by Forgy, M. N.
Raven is my new partner. She has jet-black hair that is pulled into a tight ponytail. High cheekbones with a natural glow, and hard brown eyes. So naturally, she’s beautiful. But with that flawless package comes her inexperience with the Las Vegas Police Department. She’s a fucking rookie, and I got stuck with her.
Nobody wants the new guys. Why? Because they’re a stickler for the rules, and still wanting to make the world a better place. That will end quickly the first time she has a homeless guy throw his shit at her, or when someone tries to stab, shoot, or spit on her. Her view on being a police officer will go from trying to make the peace, to just trying to make it through the fucking day.
“Anything on the MDT?” Raven asks, deep throating her foot-long hotdog. I raise a brow at her skill, before eyeing the terminal. The Mobile Data Terminal is a computer that relays messages from dispatch and other law enforcement in the area. I can look up anyone, and see who they are in a matter of a couple of clicks.
“There is a 413, and possible 420,” I inform around a mouthful of food. My chocolate brown hair that escaped my bun gets in the way of my eating, and I blow it out of the way.
She looks at me with a puzzled look, conveying I might as well have been speaking in a foreign language.
“Person with a deadly weapon and a possible dead body,” I tell her, not one-hundred percent sure that is even right. I have only been on the force for little over a year.
“That’s right,” she sighs, shaking her head.
“You’ll get them, just takes time,” I coax her. We used to just say what the hell was going on, but we moved to codes. Why, I don’t know. To make our lives harder.
“I’ve never seen a dead body,” she says softly, licking the cheese off her thumb.
I shrug. “You get used to it.” I remember my first dead body. The smell, the stoic look on its face, and the color of the skin a hue of purple and black. A woman was held at gunpoint for her car and she fought the suspect off instead of just giving him the keys, granting her a bullet to the neck in front of the local food mart. It didn’t faze me like I thought it would. I thought I’d be up all night with the look of the victim’s face haunting me. I slept like I do every other night; hard. Besides, there’s much worse things out there than dead bodies. Society just doesn’t know it because we keep the monsters hidden from their everyday life. “What my co-deputies don’t understand though, is the best way to catch a criminal, is to become one yourself. Walk amongst them, see things through their eyes, understand them. Then you can separate those who made a mistake from those that deserve to have your Taser up their ass.”
She cuts me a look that would suggest I’m the Wicked Witch of the West and I just dropped a goddamn house on Dorothy.
“They’re people, with lives and families, how can you say that?” she furrows her brows offended.
“Because you don’t see anyone as people on the job anymore, you’ll learn.” I take the last bite of my burrito. “Or you won’t.”
A loud rumble races past me, and I jump in my seat. A rush of adrenaline tingling through my body as I lose my breath. Jerking my head to the left there’s three motorcycles parking just ahead in a no-parking zone. The Sin City Outlaws to be exact.
Their bikes are shiny and full of chrome, their bodies clad in leather and tattoos. They’re rugged and instill fear and sexual desire into citizens who come across them.
They never obey the law and why should they, everyone is in their pocket and if they aren’t, they look the other way because of who they have in their pocket.
“Oh. My. God. Is that?” Raven sits up in her seat, looking through the windshield like a celebrity just flaunted their way across the street. The Sin City Outlaws are notorious for their ruthless way and reckless abandon for the law. They’re as gorgeous as they are lethal. Their mug shots have been flashed along the TV and newspapers so much they are celebrities in their own way.
Did I mention my best friend in the whole wide world is knocked up by their president? Jillian, of all people, fell under the spell of Zeek, the King of Sin. I’m the friend with no morals and labeled as slutty, so how this happened to naïve little Jillian I have no idea. Maybe, I’m losing my charm I think.
“That one has a weapon,” Raven points through the windshield. “And you’re surprised?” I ask, tossing the wrinkled foil on the floorboard. It’s illegal to carry in Vegas, but nobody messes with Sin City Outlaws MC. You fuck with them, it’s the last time you’ll be fucking anything. I stay clear of them, but my patience is wearing thin. Fast. The arrogant sons of bitches break laws right in front of me just because they can and it is starting to get under my skin.
