Unfortunately for Adrian Prescott, his daddy was pushing him into a war he didn’t even know was happening.
Right now he was just an annoying rookie. Who knew what he’d be in six months. Or hell, even next week.
“So you’ve met Prescott, I see,” Chief Rhodes drawled.
Miller snorted. “Sure have. It was a wonderful experience.”
The sarcasm in Miller’s voice didn’t go unobserved, but the Chief chose not to call him on it.
He knew, just as well as I did, that the Prescott’s were all shitheads.
Every fucking one of them deserved a throat punch.
“Alright, well, take a seat in the back. Don’t interrupt,” the Chief growled, tilting his head to the back of the room where an open seat was located.
“Hmm,” Miller hummed as he walked to the seat the Chief had indicated and sat, staring at me as if he was enraptured by me.
“Ham,” the Chief muttered.
I snorted and sat down on the desk in front of the room.
The Chief’s cell phone and papers were spread out over the front, but I just shoved them all to the side and made room, letting my feet dangle.
“Please, make yourself at home,” the Chief said dryly.
I gave him a thumbs-up, drawing a laugh from my neighbor who’d just walked into the room.
“Now, now, Ms. Memphis, there’s no reason to encourage him,” Chief Rhodes sighed.
Memphis.
Wow, I’d have never expected her name to be Memphis.
“Memphis, eh?” I drawled.
Memphis looked at me with a brow raised in challenge. “Yeah. Got a problem with that?” she asked. I shook my head. “Absolutely not. I just didn’t expect to hear that. I figured you for a Jessica or a Sylvia, by the way you dressed.”
Her head turned. “And how exactly do I dress?”
I blinked. “Like you’re high maintenance.”
Her jaw dropped, but before she could let out the sharp retort I could see resting on the tip of her tongue, the Chief cleared his throat, halting Memphis’ scathing retort in her tracks.
She glared as she finally took a seat and turned her attention to the Chief.
I, however, couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. I wanted to laugh, in fact.
The expression gracing her face was comical. Her eyes were narrowed, and her brows pinched. Her nose slightly wrinkled, causing the sparse freckling covering the bridge of her nose to blend into her skin.
It also looked as if she were holding her breath, wanting to fling a comeback in my face.
Well, it was obvious she didn’t like to be called high maintenance.
Dually noted.
“Officer Lachlan Downy is an officer with the Kilgore Police Department,” the Chief started, turning his attention to a young man in the front row. “He’s on the SWAT team and also holds his certification in level two crisis hostage negotiation. He’s going to talk to y’all a little bit today about what his job is like on a daily basis.”
Chief Rhodes then gave the floor up to me, and I went about telling them about my job. What I liked about it. What I didn’t like about it. What the hardest negotiation I’d ever done was.
Then she chimed in, and we got into what seemed like a mini battle. One, in which, my dick was the winner.
“Officer Downy, have you ever had to use your hostage negotiation skills since you received the training?” Memphis asked.
Knowing it was a trap, but unable to see exactly how, I answered with, “Once.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“It was a gas station robbery where the clerk and a pregnant lady were held at gunpoint by a man wanting money to fill his bike up,” I explained. “Filled his bike up for him but made sure to drop a little sugar in the gas tank. He got away, but he only made it about two miles down the road before he broke down and we caught up to him.”
She blinked and then looked disappointed when I didn’t go into the exact details. Not that I could. I did my best to ignore the fact that I botched my first hostage negotiation.
The whole thing had happened so fast.
I’d been in that gas station, too, when the biker had tried to rob it.
He’d been desperate, and I’d known it.
I’d done everything I could to talk the man out of the direction he was going.
When he shot the girl behind the counter, I knew that the cops wouldn’t arrive in time.
I also didn’t have any way to protect myself, nor help them.
So, I’d offered to go fill his tank up.
He’d allowed me to do it by myself with his gun trained on my back the entire way, following me outside but staying at least ten feet away from me as I did.
He hadn’t seen me slip the sugar packets into his tank.
The biker, a mid-thirties man like myself, had then tossed me the keys to his bike and demanded the keys to mine.
Drive it outside of town. I’ll follow you, he’d said.
The bike had made it all the way out of town and to the county line before the sugar had made its way through the bike’s motor.
It gave out with a huff of black smoke, and the biker hadn’t wasted any time trying to run me over.
It’d been by the grace of God that I’d managed to not be plowed over by my own truck.
When I went down and under the truck, I’d seen my life flash before my eyes.
All the things I’d wanted to do and hadn’t wanted to do with my life roared through my thoughts.
The bike had crunched underneath the chassis of the truck, and I’d lain there stunned that I hadn’t been killed, or worse, pinned.
I’d done neither, and my reflexes had been lightning fast when the biker had gotten out to look at his handiwork.
When he’d bent down, I’d given him a boot to the face with all the power I could pull out, slamming it all into his face with a sickening crack.
