SWAT: Contemporary Cop Romance

by Lily Harlem

I picked up my earpiece. “Chief?”

  “It’s over,” he said. “Find a TV.”

  “Yes, chief.” I shoved the piece under my vest and reached for a remote, flicked on the large black screen hanging on the wall over a polished grey table.

  The courthouse filled the screen, and a ticker was rolling over the bottom.

  Walter Riley found guilty on all counts. Life sentence doled out by presiding judge.

  “Thank fuck for that,” I said. “Balko, come out here.”

  I turned.

  He was already standing next to me. How had I not noticed? I frowned slightly. “Look.”

  “Good,” he said, folding his arms over his bare chest. “Bastard got what he deserved. Let’s hope they throw away the key.”

  “I agree.” It was like a weight had been lifted off me. After my rash promise to the women of Florida and then my too-close-for-comfort encounter with a suicide vest, the situation had concluded peacefully. Justice had been served.

  As I stared at the screen, watching the jubilant crowd of women on the road outside the courthouse, I became acutely aware of how close Balko was standing. The scent of shampoo swirled in my nose, and my skin reacted to the heat of his, my small hairs seeming to stand to attention.

  I looked up at him.

  He was staring at me with an expression I didn’t recognise on him, but damn it was sexy. With his eyebrows pulled low, a small line between them, his cheeks a little flushed and his lips parted I had the urge to trace the angles of his face.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  He’s thinking about sex, I’d put money on it.

  “You tell me what you’re thinking first.” He tipped his head. His eyes were thin slits but I could see them flashing.

  “I could order you to come clean about what’s on your mind, officer.”

  “What’s on my mind isn’t clean.”

  I knew it.

  “So,” he said, “are you going to demand it of me? My inner thoughts and desires.”

  Desires.

  “It depends—are we standing here as commander of the team and her SWAT officer or as a man and woman?”

  “I’d definitely say man and woman.” He moved a little closer and I could make out the small details on his eagle tat.

  “Balko.”

  “You want to celebrate?”

  “Celebrate Riley going down?”

  “No.” He nipped my chin between his thumb and finger. “Being alive.”

  I swallowed. My nipples were tight and a fizz of excitement was working its way through my torso and settling between my legs.

  I’m going to fuck him.

  “Being alive is good,” I managed. I had an overwhelming urge to find out how Balko fucked. There was something edgy about him, layers I had yet to discover. “And it’s worth celebrating.”

  “It is.” He lowered his head and pressed his lips over mine. Not a wild kiss, and no tongues, just a touch of lips. “Is that okay?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “You got a boyfriend?” he asked. “And I want honesty now.”

  “Have you got a girlfriend?”

  “No.” He smiled. “I haven’t.”

  I was silent.

  “You need to answer me,” he said, then licked his lips. “Before we go any further, what are Ricardo and Jonathan to you?”

  I watched every tiny movement of his mouth, his eyes. I was hooked and I wanted him. “I suppose they’re my boyfriends—not that we advertise it,” I said, “I love them and they love me, but they’re not the jealous sort.”

  His jaw tightened.

  “You’ll have to trust me on that one.” I shrugged.

  “I’d trust you with my life, Freya.”

  “And I would protect you with mine.”

  We need to fuck.

  “Any other men on the scene?” he asked.

  “What do you think?”

  He kissed me again, just as gently as before. “I have a feeling there are,” he said onto my lips.

  “Yes, but just one.”

  Another kiss. “Who?”

  “I spent last night with Sean.”

  “Sean as well.” He paused. “So if we fuck, here, now, you’ll have a full house, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “You want that?”

  “I want you and I want them.”

  “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

  For a moment my heart stuttered. Did he have a problem with it? Had I misjudged the situation? Would he go to the chief and tell him, get us all suspended or worse, fired?

  Then he smiled, an utterly filthy curve of his sexy mouth that had my knees weakening and a glut of lust shooting through me. “And I love it, Freya, I love that you’re not afraid to take what you want from your men.”