Looking up, I spot the one that displays a nine-millimeter in a brown-leathered holster. He has long hair pulled into a bun. His shoulders and chest are so broad and built, the leather cut that displays his club’s colors proudly can barely contain it all.
His eyes sweep across the street like he’s stalking a prey. His stance wide, and arms crossed like he’s looking for a fight.
He emits control, dominance, peril, and I would be lying if I said deep inside he scares the shit out of me just as much as he excites me. Berating thoughts of lust and annoyance swim in my head causing a tension headache to flare. Why can’t they be fat old guys that can barely reach their handlebars? It would make it easier to avoid them if they weren’t so good looking.
Two other men step up behind him, gathering his attention and I snap to my duties of law enforcement.
“The one that looks like Tarzan is Felix. He’s the Vice President. The redhead with the menacing look on his face is Machete, and that David Beckham looking one is Mac. The one with the boyish good looks is Gatz,” I tell her, my eyes sweeping across the sexy, savage crew. They’re death in a gorgeous package, and they control Vegas - including me. Chief of police told me to let a senior officer handle them, meaning they’re a dirty cop and The Sin City Outlaws will get away with whatever they want. I’m not stupid, I also can’t do anything about it. Chief Lopez is a bitch on heels, and you don’t want her up your ass.
“Oh, I know. We did a class just on the Sin City Outlaws. The president is missing though, where is Zeek?” she observes. Raising a brow, I suddenly notice he’s not with his crew either. Good, he needs to be with his Jillian. She’s carrying twins and is about to pop at any minute. “Is it true you’re friends with the president?” Raven asks with eager eyes. My teeth clench and I shoot her a ridiculous look. Thanks to my best friend, I’m associated with the MC and I don’t even converse with them. It’s great. Not.
“No, I’m not fucking friends with any of them. They’re the enemy, stay clear of them, Raven,” I advise hatefully. “They’ll eat you up and spit you out in the middle of the desert with the rest of the unmarked graves dug by the Outlaws.”
Putting the car in drive, I carefully drive around the Sin City Outlaws. Felix’s head slowly raises and his hooded eyes find mine. They’re ominous and full of power and hostility. They pull me into the gates of hell with the warmth they emit, and it takes everything I have to look away. A knot forms in my stomach as I drive past him. Fighting the compulsion to look in the rearview mirror to catch one more glimpse of him.
“731, two suspects acting suspiciously near Frank 24. Gray shirt, gray pants, other suspect unclear.” The dispatch crackles through the speaker.
I grab the radio and Raven looks at me with a confused look. I normally avoid vague calls, but Sin City Outlaws has me riled up and I need something to take my mind off things.
“731 copy, we’ll take it. On our way.”
“731 acknowledged.”
Flipping the lights on, I push my boot onto the accelerator and go from fifty to seventy in seconds. It’s not the newest vehicle on the force, but she still has some pep in her.
Pulling up to the residence, it’s an old trailer with no underpinning underneath. A blue ‘87 Chevy sits on bricks with the tires torn off it and the front lawn is littered with trash and
stray tools.
“Wow,” Raven mutters under her breath. Getting a good look at my surroundings I take the shit pile in. It’s not the worst I’ve seen, but I wouldn’t expect a high piece of ass to waltz out of that double-wide trailer either.
“Just keep your guard up,” I advise her.
“731 arrived at the scene 1400,” I inform dispatch of our arrival and time. It’s crucial we inform them of the time stamp because if we don’t contact back within a certain amount of time, dispatch will do a status check to make sure we have a handle on the situation, if we do not reply, they send back-up immediately.
Stepping out of the cruiser I lock it, as I do every time. I don’t need a crack head slipping in behind me and taking off with my fucking car. The Chief would have my head for that one.
The air is thick and smells of gasoline and sour trash. It makes my nose scrunch in distaste, as I look around for any suspects.
