Rough Justice (The Scarecrow and Lady Kingston Book 1)

by Tristan Vick

  “Actually, I meant more like along the lines of anything relevant to current events.”

  “Then no.”

  “You know,” Scarecrow said, eyeing Beck from head to toe, “I’m just not seeing it. You look too nice to be an evil mastermind.”

  “Well aren’t you just a great big sweetheart.” Beck brushed the hair out of her eyes and looked up at him with a bewitching smile. “I may not be evil mastermind material, but to tell you a little secret, I can be a very naughty girl.”

  John thought about that for a moment and reluctantly put it out of his mind the next.

  “Well, in that case,” John informed her, “I think I may have to interrogate you. You know, for concealed items.”

  “Frisk me, strip search me, do what you want to me. But before you do, I have a small confession to make.” Beck stepped onto her tiptoes and whispered into his ear, “I like to kiss the rod.”

  Scarecrow gulped hard and tugged at the collar of his shirt. His voice weaker than before, he cleared his throat and said, “I meant ask you some questions, not strip search you.”

  “We can do that later,” Beck replied, licking her lips. “First things first, handsome. Take my clothes off. Go ahead, search every inch of me.”

  “Boy, you really know how to turn up the heat, don’t you?” Scarecrow asked, fiddling more with his overheated collar.

  “You know it,” Beck carried on, giving it her best southern drawl. Having a bit of fun toying with her new pet, Beck used her feminine wiles to further distract him. Unfastening the top button of her leather vest, her bosom flooded into the enlarged opening. John was unable to remove his eyes from her swelling cleavage.

  Biting her bottom lip, Beck squeaked, “As you can see, I have nothing to hide.”

  After sliding her hands seductively down the curvature of her body, she reached over and slid them up John’s wiry physique. Her left hand quickly found the handle of one of the swords still protruding from John’s chest. With soft, delicate motions, she gently massaged the sword handle and then kissed it, and said, “You poor thing.”

  Meanwhile, her other hand found his and intertwined their fingers as if they were an intimate couple. Leaning in even more, she pressed her bulging cleavage into his arm, mashing her breasts into him even harder.

  John watched attentively as sweat glided down her sternum and around the hump of her breasts, then slowly dripped down into the valley of her cleavage. He gulped hard at the overly arousing sight.

  Beck looked deep into his eyes and smiled sinfully. John gulped again. Just then, he had a funny sensation, and a strange grin came over his face.

  “What’s the matter, darlin’?” she inquired, her glistening breasts pressed firmly against his body.

  “I seem to have become overly stimulated by your innate attractiveness,” answered Scarecrow. At that very moment, Beck’s eyes met his, and together, their joint gaze panned down the length of his body to behold the massive bulge swelling in his …

  “Let my partner go, you psycho-fuck-fruit-cake!” Julie’s voice rang out, aghast at the sight of what she stumbled upon.

  Startled, as if they were two teenagers who had been caught in a make out session behind the school bleachers, John and Beck spun around to see Julie standing atop the rear end of the same train car.

  Ignoring the strands of hair blowing in front of her eyes, Julie aimed her Sig Sauer straight at Beck and gave her most menacing glare—the kind reserved especially for backstabbing bitches and fiancé-snatching whores.

  Beck, in desperation, grabbed Scarecrow from behind and pulled one of the swords out of his torso. This was the second time today that he had been made into a human shield. Without intending to, he let out a sigh.

  “Stay back, Kingston!” warned Beck, holding the blade up to John’s neck.

  “If you ask me,” interjected Scarecrow, “I preferred the flirting.”

  “Sorry to disappoint, my pet. But nobody is going to lock me up. Least of all some man-juggling thunder cu—”

  “Ladies! Please, let’s be civilized here. Maybe a little less tabloid-worthy scandal mongering and a little more respect for each another? Love. It’s what the world needs. Right now.”

  Pausing momentarily to think about Scarecrow’s advice, both women’s eyes locked, and as if electric beams of charged energy crackled between their frenetic stares, they ignored him.

  Bitch, whore, whore and bitch were exchanged without remorse as John stood, shaking his head in dismay.

