A Cop and A Thief

Chapter Five: The Risky Escape

I pressed myself against the cold steel beam, dragging Raven down with me. My breath slowed. The crunch of boots on gravel echoed across the construction site.

They were here.

Leo Rossi.

I peeked through the shadows just enough to spot him—flanked by two bulky guys with rifles slung across their shoulders. They moved slowly, scanning the area like wolves sniffing out prey.

“I’m telling you, she was just here,” one of them muttered.

Leo’s voice was colder than the night air. “Find her. If she screwed us over, she’s dead.”

I felt Raven tense beside me. Her fingers tightened around my wrist. I turned just enough to see her face—still trying to play it cool, but I saw something new in her eyes.

Fear.

She was actually scared.

I leaned in and whispered, “So, what exactly did you do to piss them off?”

She gave me that same crooked, mischievous smile—but it faltered a little this time. “It’s… complicated.”

“Raven,” I warned.

She sighed, like a kid caught sneaking candy. “Fine. I may have borrowed something.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Borrowed?”

“Okay, okay. I stole something. But not just anything. Something valuable.”

I clenched my jaw. “From them? You stole from arms dealers?”

“They deserved it,” she hissed. “You should’ve seen what they were planning.”

I didn’t care. Right now, we were the ones in danger.

One of the men was moving closer—way too close.

I glanced at the pipe in his hand. He wasn’t just looking to talk.

I had seconds to think. I couldn’t shoot without giving away our exact spot. I couldn’t fight with Raven cuffed to me. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let them catch us.

“Follow my lead,” I whispered.

She gave a tense nod.

My eyes locked on a loose metal rod beside us. I grabbed it, then threw it hard across the site. It clanged against a crate with a loud, echoing crash.

All heads turned.

“What was that?” one of them barked.

“Over there!” someone else shouted.

The moment they moved toward the sound, I yanked Raven up, and we darted through the shadows. Our feet hit the ground in sync, the cuffs forcing us to move like one.

We were almost at the back exit when someone shouted, “There! It’s her!”

Damn it.

“Run!” I shouted.

We bolted, weaving between stacks of cement blocks and rusted scaffolds. Gunfire rang out behind us. The sharp sound of bullets pinging off steel beams lit a fire in my chest.

“Tell me you have a plan, detective!” Raven shouted as we ducked behind a half-built wall.

“Yeah,” I said through gritted teeth, spotting the tall scaffold to our right. “Don’t get shot.”

She groaned. “I hate that plan.”

We raced up the scaffold, the metal groaning under our weight. Step after step, the wind howled around us, pushing hard as we climbed higher.

We hit the top.

A dead end.

Raven looked at me, chest rising and falling. “Please tell me you didn’t just lead us into a trap.”

I scanned the site below. The men were climbing after us, getting closer.

Then I saw it.

A thick rope swinging gently from a crane.

I pointed. “Hold on tight.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait—what? No, no—”

Too late.

I grabbed the rope with both hands and jumped, dragging her with me.

We swung out into the open air. Wind slammed into us. I heard her gasp—sharp and real—and for a second, the world went completely still.

Then—

CRASH.

We landed hard in a pile of sandbags. The impact knocked the wind out of me. I groaned, rolling over with Raven half on top of me.

“That…” I wheezed, “…wasn’t so bad.”

She glared at me. “I hate you.”

I smirked. “You’ll live.”

More gunshots echoed above.

I didn’t wait.

I grabbed her hand, and we took off again, sprinting toward the edge of the site. That’s when I spotted it—a sleek black motorcycle parked near the loading dock.

Raven’s eyes lit up. “That’s mine!”

I hesitated. “You ride?”

She gave me a look. “Do I look like someone who steals bicycles?”

Fair enough.

She jumped on the bike, revving the engine. I stood there for half a second, questioning every life choice that led me to this moment.

“What are you waiting for? Christmas?” she yelled.

Grumbling, I climbed on behind her.

“Hold on, detective,” she said with a wicked grin.

Then the bike roared to life.

We sped off into the night, smoke curling behind us, gunfire fading as we disappeared down the street—two fugitives, handcuffed together, and running headfirst into the unknown.

To Be Continued…