Page 5 of Enemies with Benefits (Finding the Right Brother #1)

"He's gonna run," I muttered to myself as we approached carefully, eyes on the guy on the corner, his back to us.

"It's your optimism that makes you a great partner," my partner said with a snort.

Kayden was a great partner, but he tended to run his mouth, which also made him an annoying partner.

What made him an exceptionally annoying partner was that he thought he was funny, but he wasn't. "My days would be bleak and hopeless without you around to spread some cheer. "

"He's gonna run," I repeated.

"We're practically up his ass; he's not going to run."

"He will."

"Bet he won't."

"Lunch on the loser?"

"Done."

My partner, who should have known by now that anything he was willing to bet on was the losing bet, closed the distance, raising his voice. "Lawrence Jacks— Son of a bitch!"

I had been right...mostly. Turned out good ol' Lawrence had a trick up his sleeve, involving the canister in his hand, which he whipped out and unloaded into my partner's face.

Some of it misted into the air, and I coughed from the bite of pepper spray.

Understandably, Kayden jerked back from the sudden onslaught to his senses, while Lawrence took the opportunity to take off like the hounds of hell were hot on his heels.

He was wrong, because it was me hot on his heels.

"You know damn well it's the cops, so stop!

" I barked as I hoofed it after him, feet slamming into the concrete.

The little bastard was tall but skinny, and apparently trying to beat the wind in terms of speed while he darted between people.

I was doing enough yelling to get the attention of anyone in our path, making both our jobs in running easier, but I really didn't want to slam into some woman and sprain something on her.

..again. "You've already got...assault of an officer.

..and we've got your name...so just...don't make this. ..worse!"

"Fuck you, Pig!” he snapped over his shoulder and quickly darted to the right, down an alley.

"Oh, you're gonna squeal like one when I'm done," I growled as I followed him.

"Be advised, suspect is on the run," I heard the operator chirp from my radio, and realized I hadn't been paying attention to what he'd been saying. "Officer Reno?—"

"In pursuit," I hissed into the mic as Lawrence made another turn at the intersection of the buildings we were running between. "On him hot."

"Be advised, do not chase the subject," came the operator's voice, leaving no room for argument, meaning it was probably coming from higher up than either of us.

Which made precisely zero sense, considering he’d already assaulted my partner and was now running.

I was sure, given the chance, he would have done as bad, if not worse, to me to get away, but had unloaded his spray can already.

All I could do was hope he didn't have another one on him, or at least didn't have a chance to use it.

Of course, ignoring orders was a good way of getting into trouble. ..again.

"Didn't catch that, one sec," I said into the radio as I took the next turn. I let go of the button as I watched Lawrence scramble up a fence that was taller than me, moving quickly like he was born to it. "Your squirrely ass better move better than that!"

"Damn it, Jace," came the growl from the speaker, but I turned it down before pushing myself to speed up after him. I was going to get my ass grilled for this, but I was going to make sure it was worth it.

I wasn't as nimble as my target, but that didn't mean I didn't have ways around if I needed to.

It just so happened that there was a stack of trash next to a dumpster near the fence.

I could only hope the trash held my weight as I used it as steps up to the dumpster.

The lid thumped and almost buckled under my weight, but reaching the metal edge, I leaped forward and hooked my hands into the top of the fence.

I didn't need to be limber to swing myself up and over, landing on the other side with a grunt and a grin when I saw Lawrence had slowed down enough to see if he'd lost me.

He looked about ready to shit his pants at the sight of me chasing after him, and he took off again.

I was already figuring out the difference between us, though, and it worked in my favor.

He was a little faster than me, and clearly nimble, but from the sweat on his face and the flush around his cheeks, he didn't have the stamina I did.

And I already knew from the size difference that he was going to have less strength as well.

Which meant all I had to do was keep up for long enough and then?—

BOOM.

Thank God I saw his arm jerk out of his hoodie before the muzzle flash filled the dimly lit alley with the harsh echo of the gun.

