Sheriff (The Police Trilogy, #3)

by Alexis Shore

  In any other circumstance, it wouldn’t have worked, but here Brandon had to play along and wilt to his supposed logic. The number of times he had to physically stop himself from launching a fist at the bastard’s face was ridiculous.

  Brandon vowed in that moment to get his chance to pop one on him.

  Seeing the cuffs slapped on to their wrists would be sweet as hell.

  Hemp made a gesture with his hand, and it was time to move.

  As one, they bolted from the wall and ran at pace down the side of the building, ducking low whenever they passed a window, until they reached a doorway. Brandon ran past it and smacked back into the wall on the other side. Hemp stopped short and did the same. Now they were on both sides of the door, guns at the ready.

  Timing was important now.

  But their radios were deliberately silent.

  They just needed to wait for their cue.

  A car backfired.

  Go.

  Hemp span round and launched his foot into the door.

  It splintered at the lock and crashed open, sending bits of wood flying. Brandon swept inside, Hemp behind, their eyes adjusting to the darker interior.

  Across the building, they heard another door being smashed in, knowing who would be coming through.

  The warehouse was small and damp.

  It was mostly empty too.

  A gantry along the back wall was their only problem, and it was the only source of light. A small room up there suddenly erupted with action, its door opening, and three armed gang members storming out to investigate the noise.

  Brandon moved sideways and to the right, Hemp went the other way, each aiming their guns up at the gantry.

  Hemp fired a shot, and a goon was knocked from his feet, landing on the metal with a heavy clang, blood everywhere. Brandon squeezed off a shot, hitting one of them in the leg with his secretly switched out rubber bullets. It was enough to bring him down, clutching his calf in pain, his gun long forgotten as it tumbled from his grasp and fell to the floor several feet below.

  The remaining goon had his gun aimed now, directly at Hemp, when he was hit from the side and thrown to the floor below. Brandon looked to Kane, the barrel of his gun smoking.

  Conrad hadn’t fired a single shot.

  Probably on purpose.

  Rat bastard; he was willing to leave all the dirty work to his team, maybe even let them all take the fall.

  Up on the gantry the surviving goon groaned in pain, and rolled onto his side.

  Kane fired again.

  He was silent now.

  Brandon didn’t know how to feel about those deaths.

  And so he felt nothing; at least for the time being.

  Conrad was laughing, and he turned to see the others slowly walking towards a table stacked high with bags of cocaine.

  It was the biggest haul Brandon had ever seen in person or on TV.

  “Shit,” he heard himself exclaim.

  “Looks like a million dollars,” Conrad was beaming.

  Hemp was already moving towards a sack truck, which he quickly wheeled to the table, and Kane joined him in loading it up.

  “Time’s ticking,” Conrad said, a little more nervous now as he checked his watch.

  Hemp checked that the little trolley would still easily roll under the weight, and was happy to find that it did.

  “How are we going to unload this?” Brandon asked, not for the first time.

  “We’re going to sell it back to them, fifty cents on the dollar.”

  Brandon nodded with appreciation; it was a pretty good idea. He’d much rather they got these drugs off the street though – which was the next job.

  He examined the button on his jacket, making sure the microphone hidden in it was in tact, and he had a surreptitious look around the rafters to make sure the cameras that had secretly been placed up there yesterday were still there, unfound by the gang.

  They were.

  The whole thing had been captured for prosperity.

  And talking of capturing ...

  “Everyone got their alibi?” Conrad asked.

  “I was with you boss,” Kane said.

  “Me too,” Hemp grunted, just as he started to wheel the truck towards the door.

  Conrad didn’t look at Brandon wanting an answer.

  Another nail in the patsy’s coffin.

  Brandon had another look up at the rafters, and when he looked back, he saw Conrad staring at him.

  He gave the other man a weak smile.

  Conrad’s brow knotted and he stepped closer to Brandon, looking up into the rafters with narrow eyes.

