Code 11- KPD SWAT Box Set

by Lani Lynn Vale

  Switching targets, he flicked his tongue rapidly over my sensitive bud, making me moan as my orgasm started to barrel toward me at supersonic speed.

  However, just when I would’ve tipped over the edge, he stopped and stood.

  It would’ve been tragic if he hadn’t replaced his mouth with his cock.

  He knew what I needed, though, slamming inside of me so hard that I cried out in surprise.

  He growled, taking a hold of my hips and pulling me back roughly into his thrusts.

  He snapped his hips, skin smacking against skin, and the sound of it filled the room around us.

  I felt a droplet of sweat hit my lower back, and my head and back arched.

  He worked his hard cock inside of me, deeper and deeper until I swore he’d barrel straight through me.

  He didn’t, though, only gave it to me hard and rough, just like I needed in that moment.

  He’d thrust, and I’d groan.

  The pattern held until my orgasm was once again knocking at the door, and Downy sensed it.

  Moving his hands, one went down toward my belly and was buried between my legs.

  He ground the heel of his hand into my clit as he spanned the width of his cock with his fingers, feeling where I was stretching for his intrusion.

  I came.

  Hard.

  The breath left my lungs in a rush as I threw my head back, hair brushing my ass as I clamped down hard onto his cock.

  He growled and gave three more rough thrusts inside of me before he, too, came.

  I was panting, my face lying flat on the counter as he finished inside of me, shooting his come deep.

  When he gave his final, smooth glide inside, and came to a stop with our hips flush against each other’s, he ran his hand down the length of my spine.

  “Why is it that I’m already ready to go again? You have a magic fucking pussy, I swear. It’s all I’ve thought about for the past three days,” he growled.

  My nipples pebbled, but I knew my father wouldn’t wait much longer.

  “We can’t,” I said, tapping his leg. “There’re some dish towels in that drawer to your right, can you reach it?”

  “Dish towels?” he asked as he reached for one.

  He shifted inside of me and I clamped down on him in reaction, causing him to hiss in a breath.

  “Not fair,” he said, tossing it down on the counter in front of my hands.

  I took it and held it between my legs to catch the remnants of his release.

  “Thanks,” I said as he pulled out wetly.

  I groaned, missing the feel of him instantly.

  He groaned himself, but nonetheless wiped his dick off with another towel and then pulled his pants back up.

  “I’m going,” he said, giving me a slow kiss. “Come over when you get cleaned up.”

  I nodded and watched him retreat back to my bedroom, following behind him as best as I could with a towel and my hand wedged between my legs.

  He looked over his shoulder and caught me walking, making a sound of amusement before he disappeared into his side of the room and then out the locked door of his bedroom.

  I went to the bathroom and cleaned up, keeping his pants on, and then headed over to Downy’s door less than five minutes later.

  Downy wasn’t the one to answer the door, though. It was Miller, who still had a sheepish look on his face.

  “I said it was okay.” I shook my head.

  Jesus, he wouldn’t let the wall debacle drop.

  I knew he didn’t mean to!

  “I know,” he responded, holding the door wide for me to come in.

  My father was sitting at the bar with a bottle of beer in his hand, and a look on his face that said he wasn’t sorry at all that he was there.

  I didn’t think he would be. He was like that.

  He made no apologies, which I’d found was normal for any alpha-like man. Cops. Dixie Wardens. Firefighters. Military. They were all the same. They did what they wanted and made no apologies for it.

  “Daddy,” I said, giving him a look that said I wasn’t happy with him.

  His eye twitched. “Baby.”

  I just shook my head. “Did you get what you were looking for?”

  He nodded. “Yep. Except I could’ve done without knowing you were over there fucking ten minutes ago.”

  I choked on my own spit, eyes squeezing tight as embarrassment flooded me. “Shit.”

  Foster and Miller laughed. Downy, however, didn’t look sorry in the least.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to change the subject. Fast.

  “I wanted to meet this man that you couldn’t take the time out of your day to come see us for,” he said evenly.

  I just shook my head. “Daddy, you know I was in school. In fact, I missed two days by the both of you faking a sickness. You know you could’ve used the flu as an excuse. Seizures are scary. I was nauseous the whole way home.”

  My daddy, the hardest man I’d ever seen, looked down at his feet in defeat. “Would you have come home?”

  I bit my lip. No, I wouldn’t have.

  I was still mad at him, even two years later. I was mad that he was always so high handed with everything. Mad that he never gave me anything. Mad that when I gave him something, he took and took until I had nothing left to give.

  “Daddy,” I said, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry.”

  He nodded and stood, walking toward me.

  When he got within arm’s reach, he pulled me into his arms.

  I went, relishing the feeling of his warm, muscular, familiar arms wrapped around me.

  My daddy always made me feel safe and loved.

  That wasn’t the problem, though. It was too much of that feeling when all I wanted was to live my life.

  “You’ve got to let me have my own life. I think I know by now how to pick out a man who knows how to treat me right,” I said crossly.

