Love and Law

by K. Webster

  Finally, after a few moments, he lifts his stare from his hands over to me. “When I find him, I will choke the fucking life out of him.” His voice is low and menacing.

  I have no doubt he’ll do just that. Where I’ve been adamant about not killing anyone, Oculus has no fucking problem at all. If the offender is high profile in his eyes, he always wants them saved for him to finish the job.

  I simply nod at his statement, knowing that he’s not finished. CJ has been my wingman long enough to take good notes as he stands quietly beside me.

  “He has someone on the inside. There’s no other way he’d have known about Val and the guys down near Mack Street.” He narrows his eye as he works out his thoughts.

  At the mention of the guys near Mack Street, I wonder briefly if the college kid got killed too. What a fucking drag. It’s times like these that I hate this job. The very idea of Grammy having to identify my body at the morgue and discovering my ‘other’ job makes me sick to my stomach. That kid, if involved in the drive-by killings, will inevitably have a very sad family left behind.

  “Kid, are you their fucking mole?” Oculus snaps at the asshole with the busted nose.

  His eyes widen, terrified at Oculus’s sudden ferocity. “N-n-n-no, sir!” he stutters out.

  “I’ll find out who it is and fuck them up,” I promise, finally speaking to him.

  Angry eyes—or eye, in Oculus’s case—soften. “I know you will, boy. You always do.”

  Pride fills my chest. Even though I’m not particularly in love with this job and I’d rather be in the basement building shit, I can’t help but bask in the fatherly praise he gives me. Even though I haven’t had a father all these years, Oculus has filled that role for me.

  Nodding over at him, I turn and stalk out of the office—ready to find the fuckers raining on our parade.

  It’s been a long fucking week. I left CJ in charge of training the girls and getting them set up in their districts. Maya and I haven’t seen or talked to one another since I left her naked on that fucking desk. Just the memory of her curvaceous, satisfied body hardens my cock. She’s probably so fucking pissed at me. I’m pissed at me. Unfortunately, duty calls. And as much as I’d love to be balls-deep in her tight pussy twenty-four-seven, I have a job to do.

  Since their last fight, there hasn’t been any more drama that I’ve been made aware of. CJ says that, now that they have their supply and jobs to do, those two haven’t caused any trouble. I won’t lie when I say that I’m proud that my girl is selling the most and the fastest. If I were a buyer, I’d give a girl that fucking gorgeous all my money—whether or not she gave me any drugs in return. Female dealers have been extremely good for business.

  After the drive-by that did, in fact, kill the college kid and two of his friends, things have been quiet. Too quiet. I know that motherfucker is up to something—planning his next move. But unbeknownst to him, I’ve been behind the scenes gathering information, questioning locals, driving in their territory, and trying to locate where they hide out.

  Grammy has given me the cold shoulder all week. She knows that I’m up to something and have been under a lot of stress, but “helping a friend out” is no longer working to satisfy her. My grandmother is way too smart for that. I’ve barely touched any of my projects down in the basement, and the Canadian shop owner has been blowing up my email, asking when his first shipment will arrive. I’m feeling stretched in two different directions and tense as fuck. Once we deal with Blaze, I can relax again. Maybe, I can tell Oculus that I want to take a break. CJ is more than ready to take my place—the place that I am quickly becoming ready to hand over.

  Snapping from my thoughts, I focus on the car parked at the end of the street. I’m in Blaze’s area of town tonight and I am not leaving until I find some information. As I approach, the young guy lifts his head and eyes me with interest as I come to the window.

  “You looking to buy, homey?” he asks. This dude is high as fuck, which might work to my advantage. He’s recently just burned one and his eyes are bloodshot as hell.

  “What’re you selling, dawg?” I question, resting my forearms on the top of the car and dipping my head down so I can see him.

  “I’ve got it all. Name your poison. You look like an angel dust kind of guy.”

