostage taker,” she told her captor, her voice laced with steel as she dug her fingernails into the arm holding her.
    She felt his warm breath on her ear. “I imagine they don’t usually turn out well for the hostage, either, so I’d suggest you behave.
    “Back,” Lafitte ordered the officers.
    Akela thought of the difference in shooting procedures and wished two fellow FBI agents were with her rather than NOPD officers. An agent would have shot Lafitte already, no matter the danger to her.
    “Back, I say.” The gun disappeared from her temple as Lafitte waved it at the two policemen.
    “Claude,” the woman manning the front desk said, her head appearing from behind the counter. “Don’t do this.”
    “Shush, Josie,” he told her.
    Akela took full advantage of his distraction and tore out of his hold at the same time as she reached for his outstretched arm holding the gun. He easily grabbed her right hand and twisted it, forcing her to her knees in a crude but effective move that left her feeling as if he’d cracked a bone with his strong grip.
    “Put your guns down. Now!” Lafitte ordered. “Josie, go collect them.”
    “I’ll do no such thing.”
    Lafitte aimed the gun he held at the counter and squeezed off a shot. The loud sound reverberated against the high ceiling as a bullet splintered molding off the side of the check-in counter.
    Josie