Gritting her teeth against the pain in her leg, Trina checked her weapon and started limping toward the central office. Each step sent fresh agony through her thigh, but she pressed on. Faulner was waiting up ahead. It was time to finish this. The command office loomed ahead, its grimy windows flickering with fluorescent light.
Trina pressed her back against the wall beside the door, steadying her breathing. Her leg throbbed where the bullet had grazed her, and fresh blood trickled down her side. She tightened her grip on her Glock and kicked the door open. Don't move, she commanded, sweeping her weapon across the room. Faulner stood behind a metal desk, his arm locked around a young girl's throat, a hunting knife pressed against her skin.
The girl couldn't have been more than 14, tears streaming down her face. Well, well. The fed [ __ ] found her way upstairs. Faulner's draw dripped with contempt. His uniform was splattered with blood. not his own.
Drop the gun or I open her throat. You're surrounded, Faulner. FBI tactical teams are already in position. Trina kept her voice steady despite the burning in her wounds. It's over.
He laughed, a hollow sound that echoed off the metal walls. You government garbage think you're so smart, always playing by the rules, filling out your little forms. The knife pressed deeper, drawing a whimper from the girl. But I own this county. Have for years.
Let her go. This is between us now. Between us? His face twisted with rage. You have no idea what you've walked into.
Your precious agent Monroe found out the hard way. Wrapped his car around a tree about 6 hours ago. Trina's stomach clenched, but she kept her expression neutral. You're lying. Am I?
Check your phone if you can find it. But I'm guessing you won't be getting any calls from Arthur anymore. Faulner's grin widened. See, I've got friends in places you can't touch. People who make sure problems like you disappear.
Big talk from a small town cop hiding behind a child. Small town. He pressed the blade harder, drawing a thin line of blood. I run more product through this route than you'll see in your whole career. Girls, drugs, weapons, whatever pays, and no fed above my pay grade will touch me.
Trina's eyes darted to a metal cup on the desk near Faulner's right hand. In one fluid motion, she fired at it. The cup exploded, spraying hot coffee across his face. He jerked back instinctively, loosening his grip on the girl. "Run!"