Sheriff (The Police Trilogy, #3)

by Alexis Shore

  “Kick in the balls ain’t it?” Conrad said with a smile.

  “Then two weeks later you see the same asshole back on the street like nothing ever happened.”

  “It’s the game we play, sport.”

  Brandon tried not to wince at the patronising use of the word sport.

  “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe. Just wish we were all playing by the same rules.”

  “I hear that,” Conrad smiled again.

  “What ya gonna do?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the wall in a show of self-defeat.

  Conrad sniffed, thought a while.

  “You ever wanna take what’s yours?”

  Brandon feigned a look of confusion.

  “Sure, who doesn’t?”

  “Well, me and the boys, sometimes we go our own way. Take a different road. One that glitters. You understand?”

  Of course Brandon understood, but he needed Conrad to be less subtle, if only for the benefit of the tape. This was a delicate act now; he had to push the point without seeming too dumb, which might make Conrad retreat.

  “It must be tempting,” Brandon say with a wry tone.

  “More than tempting. We take what’s ours. We police these streets. And we collect taxes. This is your one chance to take your cut. One chance.”

  Brandon licked his lips, feeling them dry and cracked against his tongue.

  “So what, we intercept their supply and move it on? Who too?”

  “I ain’t getting into specifics,” Conrad said. “But we got an out, for sure.”

  Brandon was irked that he hadn’t got a totally incriminating line on tape, but he had enough, and if he was bought in on it, well, that was pay dirt. But he had to walk the tightrope first.

  “I’m not sure,” he said, and started to walk deeper into the alley, as if trying to get away from the offer.

  “Let me ask you this,” Conrad said loudly. Brandon stopped. “You’d be happier if your sister came home right?”

  Motherfucker.

  “Sure,” Brandon said, swallowing back the bile, and turning to look at the cock sucker now using his personal pain as a debate point.

  “And you’d do anything to get her back?”

  Brandon nodded, feeling his fists clench in his pockets and resisting the urge to lunge forward and pop this asshole in the jaw.

  “No matter what it took?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “Fuck the law?”

  “Fuck the law.”

  “So, you’d be happier if you could pay those bills right?”

  “Sure.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  There was a massive difference, and Brandon seethed at the false logic of this crooked prick. Is this how he justified all the shit he ever pulled? What sort of weak ass argument was he using to convince himself?

  “Guess there is no difference,” Brandon said softly.

  “Then you’re in?”

  “I’m in.”

  Conrad smiled broadly, then swept off back to the SUV.

  Brandon looked down at his chest, the faintest outline of the microphone staring back at him.

  “Asshole.”

  Three

  Eve’s stomach was churning like the sea in a storm. It was making her light headed, and she was finding it hard to concentrate. Her mind kept flitting back and forth between memory and fantasy, and she was wrestling to bring it under control.

  There was too much for her brain to process, and she realised she would have to focus on one thing at the expense of the other, and then switch.

  And the easiest thing to focus on was the delicious, wonderful memory of the night before.

  Her body still ached for him and from him.

  She could smell his scent on her skin, taste his mouth on her lips, feel his body against her flesh.

  Eve bit her lower lip, staring hard at the glowing screen in front of her, out of focus, looking through it as if to see the events of the evening unfold before her once more.

  She felt her lips curling into a contented smile.

  It had been her idea to change their venue; and she’d done so deliberately, wanting to act on the adrenaline that was still pumping through her veins. Something had to be done, there was too much tension between them, and she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone.

  And so she had sent a text, with her home address, telling Brandon to come there instead for his debriefing.

  She smiled at the double meaning of the word.

  And the memory flooded her mind, and it was as if she was back in the moment, re-living it completely.

  The carpet felt plush against her naked feet, and she looked at herself in the hallway mirror. Her blouse was undone to reveal the plunging curves of her swollen breasts, her cleavage goose-pimpled with nerves and arousal. She could see her nipples poking hard through the silk material, so obvious and so big for him. Her skirt was tight and short, hugging her ass cheeks so close even she thought it looked delicious.

  She didn’t have a plan; she wanted it to happen, and would make it happen if need be, but deep down she hoped that he would walk in and devour her right there and then.

  Her clit was aching for some touch, and she was wet, even now, just with the anticipation. She had been wet for hours, the thought of him coming to her was too much to ignore.

  She pouted at her reflection; no make up, her hair tied back loosely.

  The doorbell chimed, and she felt her heart race, thumping harder in her chest than when she had been held captive at gunpoint.

  She gave her breasts one last plump, and turned to the door.

  The moment she opened it, Brandon barged in and grabbed her head with both hands, forcing his mouth to hers with an urgency that made her dizzy. His tongue pushed inside and probed and explored with a frenzied desire that made her wrap her arms around his waist and pull him tight.

  His taut chest felt solid against the soft swell of her tits, pressing into him, her hands on his muscular ass now, nails digging into the flesh through the thick cotton of his jeans.