  Giving it all she had, Beck suddenly shoved Scarecrow toward Julie, then immediately ran in the opposite direction. Sprinting toward the conductor’s cabin at the front of the locomotive, Beck made a break for it.

  Stumbling, John started to slip over the side of the train, when suddenly a hand reached out and caught him in the nick of time. Julie held tight to Scarecrow’s arm and pulled him back onto the train. “Gotcha!”

  “Thanks,” he replied, brushing himself off. Looking back up, he noticed Julie giving him an exacting look.

  “You were flirting with her, weren’t you?”

  “Who? Me?”

  “At least I finally figured out what your one weakness is.”

  “Beautiful women?”

  “Slutty cowgirls.”

  “It’s the boots,” Scarecrow replied earnestly. “Long, silky, tan legs receding into the tight-fitting leather wrap of an elegant boot—it’s like my Kryptonite.”

  “Funny,” Julie began, “I pegged you for a breast man.”

  “Well, of course. Those too. I’m impartial when it comes to the female anatomy.”

  “Well, why don’t we just call you Ladies Love Cool Johnny?” Pausing for a bit, Julie glanced down at the massive bulge filling the crotch of John’s pants. Shutting her eyes, she exhaled and took a deep breath. After a second of contemplation, she opened her eyes and gazed up at John with an inquisitive look.

  John looked down then back up at Julie, did a slight double take, and then grinned sheepishly. Julie looked away due to the awkwardness of it all.

  “I know what you must be thinking,” Scarecrow informed her.

  “Do you?” Julie asked earnestly.

  “It’s a sock,” John reassured her.

  “It had better be,” Julie stated dryly.

  John simply shrugged.

  Although she did her best not to look interested, secretly—deep down inside—she had a burning desire to find out whether or not it really was a sock. But in the end, she decided that too much knowledge might be a bad thing.

  9

  RISQUÉ BUSINESS

  Circling the bend, the train came out from behind a thick grove of pines and made its way back down the tracks, heading straight toward the miniature Egyptian landscape. Steel squealed as the train’s brakes bit down. Sparks sprayed out from under the giant serpentine machine’s belly as the eighty-nine ton metal monstrosity screeched to a halt in front of the pyramids. Kateland Rameses Beckensale leapt down from the conductor’s cab and dashed back toward the soundstages.

  Julie grabbed ahold of the sword protruding from John’s chest and pulled it out. “Hope you don’t mind if I borrow this.”

  “Be my guest,” John answered, dislodging the final blade from his chest himself before throwing it away.

  Leaping down from the side of the passenger car, Julie once again engaged in hot pursuit of her suspect. Catching up to her spur-heeled rival at the Sphinx, Julie, out of breath, put her hands on her knees as she gasped for air between words. “I’m tired … of chasing you,” she panted. “So what do you say we just wrap this up and you come downtown to answer some questions?”

  Without hesitation, Beck lunged forward, swinging her sword wildly. Evading the swipes of the blade, Julie brought up her sword, parried, and deflected the subsequent attack.

  Exhausted by their cat and mouse game, the two women took big, heavy swings with their swords. Missing each other on the first two swings, finally they made contact, and thei
r blades rang CLANG! and TWANG! as metal scraped against metal.

  Hitting again, the swords ignited with a spray of sparks, and suddenly the two women locked blades and pressed themselves together. Standing nose to nose, Beck glared at Julie. “I know you think I’m crazy—but I’m not.”

  “Tell it to a jury,” Julie said through clenched teeth. The two women broke away and continued their fight until they could barely keep the swords raised and were panting for breath. With a heavy hand and a numb arm, Julie let the tip of her sword rest on the ground. Sweat glistened across her face and neck. Looking down at the sword, which was nicked and dented and used up, Julie finally decided to ditch it and tossed it aside.

  Beck took the opportunity to mount one last desperate attack, but before she could take a swing, Julie kicked the sword out of her rival’s equally fatigued hands and sent it flying to the ground. Before Beck could retrieve it, Julie swiftly pulled out her sidearm and slammed the butt of the gun into the temple of Beck’s head. A resounding thwack dropped the cowgirl to the ground.

  Disoriented from the blow, Beck stumbled to get back to her feet, but before she could orient herself, she dropped back down to her knees. Everything was spinning.