  “Something up there son?”

  “Nope.”

  The moment he said it, he knew it was the wrong answer. He should have said he thought he saw a pigeon, something at least, otherwise why look?

  Conrad slowly bought his gaze back to Brandon’s face.

  Then he headbutted him.

  Brandon recoiled, staggering on his feet as one hand came to the centre of the pain, clutching it, yelping in agony. He kept a grip on his gun though, and steadied himself.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Thought maybe a bit of DNA might flavour the scene,” Conrad shrugged.

  So, he wasn’t even gonna be subtle about it now.

  Brandon lifted his gun, but felt his arms squashed into his sides, and he realised Hemp had him in a hold.

  Kane came up to them and wrestled the gun from Brandon’s reluctant grip, before slamming the butt into his stomach.

  The pain made light dance in his vision, and he struggled to breathe, choking against the agony and bending forward in Hemp’s grasp. He spat on the floor, checking to see if there was blood, relieved there wasn’t.

  He saw Conrad’s feet step into his eye line, and felt fingers grasping his hair, lifting his head roughly.

  Their eyes met.

  Conrad cocked his head to one side, unsmiling.

  Then he slapped Brandon hard across the cheek.

  The pain of the sting momentarily made Brandon forget the ache in his stomach.

  He had no idea why he was being beaten.

  Maybe there was no reason.

  Maybe it was just a sadistic delight, a way to release the pent up adrenaline of their raid and gun battle.

  He was just a punching bag now.

  Not human.

  Not one of them.

  Conrad grabbed Brandon’s face roughly, digging his fingers deep into his cheeks, then squeezed his neck with the other hand. He had a look of disgust on his face as he bought the hurt.

  “I put up with your bullshit for too long,” he hissed, strangling Brandon now.

  He choked, gasped for air, felt the life draining from his body as he slumped in Hemp’s arms. Everything was going dark, the pain was a distant throb elsewhere.

  And then the pressure released.

  Light came rushing back with the oxygen as he filled his lungs with a rasping gulp.

  “You think you can walk into my team and take your cut of the taxes?” he asked with a rhetorical hatred.

  Brandon winced as he saw the fist flying towards his jaw, managed to relax his neck to absorb most of the impact, but the thud of pain was still unbearable.

  “No,” Conrad said. “You’re the fall guy.”

  Brandon spat on the floor, disdain. Like he needed it fucking explained to him. Even now, as they pounded on him, they still didn’t have a fucking clue.

  “Fuck you,” he wheezed.

  “Fuck me?” Conrad was genuinely outraged. “FUCK ME?”

  He threw another fist towards Brandon, this one fuelled with anger. Brandon managed to drop his weight and collapse in Hemp’s clutch, the fist missing him and smacking into the bigger man’s shoulder.

  It only served to enrage Conrad further.

  Hemp threw him to the ground, and Brandon felt the full force of a kick land in his stomach.

  “Fuck you,” Conrad bellowed, before bringing his foot back r
eady for another kicking.

  Brandon rolled onto his back and started laughing.

  He didn’t know why he was laughing, but he knew that the sudden release of endorphins eased the aching pain throughout his body, and so he kept on laughing.

  It stopped Conrad in his tracks, and the man loomed over him, looking down, so much confusion writ across his face.

  Brandon laughed louder.

  “What the fuck’s wrong with him?” Conrad asked Hemp.

  “Maybe you broke him,” Hemp replied gormlessly.

  “You’re,” Brandon guffawed through the laughter. “An. Asshole.”

  Conrad got down on one knee and leaned in so close to Brandon’s face that he could feel the breath on his bloodied skin.

  “Laugh it up,” Conrad hissed.

  “Smile.”

  Brandon laughed again, especially when he saw the confused look dance across his torturer’s face once more.

  Conrad got up and looked down at him, his brain working behind his eyes now.

  Then he darted a look back up at the rafters and examined them intently.

