Justice for Angie Read online

  Justice For Angie (Police and Fire: Operation Alpha)

  Counterstrike, Book 2

  Cara Carnes

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  © 2020 ACES PRESS, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this work may be used, stored, reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher except for brief quotations for review purposes as permitted by law.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy.

  Cover Design by Freya Barker at RE&D

  Content Editor: Heather Long

  Copy Editor: Becky Edits

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  Dear Readers,

  Welcome to the Police and Fire: Operation Alpha Fan-Fiction world!

  If you are new to this amazing world, in a nutshell the author wrote a story using one or more of my characters in it. Sometimes that character has a major role in the story, and other times they are only mentioned briefly. This is perfectly legal and allowable because they are going through Aces Press to publish the story.

  This book is entirely the work of the author who wrote it. While I might have assisted with brainstorming and other ideas about which of my characters to use, I didn’t have any part in the process or writing or editing the story.

  I’m proud and excited that so many authors loved my characters enough that they wanted to write them into their own story. Thank you for supporting them, and me!

  READ ON!

  Xoxo

  Susan Stoker

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  About the Author

  Other Books by Cara Carnes

  More Special Forces: Operation Alpha World Books

  Books by Susan Stoker

  About the book

  She’s never met a fight she couldn’t win…until now.

  After brutally murdering someone in Angie Bierman’s dojo, the killer targets her first and then people she cares about to scare her off the investigation. Determined to prevent further tragedy, she does the one thing she can to keep them safe—run. Six months and ten cities later, she’s financially destitute, emotionally spent, and desperate for help in the relentless fight for her life. One close call too many brings her into contact with an elite organization. Their offer to help is too good to be true. The ruggedly handsome operative promising to put himself between her and the psychopath hunting her may have no intension of mixing business with pleasure, but he’s a temptation she can’t resist.

  There’s no line he won’t cross…

  John “Twitch” Stanz spent years serving his country and returned home to help his friends run Counterstrike—an organization created to help individuals caught up in impossible situations. Despite all the lives he’s helped save before, the fearless, beautiful woman now in his charge is a danger he’s never faced. She’s tenacious, passionate, and everything he could ever want, but the beast chasing her won’t stop until she’s dead.

  Twitch will use every resource at his disposal to keep Angie alive even if that means taking the bullet for her.

  Chapter 1

  Seven months ago…

  “Thanks for picking me up at the police station. That saved a lot of time. Ubers are hard to find in the middle of the night,” Angie Bierman commented into the thick silence.

  Discussing Uber availability seemed safer than the fact that she’d spent too much of her life in the Philadelphia police station the past several weeks. At least the latest attack hadn’t ended with a trip to the hospital. The knife wound along her back from the attack two days ago ached at the thought.

  “You didn’t call me,” Claude clipped, his voice more angry than hurt. “You should’ve called me after you phoned the police. After you were attacked, not hours later when the police were done questioning you.”

  Angie tensed. The man she’d hired as her assistant manager had a valid point. Then again, he also had more than friendship in mind. She’d avoided the awkward conversation so far, but the latest situation hadn’t helped.

  “I’m sorry. Things happened faster than I expected. By the time I realized I’d forgotten to call, I was already at the police station. I didn’t expect it to take so long. The last time didn’t.”

  Nor had the time before that.

  “Three attacks in less than two weeks likely has them worried. Finally. Are they going to do anything about this shit?”

  “They’ll try to have a cruiser patrol around the dojo more often around closing,” Angie said.

  “You’re kidding me. That’s all?” The man’s anger thundered through the vehicle. “Tell me you’re done poking your nose into this.”

  If he knew exactly how far she’d “poked,” he’d be pissed. She hadn’t told him or anyone else what she’d done. She was close, though. Why else would she be getting attacked so often?

  Noah Wints had to be guilty.

  The attacks and the threats and phone calls had to mean something. She was close.

  “They arrested the wrong man. Hannah’s ex didn’t do it.”

  “That’s not our problem.”

  But it was. If Detective Shuler was too stubborn and lazy to look into the murder properly, then Angie would. The young woman who’d been murdered had been a member of Angie’s dojo since it opened.

  Angie shoved thoughts of the woman’s murder aside as Claude pulled into a parking spot outside Angie’s place. Cool air brushed across her when she exited the vehicle.

  “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Aside from bruised ribs, the worst injury was a punch to her eye. An ice pack and a couple Tylenol, and she’d be fine. She turned and headed toward her apartment. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Don’t you dare walk away from me, Angie. We aren’t done discussing this.” Claude shouted the last words.

