Boys in Blue 03 - Dangerous Distraction
Read Boys in Blue 03 - Dangerous Distraction Online
Authors: Mia Watts
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This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
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Total-e-burning.
“Ninth in our neighbourhood?Fuck that.” Paulson’s partner looked ready for a fight. David Rook could never remember that guy’s name. Frankenfurter ? Frententruber ? Fronfuckingasskisser should have been his name.
Rook turned his bottle, expanding the moisture ring. “Ninth wouldn’t show up in our precinct for beer and pretzels.” He leaned on the high table where he’d propped his elbows. Hair fell over his eye and he puffed it off his forehead.
Rook glanced over his shoulder. Five men huddled around a table like theirs. They were tight, controlled, watchful . These guys didn’t have that hang-dog endlessness about them like beat cops, nor the cadet-superman complex. Those uniformed guys all had one hang-up or the other.
beer
, Gedry . Get a grip.”
“I want to drink my brew in peace. I want them out of my goddamn face, that’s what,” Gedry bellowed. “Somebody has to show them the door, and you’re bigger than the rest of us. None of them will fight you, except for maybe
their
big dude.”
He had a head full of dark hair and, though his was on the short side, it looked tousled, as though some chick had just finished ruffling it up after a fantastic kiss. The man laughed. Rook’s gaze took in his exposed neck, the Adam’s apple, his wide shoulders and lean body.
“Deal,” Gedry agreed. “I hate that DEA guy. I’m working a case right now with his office written all over it. I sure as fuck don’t need his smug ass at my home base.”
“Okay,” Rook said, shrugging. Just as well, hanging out with the guys every Friday night was starting to take a toll on his wallet.
The ninth’s big dude intrigued him. It was territorial, Rook assured himself. Two top dogs facing off, marking territory, peeing on things to prove to their packs just how dangerous they were—or some Darwinistic shit like that.
Big dude looked comfortable in his own skin, relaxed, and confident. He turned and facing him, Rook felt like a silly, over- testosteronedteenager standing down a rock star. His charisma drew Rook. It gave him the strange sensation of floor shifting unsteadily beneath his feet. He didn’t like this feeling. Felt a fuckofalot like fear and lust. Rook didn’t do fear, and he didn’t do lust in his own jurisdiction.
Big dude’s jaw was square and fully capable of taking a hit. His large hands and long fingers bracketed his hips. They were lean and agile looking, much like the man. Rook didn’t see a weakness as he took in the breadth of his chest and the way the other man’s expression sobered intently at Rook. He seemed to know he’d been singled out for mischief.
Slashing a glance at the other four men before determining they weren’t a threat, Rook reached his target. He mirrored the other man’s posture, looked him square in the eyes. He couldn’t make out their colour, but they were clear. Maybe green or grey or silver. The lighting had nothing to do with not being able to discern it. The colour encompassed all three without settling on one.
Suddenly, Rook knew what he had to do. The man had brought it on himself, the asshole. There were rules among alpha dogs. You pissed on the property, not the other dog. He needed to be taken down a peg, sent through the doors with his charismatic tail tucked between his legs and yelping. Rook needed to strip the other guys’ alpha. Make him a bitch. Besides, he had the undeniable urge to taste those sarcastically twisting lips.
He caught the man behind the neck with lightning speed, cradled his nape with laced fingers, and drew him in. The man looked surprised. He should be. It kind of surprised Rook with how easy it was to suck face with the enemy.
Rook’s lips made contact, claiming the other man’s mouth with firm pressure. The man’s bottom lip felt fuller than the top, soft, unexpectedly so. He grabbed Rook’s forearms and pulled, but Rook held fast, stroking his tongue in and deep when the man grimaced. Rook held him as his tongue explored. Fingers bit the insides of Rook’s wrists. He ignored the pain.
Hoots sounded around them. There was a cheer, some chanting. Rook heard Fronfuckingasskisser above the bunch shouting something lame. The digging fingers hurt a little less, the grimace relaxed, and in another second the tables turned.
Aggressive dominance was stolen from Rook as the man responded, tangling his tongue with his instead of pulling away. Rook’s stomach spiralled downwards. Their kiss made the floor unsteady again. It changed everything, softened, ripened , stretched until the only thing holding his wayward stomach up, was Rook’s stiff cock playing kick-stand to his shivering insides.
His pulse raced, his head swam, and Rook almost lost touch with reality as he barely strangled off the groan rising in his chest. He pulled away first, stumbling backwards. He stared at the other man, dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.
Gedryyelled, “The ninth ain’t got their own beer and pretzels?” Peripheral sound came rushing back, reminding Rook what he’d been doing and why he had thought kissing the man had been a good idea. Why had that been, again?
Nate’s
friends laughed tightly.
A sharp, stinging slap zinged his ass. A warm body pressed up close to Rook’s back preventing him from turning. Nate, the fallen dog, whispered close to Rook’s ear from behind. “It took one kiss to get you hard enough to pound nails. Another one, and your ass is mine for the taking. Next time we meet, I’m going to Queen your Rook, bitch.”
Agent Nate Giamanti propped one hand on his waist, his wrist pushed back one side of the ATF windbreaker as he listened to the chatter on his radio. He absently fingered the badge affixed to his belt. Derrick, his partner, nodded towards the three story building and Nate tipped his head in unspoken acknowledgement. He was ready too, just as soon as the damn precinct got its sadly misshapen ass together.
The boys in blue couldn’t be more disorganised. But what had he been expecting from the seventh? Nate waited for what seemed like another eternity. Even though the threat had been diminished and the majority of the gun stash from the apartment had been collected, he kept the patrol car between him and the building.
He’d been home free when they’d found the damn body. Not just any damn body, but the damn body of on open case currently being worked by Detective David Rook. He’d gone three weeks, trying to forget the fucker and that kiss.
Instead, Nate had the dubious privilege of waiting for the cocky sonofabitch to show up, debrief him, and turn over the scene along with the ongoing report details. There was one way Nate wanted the debriefing to go down and he was pretty sure Rook wouldn’t go for it. Then again, maybe Nate could just bend him over the back of the patrol car and nail Rook’s ass until he quit thinking about the detective from seventh.