For the Fight Read online

  A train sat, doors open, at the platform. Before she could think, she was on the train. Surely, he wouldn’t follow her onto it?

  She collapsed onto one of the chairs near the front of the carriage, one that backed against the wall and faced another line of empty seats before her.

  Lou had gone to great pains to know nothing of what Nate was doing now. She’d never Facebook stalked him, never Googled him.

  Given his clothing, he’d clearly left the police – she never would’ve expected that. He had a whole new life she knew nothing about, cared nothing about.

  Liar.

  Suddenly – far too belatedly – the idiocy of what she was doing crashed down on her.

  Sergeant Peters would surely call her any moment. Or an Elite SWAT operator was about to ask her what the hell she was doing.

  She needed to get off this train and pull herself together.

  She rushed to her feet, but it was too late.

  The doors closed before her, and immediately her gaze went to the network map printed on the carriage wall. She’d just get off at the next stop.

  No problem. She’d sort this out.

  “Lou,” Nate said, right beside her. “What the hell are you doing?”

  And that was when what should’ve been blindingly obvious hit her.

  Hit her, just as she forced herself to meet his gaze.

  Nate had not quit the force to work in an office.

  He was not following her because he desperately needed to talk to her or see her again, or something equally unlikely and fantastical.

  No. He was an E-SWAT operator.

  It was his job to follow her.

  That was all.

  “Fuck,” she said.

  Chapter Two

  Fuck.

  The word hung between them as the train pulled away from the station.

  Lou held Nate’s gaze hard, as if she was proving a point.

  But Nate couldn’t read her expression. She was pissed, sure. But at him? Herself? The situation?

  “I didn’t know you were the target,” he said. “Not until we reached the train station.”

  Not for sure, at least. He’d been 99 percent sure as he’d watched her dart through the perfume counters at Myer, not quite close enough to be certain, but close enough to know he knew the sway of those hips. The set of that jaw. It was only the incongruity of Lou playing the target that didn’t fit.

  Lou shrugged. “I didn’t know you worked at Elite SWAT,” she said. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have …” Her gaze darted briefly out the window.

  “Run away?” he prompted.

  That hard gaze was back. “I …”

  He knew she was about to deny it, but then he watched her reconsider. This was typical Lou, as honest as they came.

  “I didn’t want to talk to some dick who treated me like shit a decade ago,” she said. “What was I supposed to do?”

  Nate blinked. That was more honest that he was expecting. Bolder than he’d expected. Lou had always been strong, but also always a little shy. A bit reserved.

  With maturity had come confidence. Good for her.

  The carriage jostled as the train took a curve, and she grabbed for one of the hand straps hanging from the roof to regain her balance.

  The action revealed several inches of olive skin as her tank top slid upwards.

  Nate made himself look away, knowing she was right about him being a dick a decade ago and not wanting to be one again now. They were work colleagues it seemed. He had to be professional.

  Lou tugged at her top with her spare hand, and he saw the hint of a blush on her cheeks.

  Damn. He knew that blush. A memory hit him hard and crystal clear: Lou on his bed, on her knees, the T-shirt she’d just tugged off for him bunched in her hands in front of her body. That blush, and then her gaze had met his and whatever she’d seen had been enough to make her drop the shirt, and reach for him without hesitation. Beautiful, and brave, and sexy as hell.

  Beautiful.

  Professionalism be damned, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at her for long moments, as the train swayed and rattled its way to the next station. She looked different, of course – her hair was longer, and it didn’t have the blonde streaks she’d used to get done. But her blue-green eyes were just the same: big and intense; and her nose slender and jaw sharp.

  He’d thought her hot the first time he’d seen her as a cadet. He’d realised she was smart and stubborn – and just as determined as him shortly after.

  He met her gaze which was still hard, her eyes narrowed.

  “Why were you the target today?” he asked, as if he wasn’t thinking about how her hips had used to feel under his hands. How his thumb had fitted against the jut of her hip bones, and how his fingers would flare out and grip her heated skin as they …

  “I’m working at Elite SWAT for a bit,” she said, her tone prickly. He reckoned she knew exactly what he was thinking about. “Desk duties,” she added, “it’s temporary.”

