Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 67000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
A post from the Dallas Police Department.
Being a nurse, I found myself in contact with quite a few police officers and firefighters, so I followed both of their official social media pages.
My finger moved before I could ask it to, and I was left staring at an aerial view of city streets as a high-speed chase was happening.
I scanned the comments, finding myself intrigued enough to continue to stay on the video.
-Dude’s flying. Don’t they know that we are trying to get home? We don’t want to deal with no bullshit high speed chase.
* * *
-Police officer in front of him is right on his ass. He’s like glue!
* * *
-Wow, did anyone see the cop’s face that was in front?
* * *
-Whoa, hottie alert.
* * *
-Umm, officer. When you’re done with that high-speed chase, I’m breaking the law at…
* * *
-Holy cow… I wonder what his cuffs feel like.
* * *
-All you thirsty bitches need to get off this page and let us adults enjoy the way that officer is playing that 4-Runner like a fiddle.
I laughed at that.
Thirsty bitches indeed.
I went back to the video feed to see if I could get a good look at the guy’s face.
I wondered if I’d seen him before…
But the person filming in the helicopter never got another view of the cop’s face.
A whomp-whomp-whomp had me glancing up to see a helicopter in the sky, and since it wasn’t abnormal for us to see them, I barely gave it a second glance before I went back to the video.
But then the sound of a siren—lots of sirens, actually—started to pierce through my avid fascination.
“Whoa,” I said as I watched the cop in front try to do that thing where they spin the back of your vehicle around. I’d only recently learned what a PIT maneuver was by watching my favorite TV drama, SWAT. “Almost.”
The 4-Runner went sideways momentarily but corrected itself before taking a right onto a very familiar street.
That’s when I looked up to see where I was.
Five blocks away from what I knew to be my street that the 4-Runner was on.
My apartment building whizzed past, and I gasped.
Looking up now, crispito momentarily forgotten, I started to calculate how long…
The 4-Runner came barreling around the corner, directly at me.
He’d hit a dead end.
Then the cop came around the corner, much more cautiously, yet still managed to not only keep up, but gain ground without putting anyone in danger.
That is until the 4-Runner twisted my way, seeing a gap in the barriers directly in front of me.
But before I could gasp, the cop read the situation, saw the stopped cars, and reacted with a swiftness I would’ve never thought possible.
One second, the 4-Runner was there, heading directly toward me. The next the cop directly behind him did a PIT maneuver right in front of me. The back end of the 4-Runner went spinning.
The 4-Runner promptly crashed into a light pole, and the entire thing shook directly above my head.
4-Runner guy, seeing his demise, started to get out of the car.
However, who I suspected was Hot Cop, rammed directly into the side of the 4-Runner, pinning the door closed with his cruiser.
That’s when the guy realized he was screwed.
Hot Cop got out of his cruiser, did a sliding maneuver across the hood of it, then stood up. Seconds later, he was bodily dragging 4-Runner guy out of his vehicle and slamming him to the hood of the cruiser with barely contained violence.
“You have the right to remain silent…” the cop started to read him his rights.
That’s when I caught my breath.
It’d all happened to fast.
And sweet Mary, mother of God.
The commentators on the DPD’s page were right.
The cop was hot.
Really, really, really hot.
As in, I have a fuckin’ stutter and I’m not even talking, hot.
The cop was in uniform.
He had on the cargo pants I’d seen some of them wear, but not the uniform that patrol wore.
Black tactical pants, a black t-shirt that read ‘Dallas Police’ on it, and a thick black belt that held a big gun, shiny silver cuffs, a flashlight, a taser, a cannister of mace, and a baton. And that bright gold badge.
The man’s knee went into 4-Runner’s backside, and he pinned him there using only the strength in his legs.
With his hands, he expertly cuffed the guy who was likely going to see significant time in a jail cell.
It was in that quiet lull, as the man stopped screaming about his arms hurting, that I took a loud, crunchy bite of my crispito.
The sound had the cop and the suspect both looking over at me.
I mean, my car was only a few inches away from the police cruiser.
4-Runner guy sneered.
The cop, with his mirrored Ray-Ban sunglasses, head of gorgeously delicious light brown hair, and jaw line that would make any woman—lesbian or straight—weep, grinned.