  So they’ve got coke. I wonder if the shit’s as good as ours. Oculus only has the highest quality stuff. He’s got a hookup from an old buddy from Mexico. They smuggle the shit into the country via his grease-trap truck. It’s messy as fuck getting it out, but it’s never detected by Border Patrol. Even they have limits and no desire to sift through the greasy sludge to look for the carefully hidden packages sealed and hidden in the bottom of that shit. I thank God that my position is beside Oculus and not the guy who has to get that crap out.

  Stoner Boy hands me a tiny baggy for a taste. I dip my pinky in and lick the dust on the end. Now, I’m not one for doing drugs, but I know my shit. As soon as the powder hits my tongue, I realize that Blaze is really fucking up to something. I’m tasting OUR cocaine. The highest quality shit that you only find from Oculus on our end of town. All the other assholes around here have funky shit. Ours is golden.

  “How much?” I ask and glance either direction down the street.

  This stupid asshole is sitting on Pig Row, as we call it. The cops are always cruising through here looking for dealers. I’m not about to help this guy out though.

  He grins up at me, his white teeth glowing in the dark. “One G’ll cost you forty bills. Our shit is affordable,” he laughs.

  It takes everything in me not to grab ahold of his neck and drag him through the window so I can kick my foot so far in his ass that he’ll feel my size thirteen K-Swiss in his throat. Not only do they have our product, but they’re low-balling us too. We charge about sixty bucks for a gram. Motherfucking Blaze is not only killing our dealers, but also stealing our business.

  I pretend to look for my wallet and give him an annoyed look. “Damn dude, I left my wallet at the house. Can you spot me?” I know he won’t, which plays into my plan.

  He raises his hand in mock surrender. “Fucking Blaze would kill my ass. I’ll wait here, playa. Bring me back some Cheetos and I’ll knock off five bucks.”

  I laugh and fist bump him as I walk away. This fucker is blind and stupid. He clearly doesn’t see the unmarked squad car parked several houses up. If he did, he wouldn’t be getting stoned in the car and trying to make deals. I walk several houses up before I hear two car doors slam.

  “Stop right there,” an authoritative voice orders from behind me. Fucking pigs.

  I stop and raise my hands at my sides. I’m not stupid. I know that complying is my best bet. Knowing when to be quiet has always been a quality of mine that not many men in this industry have.

  “Did you just buy drugs back there?” he asks as if already knowing what the answer will be. Stupid asshole has nothing on me.

  “Nope. Some guy was getting stoned in that car and asked if I’d bring him some Cheetos,” I tell him calmly.

  “Turn around and face me,” he instructs. His voice seems unusually angry for a cop trying to make a bust. I turn around and am face to face with a Mexican cop.

  “What’s your name?” he asks.

  I go to reach for my wallet, knowing that he’ll want to see some identification, but when he reaches for his gun, I halt my movement.

  “Nobody asked you to reach into your pockets,” he growls.

  I refrain from rolling my eyes and mutter an apology.

  “I’m going to need to see some ID.”

  Now I really do roll my eyes because this cop is fucking with me. With slow movements, I withdraw my wallet and pull out my driver’s license. He jerks it from my hand and quickly inspects it with a small flashlight.

  “Sir, I’m going to ask you to empty your pockets and place the contents on the sidewalk.”

  I drop my wallet to the ground and pull out the insides of my jean pockets to show t
hat there’s nothing in them. A commotion from down the street draws both the officer’s and my attention toward it. Stoner Boy is having a scuffle with a white cop. The white cop manages to pin him to the ground and cuff him. This only seems to fuel the rage of the pig I’m dealing with.

  “Clasp your hands and place them on top of your head. I’m going to search your person for paraphernalia. You were speaking to someone who’s being placed under arrest. We need to make sure you weren’t involved in any illegal transactions.”

  I comply and try to take deep, calming breaths while he pats me down. I’m not scared of his ass. He’s about the same size and build as me. No, I’m not scared, but his attitude is pissing me the fuck off and I don’t want to go to jail for punching a cop.

  When he finishes, I ask, “Officer, am I free to go?”

