Police (The Police Trilogy Book 1) Page 2

  Brandon hurriedly dropped some bills on the table, and trotted out after him like a lost puppy. Things weren’t going well. This was an audition for a job he didn’t even know existed, let alone one he knew he wanted. And now that he was in the midst of it, he knew he had a lot to prove.

  A yelp made Brandon spin on his heels, and he saw an old lady wrestling with a younger man, her purse stretched between them. The man pushed her, and as she toppled backwards, he got control of the bag and sped off down the street.

  Conrad caught the old woman before she fell.

  Brandon sprinted off in pursuit, his feet pounding on the sidewalk, his lungs already screaming in protest, and his heart thumping like a drum in his chest. Up ahead the thief was already starting to slow, which gave Brandon a sudden jolt of adrenaline that propelled his legs faster.

  The thief bundled around a corner and down into an alleyway.

  By the time Brandon reached it, he saw the thief clambering over a locked wooden gate.

  It looked old, rotten, and Brandon braced himself, closing his eyes and not breaking stride.

  He piled through the wood, sending the planks flying in all directions.

  And then he tackled the thief, knocking him to the ground so hard Brandon heard the air burst from his lungs.

  The thief had no energy left, and surrendered to Brandon, giving up the bag, and letting him drag him to his feet and lead him back out to the street by the arm. He didn’t struggle, but Brandon man-handled him as much as he could anyway.

  Back up by the diner, a crowd had gathered around Conrad, who was making sure the old lady was okay. When they saw Brandon with the thief, they began to jeer and cat call.

  “Here you go ma’am,” Brandon said, handing the bag to her.

  She showed thanks, but was still looking shocked and said nothing.

  Conrad grabbed the thief’s arm and wrestled him away from Brandon’s grasp.

  “This is my collar,” Brandon hissed under his breath.

  Conrad made a face like he was stupid.

  The crowd was closing in on them, and Brandon felt it was all about to get out of control.

  Conrad gut punched the thief, and let him fall to the floor in agony.

  Then he grabbed Brandon and dragged him back to the car.

  Before he could parse what was happening, they had pulled away, and he looked in the mirror to see the thief getting a kicking from some of the crowd.

  “What the hell was that?” Brandon barked.

  “What you just did was uniform work.”

  “You’re fucking crazy.”

  “We take him in, we’re off the streets for hours doing the paperwork, all for a bag you got back?”

  “So what’s that? Street justice?”

  Conrad said nothing, just stared ahead and drove on down the street.

  Brandon shook his head and bit his tongue.

  The silence was deafening.

  This was going to be a long day.

  Three

  Eve sat in the car, alone in the underground car park, staring out of the window, lost in her thoughts.

  On her lap, her badge sat in its wallet.

  She was fairly sure that what she was about to do was the right thing.

  Strike first.

  That had always been her motto, and there was no need to change that now.

  She’d barely slept after the last night’s debacle, so wracked was she with remorse and regret. How could she let her base sexual urges get in the way of her job? Sure, she’d been horny, and sure, it’d been a pretty good fuck, but still, it wasn’t enough to have put everything she’d work so hard towards in jeopardy.

  What was she thinking?

  Well, she knew what she was thinking now.

  Hand in her badge.

  Quit.

  It was the right thing to do.

  Decision made.

  Kind of.

  Eve took a deep breath and clambered out of the car, slamming the door so hard the noise echoed around the parking garage until she reached the elevator.

  She jabbed her finger into the button and stepped back against the rear wall as the metal doors slid closed, enveloping her in the box. It felt a bit womb-like for a moment, and she suddenly felt safe, relaxed.

  Her badge slipped into her pants pocket, and she felt the weight of it on her hip; it used to make her proud, knowing it was there. And now it was just a shield of shame.

  The elevator lurched to a halt, and the doors opened, spilling her out into the busy bullpen.

  Internal Affairs was undermanned, and overworked. Piles of files sat unattended on empty desks, hard drives constantly whirred, and the whole office smelt of sweat and coffee.

  Maybe she wouldn’t miss this place too much.

  She went to her desk and realised there was nothing on it of her, no trinkets, no mementos, no trophies, no photos. There was nothing here to mark it as hers. The realisation made her sad for a moment, but she quickly realised it was just self-pity; and self-pity was something she never did.

  And so she scooped up the mug and carried it to the kitchen. Instead of filling it with coffee, she dumped it in the sink and walked away. She so needed caffeine right now, but she wanted to get this over with and get on with her life. Coffee could wait until later.

  Until after.

  As she wandered back through the bullpen, she felt a few gazes looking her way, a few furtive glances, a few accusatory stares. There was no way they could know what had happened, and she concluded she must be imagining things.

  When she reached the Captain’s door, she gently rapped her knuckles on it, and stepped inside without being invited.

  This office was tiny, with no windows, and more files in it that air molecules. She ignored the familiar musty smell, and tried to exhale it from her nostrils.

  Her captain sat behind his desk, not looking up.

