Savage Rage Read Online Free Page A

parked driver’s side to driver’s side — the universal position for a police coffee meet — in the Loblaws parking lot at the top of the Bayview Avenue hill, just a stone’s throw inside 53 Division.
    â€œThe man has a point, Jack. You belong in 51.” Paul Townsend was one of the biggest and blackest men in 51.
    â€œAh, the sleeping giant awakes.”
    â€œHad court all day, Jack. Have to get my beauty sleep sometime. Might as well get paid for it.” Paul stretched massively muscular arms — although wrapped in the bulky uniform parka they simply seemed massive — and cracked his neck from side to side.
    â€œI don’t think anyone will blame you for napping all of ten minutes, dude. Did you get any sleep after court?”
    Paul shook his head and flashed an amazingly white smile at the same time. “Was gonna, but the old lady wanted to have some fun. If you know what I mean.” He playfully nudged Manny and knocked him into the driver’s door. Paul was an inch shorter than Brett and had a physique most professional bodybuilders would kill for. He was also stupidly strong, as Manny could attest to.
    Manny slowly straightened up, rubbing his left shoulder. “Easy, dude, I need that arm to shoot.”
    â€œBaby,” Paul scoffed.
    Jack grinned at the banter. God, how he missed working with these guys. Paul was one of the nicest people to ever wear the uniform and could quiet a room just by walking into it. If he and Brett paired up, they’d be their own two-man riot squad.
    At six feet, Manny carried his own share of muscle but disguised it beneath good eating. As he explained it, he had washboard abs like Paul but had a load of towels in the wash. His shaved head disguised a retreating hairline; his non-regulation goatee was made legal by a thin strip of hair along his jaw. Manny was not your average-looking cop. But then, he was a unique individual.
    Manny — William Armsman to most supervisors — was an excitable puppy on a leash. He and Jack had shared a strong partnership until Jack ended up in snoozeville, a.k.a. 53 Division. They hadn’t worked together long but had gone through some definite shit and Jack knew he could always trust Manny to have his back. Manny had a huge heart and a huge mouth — the mouth seemed to get him in the sergeants’ sights too often when it worked without consulting his brain — and threw himself into the job with a childlike enthusiasm.
    â€œYou okay, Brett? Did I get your coffee wrong?” Manny asked Jack’s passenger.
    Brett started as if Manny had roused him from a deep sleep. “Um, no. Sorry. Coffee’s fine.”
    â€œCool. Just checking.”
    â€œIs there a SOCO on the air in 51?”
    The call came over the radio and Manny promptly snatched up the mike. “5105, talk to me,” he said, using his best film noir voice.
    â€œI need you at a B and E for prints and photos.”
    â€œ10-4, on the way. Dispatch, could you put us on that call?” Manny revved the engine then dropped the car into drive. “Sorry, dudes. Duty calls. I’m off to solve another crime. Later.”
    Watching the tail lights disappear down Bayview, Brett asked, “How can a guy that hyper stay still long enough to dust for fingerprints?”
    â€œI’ve often wondered that myself.” Jack started up the car. “Well, it’s four a.m. in 53. Do you want to cruise the quiet neighbourhoods or the quiet commercial areas?”
    Once the bars closed for the night, all activity in 53 generally vanished. Jack sighed. This had always been his favourite time in 51: except for the odd one or two, radio calls were pretty much done for the night and it would be time to play. And playtime in 51 meant chasing the drug dealers. In 53, the second half of any night shift was a struggle to stay awake.
    â€œI miss 51,” he muttered as he pulled out of the lot.
    â€œHow