I guess I’d been high on adrenaline or something, because the kick had had a lot more force than I thought it would. It’d snapped the man’s first two vertebrae in his neck, causing him to become paralyzed from the neck down.
To this day, three months later, the man was still on a vent, aware but unable to move.
The girl who’d been shot, the clerk, had died.
She’d been seventeen.
The pregnant woman had lost her child, miscarrying the night of the subsequent robbery, and I’d been left with a bitter taste in my mouth.
Needless to say, I couldn’t talk about it.
It brought up too many bad memories. Ones that I didn’t want to think about.
Chief Rhodes must’ve recognized my reluctance to speak on the subject, so he’d changed the focus by introducing Miller to the group as the newest member of the SWAT team.
Memphis wasn’t interested in Miller.
Her eyes were all for me.
Narrowing them at me as she glared for all that she was worth.
She couldn’t rattle me, though.
My dick may find her attractive, as did my mind, but I’d been a cop for eight years now and had been in the Army for eight years before that.
If I’d learned anything in that time, it was how to take a glare.
Because glaring was something that I got every day on the job.
Being a police officer wasn’t a pretty profession.
A lot of people didn’t like cops just on general principle.
They had no problem calling us when they were in need of our services, though.
Even the ones who had a problem with our authority, like Memphis did.
The question and answer went on for an hour longer, stopping once the clock struck ten.
The students had enjoyed the question and answer period. All except Memphis, who’d continued to glare the entire time.
I took it in stride, and as they all walked out, I watched her as she left.
She really had a great body.
I’d describe it as round.
The skirt she wore hugged tightly to her hips, but the curves she had were what I’d describe as soft. It wasn’t the toned flesh that I’d usually be attracted to.
Her body wasn’t perfect, but thait turned me on even more to know that, when I fucked her, she’d have a little bit of cushion. A little something extra for me to grab a hold of enabling me to fuck her all the harder.
“What’s her reason for being here?” I asked as the last student filed out of the room.
The Chief didn’t pretend that he didn’t know what I was talking about. He knew.
“Memphis Conner. She said she was here for elective credit hours so she could finish her degree as an ultrasound technician,” Chief Rhodes explained. “I think she chose this because she wanted to know more about the law. To keep herself informed. She’s very…” he searched for the right word. “Ambitious. She participates in the class and asks questions. She’s exactly the kind of student one would want. Though, I know she’s interested to know about something. Something I haven’t figured out… yet.”
I’d gotten the same vibe from her myself.
She may be here for her ‘elective hours.’ However, she had an ulterior motive in taking this particular class. Police laws and procedures wasn’t usually the one most people took for an elective. It was normally Introduction into Criminal Justice. Which meant she’d taken the other two classes that were required to get her to this point.
All I wanted to know was why.
Why was she so sweet this morning, smiling shyly at me, and all glaring this afternoon?
However, she’d inadvertently tripped a trigger inside of me.
One that loved a fucking challenge.
Chapter 3
I wear black to workout in. It’s like a funeral for my fat.
-T-shirt
Memphis
“Shit,” I growled as, once again, the fucking asshole next door, kept me up. This time with his moaning.
For the fourth night in a row.
As if I didn’t have anything else to hate the man about, he wouldn’t stop his midnight rendezvous long enough to let me get a full night’s rest.
Jesus Christ, why me?
At least this time he wasn’t being asked to bark like a dog or some shit like that.
What a fucking douche.
My head turned until I could see the clock.
It read 1:18 A.M.
“Would you give me a fucking break?” I screamed, slamming my heels against the wall.
Peter barked, following my lead, and the moaning stopped.
I fell asleep, scared to death that he wouldn’t let me sleep because he was too busy fucking some chick.
However, it started back up again an hour later, waking me up.
That was about when I lost patience.
Throwing the covers off my body, I stupidly stormed out of the apartment and moved down the hall to Officer Downy’s apartment.
Then I proceeded to slam my fist down hard on the door, rattling the door with intensity.
It might have been more impressive if pain hadn’t shot up my arm with each pound, or possibly if the door wasn’t a piece of shit that wouldn’t keep a toddler out.
Regardless of the fact, my display, to me, was impressive.
My anger was hot and raging, and I was good and mad, ready to rip the man who couldn’t keep it in his pants a new one.
When the light beyond the door turned on, I braced myself for a good confrontation.
What I hadn’t expected was for the door to be opened by another man.
He was built.
I knew that because he was wearing nothing but a pair of underwear.
His body was impressive.
Perfect six-pack abs, lean and defined. He was also tattooed, and I liked tattoos.
Then there was another one. He looked much like the one who’d answered the door, but more bulky.
Oh, and his underwear was red instead of black.
The final one to show behind the two men was the one I’d originally been after, but suddenly my ability to produce cognitive speech was gone, and in its place was a stuttering idiot.
Was he gay?
I’d never expected gay.
I’d expected a womanizer, but not gay.
