Read First Offense for Free Online

Isn’t life a bitch?”
    Abrams hadn’t heard a word. He was sitting forward in his seat, bracing himself against the dash, “Who’s Ann seeing? I thought she wasn’t dating yet. Why didn’t you tell me she was going out?”
    “Forget it,” Reed said. He turned into the parking lot for the hospital and cut the engine.
    “Will you just tell me who it is, Reed?” Abrams persisted.
    “Some D.A.,” Reed mumbled, exiting the vehicle and walking rapidly toward the emergency-room entrance.
    Abrams hurried to catch up to him. “What’s his name? How long has she been dating him? I mean, is she serious about this guy?”
    Reed stopped cold in his tracks, spun around, and grabbed the other detective by the collar. “Keep your swarmy moves off Ann Carlisle. Comprende? The woman was shot. Can I deal with that right now, huh? Can we forget about your wife-hunting problems? Hell, you’ve had three already.”
    Abrams jerked away, his face flushed. “Fuck you,” he said. “I can’t even have a conversation with you. I thought we were friends.”
    Reed’s lips compressed as he stepped onto the mat for the automatic doors. “After you,” he said to Abrams once the doors swung open. When the younger officer stepped through. Reed gave him a swift kick in the ass and promptly broke out laughing. He was actually quite fond of the younger man.
    “What the hell?” Abrams squawked, his hand on the seat of his pants. “Why’d you do that?”
    Smirking, Reed said, “Just felt like it. Good way to let off tension.” He reached in his pocket for his shield, flipped it, and hung it over his belt.
    “Great,” Abrams said sarcastically. “Maybe I need to let off a little tension too.” He made a move like he was going to kick the detective in return and then stopped. Not on his life. Reed was as tough and as predictable as they came. If Noah retaliated, Reed would knock him down. And it wouldn’t even break his stride.

    The two detectives leaned against the wall, their toes an inch behind the line that delineated the sterile, restricted area of the surgical section of the hospital. They were staring down at the different-colored floor tiles and wondering if they should leave and come back later.
    “What’s going to happen,” Abrams said, “if I step on the green tiles? Will an alarm go off and a gang of nurses jump me?” He chuckled. “That might be kind of fun.”
    Reed looked over at Abrams and growled. Just then a surgeon in a green paper gown, the front of it stained with blood, burst through the swinging double doors.
    Reed sprang off the wall and flashed his badge. “Sergeant Thomas Reed,” he said, then, nodding at his partner, “Detective Abrams. How is she?”
    “She’s doing very well,” the young surgeon said. “The bullet struck a branch of her axillary artery or she would have been up and around already. It didn’t strike bone or any other vital organs. We repaired the artery and stopped the bleeding. She’ll be fine in a week or so, barring any complications.”
    “Did she regain consciousness? Did she say anything?” Reed asked, concern etched on his face.
    “Look,” the surgeon said, “she’s not going to be able to give you guys a statement for quite some time. Probably the best thing to do is come back in the morning.”
    The doctor started to walk away, and Abrams stepped in front of him. “This woman is like family,” he said, arching his eyebrows and tilting his head toward Tommy Reed. “Her father was a captain, and she used to be a cop as well.”
    “I see,” the doctor said, his eyes shifting from one man to the other. He hesitated before continuing, “I was told this might have been a sexual assault. The admitting physician followed protocol and collected specimens, but we couldn’t wait for one of your people to get here, and, of course, our primary concern was the hemorrhaging. She regained consciousness for a few minutes when we had her in the operating room, but was