  Brandon couldn’t stop laughing.

  Suddenly, Conrad whipped his gun from the holster and aimed it right at Brandon’s head.

  “What the fuck did you do?” he barked, clearly terrified.

  And his finger twitched on the trigger.

  Five

  Eve pulled the covers up over her naked breasts, and sank back into the pillows. It was too early to sleep, which was why the TV was on.

  She read the scrolling strapline at the bottom of the screen until it looped back to the beginning, but learned nothing new. So she turned her attention back to the newscaster and turned up the volume to hear what was being said.

  A picture of Brandon appeared over his shoulder, and she had another pang of nostalgia; she missed him so much.

  Then they cut away to a reporter out on the courthouse steps, alongside B roll footage of Conrad and his team members being arrested.

  “We’re moments away from a verdict,” the reporter chimed. “In what has become known as the Bulwark scandal.”

  Eve stroked her arm under the covers, feeling the cool sheets beside her, his absence so palpable.

  “The jury has been out deliberating for three days now, but they’ve just handed word to Judge Lanscombe that they are ready to come back in.”

  The door opened and Eve looked that way.

  Brandon hopped back to the bed and climbed in, shivering.

  “You’ve been gone for ages,” she cooed in mock annoyance.

  “Sorry.”

  He snuggled up beside her and hugged her tight, and she felt the cold of his skin against her flesh.

  “You’re freezing,” she yelped in amusement.

  “I know, warm me up.”

  They held one another as they watched the TV, watched the denouement of months of work unfold before them.

  A prepared piece played, outlining the whole scenario in case anyone in the city had been asleep for the past three months. And then it cut back to the reporter on the steps, his finger in one ear as he listened.

  “We can go back now to the courtroom.”

  The picture changed to a series of coloured bars, which were quickly replaced by the image from the static video camera in the corner of the courtroom. It was aimed at the judge.

  And in the next few moments, the verdict was handed down.

  All of them, guilty, on all counts.

  Was it ever in doubt?

  Eve clicked the TV off and rolled onto her elbow, looking deep into Brandon’s eyes, before glancing down to the toned shape of his chest. She could still see the bruises there, even though they had long since vanished. It had been the hardest thing she’d ever had to do, watching on as he took a beating. And when that gun came out and aimed at his head, it was only seconds before the SWAT team descended.

  He had been so close to death.

  She blinked away the tears in her eyes and leaned down to plant a soft, loving kiss on his lips.

  He kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her on top of his body. His tongue probed deeply into her mouth, and she felt his prick rising and stiffening, trapped between their bodies. Her nipples grew too, poking into his chest, letting him know her body was responding and ready for anything.

  They had both wondered if the intensity of their initial relationship had anything to do with the circumstances under which it was forged. But after it had all calmed down, after the bruises had faded, what was left was even more powerful and all encompassing than before. They hadn’t been apart since.

  His hands snaked down her back, raking his nails against the flesh of her spine, making her shiver into the kiss, before he found each of her buttocks and gripped them firmly. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, letting the breath rasp through her nostrils, encouraging him further. His fingers pulled her cheeks apart, and as he sucked her tongue hard, he found her asshole and massaged it with the tips of his two middle fingers.

  She moaned into the kiss, her whole body melting into his, and her hips began to rock, slowly rubbing her clit against his trapped prick, loving the massage her asshole was getting now.

  Their kiss slowed and she pulled her face up from his, getting lost in his eyes, before sighing and saying, “I love you.”

  He spanked her once, hard, making her screech with delight.

  “I love you too,” he said and rolled her onto her back, sliding his head down, planting dozens of tiny kisses on her chest, until his mouth reached her left breast, and he suckled her nipple deep into his mouth, flicking and teasing it with his tongue, before biting it gently, just as his middle finger found her clit.

  She gasped, her back arching and lifting her ass from the mattress.

