by Forgy, M. N.
Shuffling into my boxers, I shrug. “That’s because mine's so big it overshadows yours.”
“Yeah, okay.” He chuckles. “All right, just checking on ya, brother. I’m around if ya need me, you know that, right?”
I give him an awkward look. “You going soft on me?”
“What? No, pretty sure you can ask that bitch you were screwing last night if I’m soft, brother.” He winks.
“I think we need to visit the Gentrys, show them what the hell happens when you shoot at some Outlaws,” I suggest, my hands aching to spill some blood, my chest thumping at the thought of violence. I sigh in relief—finally a familiar feeling surfacing. Violence, maybe that’s what has me so twisted. I need to spill some blood, get revenge. The rush I get from it has become an addiction. One I can satisfy easily.
“Sounds like a great idea to me. Tomorrow?” A menacing smile crosses his face, as an evil grin passes mine.
Chapter 6
Jillian
A few days later
Coming out of the locker room at work, I run into Deputy Needon and some others. They all stop laughing and look my way.
“Oh, everyone stop what you’re doing. Wouldn’t want to commit a crime in front of our newest deputy,” Orlando taunts. They all laugh, and one of the girls I thought was a friend giggles loudly.
“What the hell?” I sneer.
“Oh, nothing, Rookie. Just letting our fellow deputies know that our newest little girl on the squad is hell-bent on not breaking any rules.” He points at Deputy Greg suddenly. “You better pick up that tissue, maggot, or Deputy Adams will have your head!”
Leaning my head back slightly, I purse my lips and glare at him.
“You’re such an asshole.” Everyone stops laughing, and Orlando pins me with a serious look.
Pushing past him, I glare at all of them.
“Oh, come on, Adams, you know you don’t have to be a bitch just because I turned you down. You know more than anyone that rules are rules.”
I stop in my tracks and look over my shoulder. That is not how that played out and he knows it. Everyone seems to look away, not wanting to witness what is about to happen.
I want to punch him. I want to manhandle his ass.
“Right,” I mutter, my anger flowing through me like wildfire.
Hazing. Who knew a fucking sheriff’s department would have it.
I get in my squad car, my breathing harsh and violent, my hands aching to hurt something or someone. I’m so sick of being called a little girl, mocked for doing my job.
* * *
The sun is hot, and the calls have been coming in left and right. At least I don’t have a partner anymore.
“5Paul69, we got a call about a disturbance. Caller said she heard yelling, possible gunshots.”
“5Paul69, copy that. Send me the address.”
“5Paul69, affirmative.”
Glancing at my MDT, I look the address over and my eyes widen. It’s the place the party was at the other night. Shit!
Flipping on my lights, I turn my cruiser around and fly that way.
“5Paul69, do you have any other information?”
“Caller said she saw a couple of motorcycles, but wasn’t sure if they were passing by or leaving the premises.” Fuck. Fuck!
“5Paul69, copy.”
I hit my siren, trying to get traffic to clear. The traffic so thick my car is practically crawling. Once I’m outside the city limits, I shove my foot to the floor, reaching 135mph trying to get there. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get there, though. What if Zeek is there? I shake my head and lift my shoulders. If he’s there, and he's a suspect, I will take him into custody.
The house comes within sight, a couple of old pickup trucks sitting in the driveway. I race into the yard and slam the car into park.
“5Paul69, I'm at the disturbance call, if you’ll move me.”
“Affirmative.”
I get out and secure my car, drawing my weapon, before heading toward the front door. Glancing in the cab of the truck, I check around the corner to make sure nobody is around. Never know if someone's hiding, and I have to be prepared. Stepping up to the front door, it’s barely hanging on by the hinges. Shit!
I hit the door with my boot, and it slowly opens. Taking a deep breath, I swing around the door frame, weapon aimed.
“Sheriff’s department!”
It’s quiet, and I see no one. Stepping in a little further, I look around the house, but I don’t find anyone.