  She took a seat, unbidden, crossed her legs, and laced her fingers together across her lap.

  The captain continued to read the file, stoically not looking up. He knew she was there, but he was playing one of his stupid power games.

  Eve decided not to react, she just sat there, waiting and patient.

  Finally, he flipped the file shut and looked up, staring right into her eyes.

  “You fucked up.”

  “I know.”

  She was about to resign, but the words got stuck in her throat. She would have to build up to it.

  “You missed your window.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s unacceptable.”

  “I know.”

  “Where were you?”

  “You know where I was.”

  He stared at her, not blinking, his jaw fixed and firm.

  “I was fucking you,” she said.

  Cyrus shifted in his seat a little, then sniffed.

  “You need a better excuse than that.”

  Eve flushed, feeling the heat in her face as the anger grew from within. He wasn’t even going to give her any slack; he was going to distance himself from the fuck up. He was at least in part responsible too.

  “I got a ticket.”

  “That might be enough for me to argue your case.”

  “You owe me that at least.”

  “I don’t owe you shit.”

  “You like fucking me?”

  He said nothing.

  That just made her more angry.

  “This shouldn’t even be an issue,” she blurted, now determined to fight her corner; no way was she going to quit over this. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

  “This is your final warning.”

  “And next time you call me in for a blowjob?”

  “Not gonna happen again.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Think what you like. Final warning. Fuck up again, you’re gone.”

  “So, us fucking, that never happened?”

  “Never happened.”

  “You’re kidding yourself.”<
br />
  “It was a mistake.”

  “And you loved every minute of it.”

  Cyrus shrugged.

  “So that’s my punishment is it?”

  “Get back to work.”

  Eve was seething now. And as always when she felt slighted, she knew she was about to lash out in revenge.

  “I think I deserve a spanking,” she said with a fake pout.

  “Grow up.”

  “Ah come on Captain,” she stood up and reached down to unzip her pants. “I’ve been a naughty girl, I need to be punished.”

  The pants fell down her legs and she stepped out of them, moving round the desk and bending over, pushing her ass towards Cyrus’ face. She looked over her shoulder, right into his eyes.

  “Spank me,” she said, and looked down to see the bulge growing in his lap.

  She wriggled her hips, urging her pert buttocks closer to him. He hesitated, and then one hand reached for her ass, grabbing one cheek and digging his nails firmly into her taut flesh.

  She hissed, faking her delight.

  “Spank. Me.”

  He stood up hurriedly, and slapped her hard across the ass.

  It felt better than she expected, and this time when she hissed, the delight was more real. She pushed her face to the desk and felt the cold wood on her cheek. Behind her, she heard him undo his belt, heard the noise as the leather strap unfurled from around his waist, heard the metal of buckle as he folded it up.

  Eve braced herself.

  And yelped at the sting of the belt smacking into her flesh. She knew it had left a welt so bright on her ass, and she could feel her pussy expanding between her legs.

  She hadn’t planned on this, just wanted to make the point that he couldn’t resist her.

  His fingers grabbed at her panties and she felt a sharp heat against her hips. He tore them free with one powerful yank, and she heard them flop against the wall as he tossed them away.

  She wriggled again, wanting another spank, but instead she heard him sit back down and wheel his chair to her. His fingers opened her ass cheeks, and she felt the tip of his wet tongue push onto her asshole.

  “Mmmm,” she encouraged, and reached under herself to find and finger her clit. She matched the motion of his tongue, flicking to the same beat, loving the way her body responded.

  His hands came under her, roughly grabbing at her tits, massaging them firmly, as his tongue lapped at her puckered hole.

  She was gasping and swearing now, getting closer and closer to her first orgasm.

  Then his tongue was gone, and she felt him standing behind her. One hand gripped her hip, and the other snaked between her legs, and she felt two fingers penetrate her pussy. He started to finger fuck her, hard and deep, and she could hear just how wet she was for him now. And she could feel how hard he was for her, his prick massive and solid, pressing into her buttock as he loomed behind her.

  Another stinging slap across her buttock made her gasp again. She was aware of the noise she was making, but didn’t care. No one outside would be listening.

  “Fuck me,” she sighed. “In the ass.”

  His fingers slipped from her pussy, making her shiver, and she felt those wet digits massaging into her exposed asshole. And then he somehow managed to aim the tip of his giant cock between her buttocks. She felt it probing against the muscle, and she relaxed, waiting to the moment he pushed inside.

  And when he did, she grunted.

  Slowly, he worked his way deeper, and she resisted all urges to push back.

  She found her clit again, and begged him to fuck her.

  He obliged, with deep, powerful thrusts, quickly working to a pace that made her whole body ache with arousal. She came so hard she was silent, her whole body tense in the moment, and when she relaxed, she felt him ready to come too.

  He grunted, and she felt his prick twitching within her ass, felt the heat of his spunk filling her in thick waves. When he pulled out, she sank into the desk, and listened as he pulled his pants back on and sat back down.

  She licked her lips, and finally stood up, fighting against the weakness in her knees.

