Authors: Alexis Shore
Table of Contents
The Police Trilogy #2
© 2014 Alexis Shore
The right of Alexis Shore to be indentified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the author. You must not circulate this book in any format.
Eve parked the car up in the underground garage. When she turned the engine off, she heard a loud silence that felt odd. Hers was the only car in the lot, and its exhaust had been bouncing and echoing around the concrete box. And now the quiet it left behind was eerie.
She wiped the gunk from her eyes, and felt her hair drying. She could still taste the bitter aftermath of her morning coffee, and she could easily have gone back to bed for another few hours.
“Fuck it’s early,” she sighed, and looked to her right.
Brandon looked immaculate.
His leather jacket hung on his shoulders perfectly, framing a bright white vest that was spotless. There wasn’t a hair out of place on his head, and his jaw was clenched in a stoic shape. Eve felt the tip of her tongue stroke its way around her lips.
“What’s the plan?” he asked, at last turning to look at her.
She saw his pupils widen as he took her in, and she suddenly felt self-conscious. He shouldn’t be allowed to see her this early in the morning. Her eyes felt puffy, her limbs ached, and she felt like shit.
“Slip in, get the equipment, slip out.”
“Why the stealth?”
Eve swallowed, aware she’d just been caught in her lies.
Her operation wasn’t exactly sanctioned.
And from the way Brandon was looking at her now, he was suddenly realising it.
“I get it,” he said, shaking his head slowly, before clenching his fist tight on the door handle.
“We just have to tread carefully.”
“And if it goes to shit, I’m left hanging.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“Right,” he said, and yanked open the door, getting out and slamming it shut so hard it hurt Eve’s ears.
He was right to be pissed.
But she had to get this under control.
And so she got out, looking at him over the roof of the car as he paced back and forth in nervous little steps.
“You’re doing the right thing,” she said, appealing to his better nature.
“I know I am,” he said, stopping and staring back at her. “I just know you’re not.”
His big brown eyes were at once accusing and scared, and it made her stomach flutter. She would give anything to wander round there and hold him tight, feel his body against hers as she provided some physical comfort.
But all she had was words.
“He’s gotten away with it too long.”
That hit the right nerve, and he sniffed, rolling his shoulders to work out the knots of stress.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” he said, and then strode off towards the elevator.
Eve watched him go, staring at his denim clad butt, so perfect and taut. He was halfway there before she shook herself back to life and trotted after him, her heels clacking loudly on the concrete floor.
In the elevator, she found her mind wandering to a fantasy she had always had; one where she pushed Cyrus up against the side of the elevator and fucked him, only this time, Cyrus wasn’t the subject of the daydream, now it was Brandon, and Eve felt her clit responding positively to the images dancing in her mind.
And he just stood there beside her, close enough to smell him, but too far away to make any physical contact, even the slightest brush of her finger against the back of his hand would be too incongruous.
Eve chastised herself for indulging in these thoughts.
She was better than this.
This was a mission to save her career; and if it fucked up, she would be out on the street. She needed to focus on that, not his bulging pecs and perfect skin.
The elevator lurched to a halt and the doors opened with a slow creak. As they parted, Eve caught a glimpse of the office beyond, and saw the familiar figure of Cyrus hovering by the coffee pots.
“Shit,” Eve grabbed Brandon’s arm and dragged him out of the elevator, and round a corner, slamming his back against the wall. She pressed into his chest, feeling her nipples respond to the proximity, pressing back into him, his warm breath rasping on her face.
She could feel her heart thumping, and feel his doing the same.
After a moment, she risked taking a peek, and leaned out around the corner to see Cyrus impatiently waiting for his morning Joe to brew.
“He’s never in this early,” she whispered harshly.
“I’ll distract him. When you can, head on down and to the right, you’ll see the equipment room. Get in there and close the door.”
“What if he sees me?”
“How can you be so –“
“Just do your part.”
And with that, she reluctantly extricated herself from his chest and wandered out into the open bullpen of the office.