Holy shit!
Now all those nights spent listening to him moan wasn’t quite so bad, knowing that they were all doing each other.
Then my mouth, tired from the lack of sleep I’d gotten over the past four days… and hell last month, stopped filtering properly.
“You know, if you’d let me watch, I’d never complain about y’all waking me up again,” I blurted.
They didn’t say anything, and I could see confusion on all of their faces.
Of course, my brain, the poor thing, couldn’t shut up.
“I never pictured you as gay,” I said, aiming that comment to the man behind them all with his arms crossed.
With that, I left before I could further embarrass myself.
Except, I never made it past my door before my waist was caught up in a hold that lifted me up off the ground.
The man behind me had a steel band for an arm. I squeaked as I was pulled up to Downy’s hard chest, while the front of me was pressed against the wall.
My hands went forward, trying in vain to push off against the wall to no avail.
However, Downy was much more powerful, and his superior strength was forcing me into the wall. I had no other recourse but to collapse or my arms would give out.
His hand traveled up underneath my shirt, coming to a rest just above my pubic bone. Flattening his palm until it was pressed from hip to hip. His pinky finger tickling the hair covering my mound.
His hard body pressed against me, thighs to chest, as he said, “I’m not fucking gay.”
With that parting comment, he ground his hot, giant cock into my butt.
Not long, but long enough that I could feel it before I was abruptly let go, and he was gone.
I heard him walking away, but I couldn’t muster up the energy to move.
My heart was beating a mile a minute, and all I could do was pull in deep, aroused breaths as I replayed the previous ten seconds over and over again in my mind.
Holy shit, he’d moved fast.
And not only had he manhandled me, but I’d liked it.
I mean really liked it.
When I finally found the gumption to move, I pushed against the wall and stood up straight.
The shirt that had been pushed up as his hand moved underneath fell, covering my ass once again as I walked blindly into my apartment.
I walked straight to my room and collapsed onto the bed.
My hand traveled down to rest where he’d rested his, and it was only then that I remembered that I was naked underneath my shirt, and he’d felt it. He’d also seen it since my shirt had stayed hiked up over my ass as he’d walked away.
“Oh, my God,” I gasped. “I’m a ho!”
***
Three hours later I was still thinking about the altercation as I served my sixtieth cup of coffee.
Which was why, when he came in only moments later with the full force of the KPD SWAT team at his back, my face flamed.
I turned away quickly, but the man and his sharp green eyes lasered in on me.
I wondered if he’d been among the ones who had saved me. I only knew at the time it’d been Kilgore SWAT.
I wondered if he knew the one who had shielded me with his body a few months ago during the worst workday ever.
The job that I’d lost because the owner of the law firm had died. And my job, as well as my apartment, had taken a hit.
After the shooting, the main partner, Mr. Pierson, had died of wounds sustained during the standoff.
His wife had decided to sell her share of Pierson, Tide, and Associates. Since
Mr. Tide could no longer afford to keep me, I’d lost my job. And shortly after, my apartment.
At least I still had my car, but that was only because I’d cashed in my bonds I’d gotten when I was a kid, using them to pay for my college for this semester, my car note for three months, and my new apartment for five.
Now I was working at a diner in town called The Angry Goose Diner.
For the most part, I liked it. Although, it was a lot of work.
I was the only other server besides the owner.
The owner also didn’t do half the stuff that I did.
However, I guess that was a perk of being the owner and all.
I couldn’t say that I’d do the same in her position, but I could say that I understood.
The positive side of it all was that I got to keep all the tips.
Regardless, it was me who had to go up to the table of men since I could tell Jessica wasn’t planning on doing it.
Mostly because she saw them come in, pointed to a table in the back of the room, and then proceeded to continue flipping through her magazine while her husband and I slaved away.
A table of men in which three of them I’d accused of being gay not even twelve hours earlier.
They still looked just as jacked with clothes on as they did without.
Out of the nine men, all but one was sizing me up as I walked toward them.
When I reached the table, my eyes automatically found Downy’s, and I had to will myself not to blush.
Outside, I was a rock. Inside, I was a melting puddle of goo who wanted nothing more than for the man currently running his eyes from the tips of my feet to the top of my head to take me into the back office and fuck the ever-loving hell out of me. Hard and fast.
“Can I get you guys something?” I asked politely, knowing with a certainty that each and every man here knew who I was, and what I’d accused the three men living next to me of this morning.
“Coffee,” the blonde who had answered the door this morning ordered.
I nodded and looked to the next man. This one was dark and handsome. He had dark eyes and dark hair, and his features spoke of some sort of Hispanic heritage.
“Water,” he ordered.
I nodded and turned to the next man. This one was the only one wearing long sleeves. Every bit of his skin was covered from hands to shoulders, and he had a hat seated deep on his head that depicted him as a ‘country boy’ despite being in full uniform other than that.
Code 11- KPD SWAT Box Set Page 43
