The bullet passed Isabella's face in an inch and she smelled the scent of her burnt flesh before feeling the pain from her roasted flesh.

"Ouch!" She cried out, and then muttered in anger, "that's too close, John."

"I can't shoot you, Bella. My bullet is for that bastard," John yelled, then leapt forward and shoots the dying robber in the forehead twice.

"He is dead. Stop wasting your bullet," Sampson said.

"You nearly split my skull. Why don't you push me off the way?" Isabella stood up from her kneeling position and glare at the smiling officer in her front.

"But I don't. He was about to shoot, and I did the first thing that came into my mind... I thought you will thank me for saving your life?"

"Thank you, but don't ever try that with me again. What if I move my head in fright?" Isabella asked.

"You didn't. The end justifies the means, isn't it?"

"Of course, it does," Sampson answered back, then peered at the wounded officer and asked, " what are we going to do about him?"

"Drive