“You’re early,” she said loudly.
“Shit,” Cyrus blurted with a start, and span round to look at her.
She approached him, plastering on a seductive look.
“Well, seeing as it’s just us,” she cooed.
He licked his lips, but turned round and stared at the coffee pot again.
Eve looked over her shoulder to see Brandon peeking out, and she gestured for him to move. When she was sure he was on the go, she slipped her arms around Cyrus’s waist, and stroked her fingers down and onto his crotch.
He sighed, as much from annoyance as from arousal, but his prick betrayed him and started to grow to her touch as her fingers worked their way over his growing tip.
Eve heard the equipment room door close quietly, and she rolled Cyrus’ balls in her hand.
“Want me to suck it?” she whispered into his ear.
“Fair enough,” she said, matter of fact, and let go of him, stepping back and smiling, trying to feign a bit of hurt in her eyes.
He turned round with his now full mug.
“This has to stop,” he hissed.
“Sure thing boss.”
She gave a sarcastic little salute, and he rolled his eyes, before storming past her and into his office, slamming the door behind him.
When she was sure he wasn’t going to reappear and say ‘and another thing’, she bolted to the equipment room and quickly went inside.
Brandon was sitting on a surface, looking at her with some amusement.
“You’re fucking your boss?” he asked with a sideways smile that made her clit tingle.
“Not anymore,” she said, truthfully.
“Hope you did all the appropriate paperwork,” he quipped.
“Shut up and take your top off.”
She watched as he dragged his jacket from his shoulders, revealing his enormous biceps, and then pulled his vest over his head. She stared at his nipples for a moment too long, swallowed, and then turned to a box and rummaged through it.
Eve could feel Brandon watching her, but she wasn’t sure why. She imagined his eyes tracing her butt, and she stuck it out just a bit more to emphasise its curves. In fact, she spent longer hunting the box than was necessary, and when she could pretend no more, she pulled out the case and opened it.
With a long sniff, she stepped closer to him, trying to take in his scent, and trying not to stare wide-eyed at the strong curves of his torso. Being this close it was hard to resist pushing her mouth to his nipple and teasing it with her tongue, and she felt her clit becoming more and more insistent that she do that.
She bought her hand between his pecs and stroked it slowly, feeling the taut strength of them, ready to uncoil at any moment. She was wet, and getting wetter.
“You wax?” she asked, trying to justify her stroking hand.
His breath teased her face again, and she knew it was flushed and hot.
With her other hand, she bought the lavalier microphone to his skin and gently taped it on, taking a little longer to flatten the tape than was really necessary.
“Stand up,” she said, a croak in her throat.
He lurched forward into her body, and she didn’t step back, feeling his masculine frame pushing her backwards. She just wanted to bite into his chest now, sink her teeth in and reach round to grab his perfect ass.
But he turned around, knowing the drill.
She fed the wire around his waist, fixing it there with another sensual stroke of tape, and pushed the tiny digital recorder into the waist band of his undershorts. It would look too obvious in his back pocket, even as small as it was.
The bulging muscles on his back were even more delicious looking than his front, and she let her mouth hover close to his shoulder blades, flicking out her tongue and nearly touching him.
Suddenly, he turned round, and she gasped, stepping back as though she’d been caught.
“Will I see you tonight?” he asked.
Eve swallowed, looking at him looking at her, and she realised he meant something else.
“Meet me back here after your shift,” she said, embarrassed and shy now.
“You can debrief me,” he said, and flashed her a knowing smile as he pulled on his jacket.
She nearly told him to fuck off.
He opened the door and peeked out, then burst through it and trotted off to the elevator.
Eve pushed the door closed and turned round, pushing her back into it and sighing loudly. Her hand was immediately pawing at her left breast, finding and pinching the nipple through the layers of material, feeling just how big and hard it was.
Her other hand fumbled open her fly and pushed inside her panties, her middle fingers finding her wet clit and massaging it roughly as she swore out loud, lusty and breathless.