  “You won’t say anything?”

  “Hell, no.” He ran his hand down my neck, over the rise of my breast and took hold of the towel tucked at my cleavage. He tugged and it fell to the floor. Cool air washed over my body. “Because if I did, I’d be in the shit too.”

  “We haven’t done anything.”

  “Give me five seconds.”

  “Five seconds…oh…I…” He’d spun me around, fast, tipping me over the table and spreading my legs with his feet quicker than I could react. Which was saying something. I wasn’t exactly easy to overpower.

  But damn, it was hot.

  My palms slapped on the wood, my breasts flattened.

  “You’re going to come real good,” he said, one hand on my right ass cheek, the other between my legs. “And real quick.”

  “Balko.” I tried to push up, but he held me firm. His dominant hold excited me further. “Get inside me.”

  He did. One fast rush into my pussy. His cock was long and hard and from this angle hit my G-spot.

  I cried out, loving it.

  “Ah, yeah,” he said, gripping my hips as he withdrew.

  He pushed back in. It was fast, but it wasn’t wild. It was controlled and I got to feel each inch of his shaft.

  He didn’t linger at full depth. He pulled out, thrust in again.

  I bucked back to meet him and he dragged me onto him. My clit was rubbing on the smooth lip of the table.

  Each time his balls bashed up against me and he filled me to the max, the air was shoved from my lungs. I screwed up my eyes and enjoyed the growing pressure in my pussy. It was going to be a lovely G-spot orgasm and my pussy was tightening around his Slovak cock.

  “How you feeling, boss?”

  “Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “Shut up.”

  He kind of chuckled, but it was strained. “Your pussy is like Heaven, boss.”

  “I’m gonna come, don’t stop.”

  My words seemed to spur him on.

  I writhed on the table as my climax came within reach. Every glorious ride over my G-spot sent me higher. “Ah, ah, I’m coming… Balko.”

  “Áno, aj ja prídem.”

  I had no idea what he was saying, but damn it was sexy, grating from his throat in a rasping, hoarse tone.

  I held my breath, tensed, and rose onto my toes. My orgasm spilled free. I was out of control, my body pulsing on the table, my spine spasming. I cried out as I throbbed around his cock, arousal spurting from me. I was hot, trembling, I wanted more.

  He gave it. Pounding into me like a man fucking for his life.

  And then he, too, was coming. He roared out his pleasure as he released and tugged me harder onto his shaft. I knew there’d be bruises on my hips tomorrow, but I didn’t care.

  “Yes, yes, fuck yes,” he moaned, burying deep. “Damn it, you’re hot.” He shunted in some more, shifting me up the table.

  I groaned and clenched my fists. My orgasm had been delicious and hard and long and had sated my whole body. Now I was rapidly relaxing, becoming floppy and boneless.

  He ran his hands down my sides, skimming the outer curves of my breasts, my waist and my hips. He leaned forward, his
chest on my back. “I hope we can do that again,” he whispered.

  “I think it would…be crazy not to.” I was struggling for breath.

  He kissed the side of my head. “I would never want to be called crazy, moja láska.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He withdrew and scooped me up, twisting me in his arms.

  I leaned against him, clinging to his shoulders and absorbing the strength in his body.

  “It means, my love.” He stroked my hair. “You do know that when a Slovak fucks he’s making love, no matter what else it feels like. No matter how wild, how animal like.”

  “That felt like fucking.”

  “It was also making love.” He paused and a small smile pulled his lips. “You have to accept, Freya, that if you let me do that to you, I will fall in love with you.”

  It was early for the ‘L’ word, but I liked his honesty and openness. I nodded. “I can handle that.”

  “Good, because I want more than your body. I want your respect, your time and, one day, your heart.”

  “My heart is capable of holding a lot of love.”

  “That is what I wanted to hear.”