  Those words did snap him out of the past.

  “Why?” he asked, stunned. Why on earth would a cop like Lou be off the street? Desk duties were for when something went wrong: a mistake, an investigation, an injury. “Are you okay?”

  “Of course,” she said. “And I’m sure you’ll hear the gossip about why I’m at E-SWAT soon enough. I won’t spoil it for you.”

  Her gaze did not invite him pushing the point. Besides she was right. E-SWAT was not a place to keep a secret. Top-secret operations involving months of planning and not a whisper mentioned to a soul outside those involved? No problem. The place was a fucking vault. But anything personal? Scandalous? Or even just mildly, vaguely embarrassing? You might as well just send out a group email and not even bother hoping to keep it on the down-low.

  But Nate did not like the idea of the team talking about Lou. He knew her. If something had gone wrong, it hadn’t been her fault. He hated the idea that the other operators would judge her. Would dismiss her.

  He saw it all the time. You needed an ego to be at E-SWAT, that went without saying. The men and women were used to being the best, the most talented – and when they got to E-SWAT they were surrounded by more of the best, more of the most talented. It was competitive, and it was intense.

  And there was a hierarchy. It was bloody difficult to get through the E-SWAT selection course, to get your foot in the door. When you did, you were – as the team name made clear - marked as elite. Better than the rest, and superior to every other cop in the state.

  But Nate knew it wasn’t that simple. He’d always wanted to be a cop, and was always going follow in his father’s footsteps. But his dad hadn’t been part of Elite SWAT. He’d ‘just’ been a sergeant in a regional town.

  But he’d been Nate’s hero. And simply by being a great cop, he’d been a shit tonne of other people’s hero too.

  Being a great cop, like he knew Lou was, mattered. If you were at E-SWAT or not.

  “I’ll set them straight,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  The train was slowing as it arrived at City West station. They’d need to get off here and catch the next train back.

  “You will not do that,” Lou said, dropping the hand strap so she could step closer to him. They’d already been standing relatively close, but now she was near enough that she needed to tilt her chin to meet his gaze. “Don’t you dare. I can look after myself. Besides, Nate, I did fuck up, all right? So, nothing to set straight. Probably whatever gossip you hear will be true.”

  The train rolled to a complete stop. A young woman with a baby asleep in one of those baby sling things stood at the door, ready to alight. Outside, only a few people dotted the station platform. It was late morning on a Monday – not exactly peak hour for the Perth to Fremantle line.

  “No way,” Nate said, as the doors slid open. “That doesn’t sound like the Lou I knew. Tell me what happened, there’s got to be more to it—”

  “There’s not, N
ate,” she said on a sigh. “Come on, let’s just get off this stupid train.”

  Nate activated his microphone as he waited for the mother and baby to step off in front of him. He’d already let the team know he’d followed the target onto the platform and then onto the train.

  He’d completely ignored Peters’ ranting about Lou not understanding simple instructions, and besides – Peters had calmed down pretty quick. It wasn’t much more than three minutes from Perth to City West. They’d added maybe ten minutes to the exercise, and they’d all be back at headquarters for the debrief before they knew it.

  “At City West with the target. We’ll catch the—”

  Lou’s hand on his arm instantly silenced him.

  Initially it was just because she’d touched him – even through the thin cotton fabric of his shirt the simple act of her hand on him instantly focused all of his attention.

  But swiftly, it stopped being about a visceral, primal reaction to Lou as a woman, and became completely about what she was trying to tell him.

  She’d curled her hand just above his elbow, her fingers digging into his bicep.

  “Wait,” she said, urgently, under her breath.

  As the woman and her baby stepped out of the train and onto the platform, a man and another woman hurried through the carriage door.

  Well, more accurately – the man hurried. The man was only of average height, but he was constructed of inflated muscle, with huge shoulders and pectorals beneath the snug black T-shirt he wore. His muscular arms were liberally covered in tattoos, with the artwork presumably continuing under the fabric of his shirt, reappearing above his collar to wrap around his neck.