  He rubbed his whiskers against my face, as he’d always done when he was thinking. “I know. I just had to see. I knew this one was different.”

  He said it so quietly that I doubted that any of the other three men in the room had even heard.

  I looked up into his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  He smiled. “You’ll see, baby. When you see, you’ll understand exactly what I mean.”

  With that, he gave me a peck on the lips, offered his hand to each man in the room, and walked straight out the door. No doubt to start the long ride home.

  “Daddy,” I said, stopping him before he closed it.

  He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Yeah?”

  “I love you,” I said, putting my whole heart and soul into those three words.

  “Back ‘atcha, baby girl,” he rumbled. “Keep her safe, boy.”

  With that, he left, leaving me with a gushy feeling in my stomach in his wake.

  ***

  I flopped down into the chair once Miller and Foster left to go on shift, and I raised my eyebrows at Downy who was sitting across from me.

  He was looking at the TV, though, too entranced with the show we were watching to notice my silent question.

  “Downy,” I said finally, drawing his attention to me.

  “What?” he asked.

  I leaned forward. “What did he have to say?”

  He sighed and flipped the television off before leaning back and putting his feet back on the table.

  Crossing his arms, he said, “He’s worried about you. He’s worried that you’re making bad choices. He thinks you’re living in this ‘shithole’ out of spite, and he doesn’t think he likes me very much. Oh, and the sex we had earlier didn’t go unnoticed by him, but that was what flipped the scales in my direction. He said, and I quote, ‘My baby girl knows men. She wouldn’t be with you if you were a no-good motherfucker.’ End of story.”

  I blinked in surprise. “You know, if he’d just been bl
unt like that, and talked it out with me, I’d never have left. Instead, he’s so freakin’ high-handed and sneaky, putting GPS chips on my car and having his men follow me around. Jesus, I felt like I was getting smothered there.”

  He raised his brow. “What makes you think he hasn’t kept doing it all this time?”

  I sat forward suddenly. “You think he has another chip on my car?”

  He shook his head. “No, but I think if he was actually really ‘sneaky and high-handed,’ he’d have kept doing it once you left. He hasn’t, so he’s at least trying. He seemed lonely to me. I think all the threats were more of an ‘if you hurt her, I’ll kill you’ variety.”

  That made me think.

  Was I being too hard on my dad?

  I didn’t think I was, but then again, I was the one who’d left without getting his true feelings on the matter.

  Was there something more to it all?

  Question after question poured through my brain as I thought about what Downy had just said to me.

  Downy, at some point, had turned his show back on and continued watching from the exact part he’d stopped at, and I stared blankly at the TV. Uncomprehending of the show or its plot.

  The only thing I kept coming up with was… why?

  Chapter 10

  If all else fails, take a pointer from your dog. Kick some grass over that shit and move on.

  -E-card

  Memphis

  “What’s that?” I asked, pointing at a stack of files on Downy’s bed.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed and started to strip his boots off his feet. Then he went for the socks, his pants, and his shirt before answering.

  “Old police reports about people’s dogs being stolen,” he grunted.

  I blinked and walked to the stack.

  “How far back do these go?” I asked as I opened the first file.

  He sighed and fell stomach first onto the bed, grabbing the bottom file and flipping it open.

  “We only pulled the ones in the last six months. That’s about the time when the most dogs started to go missing,” he explained.

  I nodded and scanned through the first file. This one was about a Golden Retriever named Mufasa, who’d been stolen out of his owner’s yard while he’d been playing outside.

  The next was more of the same. And the next. And the next.

  “This is really horrible,” I muttered.

  He nodded, looking at a list in the last folder.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “These are the dogs that were stolen from the shelter. Twenty-two of them in all,” he replied gruffly.

  My stomach hurt, and my head was pounding.

  “Is there any doubt about what’s going on?” I asked.

  He shook his head, flipping over the next page. “This is a list of dogs that were taken at the dog park. Seven in total.”

  Dog after dog, sheet after sheet.

  I read over thirty-five individual reports, paired with the dogs taken from the dog park, as well as the ones taken from the shelter, it totaled sixty-four dogs taken total, in a six-month period.

  “Holy shit,” I breathed, my eyes not comprehending what I was reading.

  He grunted in reply, his eyes scanning one of the reports I’d already looked at.

  “Why do you have these?” I asked curiously, turning my head to look at him.

  He shrugged. “Nobody else was looking into it. O’Keefe’s been doing what he can, but a dog going missing is a lot lower on the totem pole compared to murders and missing people.”

  “Hmmm,” I hummed. “That makes sense.”

  I dropped the files to the bed and used the TV remote that was lying on the bed between us to flip through the channels.

  Downy started to play with my hair that was falling down my back as he read, and I watched old episodes of Cops.

  “Do they actually run like that?” I asked, as one particular man bailed out of his car and started running down the street.

  The suspect was quick, but the cop was faster, throwing his cruiser into park before he hauled ass after the guy.

