Sheriff (The Police Trilogy, #3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

stomach.
    The pain made light dance in his vision, and he struggled to breathe, choking against the agony and bending forward in Hemp’s grasp. He spat on the floor, checking to see if there was blood, relieved there wasn’t.
    He saw Conrad’s feet step into his eye line, and felt fingers grasping his hair, lifting his head roughly.
    Their eyes met.
    Conrad cocked his head to one side, unsmiling.
    Then he slapped Brandon hard across the cheek.
    The pain of the sting momentarily made Brandon forget the ache in his stomach.
    He had no idea why he was being beaten.
    Maybe there was no reason.
    Maybe it was just a sadistic delight, a way to release the pent up adrenaline of their raid and gun battle.
    He was just a punching bag now.
    Not human.
    Not one of them.
    Conrad grabbed Brandon’s face roughly, digging his fingers deep into his cheeks, then squeezed his neck with the other hand. He had a look of disgust on his face as he bought the hurt.
    “I put up with your bullshit for too long,” he hissed, strangling Brandon now.
    He choked, gasped for air, felt the life draining from his body as he slumped in Hemp’s arms. Everything was going dark, the pain was a distant throb elsewhere.
    And then the pressure released.
    Light came rushing back with the oxygen as he filled his lungs with a rasping gulp.
    “You think you can walk into my team and take your cut of the taxes?” he asked with a rhetorical hatred.
    Brandon winced as he saw the fist flying towards his jaw, managed to relax his neck to absorb most of the impact, but the thud of pain was still unbearable.
    “No,” Conrad said. “You’re the fall guy.”
    Brandon spat on the floor, disdain. Like he needed it fucking explained to him. Even now, as they pounded on him, they still didn’t have a fucking clue.
    “Fuck you,” he wheezed.
    “Fuck me?” Conrad was genuinely outraged. “FUCK ME?”
    He threw another fist towards Brandon, this one fuelled with anger. Brandon managed to drop his weight and collapse in Hemp’s clutch, the fist missing him and smacking into the bigger man’s shoulder.
    It only served to enrage Conrad further.
    Hemp threw him to the ground, and Brandon felt the full force of a kick land in his stomach.
    “Fuck you,” Conrad bellowed, before bringing his foot back ready for another kicking.
    Brandon rolled onto his back and started laughing.
    He didn’t know why he was laughing, but he knew that the sudden release of endorphins eased the aching pain throughout his body, and so he kept on laughing.
    It stopped Conrad in his tracks, and the man loomed over him, looking down, so much confusion writ across his face.
    Brandon laughed louder.
    “What the fuck’s wrong with him?” Conrad asked Hemp.
    “Maybe you broke him,” Hemp replied gormlessly.
    “You’re,” Brandon guffawed through the laughter. “An. Asshole.”
    Conrad got down on one knee and leaned in so close to Brandon’s face that he could feel the breath on his bloodied skin.
    “Laugh it up,” Conrad hissed.
    “Smile.”
    Brandon laughed again, especially when he saw the confused look dance across his torturer’s face once more.
    Conrad got up and looked down at him, his brain working behind his eyes now.
    Then he darted a look back up at the rafters and examined them intently.
    Brandon couldn’t stop laughing.
    Suddenly, Conrad whipped his gun from the holster and aimed it right at Brandon’s head.
    “What the fuck did you do?” he barked, clearly terrified.
    And his finger twitched on the trigger.

Five
    E ve pulled the covers up over her naked breasts, and sank back into the pillows. It was too early to sleep, which was why the TV was on.
    She read the scrolling strapline at the bottom of the screen until it looped back to the beginning, but learned nothing new. So she turned her attention back to the newscaster and turned up the volume to hear what was being said.
    A picture of Brandon appeared over his shoulder, and she had another pang of nostalgia;