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CHAPTER ONE
Julia
I cursed my short legs as my feet pounded against the asphalt, trying desperately to gain some ground. I pumped my arms, trying to push myself even faster. I ran nearly every morning, and I did it so when I was put into situations like this I could keep up with the criminals with much longer legs. And yet, it was still a challenge.
Not far ahead, I could see the suspect’s bald head bobbing in between people as he ran down the sidewalk. Pedestrians dodged to the side and yelled rude comments at him as he bowled through the middle of everything. He didn’t seem to care if he ran someone over so long as I didn’t catch up to him.
He disappeared, ducking down an alley. I swung in after him, glad for the better visibility the alley afforded, and spotted him entering a door in the building on the left. I made a beeline for it, eyes searching for any hidden danger.
Time was of the essence, but I took a moment to pause in front of the closed door and crack it open. I flung the door wide and tucked myself to the side, just in case. I was relieved I did when a butcher’s knife sailed through the doorway, clattering to the pavement in the alley.
My heart danced to a new tune, releasing another rush of adrenaline. My body went rigid, and then the shaking began. “Snails!” I held my tongue from the rush of words I wanted to say and forced myself to take a deep breath. I ignored the negative side effects of the adrenaline rush and refocused my attention on the door.
Inside, I could hear clattering and shouting. It sounded like a kitchen. I removed my stun gun from its holster and stepped through the doorway. Several men dressed in kitchen attire stared at me, arms raised in fear. They backed away from me as I entered. I scanned the interior and spotted my suspect darting through another door. I sighed and followed, being as swift as I could while still being cautious.
The door led into a dining room packed with people. Not a single table was empty. I holstered my gun when my suspect collided with a server, knocking food everywhere. A woman screamed. I ran towards him, but he was already moving. At least being tiny allowed me to navigate the tables with ease.
I was gaining ground on him when he launched out the front door and back onto the street. He didn’t even pause. He turned right and kept running. I dashed after him, pushing my muscles some more. For a bulky guy, he sure could run fast. If there had been less people around, I would have shot him with the stunner, but I couldn’t risk catching someone else in the crossfire.
Immediately, he raced across the street, right in the middle of ground traffic. I groaned and looked both ways before pursuing him. The last thing I needed was to get hit by a car. Vehicles beeped and honked at him as he recklessly raced in front of them. He reached the curb and tripped, hit the ground, tucked into a roll, and regained his feet. It took me a few seconds to get across the road, but I could still see him ahead of me. He turned down another alley.
I saw an opportunity to gain on him since his gait had slowed significantly because of his tumble. I was not going to let him get away. I lengthened my stride, knowing I might be sore the next day, but I didn’t care. My sheer determination would give me the edge I needed to catch him.
He had almost reached the end of the alley when I launched myself at him in a flying tackle. I caught him around the knees and we both crashed into the ground. I grunted when his foot slammed into my stomach, and I rolled off his lower half, reaching for his shoulders.
The wind might have been knocked out of him, but he recovered quickly. He flipped onto his back, wedged his foot between us, and shoved me away. He scrambled to his feet, but I was on mine just as fast, and I slammed my foot into the back of his knee.
He bellowed, and his face tensed up in pain. His eyes landed on mine as he leaned against the wall for support. I paused just in case he’d had enough.
Wounded and cornered, he should have given up, but I saw his eyes flicker over me, taking in my small stature and overt feminine features. They screamed fragility, even if it was a lie. Everyone always thought I was weak because I didn’t look intimidating. He had no idea how long I’d trained as a fighter.
I could see it clearly in his eyes when he decided to fight. I didn’t hesitate. I turned my body and launched a side kick at him, taking him by surprise and knocking him off balance, though he didn’t fall. I took advantage of his disorientation and came in close, catching him under the jaw with an uppercut.
His teeth clacked together, but I didn’t hear bone crack. He grabbed for me, twisted his fingers into a handful of my hair, and yanked. I ground my teeth against the pain but allowed him to pull me closer. He wrapped his arm around my neck, attempting to cut off my oxygen, and finally released my hair. As soon as he did, I grabbed the hand that held my neck, wrapped my fingers around his thumb and yanked. With my other hand, I reached up and jabbed at his face until I poked an eye.
He swore and growled at me while I stomped down on his foot. He jerked away with a cry, and I used his thumb to leverage his arm away from my neck. I considered hitting him in the jaw again, but I wanted his face as unharmed as possible so I could read him when we interrogated him. Instead, I coiled my muscles, building as much power as I could, and punched him in the gut. His breath fanned my face as the air left his lungs. He doubled over, and I grabbed my right fist with my left hand and lifted it up as high as I could, using all my power as well as gravity to slam my right elbow down on his shoulder. The force knocked him on his face.
I knelt on his back, pulled out a pair of cuffs, and roped his hands into them. He was in too much pain to resist me. He moaned into the ground, and I rolled my eyes.
“Shut up. It’s your own fault. You shouldn’t have run from me or tried to fight me. Just because I’m tiny doesn’t mean I can’t beat you.” I read him his rights, huffing a little while catching my breath. “Now, you should know I’m IPF. So, if I decide to treat you as a terrorist suspect, your rights go out the window. And since you were involved in the kidnapping and attempted assassination of a high chancellor, that can be classified as a treasonous act with intent to destabilize world balance. That qualifies as a terrorist attack.”
“Hey, I didn’t try to kill him! That wasn’t me! I wasn’t even there for that!”
I rolled my eyes for a second time. “You were there for the kidnapping. And just because he left you behind to kill Kit Matheson instead of bringing you to help assassinate Barrows doesn’t mean you are any less guilty than Santiago.”
He started sputtering and I shook my head, cutting him off. “Save it. I’m not going to talk to you on the street. We’re going back to the office first. Then you can give me all your lines. I suggest you think of a very, very convincing reason why I shouldn’t charge you with treason and destabilization. Those charges would make life very uncomfortable for you.”
He fell silent. I reached up and tapped on my com. “Blaze?”
A second later, his voice flooded my ear. “You got him?”
“Yeah. A pickup would be nice.”
“Heading for your tracker now.”
Within a few short minutes, a police hovercar descended into the alley. I pulled the suspect up onto his feet and pressed his back against the alley wall to ensure he didn’t get any ideas about trying to flee again.
The driver side door opened, and Agent Jordan Blaze stepped out, a grin on his face. “Carter, you still surprise me some days. I thought for sure he was going to get away.”