  He kissed me again, slower this time, deep. Showing me with every move of his lips and stroke of his tongue that he’d spoken the truth. That there was something between us…a future.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Balko and I reported back at the precinct feeling fresh, energised and satisfied. It was getting late, the sun slipping from the sky and spreading fingers of orange, lilac and pink over the horizon.

  “Good, you’re here,” the chief said as we walked into the ops room.

  Ricardo, Jonathan and Sean were standing in a row, feet apart, hands behind their backs.

  The screen showed a picture of Mark Sands.

  “You got something on him?” I asked.

  “Yeah, and I’m handing it to you guys. I hope you’re not tired, it’s going to be a late one.”

  “Not tired, chief,” I said. “Give us the detail.”

  “This slippery son of a bitch just slipped up. We intercepted a call and he just happened to be in the background.”

  “Did you get a location?”

  “No, well, not for where he was then, but he was quite open about where he was going to be later tonight.”

  “Sir?” Ricardo said, obviously keen to know what we were dealing with.

  “A club,” the chief said. “You two might know it.” He gestured between Jonathan and I.

  I resisted the urge to look at Jonathan and stared straight ahead, keeping my expression neutral.

  “What’s it called?” Jonathan asked.

  “Fets.”

  “Never heard of it.” Jonathan shrugged. “Where is it?”

  “Lower South, and I’m glad you haven’t been hanging out there. Seedy place, notorious for drugs and we’ve picked up a few unsavoury characters in the last six months from its basement.”

  “Did he give a time?” I asked.

  The chief shook his head. “No, but we’re presuming midnight. That’s when the scumbags come out to play.”

  “Yes, sir. What do you need us to do?”

  “I need you there.” He frowned. “Undercover. No coms.”

  “Really?” This was unusual.

  “Yes, I don’t want him spooked.”

  “I agree,” Jonathan said. “Third time lucky and all that.”

  “We don’t need luck,” the chief said, “just for you to do your job.” He cleared his throat. “It’s a sex club, you’ll have to er…blend in.”

  For a moment everyone was quiet.

  I mentally went through my wardrobe, wondering what would conceal a weapon. There was no way I wasn’t carrying tonight. Mark Sands was a lowlife.

  “We’ll be there,” Sean said. “Guy aimed a couple of bullets my way, I’ve got a score to settle.”

  “As long as it’s within the reach of the law,” the chief eyed Sean.

  “Naturally, sir.” Sean nodded. “Well within reach.”

  * * * *

  Several minutes before midnight, I walked through the doors of Fets with Sean and Balko.

  Jonathan and Ricardo were already inside.

  I’d picked a flared leather skirt from my wardrobe—beneath it I had a pistol strapped to my thigh. Teamed with a silky purple corset, fastened super tight so my breasts spilled over the top, I was pleased with the look. I’d fit in just fine.

  It seemed Sean and Balko were also pleased—neither had been able to stop glancing my way since we’d exited our vehicle a block away.

  “You’re not members.” A fat man chewing gum stared at us through piggy eyes. He was seated behind a messy table that held a lamp with a tasselled shade. The shade was stained, as if it had been too close to the bulb at some point.

  The reception was small and dark and smelled of takeout. On the wall was an obscene photograph of a woman with her legs spread and a vibrator and butt plug inserted. She was bound and gagged and her eyes wide so all the whites were visible.

  “How do we join?” Sean asked, resting his knuckles on the desk and leaning forward. It was a typical gorilla, give-me-what-I-want pose.

  “Five hundred bucks each.”

  “Wow, that’s steep for a bit of kink.” Sean turned to Balko. “Wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yeah, I would.” Balko crossed his arms over his tight black shirt. “Especially when we’ve brought our own woman to fuck.”

  “Well, lucky you. Most of the sad guys in there are on the lookout.” He huffed. “Pay up or get the fuck out of here.”

  “I’ve got another idea,” Sean said, picking up the mug in front of him. He sniffed it and screwed up his nose. “What’s this shit?”