Pieces of brick flew off the wall beside me, stinging the side of my head as I snarled, barreling after him.

His eyes widened, and he swore, clearly not sure what to do about someone who was crazy enough to chase him even after he'd fired a gun at them.

The problem for him was that I had already dealt with running under a hail of bullets, so one idiot trying to gun me down out of sheer panic wasn't going to slow me down, let alone stop me.

If I'd been in his spot, I would have just stood my ground, steadied my aim, and let loose with the whole clip in the hopes of bringing down an enemy that clearly outmatched me.

Lawrence, however, seemed like he was hopped up on something, either drugs or adrenaline, and wasn't thinking, just reacting.

Of course, he had not only hurt an officer but had just fired on one, so he was in for a world of hurt one way or another.

There was more sound from my radio, but I'd turned it down so much I couldn't understand the words. I could definitely understand the tone, which was not happy with me. I continued to ignore it as I ran after Lawrence, who again decided to shoot at me over his shoulder. Ironically, his aim while moving was slightly better than when he’d been standing still and aiming at a target stuck in a narrow space.

The next two shots only narrowly missed me, and I swore I felt the breeze from one of them on my neck.

The one thing that bothered me was that he was headed straight for the next opening between the buildings, which would put him on the street.

He was obviously already stressed and willing to fire wildly to try to kill or hurt me without any regard to what he was doing, which meant he probably wasn't too worried about other people.

And I knew the area well enough to know that we were coming out into a pretty condensed area, and many people were going to be on the streets for their lunch.

I needed to get him under control before he decided even more lives were worth sacrificing for the chance of his freedom.

Yet I didn't dare draw and fire my gun while he was running toward the mouth of the alley.

My aim might have been great, but there was always the chance I would miss and hit someone who happened to be walking past. I couldn't use the taser either because I would just waste time trying to make sure it landed and trusting that it would bring him down while he was so hyped up.

That meant I had myself and whatever else I could think of, unless, of course, I wanted to let him go because I didn't want to risk civilians getting injured.

It occurred to me that might be the reason they told me not to chase him.

That or it was something else I was going to be told later when they inevitably chewed me out for 'not hearing' the order through the radio.

That all washed from my head as I looked around the alley and felt a grin forming.

Never was I more thankful that someone in the city was climate aware and decided that metal was the way to go rather than plastic.

I snatched the lid off a can, glad to find there was a heft to it.

I wound it up, sent up a prayer to whoever might be listening that I could use some latent discus abilities, decided to aim low rather than high, and let it fly.

It sliced through the air, and I had only a moment to wonder if maybe I’d thrown it too hard before it slammed into the back of his knees.

The only noise was when it hit the ground, but he yelped like a kicked dog as his knees betrayed him and collapsed, sending him sprawling face-first onto the ground with a cry of pain.

Before he could do more than flail on the ground, I was on him.

I snatched his arms up behind his back, and he started yelling. “You broke my nose!"

"Happens when you fall and hit the ground," I told him with a grunt, pulling out my cuffs and slapping them over his wrists. "Don't worry, we'll get that looked at right before we take you to a cell."

"My legs, man, my legs!"

"Yeah, sure that stung."

"You broke 'em!"

"Probably not, hope not. But that's what happens when you attack two officers and then start firing wildly as you're heading toward a busy street. Sometimes your legs get taken out from under you."

"I didn't do shit, man. And you broke my legs."

"You did," I grunted, pulling him to his feet. "And I didn't."

Not that I could be sure since I was no medical expert, but it certainly looked like he was managing to get to his feet.

Sure, he was a little wobbly and kept whimpering, but when I let him lean against the wall while I called it in, he was still standing.

I wasn't surprised to hear a curt reply from the operator, but at least I'd managed to nab him without anyone else getting hurt in the process.

I watched, brow raised, as he slid down the wall to sit on the alley floor and snorted. “That's a little dramatic."

"Ya broke my legs," he whimpered.

"You were standing on them just fine," I pointed out. "You're just sore from the fall, don't get yourself worked up."