SEIZED Part 1: New Adult Romantic Suspense (Seize Me Romance Fiction Series) by JC Coulton Page A

her out of here.
    Just then, more papers swirl as she swipes at the flyers pinned up on the community bulletin board. It’s getting out of control, but the desk officer seems out of his depths. I remember that feeling from when I was a rookie—that sense that I shouldn’t man-handle a pretty woman. But just as I learned, he needs to learn now. Pretty face and scanty clothes or not, if she’s causing trouble, she needs to be dealt with. I look around and realize that most of the team is still in briefing. Lucky for him, because I know Lieutenant Jacobs would freak if she saw the ruckus going on out here.
    I give the desk officer an affirming look, and he moves in toward the wild looking street worker. He’s trying to calm her like one would calm a wild animal.
    “Come on, Janey, let’s sit down and talk it through.”
    His caution is understandable. The effects of crack and meth are scary. I can see that Janey has been awake and causing trouble for a few days by now. Her hair is dirty, her voice is hoarse, and her eyes are luminous discs in their sockets. They are dilated and manic. She’s on the edge of snapping. I recognize that point, the place where only one thing matters, and I know it’s important we get her under control before she loses her shit entirely.
    Past and personal experiences tell me this woman is running on overdrive. She’s insane, so every reaction is out of proportion to what it should be. If she wants to say something, the best we can do is let her say it. Meth and crack, or whatever she’s been smoking, causes extreme elevations in emotion. If there’s a random unjust scenario going on inside her head, the quickest way to shut her down is to acknowledge it and then just listen to whatever she has to say. It’ll probably come out in a jumbled prattle, and it’s likely it won’t make sense, but it’ll be as good as letting air out of a tire when it comes to shutting her up.
    Janey must be in her mid-thirties. She’s not covered in tattoos, but her fake tan is getting leathery from malnutrition and her make-up is making her look older rather than younger. I wonder what age she was when she started in the game. I wonder what she imagined she’d be when she grew up. It’s tragic. There’s no such thing as fairytale endings on the street. By choice or by accident this woman has had a hard life, and it shows.
    “You need to watch your back.” Her threat is directed at me now, and it sounds ludicrous, like she’s trying to mimic a line from a movie. But she’s still looking my way with a snarl on her face that doesn’t crumple for a second. “Lips will get you, she’s coming for you.” Just then, the desk officer gets Janey’s hands behind her back. She’s spitting and kicking at him but he administers the cuffs and drags her away with an apologetic look on his face.
    I glance over to check on Carrie. Something in me wants to protect her from this stuff, but she’s not flinching or looking away. Instead, she’s just watching the situation with interest and sadness in her eyes.
    “Mad old Janey,” I tell her. “She’s in and out of here most weekends. Means no harm, she’s just hopped up after a big night.”
    I see in the set of Carrie’s jaw that she’s not shocked or disgusted by the woman, and my heart opens, too. The scene that’s just played out would appall most of my friends, but Carrie seems to take it in stride. I wonder again what the hell she’s been up to since high school. You don’t get that blasé from watching movies, that’s for sure.
    I shepherd her back into the interview room and close the door. We look at each other, and she picks the blanket up from the floor. Meeting my eyes, she starts to laugh but says nothing, and I get the distinct feeling she’s not the type of woman who’s used to taking shelter under tables. Carrie always had a calm energy, though. It’s hot now, and it was hot back then compared to all those giggly high school girls. It