by Lily Harlem
“Winner stays in the ring.” Balko looked at Ricardo. “For the next round.”
“Suits me.” Ricardo nodded.
Sean suddenly ducked his head and rhino barged Balko in the belly.
Balko grunted and staggered backwards. They both tumbled to the springy base of the ring. As they crashed down the entire thing juddered.
They were instantly a tangle of arms and legs rolling over and under each other. Each man was pure muscle, their skill evident, and clearly not afraid to push each other to the limit in training.
I was no stranger to unarmed combat, and had practiced jujutsu for years—it had come in handy a few times too.
Jonathan chuckled as Balko got the better of Sean, but his victory was short-lived, because Sean wriggled from the headlock, flipped Balko over and caught him in a headlock.
Grimacing, Balko slapped the base of the ring.
Sean instantly released him and sprang up, rubbing his hands together and again jogging on the spot.
Balko also leapt up, his cheeks flushed and his eyes narrowed.
“My turn,” Ricardo said, slipping between the ropes.
Balko scowled and retreated to stand with Jonathan and me. It clearly didn’t suit him to lose. Which was good. I’d be worried if one of my men was comfortable with not winning.
Sean squared his shoulders then again ducked his head.
But Ricardo was no fool and dodged the head barge. As Sean flew past him he stuck out his foot and tripped Sean up.
Sean hit the deck with a grunt, but quickly flipped onto his back. Just as well because Ricardo was over him.
For a moment I admired Ricardo’s skill and the long, lean lines of his back and limbs. But then I got caught up in the moment. Sean was clearly a good match for Ricardo; they were grappling for the upper hand with every move.
Jonathan nudged me with his elbow. “He’ll keep Ricardo on his toes.”
“Good thing.” I nodded. “You going in?”
“Sure.”
Ricardo suddenly raised his hips. Sean’s neck was trapped between his legs.
Sean tapped out—three quick bangs of his palm.
Ricardo released him and with a gymnastic-style spring, landed on his feet.
I could tell by his grin he was pleased with himself. It was like watching a who-has-the-biggest-dick contest and he’d just won it.
“Good move,” Sean said. His expression didn’t match his words. Like Balko, he didn’t like losing.
“Come on.” Ricardo nodded at Jonathan. “Or are you scared?”
“Feel like losing, do you?” Jonathan climbed into the ring. “Want to start your day off badly?”
Ricardo grinned and side stepped left then right. He wasn’t as heavily built as Jonathan and I’d watched them enough times, sparring and jujutsu, to know that gave him advantages and disadvantages when it came to training with his best friend.
Jonathan lunged for him, a typical knife attack simulation.
Ricardo hopped to the right, batting Jonathan away, and slipped behind him.
Jonathan spun, shoulders tense, eye on his target.
Another lunge.
This time Ricardo wrapped himself around Jonathan and they both hurtled downwards.
Again it shuddered.
As they battled for supremacy, neither quite managing to maintain a hold, I spotted several other officers pausing their training to watch.
A swell of pride went through me—these two examples of physical perfection, skill and honour were mine, all mine.
Not that anyone knew that, except for us three, of course.
It would be seriously frowned upon. We’d have to fill in relationship disclosure forms. And how would I explain that I had two boyfriends and they were both perfectly happy with the situation? They both gave me different things, but no less important things, and I loved them equally.
And right now the two men I loved were behaving like a couple of Neanderthals. Their skin was slick with sweat, they were grunting and grimacing, arms and legs working fast and hard, muscles bulging.
It would be fun to be between them right now.
Heat spread up my neck to my cheeks and a fizz of interest tugged at my belly and between my legs. It had been too long since we’d had a threesome. I should suggest it for our next day off.
As my mind wandered along decidedly unprofessional avenues, Jonathan managed to get the better of Ricardo. It was luck more than anything that he caught Ricardo’s head in a lock by the corner of the ring that meant Ricardo had no room for leverage to get out of it.