  She kissed him back now, urging her way into his mouth, the breath rasping from her nostrils as his hands released her head and snaked into her hair, one dropping to the small of her back and rubbing just the right spot, the exact spot that made her moan into the kiss with a wanton purr.

  She heard him kick the door closed with his foot, and they stumbled back and around so that she could feel the cold of the hallway wall on her back. She moaned again and bought a leg up to his hip. His hand snaked down to her curved ass cheek, massaging it with a firm grip that just made her want him even more. She pushed her hands under his vest top and grazed her nails up his spine. The way he kissed her deeper made her do it again, and his hand stroked from her ass to her thigh, cradling it against his hip as he pushed his crotch into hers.

  The shape of his massive prick felt so good against her, she could feel the heat from it, feel how hard and big he was for her. Her mind was blank now, focussing only on the physical sensations cascading through her body.

  His other hand pawed at her blouse, finding its way under the silk, his fingers teasing up her side until they brushed the side of her breast through the bra. She whimpered into their kiss, and he grabbed at that tit now, squeezing it roughly, firmly, with masculine hands that made her nipples painful for his touch.

  Suddenly he broke from the kiss and she sighed with annoyance and wonder; just as he buried his face into the crook of her neck and sank his teeth deep into her flesh.

  She swore and gasped all at once, and he yanked the cup of her bra free from her tit, and found her aching nipple with his strong fingers, pinching it, pulling it, rolling it, and squeezing it.

  It was too much, and she pulled her hands from under his shirt and plunged them between their bodies, finding his swollen bulge with both hands and pawing at it with a hungry touch.

  He bit her again, which made her grab his balls hard and squeeze them
tight through the denim. She heard him swear into her shoulder, and felt his other hand snake under her skirt, sliding up the outside of her leg to find her ass cheek, scratching at her skin the way she had his.

  Eve yanked open his fly and tore down the zip, pushing one hand inside and finding his prick through his shorts, so hot, so hard, so big. She pressed into it with the heel of her palm, pushing it hard against his abdomen and rubbing it, letting the tips of her fingers tickle against his balls.

  His mouth came back to hers and kissed her with even more urgency now. He liberated his hand from under her blouse and bought it into her hair, grabbing at it, pulling it, making her neck arch against his strength, just as his other hand slipped round and found her panties, pulling them to one side and easily penetrating her with two thick fingers.

  She gasped into his mouth, and rocked her hips as he began to pump his hand between her legs. Her fingers urged his shorts down, freeing the top half of his magnificent prick, so she could grab the tip with her fingertips and wank it roughly for him, so hot against her skin.

  His fingers curled within her and found the right spot. She broke from the kiss and bumped her head back into the wall, swearing and moaning hard, ready to come for him. His thumb found her clit and she just had to let it go.

  An orgasm tensed her body with perfect delight, and washed over and around her, engulfing her in ecstasy. It was quick, and intense, and like nothing she had ever felt, like a mini explosion that consumed her completely.

  And when he pulled his fingers free from her dripping and quivering pussy, she shivered, and moved to kiss him again.

  But he grabbed her shoulders and span her round, pressing her face into the cold surface of the wall. She pushed her ass out for him, felt his hands stroking her skirt up to reveal her panties. His wet fingers grabbed at the material, bunching them tight, pulling them into her flesh and lips, before one powerful yank tore them painfully from her hips.

  She swore again, and he spanked her left cheek so hard it felt perfect.

  She closed her eyes, and felt the tip of his cock pressing into the cleft of her buttocks, felt his mouth sink into her shoulder and felt his hands grabbing at the front of her blouse. She heard the buttons pop and fly off as he tore it open and roughly pushed both tits free from her bra now, grabbing them so firmly, doing just what he wanted to her nipples as his prick pushed between her cheeks and rubbed at her asshole.

  She felt so exposed, so wanton, so whoreish; and she loved it.

  “Fuck me,” she begged, over and over again, as his hands worked her body with a bestial urgency and his prick massaged against her puckered anus.

  Without warning, he grabbed both of her wrists and yanked her arms hard and tight behind her back, forcing her tits into the wall. It felt freezing against the blazing heat of her chest, and her ass stuck out even further. She stepped her legs apart, loving how he was restraining her now, wanting him inside so badly.

  Her wrists hurt against his grip, engulfed as they were in one hand, and she felt him shift his weight, felt the tip of his enormous cock stroking down between her pussy lips now, finding her clit and stroking it in slow, sensuous circles. She was so wet for him, and he was so hard for her.

  And then he was inside.

  She sighed with wonder, that feeling of coming home suddenly enveloping her, the way she stretched around him so amazing, so perfect.

  His free hand gripped into her hip and he pushed deeper, teasing her with the slowness of his penetration, making her rock her body against him, squirming down onto his shaft, swearing, gasping, moaning, sighing.

  “Please fuck me,” she begged with a voice so pleading he couldn’t deny her.

  And the more she begged, the harder and faster he fucked.

  Neither of them lasted long, neither of them wanted to; they both came together, an intense simpatico that felt so right, so perfect, so rare.