  Angie forced a deep breath. Darkness enveloped the small parking lot, but she charged onward. Heavy footsteps fell behind her. Damn it.

  “Claude. Stop.” She spun and faced down the irate man. “I’m done with this discussion.”

  “Like hell you are! I’m not going to stand back and watch you get yourself killed.” He grabbed for her arm, but she punched his stomach and glared. Hands up at his sides, he took a step back. “Okay, sorry. You have to listen to me. I can help keep you safe, but you have to back off.”

  “I’m not backing off. Someone murdered Hannah. She told me herself she thought she was being followed. The police have been screwing around with her investigation for weeks now. She deserves justice.”

  “They’ve arrested her ex.”

  “Eric couldn’t hurt a kitten, much less a strong woman who had decent defense skills. She wasn’t afraid of him. It was someone else.” Angie fumbled with her keys as she arrived at her doo
r.

  “What do you mean by someone else? What did she say?”

  “Just that a car was following her. She got a partial plate. I have a DMV list April got me.” She’d had the list for quite a while, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “God dammit, Angie. This is the shit I’m talking about. You can’t go off like fucking Nancy Drew. Someone killed Hannah. Now Chastity’s in the hospital.”

  Angie’s eyes burned. Chastity had been brutally attacked—beaten and raped. The young woman’s words still haunted Angie two days later.

  They did this because of you. They said it was a message. Back off or the next one dies. This is your fault. I’ll never forgive you. Get out! Get out! Get out!

  Angie breathed through the emotional tidal wave drowning her insides. “I don’t want to talk about her, Claude.”

  “Christ, you’re still blaming yourself, aren’t you?”

  “You heard what she said. She was a message delivered for me.”

  “Then why the fuck are you still looking into Hannah’s murder? You’ve been attacked three times. You should buy a fucking clue and back off.”

  “And what? Watch Hannah’s murderer get by with what he did? Watch whoever attacked Chastity get by with it?” Angie opened her apartment door and flicked on the living room light. She tossed her purse on the sofa and kicked off her shoes.

  “I’ll handle Chastity’s shit. I can keep you safe, Angie, but you’ve got to let me do that.” The man followed her into her apartment. “Destroy that fucking list April gave you and let the police do their job. They’ll find Hannah’s murderer.”

  Right. The detective in charge of the investigation had a suspect in custody. Why look anywhere beyond Hannah’s ex? Eric was the perfect patsy so the Philadelphia Police Department could declare another case closed. Easy peasy.

  She’d already poured through the DMV list, comparing registered owners of black SUVs to dojo members and clients. She’d found a match—a very recent one.

  Noah Wints, a local, rich playboy, had hired Angie for personal lessons less than a week after Hannah’s murder. Coincidence? Possibly.

  “You aren’t saying anything,” Claude accused.

  Angie kept quiet because the overprotective man following her as she entered her kitchen would blow a gasket if he knew she was already neck deep in an investigation of Noah Wints. She’d broken into his home office and rifled through receipts and paperwork. He’d been to the club Hannah stripped at several times.

  He’d known her.

  A few receipts wouldn’t be enough evidence for a lazy detective, though. Angie needed more, which was why she’d decided to escalate her efforts. More personal classes at Noah’s mansion. Sooner or later, she’d get the evidence she needed to nail his ass.

  Assuming he didn’t have her arrested. Wints had caught her snooping more than once. So far, he found her “nosiness” amusing. But now the threats included phone calls she hadn’t told Claude about. And the attacks were worse than before.

  That had to mean something. Right?

  One way or another, Hannah’s murderer would pay.

  So would Chastity’s attacker.

  “Angie, talk to me. I can’t keep you safe if you don’t trust me.” He touched her shoulder as she grabbed a water from the fridge.

  She was close and the threats were intensifying, which meant she didn’t need Claude or anyone else trying to help. The only people who could—the cops—weren’t interested in listening. So, until she got enough evidence to prove Noah Wints killed Hannah, she was on her own.

  Angie turned and regarded the man who’d become her closest friend. “You’re a great guy, Claude. One hell of an assistant manager. And a friend. I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing and stay out of this.”

  “Stay out of what? You’re up to something. You’ve been gone from the dojo more and more. Those threats are getting worse.”

  Angie’s gaze flicked to the stack of threats, photocopies of the originals she’d given the police. Most had arrived via the dojo’s printer. Someone had hacked the dojo’s WiFi network and sent threats. That alone would terrify anyone.

