Open Wounds (Harbour Bay #2)(5)
He relinquished his knife, dropping it to the ground. Immediately, he pushed back at her with all his might, his flight or fight instincts kicking in. He may have been a kid, but he had the strength of an adult male and he managed to throw her away from him. He moved towards her, his eyes wild, his breathing harsh.
She pivoted her foot, and swung a back-kick in his direction, hitting him square in the stomach. He dropped to the ground, winded and beaten. The blow sapping what was left of his energy.
Amelia tried to catch her breath, her body aching and tired, calling out for rest. She produced a pair of handcuffs from the small of her back and proceeded to restrain her captive as she read him his rights.
Darryl moved slowly towards her, his gun aimed, his finger poised over the trigger. He searched the immediate area for unseen danger as she yanked her prisoner to his feet. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and regarded her partner seriously.
“Like I said, I’ve dated creepier guys than him.”
Chapter 3
Kellie Munroe increased the speed and incline on her running machine. Her heart was racing and she could feel the stitch on her side. She was breathing fast and sweating profusely, her long blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.
Her body protested every step, every breath, telling her she wasn’t as fit as she should be. For twelve years, Kellie had prided herself for being as physically fit as possible although due to her current workload she had become slack with her visits to the gym. She continued to run until she could no longer keep going, her legs jelly. She turned off the machine and took a deep drink from her water bottle, swallowing half the contents as she wiped the sweat from her brow with a small towel. She glanced at her watch. Her lunch break was long over. She would have loved to spend some time lifting weights, building her physical strength, but she knew she had to get back to work.
She stretched her aching body on the yoga mat nearby as her heart rate slowed down.
“Looking good, Munroe,” a voice said from behind her.
She looked over her shoulder to find Detective Sergeant Nicholas Doyle grinning at her. She realised her position, her behind up in the air as she reached out for her toes.
“You’d better not be thinking what I think you’re thinking, Detective. It could be viewed as sexual harassment, and I would hate to report you,” she informed him, knowing full well he wasn’t. Nick was friend.
His grin got bigger and he gave her a wink. “You know me.”
“Yes I do, Nick.” She sat down on the mat, changing the angle of the stretch, the muscles in her thighs tingling as she held the position.
She and Nick often bantered. He was the only one she felt comfortable enough to tease. Neither of them ever took any offence to what the other said. Some days she needed his teasing barbs. It helped push her past her endurance while training.
“Haven’t seen you around lately,” he commented.
She studied his hard body and tight muscles, black hair and piercing blue eyes. It was unfair to the rest of the male species, Nick having taken more than his share of good looks and charm.
“You obviously haven’t been missing a session.”
He shrugged and flexed a muscle. She refrained from rolling her eyes. Nick was a decent guy and much to the disappointment of the female officers never dated anyone he worked with, however remotely. He was the only son in a family of five, and had been instilled with strong, protective, and tender feelings towards the fairer sex. He was an ‘unofficial’ big brother, having taken all his fellow female colleagues under his wing. If anyone messed with them, they’d be messing with him.
“I could get you in real good shape, Munroe, just let me know when you want it.”
She nodded. “I will thanks,” she said sincerely. “We’ll get right down and dirty.”
Nick grinned, showing his white teeth as he reached down and brought Kellie to her feet in an easy motion. She knew she wasn’t heavy, weighing the right amount for her body type, but Nick could make even the heaviest woman feel no more than a feather. “Right.”
They were of course talking about self-defence, which Nick taught once a week at the LAC’s internal gym. He made sure that every female officer attended his classes and that each walked away with the tools and confidence they needed to defend themselves.
Nick Doyle was a good guy. She could see why the women all flocked towards him. If he had been so inclined, he could easily play the field, but Nick was the monogamous type. He loved being in a relationship but had yet to find the right woman.
“Well, I’ve got to hit the shower,” she said. If she rushed she could be dressed and back at her desk in ten minutes. If she was lucky.
“Sure. I’ll see you later, Munroe.”
In the shower room, she washed the sweat from her body, careful not to get her hair wet. She dried herself off and dressed in her dark navy blue skirt that stopped at her knees. She tucked in her white short-sleeved blouse and carefully applied some blush and clear gloss to her lips, then coated her long blonde eyelashes with mascara. After pulling out her ponytail and brushing her hair, she let it fall to the curve of her breasts, her bangs blending into her hair. She put on her shoes—a pair of three inch black heels—and got into the elevator, making her way up to the top floor of Harbour Bay’s LAC building where the office of Special Crimes and Internal Affairs—SCIA—was housed.