  They didn’t let go of one another for the rest of the night, and even awoke clutched together in a needy embrace.

  Eve rubbed her wrists as the monitor suddenly came back into focus. The red line of the cuffs they had used was obvious, as were the bite marks on her lower neck and shoulder; but she didn’t care. Her ass cheeks were probably bright red from the powerful spanking he had given her when they both awoke at 2am, and her whole body ached in that wonderful way it always did after intense, amazing sex.

  And Eve didn’t really know what to think about it all, or even want to think about it; the only thing she knew for sure was that she’d never felt feelings this powerful for someone before, and she just hoped it wasn’t the danger that was informing that wonder.

  Which is why she had to do what she was about to do; not because it was the right thing to do, but because she wanted to remove the one mitigating factor that might be clouding or amplifying her emotions right now, to make sure, for certain, that this was something else entirely.

  The reverie flooded away from her, she took a deep breath and got to her feet so fast she sent the office chair wheeling backwards at speed until it hit an empty desk behind.

  Eve didn’t let it thwart her momentum, and she strode across the room and burst through Cyrus’ door. She was aware that the last time she did this, they ended up having sex on his desk. No way that was going to happen now, in spite of the lusty look of anticipation on his face.

  She smiled, and slumped down in the seat opposite, trying to make her body as unalluring as possible. He seemed to sense her mood and resolve, and the arousal soon drained from his face (and elsewhere no doubt).

  Eve thought it prudent to slowly work her way up to it.

  “I’ve been bugging Conrad Duff and his Strike Team.”

  She blinked, unaware of why she suddenly blurted it out like that.

  Cyrus looked back at her with eyes so wide they were bulging.

  “What the fuck?” he said softly and at length.

  “He recruited a new member, and I turned him; he’s been wired for a few days now.”

  “Have you had an aneurism or something? Please tell me you suffered a massive blow to the head; because otherwise you’re just bat shit crazy and in need to new employment.”

  “This guy’s good,” she smiled at the double meaning again. “He’s already in; got him on tape planning to rip off a gang drug supply.”

  She knew that revelation might change his mood.

  He sat back and steepled his fingers in front of him, looking over them at her, studious, thinking.

  “And it’s going down soon,” she said.

  No response.

  She watched him watching her for a full minute.

  “So,” he said finally. “What do you need from me?”

  “A retrospective authorisation for the whole operation.”

  “That’s easy enough.”

  “And I need to report a sexual relationship with my UI.”

  His eyes closed for a moment in annoyance, but then he opened them again, focussing on the bigger fish and not the smaller, more navigable quagmire of her personal relations.

  “Get things in motion,” he instructed, and she got to her feet.

  Halfway through the door, his next words stopped her in her tracks.

  “Good work.”

  She smiled and got on with it.

  Four

  Brandon pressed his back into the coarse wall, feeling it dig in through his jacket and into his skin. The balaclava was tight around his face, itching at his lips and eyes, making him feel trapped and enclosed. The gun in his hand was heavy, loaded, and dangerous.

  He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, trying to focus his mind on the task at hand, avoid the bigger, more dangerous picture. Take it one step at a time; that was the way.

  The silver disc of the moon in the sky was huge, beaming down and lighting the darkness with a soft blue glow.

  A body heaved into the wall next to him, and he knew without looking that it was the bulky frame of Hemp. Kane was on the other
side of the building, next to Conrad, all heavily armed and disguised.

  Brandon was weighed down with extra clips, a bullet proof vest and a string of smoke grenades. It was enough to make moving difficult in a situation where speed and reflexes were going to be key.

  Their infiltration had been meticulously plotted on maps, with markers and lines denoting their movements. It had been committed to memory, and constantly tested as they drove around town in an effort to look like they were doing their regular police work.

  And all the while, the digital recorder captured every word spoken, every plan made, and every boast bragged.

  So many times in the past week had Brandon been terrified of being caught, of the microphone feeding back and giving the game away, or of being randomly patted and discovered.

  His only relief from the tension and terror had been his brief moments alone with Eve. They had held one another, kissed and stroked, but nothing more. It didn’t feel right to either of them to engage fully with their blossoming relationship, not until this was out of the way, and then they’d be free to be with one another.

  Brandon gripped the lower barrel of his pump action shotgun, flexing his fingers and ignoring the sweat gathering on his palms.

  He looked to his right and saw Hemp doing much the same, but on his hand there was a thin latex glove.

  That was new.

  Brandon deduced why though; prints.

  No doubt Conrad and Kane would be wearing them too; which meant only one thing.

  He was being set up as the patsy.

  Only his fingerprints would be found at the scene.

  They obviously took him for an idiot, thinking him too stupid to realise the need for gloves of his own, and he was only too ready to play up to that prejudice. The more they underestimated him, the sweeter their comeuppance.

  And every time he had feigned doubt at the plan, or at the whole thing, Conrad had taken him aside and given him the whole sister speech over and over again. And every time he heard it, Brandon felt sick in his stomach at the callous manipulation of the man.