Cop (The Police Trilogy Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

realised he’d be interfering with the microphone. Yet another itch that would have to wait.
    Something made him look down the length of the diner, where he saw their waitress emerge from behind the counter carrying a tray with a glass of Coke filled to the brim with ice and lemon.
    She took two steps and was stopped by a bigger guy, bulging at the seams of his diner uniform, who took the tray from her and began to wander this way.
    The whole thing unnerved Brandon, and put him on edge.
    He’d learned to trust his gut over the years, and now his gut was screaming at him that something wasn’t right.
    The guy was a genuine employee, Brandon had noticed him before now, serving another booth, so it wasn’t that. It wasn’t unheard of for wait staff to help one another out when they were rushing between tables, so it wasn’t that either.
    It wasn’t even the hint of faded gang tattoos peeking over the taut collar of the guy’s neck. This whole neighbourhood must be full of ex-gang members.
    No.
    It was the way he was holding the tray.
    Much too low.
    And at a slight angle.
    As he took a few steps closer, he made eye contact with Brandon, and his left hand came to the glass, steadying it, supporting it.
    “Heads up,” Brandon whispered, and felt the immediate attention and tension of everyone sharing the booth.
    Brandon bought his hand to his holster, using the table to disguise the move.
    He was certain now what was under that tray.
    The guy was a few feet away, and clearly supporting the tray on the back of his hidden hand, the glass hovering an inch or so above it.
    Brandon whipped from the booth, spinning on his heel, and grabbed the guy from behind, pushing the nose of his gun into the goon’s neck. The tray crashed to the floor, as did the glass, smashing into a thousand pieces at their feet, the Coke fizzing on the tiles.
    Someone at another booth screamed, and Brandon looked at the reflection in the window.
    Sure enough, the guy was holding a gun.
    Brandon had him by the wrist, there was no way he was aiming it anywhere other than his own thigh now. He pushed the muzzle deeper into the thick folds of the goon’s neck, and felt him relax, surrendering to Brandon’s choke hold.
    Conrad was on his feet now, his own gun pulled and aimed at the guy’s forehead.
    “Is that for me?” he asked, his voice laced with so much menace it sent a shiver down Brandon’s spine.
    The goon gave a single shake of the head, terrified at the amount of guns aimed at him now that Kane and Hemp had joined the party.
    Brandon knew that Conrad wanted to smack this guy in the nose with the butt of his gun, but he knew he wouldn’t do it in front of the whole diner. So he was half-expecting for them to drag this goon outside to the back alley and deal with him there.
    The window exploded.
    Brandon was on the floor before the shards of glass rained down around him. The Coke oozed into his jeans, and he felt a heat in his knees that made him realise he had knelt in the broken Coke glass. He was bleeding.
    At least he hadn’t been shot.
    The goon was rolling around in agony, glass sticking into him, tearing at his skin, oozing blood, his gun discarded on the floor and forgotten.
    A clip of bullets shot over Brandon’s head, and he heard the distinct sound of an Uzi being fired from across the street.
    Conrad was ducked behind the booth to Brandon’s left, and Kane and Hemp had taken cover on the other side.
    Screams punctuated the sudden silence, the sound of glass being crunched under feet as a handful of idiots got up and ran for the exit, ducked down, arms flailing above their heads in surrender.
    “Stay down,” Brandon bellowed from the pit of his stomach, and everyone seemed to get lower than they already were.
    He ignored his own advice, and leaned up, peeking above the table and through the broken window.
    A gang member was walking towards him, gun aimed and cocked to one side like the punk bitch he was. When he saw