I ducked past the windows and traveled through the alley to the back gate. The thing was barely intact, hanging on by a thread as its rusty tops jutted into the air. I searched the yard, my eyes sweeping back and forth as I tried to pick out any subtle movement.

Nothing.

“Shit,” I swore under my breath and reached over the gate to open it.

It scraped against the rough concrete. I winced, my shoulders going up around my ears as I glanced around again, praying no one had heard that. When there was still no movement, I shoved my body through the gap I’d made. It was just wide enough but tugged at my uniform as if trying to stop me from going inside. Ignoring the feeling that I should turn back, I moved forward.

As much as these moments unnerved me, they made me too. The thrill of sweat-slicked skin as adrenaline coursed through my veins was better than any trip I’d ever taken. It was more intoxicating than sex. The fear mixed with excitement was the reason I loved my job.

I moved onto the cracked and lifting steps of the back porch. They creaked beneath my boots, making a loud noise. Shit. I kept moving. Leaning up against the peeling blue paint of the wall, I reached out and wrapped my hand around the dented, silver doorknob. I sucked in a quick breath. As soon as I turned it, the door flew open.

“Fucking pig!”

I ducked back as the first shot rang out. Something whizzed by my face. My feet shifted, and I threw myself at the side of the porch, launching my body over the railing and falling into a patch of dry weeds and dirt. My shoulder slammed against the ground, and intense pain shot through me, making me grit my teeth.

“Put the gun down, Carl,” I called. “You’re only making this worse for yourself! Drop the goddamn weapon!”

“Fuck you!”

I shook my head. So, aside from armed robbery, Carl seemed desperate to tack on attempted murder or, at the very least, assaulting a police officer. He’d already resisted arrest. The man was digging a hole for himself and probably didn’t even fully know he was doing it. I’d seen the shit he was on when we searched his car. That much glass? He was riding high and mean as a viper right now.

He squeezed off another shot, and I scrambled to my feet. My left arm was useless now, dangling by my side as my shoulder and neck tingled. Damn, it’s gotta be dislocated. I shoved myself against the side of the house and gripped my left arm.

Great. I was fighting a meth head with a gun while I was down one arm and trying to blink the black spots out of my eyes. Those odds were uneven as hell.

Everything went still again, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I felt like a predator was stalking me. My gun was thankfully still gripped tightly in my right hand, so I waited, my breathing coming in quiet gusts as I focused every bit of my attention on listening to the sounds around me.