  He narrows his eyes at me but hands over my ID along with a business card. “I’m Officer Lopez. It would be in your best interest if you report any people dealing drugs around here. If I find out, Benjamin Winston Cartwright, that you played me, I’ll come after your ass. We’re cleaning up these streets one drug-dealing asshole at a time.”

  I keep my face straight and nod at him. “Yes, sir.”

  Even if this guy pulls my record, I’m as clean as they come.

  “You’re free to go,” he grumbles and trots off to help the other cop wrangle the stoner into the car.

  I wait until I’ve rounded the corner of the block to pull out my cell and call CJ.

  “How are things?” I ask when he answers.

  He grunts slightly, and I swear he answered the phone in the middle of sex.

  “You answered the phone while fucking someone?” I ask, astonished.

  CJ knows better than to ever lie to me. I sniff out lies in a heartbeat.

  “Not anymore,” he laughs.

  That fucker was coming when he answered the phone. Sick bastard.

  “Get some pants on and meet me at the office in fifteen minutes,” I instruct as I hop into my car, which I left parked out of sight.

  He confirms that he’ll be there before we hang up. Instead of thinking about the newest developments I’ve uncovered, I think about Maya. This will be the first time I’ll be at the office since I saw her last. She’s sure to be pissed as fuck at me. I’ve had enough though. We fucked. It was awesome, but I can’t be dealing with her distracting shit—not when we’re in the middle of something big against Blaze.

  Almost fifteen minutes later, I pull up in the alleyway of the building. Most of the buildings around here are empty and up for rent. In this economy, though, nobody is opening any businesses or expanding. Our office hides out in the middle of a graveyard of empty ones.

  Once I’m inside, I make a beeline to office where I fed Maya mashed potatoes. My cock twitches at the memory, and I force those thoughts away. CJ is sitting in one of the chairs, playing with his phone.

  “Who were you fucking?” I question when I walk in. For some reason, I just need to hear that it wasn’t Maya.

  CJ is a good-looking guy. I don’t know if she’s the kind of girl who moves on to the next guy when one doesn’t give her what she needs. The thought of him fucking her makes me see red.

  “Dude, don’t get all pissy. Some chick—not your chick,” he says defensively.

  The tightness in my chest dissipates so that I can get back down to business. “Someone is giving them our shit, CJ.”

  He frowns in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I was propositioned to buy a gram of blow—our blow—for twenty less than what we charge. Someone is getting ahold of our shit and selling it for less. That’s probably why that dickhead Blaze has gone back into hiding and hasn’t mowed down any more of our people this week. Do you think one of those guys from Mack Street is in on it?”

  Angrily, he kicks the chair beside him. “I don’t know who the fuck is doing this, but Oculus is going to go postal. We better figure this shit out, man.”

  He’s right. Oculus is already so outraged by the entire ordeal. Things just keep getting worse and worse, which means, at some point, he’ll take it out on us.

  Changing the subject, I once again bring up Maya. “How are the girls’ sales?”

  He grins over at me. “Your home girl is fucking selling the shit out of that product. She goes out for the day and comes back with money. I’m not sure who she’s selling it all to. The other girls never completely sell out. I think she’s a fucking prodigy.”

  As much as I want to feel proud, something niggles at me. It’s awfully convenient that she disappears and comes back with the money at the end of the day. What if she’s delivering that shit to Blaze on a fucking platter? If that were the case, it would mean that he was paying full price for the product and selling it cheaper. That doesn’t even make sense, but it could be a business strategy—much like a bait-and-switch technique. There’s no fucking way she would do that to me. I know I’ve pissed her off, but she doesn’t seem the type to go for blood.

  “Is she mad at me?” I ask. She has to be. I fucked her on that desk twice and then left her. She probably fucking hates me now.

  “She was at first. A couple of times, she even seemed sad. Now she’s just all business. The girl stays to herself. But I gotta say—she always looks like she’s up to something. Like there’s more to her than meets the eye.”

  He’s right. There’s always been more to Maya below the surface. I wanted—still want— to figure out just what that is. If, all along, it was her hiding the fact that she secretly works for Blaze, I’ll completely lose my shit. There’s no telling how I would handle that revelation.