Ricardo banged out.
Jonathan stood then held out his hand. “You need to practice more, buddy.”
“Go fuck yourself.” Ricardo ignored his help and jumped up. He rubbed his mandibular joint and shifted his jaw from side to side.
“My turn,” I said, toeing off my shoes then slipping through the ropes. “Balko, in you get.”
“What?” His mouth dropped open.
“Come on.” I stretched my neck left then right and cracked my knuckles.
“I’m not… I can’t…”
“Say you can’t train with me because I’m a woman and I’ll change my mind about going easy on you because it’s your first day.” I raised my eyebrows at him.
Would he accept my challenge? And if so, would he treat me gently or like I was one of the guys? I was curious to find out.
“Go on.” Sean clapped him on the back. “How much harm can she do you?”
“It’s not that I’m worried about,” Balko muttered as he climbed in.
Aww, sweet, he’s concerned about hurting me.
I mimicked Ricardo, hopping from one foot to the other and making the most of my lighter, swifter stature.
But Balko was nimble too, and tall with it. My forehead was at his chin level. It was plain to see he had a good reach, unlike mine.
So I went straight for a dirty leg sweep, throwing him off with a placebo punch.
He hit the deck with a satisfying thud and I leapt on top of him.
I didn’t have great success in pinning his arms down—he was strong and quick.
So I dropped my weight, digging my thumb into a pressure point in his neck and wriggled to the side. Here I managed to flip him over and crank his left arm up his back at an awkward angle.
“You tapping out?” I asked, staring at two freckles between his shoulder blades.
He banged the floor with his free hand.
“Damn it.” I released him then shoved at his ass with my bare feet. “Don’t go easy on me.”
He sprang up. “I didn’t.”
“Sure you did.” I frowned and rammed my hands on my hips. “Go again, not easy this time. Show me what you’ve got.”
Beep. Beep.
“Hot call.” Ricardo reached into the gym bag at his feet and pulled out his cell. He tapped the screen. “You guys will have to finish this game another day. We have to haul our asses down to the courthouse.”
“Courthouse?” I climbed between the ropes and landed lightly on the gymnasium floor. “You know why?”
“Nothing other than it’s crowd control.”
I groaned. “Great, my favourite.” I pointed at Sean and Balko. “You’ve got your kit, right?”
“Yep.” Balko nodded.
“Good. I’ll see you all at the vehicle in five.”
Chapter Four
Twenty minutes later we were hurtling along Collins Avenue towards the County Court. Jonathan was driving, I was seated next to him and Ricardo, Balko and Sean were in the back. We were all in full gear, weaponed-up and riot shields at the ready.
“What the fuck is going on?” I said as a crowd came into a view. “It’s all women.”
They held placards.
Death Sentence is the Only Sentence
Justice for ALL Victims.
Sick Crime—Sick Man.
No to Perverts Running Our State.
“It’s the trial of Walter Riley,
” Ricardo said, reading from his smartphone.
“Ah yeah, he is a sick bastard,” Sean muttered.
“I agree. And it seems his presence here has angered all the females in Miami.”
“All of Florida by the looks of it.” Jonathan flicked on the siren to get through a tangle of people and cars.
“We’re to go around the back of the courthouse, handle the situation inside first,” I said.
“The protestors are in there.” Jonathan glanced at me. “They’ll be after his blood. You know what he did, right?”
“Yes, I do. As if two counts of rape weren’t bad enough, he was found with seriously hardcore, disgusting and violent porn on his laptop.”
“Maybe we should let them at him,” Sean said.
“Tempting.” I twisted and caught his gaze. “But we have a justice system for a reason.”
He huffed and rechecked his weapon.
“Here we are.” Jonathan steered the van to the back of the courthouse. There were at least a dozen uniform patrol vehicles there.
As soon as he pulled to a stop we jumped out, our sturdy boots landing heavily.