“Well shit,” I mutter, my feet coming to a rest. Noticing my stance is off-level, I look down, finding the carpet ripped up, like someone recently cut it out. Little strings and frays of carpet are everywhere.
Hunching down, I inspect it, looking at what could have possibly been there. Did it happen at the party and they took it out? Or did the Sin City Outlaws return for payback, and this is them removing evidence?
“5Paul69, situation is stable,” I inform.
“5Paul69, affirmative.”
Bikes, the lady said she saw some bikes. Racing out of the house, I get back in the cruiser and drive the opposite way I came in.
My heart is racing, and my hands grip the steering wheel tightly. Driving the same road for ten minutes, I begin to call defeat when I spot a couple motorcycles in the distance.
“Holy shit,” I mutter, butterflies swimming in my stomach.
“Should I do this?” I murmur to myself. A part of me wants to turn the other way and say I saw nothing, and that has me disturbed. Why would a morsel of my soul want to do that? Digging deep, I know why, though. It's because no matter how I try to play it, Zeek got to me.
“You’re a sheriff. Get it together!” I scold myself. Zeek is the enemy, and I’ve already betrayed my department by yearning after him. I need to do this, even if it’s to prove to myself that I’m not a traitor. To remind myself that Zeek is an outlaw.
Turning my lights on, I race forward, determined to push out my second-guessing and show the whole department I am not some little girl. Some rookie who's insufficient at doing her job. No, no more petty crimes for me; if I can take down an Outlaw successfully, everyone at the department will stop looking at me like Daddy's little girl. The bikes brake lights all shine, and they pull over to the shoulder.
“5Paul69, making a traffic stop,” I inform, getting out of the car.
The men on the bikes turn off their engines and drop their kickstands. My hand on my weapon, I pass them all, heading right to the culprit.
“Zeek,” I greet. His bike is a metallic black, with leather whips hanging from the handle bars. They call them GetBack whips. They are usually braided with club colors and are used in case of emergency. Meaning, if they’re in a tight spot and don’t have anything else to use as a weapon, they use the leather whip. Nervous, I clear my throat, taking my focus off the whips and back on Zeek.
He takes his helmet off, his hair shifting in his face as his eyes slowly find mine. My courage and bravery flee, my lips aching to taste him again. He looks like a beast straddling his motorcycle.
“Rookie.” He smiles. My eyes sweep his frame on their own accord. His ripped jeans, gripping his muscular legs. His strong torso and bulging arms etched with beautiful ink. “What can I do for you?” he asks, my eyes darting to his face. A face that is defined with strength, his chin strong with stubble.
“Um... uh...” I stumble, my train of thought and mission disappearing. The men behind me start laughing, angering me, reminding me of everyone at the department laughing at me.
“Where are you coming from?” I snap.
His brows furrow with my tone, and his jaw ticks.
“Why?”
“You go visit the Gentrys?” I cut to the point.
His lips form into a smile, one that is sexy and evil.
“Yeah, but nobody was home. So, we left.” He shrugs, and a spot of blood on his neck catches my attention. It looks fresh.
“Got a call of a distur
bance there, you know anything about that?” I continue, trying to read him for lies.
He stands from his bike, and my heart falls. He towers above me, casting a shadow over me, blocking the hot sun. It’s fitting, really. Zeek is the darkness, one that hides the light, shadowing over the land of Vegas. He emits cold and strength, giving fear to those who he reigns over.
“Please sit back down, Zeek,” I commence, my voice cracking.
“I think I know what this is all about.” He tilts his head to the side arrogantly.
“What is that?” My tone of authority is gone, curiosity reigning supreme.
He leans in and my body stiffens, my hand gripping my weapon.
“If you wanted another kiss, you didn’t have to come pull me over, babe.” My cheeks flush as his lips brush against my ear. My eyes flick to his men, the looks on their faces not giving away that they can hear him.
My breathing begins to hitch, my eyelids growing heavy with the way he affects me.
Snapping myself from whatever the hell this is, I reach forward and grab his hand, turning his body away from me, surprising everyone, including myself.
