City of Ports: The Shadow Over Portsmouth Book 1 (preview)

Chapter 1

I shake my head. I don't plan on sticking around to watch the big fish in our little pond nibble on each others' tails. Plus I'd rather not give my old co-workers an opportunity to mock former Officer Allard for how far she's fallen. I'm still wearing my JIA security uniform, after all.

"Save our city!"

An electronic squeal and a rush of static accompany this announcement. I spot a small band of protesters approaching the unveiling from my side of the crowd. They wear t-shirts over their long sleeves that say "3P"—as I recall, it stands for Power to the People of Portsmouth. Members often referred to as 3Peters. At their head marches an athletic young woman with a bullhorn; her voice drowns out the councilor's.

"Affordable housing now!"

The rest of the protesters echo her with a chant: "Save our city! Affordable housing now!"

I find myself automatically moving toward them. I don't know why, exactly. It's not like I'm a cop anymore. The only thing I guard these days is that investor building stuffed with rich bastards. But I've got a bad itch about this situation, and I don't ignore my instincts.

One of the cops has gotten there ahead of me, a roughneck named Lewis. He blocks the woman and her cohorts from getting any closer. Meanwhile, Councilor Stone has chosen, maybe unwisely, to engage the 3Peters.

"The city of Portsmouth is committed to ensuring that all strata of our society have a place to live," she says into the mic.

"Well, this 'stratum' right here can't afford shit!" the lead protester says, leaning on the last word, which echoes through the well-to-do crowd. They wrinkle their noses. "Regular people are getting priced out of town, but all you care about is building more condos for the rich! The rest of us can't even see the waterfront anymore!"

Officer Vin Lewis snatches the bullhorn out of the woman's hand. "That's enough!" he says. "You don't have a permit to demonstrate, kids, so beat it."

"Beautiful Prescott Park has a lovely view of the water and is right next to us," says Stone in exasperation, continuing the argument even though the protester can no longer answer her.

It's true about the park, but right now I'm focused on the woman making a hard grab for her bullhorn. Officer Lewis whisks it out of reach and then says to another cop nearby, "She just tried to assault me! You saw that, right?"

The other cop grunts, noncommittal. I don't recognize him. Could be my replacement.

I recognize the spark of violence, about to be lit by anger. I know it well. I interpose myself between the protester and Lewis.

"Hey, buddy," I say to the latter. "How's the beat? Station coffee still taste like medical waste?"

Lewis's eyes open wide at the sight of me. "Allard! You'd better get the fuck out of my way."

"Why don't you give me the bullhorn, Lewis?" I say. "I'll give it back to this nice lady at a safe distance."

"Fuck you, I'll have you too for interfering with an arrest!"

The other cop, the newish guy, breaks in. He doesn't know me or my history. He only knows that Lewis is behaving like a bully to a rent-a-cop in full view of a sizable crowd with the media close by. Not to mention the cops' own boss, a city councilor, staring down at them.

"Come on, Lewis, step off," he says. "This don't look good."

Lewis turns and snaps at his colleague. I take the opportunity to lock eyes with the lead protester. I struggle not to get lost in those emerald-green depths. She's in her mid-twenties, with short dark-blonde hair framing her face and milk-white skin. She looks muscular enough to take Lewis in a fair fight, which this wouldn't be. She's angry, but not beyond reason.