  Julie casually holstered her gun and brushed off her hands. Standing before Beck, Julie raised her fist high above her head, and with considerable irritation, she spat out one final complaint, “I’ve had it up to here with you.”

  Then, with a cheap sort of pleasure, Julie cold-cocked Beck.

  THRACK!

  Struggling through the darkness that filled her aching head, Beck opened her eyes to see nothing but blue sky. It was peaceful. Serene. Laying on her back, Beck came to the conclusion that taking a hit isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. After all, that’s what stunt doubles are for.

  Beck rolled over and pushed herself up to her knees. As the ground came back into focus beneath her, she timidly touched her bloodied lip with her finger and instantly retracted her hand from the sharp sting. Cocking her head to the side, she spat crimson-stained saliva onto the dirt.

  “You bitch,” Beck hissed. “You mangled my face!”

  “You bet your mental ass I did. Someone had to knock some sense into you! You assaulted an officer, fled from the scene of a crime, and then proceeded to flirt with said officer’s partner. Leading lady or not, you had it coming.”

  “You never even listened to what I had to tell you, Kingston!”

  Julie looked at Beck in disbelief. The whole situation was absurd. “We’ve already been down this road, sweetheart. So read my lips when I say I don’t give a flying flip.”

  “Typical,” Beck huffed angrily.

  “I just want to know one thing. Why are you trying to kill me?”

  Kateland Rameses Beckensale slowly got back up to her feet and wiped the blood from her lip with the back of her hand, grimacing from the sting.

  Julie, now feeling bad for cold-cocking Beck, extended her hand outward in a gesture of peace. Beck ignored her gesture and kept her distance.

  “Look, Beck, I’m sorry … but you were out of control.”

  “Are you going to arrest me?”

  “Not if you help me by telling me who’s behind this and why,” Julie answered.

  Beck’s face relaxed as a huge wave of relief washed over her. Then, quite unexpectedly, Beck grabbed Kingston by the back of her neck, pulled her in and gave her a big, long, deeply penetrating French kiss.

  Julie could only respond the way a person with a mouth full of tongue usually responds in such a situation: with a “Mmmm-phhfff-mmmph.”

  Beck smelled the side of Julie’s neck and ran her fingers through Julie’s hair.

  “What the hell was that about?!”

  Beck looked like she was going to do it again, and Julie reeled backward and swatted Beck’s hand away.

  “Seriously, what’s the matter with you?”

  Julie stepped back, tripped over her heels, and fell onto her ass with a hard “Oomphf!”

  Beck slowly bent down, her hips thrusting out. She got onto all fours, and like a tigress crawled on top of Julie. Hovering over her, Beck pressed her breasts and pelvis on Julie’s chest and thigh and sighed with the release of pure, adulterated pleasure.

  With Beck practically lying on top of her, Julie’s hands hesitantly searched for a place to place themselves, but she couldn’t decide as all of them were equally awkward.

  Just as Julie was about to voice her displeasure, Beck kissed her again. Julie’s eyes grew wide with surprise, barely managing to get out a “Whuh-mmm.”

  In order to fend of Beck’s sexual advances, Julie decided to brave grabbing Beck’s infamous breasts in an attempt to push her away. Julie’s hands awkwardly groped Beck’s chest, which only seemed to make Beck groan even louder.

  “For God’s sake!” Julie cried out in frustration.

  “Don’t stop!” Beck pleaded. Placing her hands on top of Julie’s, Beck forced her to squeeze down even harder, aiding Julie in groping her own breasts.

  “Yes, don’t stop,” said a voice followed by a muffled snicker and the mechanical sound of an automatic zoom lens focusing in and out; then the digital sound of a shutter lens clacked in rapid succession.

  The two women paused and looked over to where the sound came from, only to see Scarecrow filming their little lesbian encounter with the digital camera on his smart phone. John focused on Beck straddling Julie’s lap and took a few additional shots just for good measure.

  With a forced politeness, Julie enquired, “What are you doing, John?”

  “Providing back up,” he informed. “Just pretend I’m not here.”