A short bald man steps out of the house, the screen door that’s void of screen slamming against the doorframe.
“Well, look who it is, the fucking pigs!” he heckles around a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He’s wearing a greasy gray shirt, and gray torn sweatpants. His stained whitie tighties a sight to behold.
“Why don’t you come down here, sir?” I suggest in a serious tone, wanting him where I have full control of the situation. First rule of being a cop, trust few.
“Did I do something wrong?” He tilts his head to the side, rubbing his junk like he has a farm of crabs living in there.
“Arrest that sum-bitch!” A woman flies out the front door, the screen-less door nearly slamming into her face as she points at the man. She’s wearing a gown printed with little duckies wearing pink shower caps. It’s two sizes too small, giving a full view of her pink panties that look to be period panties with the number of stains on them. Be a police officer like your dad they said, it will be great they said. How he did it for so long, I ask myself at least once a day.
“What’s your name, ma’am?” Raven asks, her hand on her weapon. I notice her hand is shaking, she’s scared and if I can see it, everyone can. We need to work on that, if the suspects notice, they’ll play it against her. Like a dog, once it smells fear you’re fucked.
“Oh, you don’t know what you’re talking about, Lucile!” The man shouts in the woman’s face as he slowly makes his way down the steps.
“Hell I don’t, Harold, you took my weed and you’re going to give it back!” She screams so loud her voice gives out, her face red like a cherry tomato. Not even caring she admitted to having a controlled substance or that we’re even here from the looks of it.
The man laughs, finally reaching the bottom step. He places his hands on his hips towering over Lucile. “I ain’t giving shit back,” he says with a southern twang.
Lucile punches Harold on the bridge of the nose and he falls to his knees howling, while Lucile climbs on his back, slapping him recklessly.
“You dick-less momma’s boy. I sucked creepy Stevie for that weed, and I’m gettin’ it back!” she demands, riding Harold like a wild bull into the grass.
Shit. Quickly I pull out a pair of gloves and slip them over my hands. Who knows what creepy Stevie may have given Lucile after all. Stepping forward, I intervene and grab Lucile by the arms, and she begins to kick and buck in my hold. My knees ache as they press into the ground trying to keep control, and the smell coming from her makes me choke on the air entering my lungs.
“If you don’t calm down I will hog tie your ass!” I threaten her, and she eases in my grasp.
I flip her around on her stomach with force and slam her into the dirt. I press my knee into her back and she cries out in pain as I fish her hands out from underneath her before handcuffing her. I’m not going to lie, this part excites me. Having the training I need to control people two sizes smaller or bigger. I’m the law, and I can put anyone down. It’s a good feeling.
“What are you doing? He’s the bad guy, he’s the one smoking all my weed, man?” she laughs with a dopey tone, squirming beneath me like a fish out of water.
I glance over my shoulder to see if Raven has everything under control with Harold. She’s struggling trying to cuff him, and he’s finding it hilarious. Damn it!
Pushing myself up from a laughing Lucile, I step up behind Harold and lay my boot into the back of his leg. His knees bite into the desert floor and I kick him in the back until he falls face first into the ground. Raven nearly sits on his head as I grab his meaty hands and handcuff him as well.
“Sorry,” she mutters, and I snap an angry glare at her verbally expelling her weakness in front of everyone. It would have been different if it were just her and I in the car, but saying it here in front of the suspects is not something you do.
“You have anything I need to know about?” I ask, searching the sides of Harold’s body.
“Just a giant dick!” he cackles, and I roll my eyes at his ego.
“Really? Because, I’m not finding anything that resembles that in the slightest, sir,” I retort seriously, and his eyes furrow with surprise at my flippant etiquette. Most police officers don’t say such things, but I’m not most cops. Not by a long shot, I know that and it both bothers me and drives me. My whole life I have been the third wheel in everything, and never knew why I felt that way.
Reaching into his pocket I find a dime size bag of weed and some ecstasy pills. I open it and smell the weed, it’s strong and fresh. Creepy Stevie must be good at what he does.