“You’re under arrest,” I inform him.
He chuckles as I grab the other hand, pulling it behind his back. The muscles in his back bulge, showing me how built he is and how under-qualified I really am to take down such a man.
“What the fuck, Prez!” One of his men—Felix, I think—steps off his bike, the rest of the men following.
“Stand down, sir,” I order.
“Fuck you!” he spits, moving toward me with urgency.
“Back off, Felix!” Zeek orders, his command surprising me. He didn’t have to tell his men to back down, and to be honest, I didn’t expect it. I knew what I was asking for when I pulled them over, knew it would be a fight.
Felix pauses, his men halting, as well.
“Prez, no way in hell am I letting this bitch take you in!” He shakes his head, his hands balled into fists. I swallow hard, second-guessing what the fuck I’m doing. Stupidity, that’s what I’m doing. I am exercising my stupidity because I was angry at my fellow officers, and now I’m going to be killed.
Zeek looks over his shoulder at me, his eyes trying to tell me something, but I can’t for the life figure it out. It’s sensual, almost soft in nature. He turns, looking down.
“I’ll be out before dinner,” he mutters.
“Fat chance,” I state. Grabbing his forearm, I walk him toward my squad car.
“You’re dead, bitch,” one of the men mumbles. Zeek flexes beneath my palm as his men threaten me, his jaw clenching. Is he angry that I’m arresting him, or that his men are insulting me?
“Get my bike to the station and leave it there!” he hollers to one of his guys.
I read him his rights and put him in the back of the squad car.
“5Paul69, one in custody.”
“5paul69, affirmative.”
Getting in my car, his smell assaults me. The leather and cologne mixed with exhaust makes my heart pitter-patter, a flashback of my face in ecstasy as he kissed the wind from me.
Inhaling a steady breath, I pull off the shoulder. As I pass the bikes, one of his men grabs his crotch and flips me off.
“Why are you arresting me?” he grumbles from the back. “You got nothing on me.” He’s right; I don’t have anything. I have no evidence that he was at the actual residence of the disturbance call. I’m going off a spot of blood on his neck. Shit, I should have gotten my test kit out and took it into evidence, or checked his bike. That’s okay; the station can take the blood splatter into evidence when we get there.
“You were in a striking position, and uncooperative. Not to mention you have blood on you,” I ramble.
“You know what I think it is?”
“I don’t really care,” I state, but I am curious.
“You want me.” He says it so softly I barely hear him. Glancing in my mirror, he’s looking down, his face unreadable, his tone serious.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I respond curtly, trying to stay resilient. I’ve seen the girls who are associated with his club; he’s a player and is telling me what I want to hear.
He grunts, a smile breaking across his face. “You’re telling me you didn’t like me kissing you the other night? That my hand up your shirt didn’t light a fire in those little panties of yours?” His tone is arrogant. My body responds, my nipples hardening, craving to have his rough touch one more time. Goddamn him, why can’t he shut up?
“I was drunk,” I defend, looking out the windshield.
The car goes quiet, and I’m thankful; his confrontation made me uncomfortable.
“Hey, Rookie?”
“Hmm?” I look in the rearview mirror to see his face. His mouth is parted, the corner of one lip curved slightly as he looks downward.
“How sore do you think you’ll be after I’m done fucking you?” His eyes slide upward, pinning me. His words shock me but draw my body’s attention fully. My cheeks flush, my heart beating so hard it feels like I just ran a mile.
A horn honks, catching my attention. Looking forward, I slam on my brakes, nearly rear-ending another car. Risking a glimpse at him, I peer at the rearview mirror. He’s still staring at me; he knows he affects me. Those dark brown eyes pin me with an overwhelming amount of sexual need. Swallowing hard, I look away. Taking a ragged breath, an attempt to calm my wrecked nerves, I try to focus on the road the rest of the ride.
Arriving at the station, I walk him to the processing desk. Kelly’s eyes go wide.
“Jillian, what are you doing?” she whispers loudly.
