Debra Anastasia
USA Today Bestselling Author

Chapter 9

BRUN

Brun’s tech guy, Joey came over the walkie. “Sir, I’ve got them.”

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As Andres was brought into the room with his quiet assistant following, he tried sweet-talking the cop, “Listen, son, this here is my job. I keep the public apprised of the situation in my studio.” He wiggled in discomfort at the cuffs. “You’re arresting me? No! I’ve not broken a law. Not a single one.” Andres started to struggle again.

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In the hallway above the bomb-filled dressing room, Detective Brun was not amused. “Tell me how the new guy got into the vent.” 

He seemed to be doing eight other things while waiting for the response from Andres.

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“I will do no such thing. The events in that room are fated to come to fruition.” Andres did his best to look dignified and knowledgeable.

“You prickly old dickbag. The only event you can be sure of is that I’ll be digging so far into your past when this whole thing is over that I’ll be able to slap you coming out of your mother’s vagina. Every tax, every paper, every ticket you ever had better be in order. Plus, there are all the new charges I’ll be bringing you up for, including obstructing justice.” Brun had finally put his whole, considerable attention on Andres.

Andres withered a bit but maintained, “The press has rights!”

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“Absolutely. I totally agree with that statement. But your hair? It has no rights. Joey, go get me the dog clippers from the canine car. We’re shaving this bastard’s hair to find out if he’s concealing any weapons in that rat’s nest.”

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Brun reached up and petted the top of Andres’ high-packed hair. It bounced like a crinkly bed.

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“No! Fine. I’ll tell you.” Andres flinched away from Brun’s hand. “He crawled in the air vent. I’ll show you where.”

Brun nodded for the old man to walk and shook his head when Andres rattled his handcuffs.

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“If I fall? That’s on you.” Andres started off.

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“I think you should count your blessings if I don’t trip you.” Brun poked Andres in the back to speed him up.

Two flights down, the entrance vent was flopped open. Price, a female SWAT team member pulled herself up into it, followed by her partner. Guns were passed to them.

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“Get him outside in a car. Stay with him and the other one until this is over.” 

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Joey put his hand on Andres’s shoulder. “Yes, sir.”

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“I deserve an exclusive. I want to be here when the hostages get out. Or at least have access to the room with the dead bodies!” Andres shouted in Brun’s direction.

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Rocco just gave him a dismissive wave and turned to the laptop one of the team members had propped open to watch the surprise assault. The video feed was clear, but not clear enough to tell if the perp really had a functioning bomb strapped to his chest.

“O’hann. How is it I have to threaten a senior citizen instead of you doin’ your job?” Brun was back to doing a million things at a time again, including dressing down his crew.

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“Sir, this is a very old building. It makes no sense that the vent entrance is here, below the actual room.” O’hann looked embarrassed.

“A random bodyguard off the street figured it out.” Brun held his finger up for silence. 

He listened to his SWAT team as they whispered their findings. The laptop glowed with a creepy green night-vision view of the inside of a very dirty air vent.

“Almost to the top of this vertical vent. Going off com in three, two…” Price’s voice dropped off.

A few minutes later the laptop screen seeped from green to full color. The conversation had turned deadly and heated. And it was now in stereo from the combined surveillance feed and Price’s microphone.

“All the things will die!” The perp held a device connected to the bomb. “My girlfriend decided to leave, and now, to show her, I’ll take from her—the advice giver. You’ll think twice before you get involved in anyone else’s business!”

A pale, slumped over Milla Kierce gave him the finger. “Fuck you, asshole. If you kill me I won’t be thinking at all. Crap, you’re a dimwit. Best thing she ever did was leave you.”

Brun analyzed the room, watching his bomb squad for any indication on the type of explosives they might be dealing with, but a part of his brain gave the girl a round of applause. Thatagirl. 

The rock star wisely covered the sharp-tongued woman’s mouth, whispering in her ear. He watched as the expert mouthed, It’s real. Brun shook his head and motioned with his hand to pull out, also giving the command in Price’s ear. His vent SWAT team backed out a hell of a lot quicker than they went in. Price was mad when she stood in front of him again, as usual.

“Brun, I can get him. One bullet ends this thing. I’m going back.”

“Price.”

She paused.

“We can’t tell if the bomb goes off when he pushes the button, or when he lets go of it.”

She turned and faced Rocco. "So we just leave? That’s it?”

“Yeah. We leave. I can’t risk my people. I’ll continue negotiations by phone from outside.” Brun hooked his thumbs in his pockets. He noted her reluctance. “It’s an order. I save your life, and you keep your job. It’s a win-win.”

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She cursed under her breath and pointed up to the room in question. “Not for them it’s not. This sucks.”

Price stomped out the door. Rocco looked at the vent hanging open. A few years ago he would have jumped right in, but it made the most sense to leave.

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