  Having had enough, Julie grabbed Beck’s wrists, flipped her onto her chest, and rolled on top of her, pinning her down.

  “Don’t move,” Julie said, twisting Beck’s right arm behind her back. Unbeknownst to her, Beck’s left arm was pinned under her body, and her fingers soon found their way into her bikini bottoms. “You have the right to remain silent,” Julie began. Just then, Beck released a deep, penetrating, moan.

  “You might be interested in what her other hand is doing,” John informed his partner.

  “You’re so not helping the situation any,” Julie said, glaring back at Scarecrow and giving him the evil eye.

  “Although I speak only for myself,” John interjected with a cheap sort of grin, “I personally find this whole turn of events rather stimulating.”

  “Put a sock in it!” Julie said to her partner as she roughly cuffed Beck’s hands behind her back, slapping the cuffs on as hard as she could.

  “Ouch!” Beck squawked in pain. “Why’d you do that?”

  “Don’t you liked it rough?” Julie asked rhetorically, pulling Beck back up to her feet.

  “I do, but there’s a difference in being rough and just being mean.”

  “I’m sorry, did I interrupt your enjoyment of yourself down on the ground?”

  “You can be a real bitch sometimes,” Beck said with pouting lips.

  “You’re the b—“

  “Ladies, ladies ...” John interrupted with a sincere urgency. Both women stopped and looked at him.

  “What is it?”

  “I just realized I may have been shooting in a lower resolution than I wanted. Is there any chance we could re-shoot some of the best takes?”

  “I’m up for it if you are,” Beck said, turning towards Julie and shooting her a sensual smile.

  “Oh, shut up! The both of you. And I mean it. One more peep out of you,” Julie said to Beck, “and you’ll be riding in the trunk.” Turning toward John, she said, “And one more peep out of you, and you’ll be taking the city bus back to the precinct.” Then she snapped her fingers at John and held out her open palm as if to say, “Hand it over.”

  John popped the SD card out and placed it in her hand. Julie threw it down on the ground and crushed it under the heel of her foot. John watched helplessly as a perfectly good SD card went to waste.

  Ju
lie forcefully nudged Beck to get her to start walking back toward the car, and the two women continued their bickering.

  Once they had made it out of earshot, a devious smile spread across John’s lips, pulling his mouth stitches so tight that they threatened to burst from their seams. Reaching into his inside coat pocket, he pulled out the real SD card. Scarecrow didn’t even try to suppress his giddiness as he flicked the SD card up into the air like a coin and caught it again.

  CASE FILE: 2

  Sugar and Spice and all Things Vice

  CLASSIFIED

  10

  THE SeX FILES

  Dead bodies littered the hotel suite. Sprawled out on bed lay the cold body of Senior Californian Senator Mark Durrell. Julie Kingston looked over at him. The senator laid on his back staring up at the ceiling, his eyes bulging like a dead fish on dry land from some sort of erotic asphyxiation gone horribly awry. Two naked prostitutes lay dead on either side of him. Glass mirrors with lines of cocaine cut out on them sat on the small coffee table in the middle of the room, along with a half-finished glass of red wine.

  Julie surmised that the victims had probably had gotten high, and in a state of ecstasy hadn’t noticed that they had accidentally taken it too far. In the end, the Senator’s sexual proclivities had been the death of him—a victim of his own vice. “And then the gasper could gasp no more,” Julie whispered to herself as she ran over the scenario in her mind.

  “Pardon?” asked Jack Wolfe, rookie detective, returning with Julie’s coffee. As Jack went to hand Julie the coffee, a forensics investigator rudely barged past and almost spilled it. Jack saved it in the nick of time and finally got it into Julie’s hands.

  “Nothing. I was just talking to myself,” Julie replied, taking the small paper cup of steaming black coffee. “So noob, what’s your take on these little sexcapades gone horribly awry?”

  Brushing his tie down, Wolfe looked over the scene and expounded, “Well, Lieutenant, I’d say that the senator got what he wanted. The two girls choked him to within an inch of his life, but he bit off more than he could chew, and in a moment of passion, one of the girls inadvertently choked the life out of him. Realizing what they had done, and fearing the consensus, they tried to take an easy out, and deliberately overdosed.”