Chapter One
Of course it had to be a night where the rain poured down in sheets and the Jets were on TV that he was called in. Maxwell got out of the precinct at seven o’clock, and after picking up Italian take-out from his favorite restaurant he planned to sit in his leather recliner, watch the Jets, and drink a beer or two. It wasn’t even the first quarter and his cell phone rang. They needed him for a hostage situation at a women’s shelter, which set an edge to his teeth right away. He had very little patience for men who put their hands on women. Even less for men who’d break into a safe haven that the women could go to when they got brave enough to leave. Max shrugged into his leather coat on the hook by the door, then picked up his black duffle bag from by the door where it always sat, ready and packed. He hadn’t even had time to get his boots off. In the Army they were his shit kickers, but now in the NYPD he kicked a different kind of shit. Regardless of whether it was two in the afternoon or two in the morning, he’d be up and ready when the call came. He was part of one of the finest units in the country, there was nothing like the New York police department SWAT team.
Damn, and it was supposed to be a good game too.
The shelter was in lower Manhattan, close to One Police Plaza where he worked. He knew it was there kind of off-handedly. The director had come in one day and told them they had to take a course in handling the victims. Most of those women were so bruised that the sight of a man made them flinch. But the shelter was in a secret location, and not even the women knew where it was half the time until they were taken there and given a safe place to stay.
Haven Hope was the name of the facility, but there wasn’t a sign announcing the fact. It was a three-story brick building donated by some big corporation and renovated with hotel-style rooms to give the women privacy. The sanctuary also had communal eating and living areas for everyone to share and give a sense of family.
He was supposed to negotiate with the bastard inside, but what he really wanted to do was to go in there and beat his face in with the butt of his gun. Max made no bones about it and felt no remorse. He hated abusive men. He pulled up to the scene and his partner was waiting. They’d been friends for years and now they were partners as well. Jones wasn’t a pretty man, he reminded Max of a troll doll, down to the curly red hair. But he was a husband and a father of three. Apparently Jackie saw something in that ugly mug to love. Make no bones about it, when Jones was on the job he was a mean-ass cop. Flashing red and blues and big floodlights lit the scene and as he suited up Jones filled him in.
“What’s the low down?” Max pulled his vest over his head and then fit an earpiece in his ear.
“Guy walked in there looking for his wife and kid.” Jones chewed on the end of a straw, his usual habit that drove Max crazy. “She’s not even here, she’s upstate with her sister and moving to Maine to be away from this asshole. He didn’t take no for an answer and the director managed to get most of the women and children out. But the director is in there with another woman, nine months pregnant, ready to drop the kid any day now.”
“Shit,” Max muttered. “How many entrances and exits?”
“One main entrance and a back door, a side entrance, and the fire escape up the side to windows on each floor. He has them on the first floor so we can breach through the fire escape if necessary,” Jones explained. “We’ve got eyes on him through fiber optics. The doors aren’t wired and neither is he, not the smartest tool in the shed. He just picked up a gun and went in. He’s got it pointed to the stomach of the pregnant woman. The director is tied to a chair and she’s been hit a few times.”
Max nodded and cracked his neck. “Let’s do this.”
Together they ran from his car to the SWAT tactical truck that
Of course it had to be a night where the rain poured down in sheets and the Jets were on TV that he was called in. Maxwell got out of the precinct at seven o’clock, and after picking up Italian take-out from his favorite restaurant he planned to sit in his leather recliner, watch the Jets, and drink a beer or two. It wasn’t even the first quarter and his cell phone rang. They needed him for a hostage situation at a women’s shelter, which set an edge to his teeth right away. He had very little patience for men who put their hands on women. Even less for men who’d break into a safe haven that the women could go to when they got brave enough to leave. Max shrugged into his leather coat on the hook by the door, then picked up his black duffle bag from by the door where it always sat, ready and packed. He hadn’t even had time to get his boots off. In the Army they were his shit kickers, but now in the NYPD he kicked a different kind of shit. Regardless of whether it was two in the afternoon or two in the morning, he’d be up and ready when the call came. He was part of one of the finest units in the country, there was nothing like the New York police department SWAT team.
Damn, and it was supposed to be a good game too.
The shelter was in lower Manhattan, close to One Police Plaza where he worked. He knew it was there kind of off-handedly. The director had come in one day and told them they had to take a course in handling the victims. Most of those women were so bruised that the sight of a man made them flinch. But the shelter was in a secret location, and not even the women knew where it was half the time until they were taken there and given a safe place to stay.
Haven Hope was the name of the facility, but there wasn’t a sign announcing the fact. It was a three-story brick building donated by some big corporation and renovated with hotel-style rooms to give the women privacy. The sanctuary also had communal eating and living areas for everyone to share and give a sense of family.
He was supposed to negotiate with the bastard inside, but what he really wanted to do was to go in there and beat his face in with the butt of his gun. Max made no bones about it and felt no remorse. He hated abusive men. He pulled up to the scene and his partner was waiting. They’d been friends for years and now they were partners as well. Jones wasn’t a pretty man, he reminded Max of a troll doll, down to the curly red hair. But he was a husband and a father of three. Apparently Jackie saw something in that ugly mug to love. Make no bones about it, when Jones was on the job he was a mean-ass cop. Flashing red and blues and big floodlights lit the scene and as he suited up Jones filled him in.
“What’s the low down?” Max pulled his vest over his head and then fit an earpiece in his ear.
“Guy walked in there looking for his wife and kid.” Jones chewed on the end of a straw, his usual habit that drove Max crazy. “She’s not even here, she’s upstate with her sister and moving to Maine to be away from this asshole. He didn’t take no for an answer and the director managed to get most of the women and children out. But the director is in there with another woman, nine months pregnant, ready to drop the kid any day now.”
“Shit,” Max muttered. “How many entrances and exits?”
“One main entrance and a back door, a side entrance, and the fire escape up the side to windows on each floor. He has them on the first floor so we can breach through the fire escape if necessary,” Jones explained. “We’ve got eyes on him through fiber optics. The doors aren’t wired and neither is he, not the smartest tool in the shed. He just picked up a gun and went in. He’s got it pointed to the stomach of the pregnant woman. The director is tied to a chair and she’s been hit a few times.”
Max nodded and cracked his neck. “Let’s do this.”
Together they ran from his car to the SWAT tactical truck that
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