  “Give me that.” The man took it from him. “And get out before I call the cops.”

  “Do you really want the cops here?” Sean asked, leaning forward again. “Seems to me there’s a few things going on they might take issue with.”

  “It’s all consensual.”

  Balko nodded at the photograph. “She doesn’t look like she’s having a great time.”

  “Women like it rough. They like being treated like whores.” He looked at me. “Don’t you, eh, bitch? A bit of slapping around, being told what to do, taking it. That’s why you’re here, to get messed up, take what you’re given.”

  Balko took a step forward and uncrossed his arms. His fists were clenched.

  I decided to keep quiet…for now.

  Sean looked over his shoulder at Balko. He held up his palm and gave a small shake of his head.

  Balko stilled.

  “The thing is…” Sean said, as if waiting for the man to give him a name. He didn’t. “We are the cops.”

  The man nodded at me. There was a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes. “Cops don’t dress like that.”

  “They do if there’s an asshole in there we need to take off the streets.”

  “I vet all my members.”

  “Don’t tell me, you only let sick perverts in,” Balko said.

  The man stood. “I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, you are—”

  “No.” Sean flashed his badge under the man’s nose. “I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen. Now sit the fuck down before I start listing things I’m going to haul your fat ass down to the precinct for.”

  The man sat with a bump. His brow and top lip were heavy with sweat.

  “We’re going in there, and you’re going to sit here and shut the hell up. And if any of my colleagues, some of which are already inside, instruct you to do anything, and I mean anything, including take all your clothes off and crawl around the floor like a fucking baby, then you do it, right?”

  “What the fuck?” The man scowled.

  “Do I have your cooperation?” Sean asked.

  Nothing.

  “You have one second to think about it.” Balko stepped forward again. “And then—”

  “Yes, yes, sit here, do
as I’m told. I’ve got it.” He held up his hands. “Whatever. Okay. I get it.” His brow folded into three lines.

  “Good,” Sean said, picking up the man’s cell, which sat on the desk. He pocketed it. “That means you won’t have to take a beating from the crazy Russian here who tends to have his own version of law enforcement.”

  I wondered if Balko would object to being called Russian. He didn’t. I guessed it was part of their good cop, bad cop routine.

  “Do you have a register?” I asked. “A list of everyone coming and going?”

  He looked at me like I was mad. “No.”

  “You should.” I spun my finger in a circle. “No register, no cameras—how do you know who’s in your club and what’s going on?”

  “It’s in here.” He tapped the side of his head. “I’m the eyes and ears of this place.”

  “And if things get heated, you got security?” I asked.

  “You’re looking at security.” He puffed up his chest. “I run a tight ship.”

  “Somehow I don’t believe that.” I nodded at Balko and Sean. “Come on, we’re going in.”

  The club was grim. It was dark and dingy. The air stale with sweat and sex. But that didn’t seem to put people off and there was quite a crowd around a podium where two guys were fucking a woman, one in each hole as she was held wide with spreaders. She seemed into it, though, her high-pitched gasps and toe curling a tell-tale sign.

  I drew my attention away.

  There was only one thing I wanted to see. Mark Sands’ ugly face, so we could bring him down.

  I was jostled by a guy with thickset shoulders and was shoved to the right.

  Balko was there, his arm around me. “You okay?”

  “Of course.”

  Sean swept his gaze over the room. “You see Jonathan or Ricardo?”

  I shook my head. Though I was at a disadvantage because even in heels I was shorter than nearly everyone. It was then I realised that ninety percent of the clientele were men. Unlike The Dungeon, which was fifty-fifty male and female, this place was all about the dudes. “Is it for gays?”

  “No,” Sean said. “It’s for hardcore pervs who are into non-con.” He took my hand. “Which means there must be more to it than this because she’s having a fucking awesome time. Let’s take a look around.”

  I followed behind him. It was odd to let one of my team take the lead—take me in hand—when on a job, but here, it was the best way not to draw attention to myself.