Breach of Peace (The Lawful Times #0.5)(18)

To add insult to injury, the son of a bitch hadn’t even tried to disarm her—just pinned her in such a way that she had no hope of raising her gun arm. That might be good, Khlid thought. If Chapman had planned on killing her on the spot, he certainly would have disarmed her fully.

Hope so. Khlid twisted her wrist and jabbed the barrel of her weapon into Chapman’s kneecap. He grunted in pain.

With what little air she had, Khlid said, “Do you want to be a cripple, Chapman?”

He’ll back down.

“No.” In a flash, Chapman lifted her, twisted his whole body, and slammed her head against the table of the booth she had just vacated.

Blackness.



* * *



Khlid heard Chapman’s voice. He seemed to be arguing with someone, saying he didn't need help taking his suspect back to the precinct. Semiconscious, she thought illogically, Why would Chapman need help when I’m here? Memories came back to her. Oh. A maddening headache crested, and pain became her reality for several seconds.

She heard Chapman speak more clearly now: “She’s coming to. I really must get going. Thank you again for your assistance, but I order you to go back inside and finish your drink.”

Some ambiguous, grumbling chat. Chapman putting his foot down. Footsteps growing distant.

Khlid became more aware of her position. No more than thirty seconds could have passed. She could still hear the bustle of the market. Judging from the pressure in her stomach and pain in her wrists, Chapman had tied Khlid up and flung her over his shoulder. Not exactly a traditional arrest, but who would interfere with an inspector appearing to subdue a dangerous criminal?

Trying to lift her head was a mistake. Pain consumed her again.

She realized Chapman was speaking to her as he walked. She tried to listen through the pain.

“—and now you might not even recover in time to make decent backup. I swear, if I have to retrieve that insufferable husband of yours, I’ll—”

Khlid couldn't make sense of the sounds anymore. She had regained consciousness quickly. But fuck if this wasn't the first long minute of a headache that would last a week.

There was no point trying to fight Chapman now. She was tied, injured, and disarmed. Even if she could subdue him, without any way to prove her authority, she’d be mobbed by outraged civilians. Wherever Chapman was taking her, she was along for the ride.

It turned out to be a place Khlid had never been: his home.

Chapman took her from his shoulder and propped her up beside him—still carrying her weight, but looking more innocent to his neighbors—and walked her around back.

He wrestled with his keys, but managed to get her inside without having to put her down.

In pain, Khlid failed to retain much about the small house. From the street, she had noted it was half of a duplex, but aside from that, things were remarkably blurry. How have I worked with you for all these years and don’t even know what your cabinets look like?

“You live close to the market,” she managed to get out.

“Indeed.” Chapman was placing her on a cold, smooth surface.

Oh, a bathroom. “Chapman, why am I in a tub?”

He was rummaging in the cabinet over the sink. “Because I just gave you a concussion. You might vomit.”

“I already knocked that off my to-do list today.”

“Allow me to err on the side of caution.”

“Fair enough.”

He turned to her and pushed a vial filled with purple fluid to her lips.

Khlid looked at it and almost laughed. “If you’re going to kill me, Chap, just use the gun.”

Chapman appeared briefly guilty. “Killing you is not on my to-do list. I just couldn't let you arrest me. Not tonight. Now, do I need to grab a syringe?”

She opened her mouth and swallowed in one gulp. “Fucking hell, that is rancid.”

“Not the worst substance you’ve swallowed today.”

He’s got me there.

“Chapman.”

“Yes?” He pulled a knife from his boot and cut the cord around her wrists.

“What now?”

He sat on a toilet across from her and just breathed for a moment. “I’m going to Warehouse Two. I will keep my head down and gather evidence on exactly what is happening. With that tonic you just drank, you will be able to walk in under an hour. Go back to the precinct. Tell the captain whatever you feel appropriate. Tell him, if you like, that I am part of a rebel ploy and must be stopped. Or you can tell him the M.O.D. is covering up what they did to Lord Pruit. I don’t care. Say whatever you have to; but get every available body out of that precinct and down to the docks. I will need the backup.”

Khlid could only stare. It didn't matter that Chapman was manipulating her; she had no choice but to do as he suggested. “You’re the largest pain in the ass I—”

“Am I a friend?” Chapman again met her eyes. She returned his stare with equal intensity.

“Yes.”

“Then, please, get every officer you can.” He stood and dropped her pistol in the empty sink, well out of her reach. “I need help tonight.”

And then Khlid was alone. She heard the front door to the house open and close. All she could do was wait for the pain to subside.

Minutes ticked by at an agonizing pace. The only measure that seemed to help was forcing her eyes shut and not paying attention to anything. She floated in an odd meditation for an uncertain amount of time. Khlid attempted to marshal her thoughts on what had just happened.