  He giggled at the intense reaction, and pushed his finger easily into her wet pussy. She swore, and pushed back against his hand, just as she cupped his head and pushed it back to her tit. His rock solid prick was poking hard into her hip now, and she reached for it, gripping it firmly in her hand, even at the awkward angle, and started to pump it wantonly.

  He moved to her other breast, pushing a second finger in to join the first now, and began fucking her to the same beat of her fist. She remembered the first time they had done this, back in the office, so intense and passionate, his hand inside her, hers on him, getting one another quickly to a brink they would never come down from.

  She hissed and sighed, and let go of his cock, grabbing for his balls and squeezing them.

  He rolled onto his back and she quickly slid down the bed, pushing her mouth easily over his swollen tip and down his long, thick, solid length. She loved feeling him in her mouth, especially when he grabbed her head like that and held her as he fucked her face.

  She moaned against him, and reached between her legs to resume the fingering of her own clit. The bed rocked with his powerful thrusts, and she grunted each time he slapped back into her throat.

  It was delightful; it always was.

  He sighed and let go of her head, releasing her, and she let his prick slip from her mouth with a contented slurp, leaving a rope of saliva between her lips and his tip. She sucked it up and grabbed his cock in her hand, feeling her own moisture against the solid flesh.

  As she slid back up his body, wanking him slowly, she fed her breast into his eager mouth once more, and he found her asshole again with his trapped arm and hand. She swore as he pushed it gently inside a little, and it just made her want what was in her hand.

  Her legs curled over his waist and she sat up, trapping his prick against his abdomen with her hot, wet pussy. She planted her hands on his granite-like chest and started to rock her hips back and forth, rubbing her lips and clit against his prick, coating him with another type of cream now.

  He licked his lips and stared up into her eyes, his hands on her hips, guiding the speed of her pussy massage now. She was so desperate to feel it inside her though, but teased herself for as
long as she could. It was only when he spoke that she could no longer resist.

  “Fuck me,” he instructed with a hoarse whisper.

  When she pushed herself down his shaft, spreading her lips and pussy around him, they both gasped with delicious and delighted wonder. She sat on him for a moment, feeling him fill her up, luxuriating in the feeling, before she started to slowly, sensuously fuck him, the way he always loved to begin with, staring into his eyes, her breasts like pendulums swinging above him.

  He reached up and squeezed them, finding her nipples with his fingers and treating them just how they needed to be treated. Her hips rocked, and she slid up and down his long length, working up some speed now, until he leaned up and sucked on her left tit, then her right, then back again.

  She moaned, deep, guttural, whispering expletives and prayers as the arousal in her body grew and grew. It began to gather and swell, trapped behind a dam, ready to burst any moment.

  “Come for me,” he sighed.

  Her body tensed and she let it all go, coming for him, eyes closed, lost in the moment, surrounded by lights and stars as every nerve ending in her body quivered with perfect delight.

  “Good girl,” she heard from the darkness, and it made her fuck him harder now, riding him vigorously and with deep abandon. Her tits bounced above his face, and he stared up at them, his prick growing even bigger within her.

  She came again, harder this time, and more vocally, looking to the ceiling and calling it no end of names.

  “I want feel your come inside me,” she gasped, rocking her hips again, pulling out and pushing back down with powerful thrusts that slapped between their bodies.

  He was so close, and she just wanted to feel that release.

  And he resisted, as he always did, wanting to make the moment last as long as possible; even though all she wanted in that second was to feel him explode deep into her pussy.

  She pushed her mouth to his and kissed him hard, moaning and whimpering, knowing it would do the trick like it always did. She stopped riding him as his body stiffened, and she felt his prick swell inside her, felt it twitch, felt him coming and coming and coming.

  Eve fell down onto him, her whole body satiated and overcome with perfect satisfaction. His chest heaved hard, lifting her up and down, as his prick began to wane in her pussy, and she let his spunk ooze from her.