  “Want me to bring her in so we can talk to her?” he asks.

  I nod, and he hops up from his chair and disappears from the office. When she gets in here, I’ll figure out what the hell’s going on around here.

  Moments later, the door opens and Maya is pushed inside. CJ is a smart man and stays outside. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself.

  My eyes rake over her body. She was obviously asleep because her once cornrowed hair has been taken down and now looks disheveled. Her sleepy eyes are quickly replaced by a hateful glare. I ignore the bitchy look and notice that she’s wearing a very skimpy pair of pale-blue boxer shorts and a white camisole. Her dark-brown nipples are visible through the top, and my cock jumps to life.

  “Did we wake you up?” I laugh.

  She scowls at me and crosses her arms across her chest. “A call would have been nice,” she clips hotly, ignoring my question.

  “I’m your boss, which means I can do whatever the fuck I want. You think you can pussy-whip me after two fucks?” I demand, now angry from her tone. If she is a cohort to Blaze, I will find out.

  Her pissed-off look quickly fades. I can tell I’ve hurt her feelings. And dammit if I don’t fucking feel bad about it.

  “Forget it,” she says softly. “What’s up?”

  I know she’s trying to push back her feelings since I don’t appear to be reciprocating.

  “Are you hiding something from me? Like the real reason you’re here?”

  Her eyes fly to mine in surprise. Fuck, she is hiding something. It’s written all over her face.

  “No, of course not,” she lies. “I’m here because I ran away and needed a place to stay and a job.”

  “Not good enough, baby girl. I can tell you’re fucking lying.” My patience is gone. I told her never to lie to me and she’s spinning her webs of deceit as quickly as she can right now.

  “I’m not lying. Ben, please. I’ve found some information that might—” she begins, but I cut her off by storming over to her scantily dressed body. Her breath hitches when I invade her space. Momentarily, I forget what I am about to say as I’m drawn in by her sweet, soapy scent. Task at fucking hand, Ben.

  “You are lying, and I’ll get to the bottom of it. If I find out you’re helping Blaze, so help me, Maya… Things will be bad for you.”

  She ne
rvously bites her bottom lip, and it only serves to make my cock strain to free itself from inside my boxers. Nodding her understanding, she spins around to attempt a hasty escape. As soon as my eyes fall to her round, little ass hanging out of those shorts, I can’t let her leave my sight.

  I grab hold of her upper arm right before she slips out the door. “I didn’t say you could leave,” I growl at her. She yelps in surprise but doesn’t fight me as I pull her back into the office.

  “I’m not with Blaze,” she tells me softly, her back still to me.

  A weight lifts because I know she isn’t lying. Whatever she is hiding from me lies within her personal life. Eventually I will wrangle that information out of her as well.

  Turning to me, tears in her eyes, she asks me the inevitable. “Why didn’t you come to see me? Or call, even?”

  My heart fucking hurts seeing her upset. I’m no longer pissed about anything—all I know is that I missed her. I want her so bad right now.

  I release her arm and take a step toward her so that our chests touch. She surprises me when she wraps her little arms around my body. This girl and her hugs will be the death of me.

  “Ben, I thought we had something. Was I the crazy one? Because I swear you felt the connection too?”

  My thoughts drift to the last night I saw her—the night I was deep inside of her. I’m growing harder by the second, and I know that she feels my erection between us.

  “No. Yes. Fuck. Maya, I don’t know what it was, but you’re distracting as hell. All I can think about right now is stripping you out of those hot-ass shorts and plunging deep inside of you.”

  She whimpers and slides her hand between us to grip my dick through my jeans. “And you’re confusing as hell. I’m so pissed at you, but all I keep hoping is that you’ll get me naked and take me right here against this door.”

  And that is the motherfucking truth. I’m not sure why I even worried that she might be with Blaze. No longer content with trying to piece together this Blaze shit, I crash my lips to hers. She immediately slides open her mouth to greedily meet my tongue. The last time I was laid was with this beautiful woman who is expertly stroking my cock while I kiss her and it was too fucking long ago.