With A Twist(38)

He lets out a huge oomph and rolls to his back, groaning and holding his ribs with his hands. The cruiser slams to a halt, and two FBI agents jump out. I know they can handle Simon so I immediately tuck my gun in the back of my jeans again and turn to Andrea.





Chapter 12





Andrea





I’m pretty sure the crackling I heard when Wyatt’s boot connected with Simon’s rib cage was several bones breaking.

I roll… come up to my knees, and lay my palms on my thighs as Simon writhes on the ground in agony. My chest is heaving with exertion, and I suck in lungfuls of oxygen.

“Fuck, I’m out of shape,” I gasp to no one in particular.

“Out of shape?” Wyatt says, and when my eyes slide over to his, I see him smiling down at me. “You ran him down… tackled him hard enough the NFL would want to recruit you. I think you’re in excellent shape.”

Reaching out, he holds his hand out to me and because I doubt I have the strength to stand on my own just yet, I accept. “Yeah… but a few years ago, I wouldn’t have been winded by that.”

His smile turns into a grin, and then my smile turns into a grin. He tugs on my hand, and I start to stand up. Acid-like pain flares around my left hip, and I can’t stop the gasp that wheezes out of me. “Damn… that hurts,” I grit out as I wince hard.

“What hurts?” Wyatt asks as he lets my hand go.

Holding out my left arm, I crane my neck and look down at my hip. My jeans are completely shredded starting just below the waistband, which I guess is a damnable consequence of tackling someone on cold, hard pavement. I can see through the material down to my skin, which is shredded as well and seeping blood.

“Christ,” Wyatt says as he takes ahold of my arm, just above my elbow, and turns me toward him. “You’re bleeding.”

The same acid-like fire now sweeps over my elbow where he’s holding me, and Wyatt immediately jerks his hand away. It’s covered in blood. “Fuck, you’re bleeding everywhere.”

“Just two places,” I say drily as I pick at the material of my jeans and try to pull it away from the massive scrape on my hip.

I hear pounding feet and see Mike Gomez is running toward us.

“Call an ambulance,” Wyatt says. “Andrea’s hurt.”

“I am not hurt. Just scraped up,” I say firmly, giving Mike a hard glare. “No ambulance for me.”

“Just to let them clean you up,” Wyatt starts to argue, but I hold up my hand and wave him off.

“I’m fine. I’ll clean up at the field office,” I tell him.

He lets out a grunt of frustration, but then nods his head at me in capitulation.

“Come on,” Mike says as he turns and starts heading to one of the many cruisers that are now parked in the alley. “I’ll take you back to the field office. You’ll need to give me a quick statement so I can use it to question the suspects, and then you two need to get some rest. I’ll need more detailed interviews with you tomorrow, and you’ll have to work up your reports.”

I glance back, seeing that Simon is already in handcuffs and is being led to one of the police cars. His eyes go to Wyatt and then slide to mine. I touch the pads of my fingers to my lips and then blow him a kiss. A short wave of my hand, and I say, “Bye-bye, Simon. Enjoy your time in prison.”

Wyatt snickers, and Mike grumbles. “Don’t mock the prisoner, Somerville. It’s poor form.”

I look over at Wyatt, and he’s grinning down at me. I lean in toward him and whisper, “Yeah, but it’s so much fun.”

Hazel eyes crinkle up briefly in amusement, then Wyatt throws his entire head back and starts laughing. He’s not paying attention to me, so I take the short opportunity to look at his handsome face, the peek of white teeth, and the strong jaw line.

Damn, he’s beautiful… inside and out.

And I don’t feel the slightest bit guilty about acknowledging that to myself either.





I give a lusty yawn as I finish drying myself off and note the clock hanging on the locker room wall says 4 AM. True to his word, Mike took very abbreviated statements from Wyatt and me to get the basic rundown of what happened tonight, and then headed out to the Raleigh Police Department where Simon, the buyer, and his driver were being held for questioning. Lance had also been picked up and was en route to the station. They would be going at them for hours if they didn’t lawyer up, and Mike had quite the gleam in his eye over the prospect.

Luckily, my suitcase with my clothes and real ID is here at the FBI field office so I decided to take a quick shower, which was the best way to clean my wounds. Wyatt told me he’d wait for me and give me a ride back to my apartment.