Goddess of Justice Dwayne Clayden (i read book .TXT) 📖

multiple homicides. They had some great tips. Like if you see one weapon, expect at least one more. Always carry a backup gun and a knife.”

Toscana leaned forward. “Do you?”

“I thought they were crazy.” Brad grinned. “But yeah, I always have a backup in an ankle holster. A CZ75 and a tactical knife in my belt.” He stared at his beer. “They’ve both been handy to have.”

“But you were selected for the team.”

“We went through rigorous testing, and finally, six were chosen.”

“Did any women apply then?”

Brad shook his head. “Remember, this was four years ago. There weren’t that many women on the streets in 1976, let alone ready for the jump to that.”

“How was training?”

“We spent two weeks with the LA SWAT guys and then hit the streets. That’s when we realized we didn’t know squat. We were highly trained, and nothing was happening. Then we had a couple of holy-shit calls. An estranged husband killed his wife in front of their kids, then barricaded himself in the basement.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my god. What happened?”

“I tried to talk him out. But in the end, it was suicide by cop. Then a young guy, high on glue, barricaded himself in a garage. One cop was killed, and five others injured.”

“That was Detective O’Shea.”

“Yup.”

“Didn’t the military end up coming?”

Brad frowned and took a drink of beer. “The ending was not Calgary Police’s best moment. Later, the robbers got aggressive—a full-on assault on a bank near Chinook Mall. The bank was shot up, and the two ex-Airborne were stranded in the bank. They chose to shoot it out. By then, we were a cohesive team. The Airborne guys had added real-life experience than we did, but we had trained for something like this. Three Airborne were killed.”

“Jeez, that was some start to the team.”

“It was.” It felt like so long ago. A lot had happened since. And not a lot of it cheerful. Or what was going well went to shit. If you believed in luck, which he didn’t, then he was born under a bad sign. They say you make your own luck. He wasn’t sure what he had to do differently. Brad drank his beer. This had started out as fun. Now he wanted to get out of here.

The waitress set the pizza on the table and glanced at Brad’s drink. He held up two fingers.

“I need to get back to my dog soon. Do you have specific questions? Ask away while we eat.”

“Sure. Sorry to take your time.”

“That’s fine.” Brad grabbed a slice of pizza.

Toscana ignored the pizza and leaned forward, her brown eyes fixed on Brad’s “How can I get on TSU?”

“That’s going to be a huge uphill battle. I don’t know of any Tactical or SWAT team with a female member.” Brad bit off a huge section of pizza.

A grin formed and her eyes sparkled. “The Israelis?”

“They’re in a league of their own.” Brad wiped his mouth. “Not the group to compare to.”

“But it can be done.”

Brad twirled his bottle in his hands. “All the emergency services are stuck in a male 1950s paradigm. You know women have only been on the street for seven years. EMS has a few female paramedics, but only in the last few years. The Fire Department has no female firefighters or people of color.”

“I applied for TSU earlier this year.”

“So I heard.” He grabbed another slice of pizza.

“I didn’t make it. You know some guys there. Did they say anything?” She didn’t meet his eyes.

“Nothing other than you had done well.”

Toscana’s shoulders slumped. Her confident, playful mood was gone. It was like her energy was exhausted. “But not good enough.”

“I wasn’t there, but I know it’s extremely competitive. It’s a major accomplishment that you are an acting sergeant. Heck, you probably aced your interview and you’ll be a full-fledged card-carrying sergeant. That’s not a small achievement.”

“I’ll believe it when it happens.”

Brad grabbed another slice of pizza and chewed. It was like a switch was flicked and he was talking to a different Toscana. “To make TSU, you’d have to be the best in every test—best shooter, best physical shape, smartest, psychologically sound, and strongest. You might accomplish the first ones, but it’s unlikely you’ll be the strongest.” He grinned. “I heard you bench pressed more than a current member, so you’ll be okay. As long as you can carry a two-hundred-and-twenty-pound cop who is shot out of a building, you’ll have a chance. That’s the bottom line.”

Toscana’s lips pursed. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Brad held up a pizza-greased hand. “It’s a worthy goal. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sharma maneuvered the ambulance through the snow and ice. There was no sense rushing tonight—they didn’t need to get into a traffic collision. For a Thursday at midnight, the traffic was light. No one wanted to be out in freezing weather, not even to go to the bar. The back end of the ambulance slid through the turn onto Seventeenth Avenue as Sharma fought to straighten the vehicle.

“Damn, that was fun.” Cook held tight to the handhold above her door as her right foot jammed into the floor.

Sharma glanced over at her foot. “Did your side stop?”

“Just a reflex.”

Sharma got the ambulance under control, and they plowed through the snow toward the apartment building.

“Isn’t this the same address we were at a few months ago?” Cook asked. “The boyfriend beat up his girlfriend. We transported her to the hospital, and the cops took him away.”

“You mean the guy Coulter tuned up?”

“Twice. Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Shit. He was a nutcase. Make sure the cops are close,” Sharma said.

“Dispatch, Medic 2. We’re a minute from the address. Are the cops on the way?”

“Medic 2, CPS should be right behind you.”

Cook glanced in the rearview mirror in time to see a police cruiser slide through the intersection over the curb and onto the sidewalk. “They’re taking the long way.”

Sharma maneuvered the ambulance to the curb, and they jumped out. Cook slid a black wool