  Rather than take one of the many spare seats in the nearly empty carriage, the guy dragged the woman to a stop immediately across from the still open carriage door.

  His dark hair was short, his features blunt. His jaw was clenched.

  Now, Nate had nothing against tattoos. Tatts could be cool. Not his thing personally, but heaps of the guys at E-SWAT had them. Likewise, he got the whole gym thing. He was paid to be fit. Extremely fit.

  So, having tatts and being ripped didn’t make you a bad guy.

  But Nate had been in the job long enough to know a shithead when he saw one. And this guy, with his arm wrapped around the waist of the woman beside him, was pure shithead.

  Whether his criminality extended beyond intimidating women, Nate had no idea. But he had absolutely no doubt the small woman standing beside the man did not want to be on this train.

  He glanced at Lou.

  But she’d already stepped around him, crossing the carriage to stand before the woman. The woman hadn’t looked up the entire time Nate had been watching, her blonde hair covering her face in a tangled curtain.

  “Are you okay?” Lou asked her, as Nate stepped up beside her.

  The shithead was entirely focused on Lou, his anger almost a tangible thing – like an aura of fury surrounding him. He was older than Nate had thought, probably late forties, with salt and pepper through his almost buzz cut hair. He held the blonde woman tight, her body pressed against his from shoulder to hip. The muscles in the arm wrapped around her were tensed, and veins popped on the back of his hand and up his arms. A similar vein pulsed on the man’s forehead as he glared at Luella.

  A beeping noise heralded the closing of the carriage doors behind Nate.

  It seemed they weren’t going to get back to Elite SWAT headquarters as quickly as he’d thought. But that was okay. You don’t just look the other way – ever.

  Lou would’ve asked the woman if she was okay whether she was in uniform or not. So would he.

  But – the thing was they weren’t in uniform, and the shithead had no idea that two police officers stood in front of him. Unarmed police officers, given neither of them had needed a firearm for the surveillance exercise, and gun legislation in Australia didn’t allow even the police to conceal carry without good reason. And if the E-SWAT team had all been wearing gun holsters while tailing Lou, that would’ve given the game away.

  “Are you okay?” Lou repeated, when the woman remained absolutely silent.

  No – that wasn’t true. Nate could hear her breathing – louder than it should be. Much louder.

  Fear.

  “She’s fine,” the shithead grunted.

  “I’d really rather hear that from her,” Lou said, sounding absolutely calm and reasonable. She kept her attention on the woman only, as if the behemoth of a man was utterly irrelevant to her.

  The mop of blonde hair lifted, and the woman met Lou’s gaze.

  She said nothing, but her message was clear: Help me.

  Then her head dropped down again.

  “Tell her you’re fucking fine, Fiona. You can at least fucking do that for me.”

  Fiona didn’t move.

  Nate realised she was wearing business attire: a striped pencil skirt, navy blue blouse, sensible heels. A security pass hung from a lanyard at her neck.

  Fiona had been at work before the shithead had come along. Did she even know the guy?

  He needed to call in backup to meet them at the next station. He was fairly sure he could take the guy down if necessary, but it wasn’t at that point yet. The best thing to do would be to get the guy off the train, and Fiona safe. Ideally peacefully and without freaking out everyone on the train. And that would be easier with backup.

  The train took a turn, and the carriage swayed slightly. The tension in the small space was thick, with all passengers’ eyes on them: a couple of lanky teenage boys, a middle-aged woman with a thick paperback novel on her lap, and a slightly overweight guy in a suit, probably between meetings.

  The suit met Nate’s gaze: should we do something?

  Nate nodded and immediately changed plan. Everyone on the carriage was already freaked out. It was only a few more minutes until Subiaco station, but he could at least let them know the police were onto this. He reached into his back pocket for his police ID.

  At the same time, Luella placed a hand on Fiona’s shoulder, the one furthest from the brooding man mountain.