  But Angie didn’t back down when scared. She’d been raised by a career military officer, one who’d taught her and her sisters to face an adversary and stand their ground. You didn’t run from an asshole threatening you.

  You kicked their ass and taught them a lesson.

  She’d been proficient in four martial arts before she was a teenager, a black belt in three. She’d added a black belt in Krav Maga and extended her skillset since graduating high school. Whoever had chosen to make her a target when she’d started investigating Hannah’s murder had underestimated her.

  Then they’d learned a lesson and started going after people near her.

  Chastity.

  “I’m going to go see Chastity again. Last time didn’t go very well, but I want to see her before she’s discharged—which will be tomorrow,” Angie commented into the tense silence. “You wanna go along?”

  The man’s jaw twitch. Fire illuminated his brown eyes. “I want to know what the hell you are up to, Angie. Let me protect you.”

  “I can protect myself.”

  “The last attack was two people. Whoever is doing this is escalating. You need help.”

  The last attack before tonight had been the only one, so far, to end with a hospital trip because someone had stabbed her in the back. Although the wound hadn’t been deep, it’d required a few stitches.

  “The police department is aware of the attacks. They don’t have the manpower to provide protection, nor do they believe they’re related to Hannah’s murder.”

  “Are they blind?” Claude motioned toward the stack on her coffee table. “They have the threats, right?”

  “Yes, but they’re vague. They’re warning me off, but they don’t say off what. The police aren’t convinced it’s related. I haven’t exactly been a welcomed presence in this neighborhood.” Angie shrugged. She’d pissed off more than a few of the local thugs by teaching the local kids how to defend themselves. Even adults were taking her self-defense courses now.

  “Bullshit!”

  Angie took another sip of her water and glared at her hot-headed assistant manager. They’d become closer friends the past several months, but she’d recently noticed his interest in her went much further than hers in him—which was why she’d started distancing herself from him. She couldn’t risk alienating someone so integral to her business by rejecting his personal advances.

  “Claude, you know I don’t like your temper,” Angie whispered. “I know you’re frustrated. So am I.”

  He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “Sorry, I just don’t want you hurt by this asshole. I care about you, Angie. Lots of people do.”

  “If things get any worse, I’ll take a few days off and hole up somewhere. I’ll go visit my sister in California, or my dad.” She sat on her sofa and waited until Claude sank into the chair across from her.

  “I could go with you.”

  That wouldn’t happen, but Angie didn’t reply. She’d been raised by the stubbornest human born, so she knew when to not argue. If the time came to lie low, she’d vanish. Then she’d let Claude know. He’d run the dojo in her absence.

  Everything would be fine.

  But she had zero intention to run.

  Six and a half months ago…

  Angie pressed herself into the darkened corner of the abandoned warehouse and willed her breathing under control. One labored breath at the wrong moment and she could end up dead.

  “Angie…” The masculine sing-songy voice dragged her name out as boots scraped against the concrete floor. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

  Angie snagged her cell phone and dialed 911. Her labored breaths sawed in and out as she waited for the call to connect. Police wouldn’t arrive in time, but she needed to call. Cover her ass for what was about to happen.

  “9-1-1.”

&nb
sp; “I’m at the abandoned warehouse on Chester and Main. Three armed men are trying to kill me. Please send police.” She ended the call without waiting for the woman to ask questions.

  “You’ve been a very bad girl, Angie. Tell you what. You come out now, and I’ll let you pick how you die. I’ll make it quick like Hannah got, or I’ll give it to you long and rough like that other bitch got it. But you won’t be breathing when I’m done with you.” Delight resonated in the man’s voice. “Fan out. Find her. She’s here somewhere.”

  Adrenaline flared within her as she shoved out of her hiding spot and navigated her way through the maze of debris strewn about the warehouse floor. Dust stirred with each cautious step. Pale moonlight beamed in via broken windows along two walls.

  She ignored the chatty leader holding a Sig Sauer and focused on the man nearest her. While she held her own against anyone in hand-to-hand and street fighting style combat, guns and knives proved more of a challenge.

  A lead pipe about the length of her forearm drew her attention. She squatted and grabbed the potential weapon, tested its weight. It’d do. Her first target kept his gun at his side rather than aimed in the direction of his gaze.

  Idiot.

  She waited until he walked to the other side of a half wall. The moment he turned his attention from where she skulked in the shadows, she struck. Two direct strikes to his knees. One, hard, bone-shattering crunch of pipe to his forearm. She punched the gun from his hand with a quick strike to his wrist.