  As she returned to her pants and pulled them back up her legs, she gave him a knowing look, and he avoided it sheepishly.

  She’d proven her point.

  And had a good time in the process.

  She opened the door and was about to wander back to her desk to take a seat for a rest, when he stopped her with a caution.

  “This changes nothing,” he said. “Final warning.”

  “Fine,” she said, keeping the indignation from her tone.

  She walked to her desk and sank into the chair before her knees gave way.

  After jabbing her finger into the on button of her PC, she listened to the mechanical whine getting up to speed, listened to the clicking of the old hard drive, and watched the monitor slowly coming to life. It would be a good two minutes before this antique would be ready to use.

  Eve had a sudden urge for coffee.

  She got up, tentatively, and walked with weak legs to the other side of the room, where two pots of half-poured coffee sat on hot plates. Neither of them looked particularly fresh, but she didn’t care, until the moment she gulped back her first mouthful with a grimace.

  Leaning against the counter, she looked back out across the office, at the myriad of personalities in their cubicles; some brilliant, some useless, most hard working and diligent.

  Internal Affairs got a bad rap in the department, even if their job was paramount to the values of justice.

  Eve couldn’t even remember a time she didn’t want to work for IA, even now, after this latest cluster fuck, her heart was here and nowhere else. She was good police, she knew it, and she wanted to make sure all the other good police stayed that way, and that the few bad apples were quickly caught and separated from the crop.

  A thought occurred to her.

  With a deep breath, she got moving again, and found herself perching on the edge of Len McClusky’s desk. He made no effort to hide his leering gaze at her tits, and she didn’t care. He was old enough to be her father, and it was actually flattering and a little horny.

  Before she let her mind go there, she shook the thought free and gave him a flirtatious smile.

  “What’s up Knight?” he asked with a voice of gravel.

  “What’s going on with Duff these days?”

  He shook his head, at once in lament and at the same time, as a warning.

  “He’s no go,” he said finally.

  “Thought he dropped his suit,” she said, trying to surreptitiously examine Len’s desk for any sign of the file.

  “He did, but that don’t mean he won’t start it up again. Cyrus will shit a brick if we go anywhere near him.”

  Eve clucked her tongue, and stood for a moment more, before heading off without a word.

  Back at her desk, the PC was just about up to speed.

  Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, and she looked over her shoulder towards Cyrus’ office. His door was shut, which meant he was in there, staring at his screen. Eve had no idea if their computer use was monitored, either live by him in there now, or later as he pored over logs and whatnot.

  She decided to take the chance, and pulled up the Conrad Duff file.

  It was a litany of charges and suspicions, even if most of it was hearsay. They could never pin anything on him, and he’d become the Moby Dick to IA’s Captain Ahab. Almost since he joined the force he’d been in IA’s sights, and throughout his career nothing had stuck.

  He knew it, and they knew it.

  And that’s why his case had been backlisted.

  Eve clicked a link, and baulked slightly. The screen showed a big dialog box telling her the contents had been restricted.

  Odd.

  That rarely, if ever happened.

  She looked at the code beneath the message, and did a quick search to determine its meaning. Turned out only Cyrus and a select few high
er ups could access this part of the file.

  Shit.

  And most intriguing.

  Too intriguing in fact.

  Eve needed to know what was behind the firewall.

  And so she sat there for the next hour, ignoring the growing urgency in her bladder, watching over her shoulder, waiting and waiting until Cyrus decided to get up.

  And when he finally did, she sprang into action.

  She was on her feet and across the office in a flash, not moving fast enough to garner interest, nor slow enough to illicit suspicion. She opened his office door and strode in as if she had been summoned.

  She had no idea where he had gone, nor how long he would be, so the faster she could get this done, the better.

  The office chair wheeled to one side as she pushed it with her hip, then bent down to tap on the keyboard. She couldn’t find his mouse at first, but soon located it beneath an open file. Her eyes danced over the revealed information, and she saw that it was her file, and that a formal reprimand was posted within.

  Fucker.

  It only served to spur her on though.

  If there was one person in IA who could land their biggest fish, Eve knew it was her.

  Within moments, she had opened Conrad’s file on the screen and navigated to the restricted section. This time when she clicked it, she was confronted with a different, and more annoying message.

  Enter password.

  Shit.

  There was no way she could guess it, and Cyrus wasn’t stupid enough to write it on a piece of paper and leave it taped to the side of his desk drawer.

  She tapped some letters into the box and pressed return, knowing it would prove futile. And when it did, she tried something else (his nickname for her, rather vainly). That was no good either, and she didn’t want to try a third option in case it prompted a lock out and reset email to be sent to his inbox.

  Time to go.

  As she exited the office, she saw Cyrus step back in from the bathroom.

  He hadn’t seen her, and she was back at her desk before he was back at his.

  Her heart thumped in her chest, and she kicked out at the garbage can by her feet. It clanked so loudly that most every head in the room looked up.

  But at least she now had her redeeming mission.

  Get Conrad Duff.