“Taking me in an Outlaw, what’s it look like?” I state, my voice laced with pride. Nobody has brought down an Outlaw since Zeek’s father was caught moving drugs, and that was years ago. Word is Zeek’s father died before he was prosecuted, though. Rival gang inside the jail got to him first.
“Are you stupid?” she whispers, her eyes darting from Zeek to me. She grabs my arm, pulling us to the side. “Did you not hear what happened to the last deputy who tried to arrest Zeek?” I shrug, not sure what she’s talking about, and how I haven’t heard about it. “His men beat him to the point he was in the hospital. They say he never talked again, but I’m not sure if it was because of fear or because he literally can’t.” She looks over my shoulder. Following her line of sight, I see Deputy Miller. He’s in a wheelchair and has been on desk duty since I can remember.
Kelly gives a sheepish look and turns away. Glancing over my other shoulder, Zeek is sitting down in a blue plastic chair, his eyes never leaving mine. Why didn’t he hurt me? Why did he order his men to hold off? Why does he keep saving me?
“Deputy Adams, my office!” Lieutenant Oaks hollers, making Kelly and me jump. She gives me a sympathetic look.
I glare at him before heading into his office.
“For Christ’s sake,” he mutters under his breath, clearly angry. “Have a seat, I’ll be there in a moment.” He points to a chair and slams the door.
What the hell?
Minutes later, he walks in, his face furious.
“What did I tell you? You are to stay away from them. Make sure the situation is stable and leave. You could have been killed!” he yells, scolding me like a child. I’m sure everyone can hear him parent me.
“I was doing my job. I don’t understand why the Sin City Outlaws are to be treated any different than the rest of the criminals out there.”
He laughs in mockery then sits behind his desk.
“You don’t need to. You need to follow rank, and as your commanding officer, I gave you an order. If you cannot obey it, your employment here will be terminated.” His voice is stern. My eyes widen as my mouth parts with disbelief.
“Dad, you can’t be—”
“Oh, I am. I’m doing this for your protection, Jillian. Don’t play with fire you can’t handle. And I can assure you, playing with the Sin City Outlaws… you will get more than burnt. You’ll
be ashes.”
My nostrils flare with humiliation and anger, my pride and self-worth crumpled in the pit of my stomach.
“Yes, sir,” I mutter, looking down.
“That will be all.”
Zeek
Heading outside, I find my bike with Felix leaning against it.
“That was quicker than I thought it’d be,” he sneers, standing upright.
“You know they won’t keep me. Too scared of the repercussions.”
“Right, well, why don’t you tell me why you let that fucking bitch arrest you in the first place?” My eyes snap to his, the tone of his voice pissing me off. “The last time someone tried to arrest you, the boys and I handled that shit. None of our men have been arrested since, so why would you let her? What, you going soft, wanting to fuck her?”
Turning slowly, I lower my head and glare with a stare that speaks volumes of violence.
“Last time I checked I’m the president. I’m the one who makes the fucking calls.” I point at my chest angrily. “Last time I checked, who I wanted to fuck was my own damn business, but I can assure you I’m not screwing a deputy, Felix.” Lifting a brow at him, I step back, waiting for him to reply. If he doesn’t reply correctly, I will lay his ass the fuck out right here.
He swallows, nodding and looking off into the distance.
“I just want to make sure everything is good, brother. The last few days, you haven’t really been yourself.” He looks at me, squinting with the sun.
“I’m fine. She’s just some rookie who hasn’t gotten the memo on who the hell we are, is all.” I swing my leg over the bike, declaring the conversation over.
“That’s all I need to know.” Felix smiles then turns to get in his truck.
Blowing out a breath of anger, I sit on my bike for a moment, replaying the whole thing over. I saved her again… My attraction for her is becoming apparent. I’ve tried to hide it, tried to fuck her out of my head, but nothing is working. All I can think about is getting her resolve to falter, so I can jump in and claim her. Hear what sounds leave her mouth when I sink my cock into her. See if she closes her eyes, or if they roll back in her head when I bring her to orgasm.
