A Rookie Move - Sam B. Morgan.pdf

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A ROOKIE MOVE

Sam B. Morgan

www.loose-id.com

A Rookie Move

No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or

electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not

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rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

eISBN 9781611180004

Editor: Rory Olsen

Cover Artist: Mina Carter

Published in the United States of America

Published by

Loose Id LLC

PO Box 809

San Francisco CA 94104-0809

www.loose-id.com

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events

or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of

the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,

living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning

This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered

offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined

by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files

wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

* * * *

DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be

found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner.

Neither Loose Id LLC nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or

death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

Dedication

To Both of You. For having enough lust and angst to inspire a novel…or power a

small town.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks go out to Katrina Michaels for her writing expertise; to the Badgirlz of

badgirlzwrite.com for all the love, support, and constructively critical eyeballing of this

story; and to my editor, for all of her hard work and patience.

Chapter One

The first bullet struck the driver-side door. The dull ping shoved Mike into instinct

mode. He dived behind the car as he drew his weapon.

“Shit!” His rookie joined him and crouched down, the top of his blond head still a

sniper’s wet dream.

“Get your fucking head down,” Mike snapped.

Nathan York’s face colored as he dropped lower. He gave Mike an apologetic look.

Mike didn’t want apologies. He wanted his latest trainee, his boot, not to get shot in

the fucking head. He tapped his radio. “This is A73. We have heavy fire at this address.

Request SWAT at our location.”

Another bullet hit the side of their car, but Mike couldn’t see the shooter. A quick

glance over to York again. Had to be sure he was beside him, safe, and in position. Nate

was there, eyes wide but hands steady on his GLOCK.

Mike nodded his approval before turning his attention to the house. “LAPD!” he

yelled. “Put the gun down and come outside, hands on your head.”

No response. Mike stayed low, gaze raking the scene, trying to get a visual on the

shooter. Domestic disturbance calls were always a bitch, but he figured they’d only be in

for a lot of “he said, she said,” with this one. They’d never received a call to this house

before. Normally that meant they’d leave the scene with everyone in love again and no

one wanting to press charges. Instead they had shots fired.

That was what he got for trying to predict the job.

“Far left window of the house. It’s shot out,” York said.

Mike focused on the window. That would be the location of their shooter. Proving

York right, Mike saw the long end of a rifle ease through the broken glass.

“That’s it. Looks like a thirty-aught-six.”

“Shit,” York muttered.

Yeah. Shit. It was far from ideal, even though he couldn’t ask for a better training

scenario for his boot. Nathan York needed to learn that in this job there were never any

simple calls. Nothing was predictable, not even to a fifteen-year veteran. Every call had

the potential to go mushroom cloud on your ass. Just like this one.

Another unit responded, stopping farther down street. They slid out of their car and

took cover.

“I know you’re out there!” the shooter yelled. “I can smell you. Fucking pigs! Back

off! Back off, or I’ll kill them all!”

A scream came from somewhere inside the house.

Mike didn’t think it was possible, but York’s eyes grew bigger. He looked at Mike,

waiting for his lead, waiting for his command, like some pup in obedience training. The

A Rookie Move - Sam B. Morgan.pdf

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