  The suspect had gotten a good lead on the cop, but the cop ate up the distance as if he’d been in a sprint relay competing for an Olympic medal.

  He laughed. “Every fucking day of the week.”

  “That’s just sad,” I admitted.

  He grunted, going back to his files.

  “What about that?” I asked as one of the men threw something out of the car. “What happens when you see them throw something out of the car? Does another cop go and get it?”

  “Uh-huh,” he said distractedly. “There’s a button on the camera that lets us mark the spot where the evidence was dropped. We can follow the coordinates to the exact location it was dropped.”

  Huh, that was interesting. I’d never heard of that.

  “Do y’all wear those personal cameras like they are?” I asked, not bothering to look at him.

  It felt too good to have him running his fingers through my hair to move.

  If I could purr, I’d be doing it right at that moment.

  “No. KPD isn’t able to afford them, although they’ve been mentioned before. With all the attacks on the police officers around the country, it’s better if a police officer were to have viable proof as to what happened. That way they can’t say that the suspect wasn’t doing anything wrong. The body cameras are for our benefit, not the public,” he explained.

  “Hmm,” I muttered, thinking about what he’d said.

  I’d never thought about it from that point of view before.

  Of course I’d worried about my father going out there and getting hurt in the line of duty, but I’d never thought about the law being turned around on him as Downy was explaining.

  Which was an eye-opener, because I’d thought that I was okay with Downy being a police officer. I guess I’d never really understood the sheer amount of things that a cop had to do to defend himself against people while he was at work.

  I closed my eyes in thought, thinking about all the times my father had been threatened.

  Had Downy had any of those cases?

  “Downy?” I asked.

  “Hmm?” he replied.

  “Your job scares me,” I admitted.

  He tugged on my hair lightly, acknowledging that he’d heard me. “You’ll get used to it.”

  “And if I don’t?” I asked with a wee bit of annoyance.

  “Then I’ll fuck it out of you,” he growled. “Remind you what you’d be missing if I wasn’t around anymore.”

  Sadly, I could do nothing else but agree.

  I didn’t really know what kind of future Downy and I had right now, but I couldn’t wait to see where it led.

  ***

  The next morning, at four seventeen, Downy’s alarm went off and he groaned, rolling out of bed in exhaustion.

  “Where you goin’?” I asked half asleep.

  He stretched, lifting his arms up high over his head. “To work out.”

  His voice was sleep roughened and sexy, making my girly parts flutter slightly.

  However, they weren’t excited enough to wake up fully, yet.

  Not when we’d gone to sleep at nearly one in the morning.

  I didn’t bother asking him why he was working out this early. It was more than obvious that he’d had to do quite a bit of working out to get a body like he had.

  He trailed his hand down my exposed leg as he walked past my side of the bed into his closet, causing me to smile.

  “Night,” I said before drifting back into sleep.

  I woke, once again, for real, around nine in the morning when my alarm went off, alerting me that I had a little over an hour to get my clothes on and get to school.

  I’d most likely be late, but that was okay. Today was only a lecture, and I’d listen to the recording for the first half later if I had a need to.

 
; It was when I was showering that I heard a knock on my door.

  Well, more like a pound.

  Peter started barking furiously, as well as what sounded suspiciously like Mocha.

  Why hadn’t she gone with Downy?

  Turning off the taps, I threw a towel around me, and then a robe over that.

  Slipping my feet into slippers, I walked to the door and looked through the peephole.

  My brows lowered as I opened the door to a beautiful woman with long red hair. “Yes?”

  She smiled fleetingly at me. “You’re Memphis?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  She wilted visibly. “I… I need a favor from you.”

  Turning my head, I asked, “Who are you?”

  She looked embarrassed for a few moments. “I’m sorry. I’m Downy’s sister, Ridley.”

  I blinked.

  Downy had a sister? Since when?

  Shouldn’t the woman who’d been warming his bed know that he had a sister?

  “Uh, yeah. Come on in,” I said, opening my door wide.

  Mocha and Peter, curious, walked up to Ridley and licked her hands.

  She smiled slightly down at the dogs, but folded her arms up, keeping them out of reach.

  She looked incredibly uncomfortable, but not any more than me standing in my kitchen talking to my lover’s sister, while I was practically naked.

  “So, how can I help you, Ridley?” I asked her.

  She sighed. “My father and my brother are going at it outside, and he told me to come up here. Said to knock on your door and you’d let me in.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, sure you can come in. What’re they fighting about?”

  I asked that as I walked around the island in my kitchen and started a pot of coffee.

  She followed me, taking a seat at the island, and said, “The land. What they always fight about.”

  She sounded tired. Really tired.

  “Does this happen often?” I asked in concern.

  She nodded. “At least once a week. My father works for Downy’s neighbor, Ronnie Prescott. Prescott wants the land that Downy was given when his father died, and my dad makes it his business to try to convince Downy to sell.”

  “Hmm,” I said.

  I didn’t really know what to say to that. That seemed kind of trivial to fight over, in my opinion.