My brows furrow remembering seeing a family asking for money at a corner this morning.
I’ll sell this and run by there and give them the cash. I bet I can get a couple hundred out of this at least. I don’t see it as being a dirty cop, more like Robin Hood. Kind of.
“That’s mine!” Lucile wails, kicking her legs like a child having a tantrum.
“Not anymore,” I mumble under my breath, shoving it in my pocket.
Raven’s mouth pops open and I give her a look to shut it.
“731 status check?”
Grabbing the radio on my shoulder, I turn my head toward it.
“731 situation handled.”
“Roger that.”
My cell phone rings in my lower pants pocket, but I ignore it. It’s my personal phone and it can wait.
Pushing off Harold I blow out a steady breath. “So, I can arrest you both for resisting arrest, domestic violence, and posession, or you can both kiss and make-up and take a fucking shower. What’s it going to be?” I ask, fidgeting with the right glove strangling my wrist.
My phone begins to ring again, and Raven juts her chin at me to take it. “Uncuff them,” I inform her, walking toward the cruiser.
Pulling the gloves off, I fish my phone out and finding two missed calls from Jillian.
Returning the call, I watch Raven get in Harold’s ass for giving her a hard time. She can be a little bad ass if she wants, she just needs a little push.
“IT’S TIME!” Jillian pants into the phone and my spine races with goosebumps.
“Time?” I ask startled. It can’t be. I’m across town!
“My water broke. IT’s time,” she sobs.
“Oh my God, I’m on my way!” Shoving my phone in my pocket I open the cruiser door.
“Come on Raven, we need to go. NOW!” I demand. She looks at me puzzled as she un-cuffs Lucile.
“Everything okay?” she asks, walking my way.
“Move your ass, woman!” I holler at her. Lucile and Harold stand next to each other staring at us like we’ve lost our minds.
I don’t even wait for Raven to shut the door before I pull out of the driveway.
“What about my weed?!” Lucile hollers jogging after us.
“731 take me out of service.”
“Copy that,” dispatch replies.
“What the fuck are we doing?” Raven asks with fear laced in her voice as jet out of the vicinity.
“Jillian is having her babies, I have to b
e there,” I tell her, flipping the lights on.
Raven looks at me with furrowed eyes. “Can you do that? Is this even okay to do while on the clock?”
“I don’t really care,” I sneer.
Feeling her eyes on me, I look her way finding her staring at me intently. Her dark eyes trying to size me up.
“What?” I finally ask.
“I swear this is like the movie Training Day, and I’m riding with Alonzo.” She shakes her head looking out the window.
I smile and don’t say anything because she won’t agree with what I have to say. And that’s Alonzo was a smart motherfucker when it came to running the streets.
Heading toward the hospital there’s an accident with ambulances and a fire truck, the scanner is going haywire alerting everyone of a truck that caught fire so I have to go around, adding at least another fifteen minutes.
“So are you the godmother or something?” Raven asks, smoothing the wrinkles in her pants.
I eye her, curious why she’d ask that. “I don’t think so. I don’t know anything about kids, Jillian would be a fool to leave her kids to me,” I snort.
“At least you have a best friend,” Raven whispers, the dread in her tone making me look back at her. She glances at me and I see a darkness in her eyes that I’ve never seen before. The depths of her eyes show hurt, and a rough life. I give a tight-lipped smile.
“You got me,” I offer, and she smirks and looks out her window.
“Yeah,” she mumbles, as if I’m not good enough. I’m not hurt, I only offered it because I think we could kick it and be good friends, but there is something there that tells me she has a wall I can’t get over.
Parking in front of the hospital, I turn the ignition off and take a long pull of my iced coffee that is now melted thanks to the desert heat.
A loud roar erupts from beside me and I jump so hard I spill my coffee down the front of my uniform, dropping the cup between my legs.
“Shit!” I squeal, quickly grabbing the spilling cup and up-righting it.
Growling, I look up finding Felix and his men parking right in front of me, an arrogant smirk pulling on his sharp face. That motherfucker!