A uniform rushed up. “They’ve breached the lobby. Time to stop playing nicely. We need them out before the shit really hits the fan.”
“We’re on it.” I nodded at him. “There’s another SWAT team on the way, right?
“Apparently they’re on another job, will be here soon as.”
Damn it, where are Hal and his men when I need them?
“Come on, guys.” With shields in hands, we ran through the back door and then a network of corridors. The sound of excited babble and chanting grew louder.
We found ourselves spat out into the lobby. About a hundred women had breached the revolving doors before they’d been locked by uniformed officers and they now stood about punching the air, shouting for justice and for blood.
“Fuck,” Ricardo muttered next to me. “They’re not happy.”
“And I don’t blame them.”
We stood in a line, protecting the doorway to the courtroom itself. If the braying crowd got in there, goodness only knew what would happen.
A woman rushed up to me. “Hey, you! Traitor.” She slapped my shield.
I took a step forward. My men did the same.
“Traitor. Traitor. Look…” She spun around. “There’s a goddamn woman protecting Walter Riley.”
“A woman!”
Again we stepped forward, scooping up several protestors with us and moving them backward.
“Traitor. Traitor.” A new chant was starting up.
I frowned and looked at Jonathan.
“You should go,” Sean said.
I whipped my head around to him. “No fucking way.”
“Why are you helping that sick bastard? Let us at him!” A female, late twenties with long, red hair, jabbed her finger in my direction.
Another asked the same question, then another.
Their attention was rapidly zoning in on me.
My heart rate quickened. I tried to control it the way I did when taking a shot. But it was hard, because the truth was I didn’t want to defend the piece of crap in the courtroom. I’d read the papers, seen the news. He was going to be found guilty—the evidence was indisputable.
“Freya,” Ricardo said, concern in his voice. “Maybe we should get you out of here.”
“No! Absolutely not.”
I stood my ground as my shield was jostled so hard I struggled to keep a hold of it.
“Bitch!” Another hard shove and a kick to my lower leg.
I’d had no intention of drawing a weapon but at that point I pulled my pistol from the holster on my leg.
If they’re going to get physical, what choice do I have?
“You should be in there on trial with him.” A mean-looking older woman yelled at me. “Bitch.”
What the ever-loving fuck!
“Stop!” I shouted, stepping forward and lowering my shield. “Just stop and listen to yourselves.”
“Freya,” Ricardo said as he and Jonathan flanked me. “What are—?”
“You’re protecting the motherfucker who rapes and degrades women yet pretends to be an upstanding member of office.” The older woman was in my face again.
“I hear you,” I said, holding up my hand—the hand with the gun. “I hear all of you, now listen to me.”
There was no response. If anything, the intensity of noise elevated.
I fired off a single round. Harmlessly. Into the air.
Silence.
A small cloud of plaster fluttered down.
A sea of horrified faces turned my way, including the police officers by the doors who’d been trying unsuccessfully to persuade angry women back through them.
“Now that I have your attention,” I shouted and flicked up my visor. “Perhaps we can all calm down and put a lid on the hysteria.”
“Hysteria? No, it’s anger.”
“And I get that.” I re-sheathed my gun and held my palm towards the woman who had spoken. “I am angry too.”
“You’re protecting him. You believe he’s innocent.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t believe he’s innocent. But the truth is what I believe about his guilt or innocence doesn’t matter any more than a speck of dust does.” I wiped some white debris from my nose. “What matters is our belief in the justice system our good country has had faith in for over a century. That is what’s important.”
“What’s important is that man sits in an electric chair.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Again I held up my hand. “In this state we have the death penalty so you may all get your wish, but that’s exactly that…a wish. We have Judge Saxton presiding over this case and I have faith he will come to the right decision.”
“Walter Riley needs castrating.”
“Most likely.” I nodded and attempted a smile. I stepped a little farther into the crowd. A few women parted to let me through. “Your quarrel isn’t with me, or these other good police officers who’ve sworn to protect and serve you all. It’s with one man, and one man alone, who will have justice served.”