  “It’s okay, Fiona, I’m – “

  But whatever Lou was about to say was forgotten as the shithead suddenly reached for the small of his back. Instantly, Nate knew what the guy was doing and he made a grab for Lou, hooking onto the waist of her jeans and yanking her towards him.

  At the same time, he activated his mic and spoke in a low, urgent tone as the man began to yell and Fiona screamed.

  “One suspect, armed, middle carriage. Black clothing, neck tattoo. Multiple hostages. Approaching Subiaco station.”

  That was all he had time for before the shithead waved a handgun – a Glock – in the air, as he pulled Fiona back against his chest, his thick ropey arm clamping across her waist.

  Nate attempted to tug Lou behind him, but she shoved at the arm that still held her jeans. “Let me go!” she hissed.

  “You want to help, you nosy bitch?” the shithead said to Lou. “I’ll tell you how you can help.”

  The man raised the gun until its muzzle pressed against Fiona’s temple. The woman whimpered.

  Everything in Nate’s training told him to remain still. To remain calm. Lou knew all this too.

  Yet he could feel her tension and frustration at her helplessness.

  He felt it too.

  The instant he’d seen that gun, he’d decided he wasn’t revealing who he was to this shithead. He wasn’t revealing his training, or Lou’s training. Who knew where this would lead, but being underestimated could only be a good thing.

  His gut feeling was that this guy wasn’t about to shoot Fiona. Yet. He wanted something.

  “Call the police. Triple zero, whatever,” the shithead said. “Call them and tell them I want my fucking kids to be waiting for me by the time we get to Fremantle station, or I’m putting a bullet in someone.” He pushed the gun against Fiona’s head for emphasis, and she winced. “This cheating whore, or some random on
this train. Everyone on this train, even. I don’t fucking care.”

  Someone in the carriage sobbed.

  “With my phone?” Lou asked. She was close enough that Nate knew she was shaking – a subtle tremor, but it was there. Her voice revealed none of that.

  “Yes, with ya fucking phone. Who else’s?”

  Lou ignored that, and he watched her fish the phone out of her back pocket, her eyes never leaving the shithead’s until she dialled in the emergency phone number: 000.

  She swallowed before she spoke. “I’m on a train heading to Fremantle. There is a man here with a gun, who says if his kids aren’t waiting at the end of the line, he’s going to shoot us.”

  She paused, briefly looking at the man. “What else should I say?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “That’s enough for now. Bit mysterious, you know?” His grin was disgusting.

  Nate could hear the urgent voice of the emergency operator in the absolute silence of the carriage.

  “Hang up!” the shithead suddenly barked.

  Immediately, Lou pressed the red button that ended the call.

  “Good girl,” he said, his gaze lecherous as it creeped up and down Lou’s body.

  The train slowed to a stop at Subiaco station.

  The man laughed, an awful, false, villain-ish laugh. He shoved Fiona’s head again with the gun against her temple.

  “No one try to get off this train or she dies,” he said. Then he looked at the doors and licked his lips. “Good. More hostages.”

  Chapter Three

  The only part of the Perth to Fremantle line that’s underground is Subiaco station. Although it isn’t really truly underground, with gaps beneath the curved arches of the roof revealing large slices of a clear blue sky. Lou scanned the platform, which was empty except for a teenager sitting on a bench staring at her phone.

  Don’t get on this train.

  The doors slid open.

  Absolutely nobody in their carriage moved.

  Their carriage was the middle one of three – the carriage in front would also include the driver, and the carriage behind them was identical to theirs. From glancing through the doors that joined the three carriages, no one had noticed the commotion in their carriage – which wasn’t surprising. Not even a minute had passed since the guy had starting waving his gun about like the dickhead he clearly was. People were getting off the other two carriages – good. She wished she could tell the other, oblivious passengers in the carriages to get off too, but she didn’t want to risk antagonising the gunman. He’d moved the gun away from Fiona’s temple, but his fleshy fingers still gripped that Glock hard, and his vice of an arm hadn’t loosened around the woman one bit.