Take Me Apart (Vitale Brothers Book 1)
Take Me Apart: Chapter 1

My heart squeezed in my chest as my lungs tightened. The fuzzy dizziness that filled my brain made my fingers feel numb. Still, I kept my gun poised, my back straight, and my feet planted. The cool October air was filled with an electric charge as if, everything would go up in a blaze at any moment.

“Steady,” Rourke mumbled beside me.

“I’m calm,” I muttered back.

He nodded. “You take the back. I’ll take the front.”

We split apart without another word. I swept to the left, and he made his way up the front steps. We’d chased the perp a good six blocks before he ducked into this house, but now everything was quiet. Too damn quiet. We weren’t exactly in an upscale part of town, yet there wasn’t a baby crying, a tv blaring, or a radio going. It was as if the entire house had fallen into a pit of nothingness. My stomach turned.

Fuck. Only god knows what we’re going to replace in there.

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.

There. A branch snapped, and rocks shifted. He was taking his time, sneaking around the corner. I had two options; I could run and possibly get shot in the back or I could stand my ground and try to shoot him before he shot me. As he rounded the corner, I picked option number three.

I dropped to the ground and squeezed the trigger. His shot rang out, aimed at where I had been only moments before. But mine was already ripping through his leg. He let out a strangled yell and fell to the dirt.

“Drop the fucking gun, Carl!”

“You shot me,” he shouted. “Oh fuck, that hurts, man. Fuck!”

I dragged myself to my feet and jogged over to where he sat on the ground, dazed and holding his bleeding leg. Blood had already soaked through the jeans and was making a sticky mess. While he was distracted, I took the opportunity to kick the gun away.

“I’m surprised you can feel anything, considering how much meth you’re on.”

He blinked up at me. “What happened?”

“Hands behind your back. Now,” I said as I kept my gun trained on him. “Rourke!”

“Right here,” my partner called as he rounded the house and joined me. “He had his girlfriend tied up in there. She’s a mess.” He stared at me. “What’s wrong with your arm?”

“Dislocated. Can you cuff him?”

“Shit,” Rourke said as he took out his handcuffs and walked over to Carl. “On your stomach, come on.”

Rourke made quick work securing Carl and called in for an ambulance. Once the call was in, he shushed Carl and took off his belt. Working fast, he tightened it around the man’s leg.

“You’re fine, drama queen,” Rourke told Carl, giving his leg a little slap. “The bleeding is already slowing.” Rourke rose to his feet, a grin stretching his lips. “How the hell did you manage this shit?” he asked as he waved a hand toward me. “You always have to choose the path of most resistance.”

“You told me to take the back, asshole, remember?” I nodded to Carl. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, he’s good.”

“Fuck you! He shot me!”

Clearly, Carl disagreed. Rourke ignored him and checked out my arm. He whistled as he took it in and grimaced.

“Can you pop it back in and stop staring at it?” I asked.

“They say you’re not supposed to do that, you know? Protocol is to wait for the ambulance.”

I was going to put one of my boots right up Rourke’s ass. He knew damn well I wasn’t going to wait around until the ambulance showed up just to do the same thing. I stared at him until he caved.

“Alright, stop pouting, princess. Brace yourself.”

I holstered my weapon and leaned against the wall of the house. Rourke took hold of my arm more securely, examining it closely. I closed my eyes and waited, bracing myself. Just when I opened them to yell at my partner, my shoulder cracked as he popped it back into place.

“Oh, fuck you!” I bellowed. “You… goddamn…”

“I know,” Rourke said. “Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?” He walked over to one of the windows and peeked inside. “Girlfriend’s still there. I’m going to go in and question her soon as they get here.”

The distant sound of sirens was fast approaching. I rolled my shoulder, pulling a face at the lingering throbbing that had been left behind. It felt a lot better, but it was definitely going to swell up and be a pain later on. That was a problem for future me.

“I’ll stay and—”

“You’re not doing shit,” Rourke interrupted. “Backup is on the way, and I can handle a little questioning. Go home. It’s not like you have plans tonight anyway.”

“I’m fine,” I argued.

“Go. Home. Don’t make me have to talk to the Sergeant.”

I glared at him. “You’re a little bitch.”

“Love you too,” he teased as he waved at the paramedics jogging down the alley. “Get out of here.”

Groaning, I gave in. As much as I wanted to stay, I had to admit that the fun part was over. Now came questions, paperwork, and bureaucratic bullshit. While I didn’t love it, sticking around and doing everything right was a great way to continue to get noticed. And I needed to be noticed if I wanted to make detective.

“Didn’t Rourke say you were going home?”

I glanced up from the computer and stared at my Sargeant. Rourke was still out, but I’d gone right back to the precinct. I’d been on my way home, but I got that urge in my belly to go back and see what else I could get into for the day. My shift wasn’t technically over, and my arm was fine. I wanted to work.

“I was going to, but I feel fine,” I said as I stood up and followed her to her desk. She dropped a stack of folders and sighed. “What’s all this for?”

“Huh?” She looked up at me like she was only seeing me for the first time and frowned. “Oh, something I’m working on for the chief. Did you put everything into your activity log?”

I nodded. “First thing I did when I came back.” I picked up a file. “These are so old. What are you looking into?”

“The Vitale family again. Chief wants a big bust. Taking down a crime family? It doesn’t get much bigger than that.”

I whistled. “Shit, no one’s been able to get anything major on them in like twenty years.”

“Yep, that’s the problem,” she muttered.

“I bet if someone did figure out what’s going on with them, he could probably make detective a hell of a lot sooner…” I trailed off.

Sergeant White stared at me before her eyes narrowed. “Not this shit again. You just became a cop two years ago. Why are you trying to move so fast?”

“We both know I want detective.”

“Yes, but you get there through busting your ass and doing the work,” she said as she plucked the file out of my hands. “Not by taking shortcuts. I don’t want to see you nosing around these. Go do some work.”

“But—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Caster,” she said shortly. “Focus on what’s in front of you.”

Fuck that. I was already two years in. By now, my father had been a detective and had started receiving accolades. He was hailed as the best of the best, and I was left standing in his shadow, a fraction of the man that he was.

“Sargeant White? My office,” the chief called.

She sighed. “I’ll be back.” She scooped up the files and dropped them into her filing cabinet before shutting it.

I nodded and watched her go. The office door shut and my hands moved before my brain could keep up. I’d shoved my leg against the file cabinet just as it closed. Sure enough, it hadn’t locked the way she thought it did. I pulled it open and reached inside. Taking out one of the folders, I scanned the info and moved to the next one.

The Vitale family was like a ghost story to a bunch of camp kids when it came to cops. An old crime family, they ran New York and what they got into was nothing short of shocking. Guns, drugs, prostitution; you name it, they did it.

I flipped through and stopped. One of their known clubs wasn’t far from where I lived. I looked at the clock on the far wall, and a grin tugged at my lips. Okay, I probably wouldn’t replace anything. But it was worth checking out, right?

Glancing around, I made sure no one was watching as I snapped a picture of the page and shoved my phone back into my pocket. I closed the drawer and went back to the desk.

Seems like I have plans after all.