“What if he walks?”
“Yeah, scumbags like him have friends, corrupt friends. What if he does a deal and walks?”
I steeled myself. “He won’t walk.” The women before me were such a mixture of race and colour, but they all had the same defiant look, the same fear, the same determination to see justice done. “I’ll make you a deal,” I said, swinging my gaze around and trying to catch as many people’s eyes as possible.
“Deal?” a woman near the back called. “What deal?”
“How many of you have sons, brothers, nephews? Show of hands.”
A wave of arms lifted.
“My deal is, you all go home and speak to those young men. You tell them that no means no, that consent is everything, and that women deserve nothing less than one hundred percent respect. That is our duty as mothers, sisters and aunts, to show the men in our lives right from wrong when it comes to consent.”
“Of course we’ll do that.”
“Good.” I nodded and again managed a tight smile.
“And in return, what will you do for us?” someone shouted.
I looked at Jonathan, his eyes were narrowed, then at Ricardo, his lips were pressed tight. I turned back to the crowd. “I promise, in return, Walter Riley will be served justice for all of his crimes.”
“Fuck,” Jonathan muttered. “You can’t promise that.”
I held up my hands, my heart thudding. “We have to believe in our great city and the great men, yes the great men who walk alongside us every day, to deliver us from this evil. And I, Officer Freya Sweeny, promise to uphold this. It is my word to you as a fellow female and police officer.”
Silence.
It was so quiet a feather would have been heard hitting the floor.
“Freya. Freya.” The chant started. “Freya. Freya.”
&nb
sp; The revolving doors opened and a few women wandered out, placards held low. They were followed by more, and after only a few minutes the lobby was nearly empty.
“What the fucking hell was all that about?” Jonathan said, lowering his shield and tugging off his helmet.
“You can’t promise any of that.” Ricardo looked unusually concerned.
“Fuck yeah!” Balko nudged me with his shoulder as he walked past to supervise the last of the women leaving. “That was awesome. Girl power. I’m impressed.”
“It wasn’t girl power,” I said. “It was not wanting to be accused of siding with a lowlife like Walter Riley.”
“So instead you promise to be the dealer of justice on their behalf?” Sean said. “What you gonna do? Put him in an electric chair yourself if he walks?”
“I cleared the fucking lobby, didn’t I.” I hadn’t needed to say it as a question. It was pretty damn obvious I had.
“Can’t deny that.” Sean shrugged.
“You’ll likely get a repair bill, though.” Ricardo pointed upward.
I followed his line of sight. “Ah, shit.” My one bullet had taken out a chunk of ornate mosaic showing a set of scales and a sword. “Bound to be fucking gold-plated as well.”
Jonathan chuckled and I was glad to hear the sound. “One thing I know, Freya. It’s never dull when you’re around—it’s a gold-plated surprise a minute.”
I wasn’t sure if Jonathan had been turned on by my outburst at the courtroom or if he’d decided I needed taking down a peg or two. But when he whispered in my ear at clocking-off time that we were going to The Dungeon, I didn’t complain.
In fact my heart leapt at the thought. My ass tingled too, as I remembered his promise of a flogging.
And now, standing at the entrance, wearing a little black dress, high-heeled boots and the tiniest pair of panties I owned, I could hardly contain my excitement at the thought of the orgasms he could give me.
“Here,” he said, drawing a small, black velvet eye mask from his pocket. “You need to wear this again.”
“Okay.”
He was already wearing the same style mask. He always did, he’d told me it helped with anonymity. And it didn’t hurt to be anonymous when kinky and in public.
Not that The Dungeon was particularly public. Madam Gutard privately owned it, and all members thoroughly vetted. As a guest I was to stay with my Master at all times, and if asked to leave do so without question. Getting down and dirty in The Dungeon required rules and trust, whether it was in the arena or a private booth.