She pushed two fingers inside with so much ease it made her swear again, and she started to finger fuck her pussy with a venom that betrayed her arousal.
Her other hand worked under her blouse and into her bra, pinching the nipple directly now, twisting it from side to side as her two fingers plunged in and out of her dripping wet pussy. Her head banged against the door as her body tensed, and she closed her eyes, imagining it was his prick inside her, fucking her hard and fast against the door, his mouth on her neck, his hands on her body, nails digging in.
Eve came so hard her legs gave way and she sank down the wood to the floor, gasping and moaning, struggling for air as the moment overwhelmed her completely.
She sighed hard, and pulled her fingers out, making her shiver, before sucking them into her mouth and tasting her sex on them.
And there she sat for nearly half an hour, just trying to regain her senses, trying to recover from one of the most intense orgasms of her life.
When her head cleared, she heard her own voice speaking.
“This isn’t good,” she said. “This isn’t good at all.”
And she was right.
The elevator doors squealed as they closed, engulfing Brandon in the metal car. He looked down at the massive bulge in his jeans, the shape of his rock hard prick so obviously trapped in the denim, he was one hundred percent sure she had seen it.
He couldn’t resist, and had to rub himself hard and fast, feeling just how aroused he was for her.
The sensation had crept up on him, the first time she pressed into his body and hid him from her Chief. And it just grew and grew, along with his prick, as they flirted in the equipment room. It had taken all his self control to stop from tearing her clothes off and fucking her senseless.
The doors pinged open and Brandon spilled out into the parking lot, hoping a stiff walk would wane his stiff prick.
His boots echoed around the garage, and he wandered up the ramp and across the street, jumping on a conveniently stopped bus for the ride to the station house.
He sat and stared out of the window, watching the morning sun rise above the city, watching the people waking up and heading into work, and watching the criminals stir from their slumber and skulk to their corners. Brandon lost count of the number of gang members he saw loitering, plying their drug trade, and sank into a fugue of despair for the state of the city he so loved.
As he climbed down from the bus, he became aware of the microphone taped to his chest, and he looked down to examine his vest, making sure there was no trace of its shape beneath the material. Eve had done a good job of disguising it, but Brandon knew he was a simple layer of cotton away from discovery and retribution for his betrayal.
Because Brandon was certain that loyalty was going to be a big part of Conrad’s team ethos. How else could he have managed to lead them so astray and keep them on side all at the same time?
Brandon hovered on the kerb edge, his toes curling over, rocking back and forth as he looked across the road to the station house. This was his last chance to turn around and bolt, his last chance to ditch and return to the job he really wanted to do.
With a shake of the head and a clenching of the fists, he lurched forward and jogged across the road. He wasn’t even sure where he was meant to report, but by the time he reached the back entrance, he had his answer. The door burst open, narrowly missing smacking into his face.
Conrad emerged, followed by two others.
“Detective Goodheart,” Duff said in mock wonder.
“You’re late,” Duff said, snapping a look at Brandon’s chest.
Brandon resisted the urge to step back and clap his hand defensively over the microphone.
“I had to have breakfast,” he said instead.
“Don’t get cocky son.”
All four of them were walking now, and at a pace that Brandon was finding difficult to match. They all climbed into a giant SUV, leaving room in the back for the rookie.
Brandon slammed the door shut and looked at the rear view mirror, to see Conrad’s eyes looking back at him.
“Time you met the team,” he said. “That’s Hemp, and that’s Kane.”
Hemp was to Brandon’s left, a burly man made of a mix of muscle and fat, too big for his clothes and with a neck as broad as his shoulders. Up front, Kane was more wiry, hair piled up with too much gel, and a face that made him look like a nervous rat.
Conrad put the car in drive, and they pulled out onto the street much too fast.
“Where we headed?” Brandon asked, then withered under the glare from Hemp.
And so they sat in silence, listening to the tires against the tarmac, bumping over every pothole in the road, and each staring out of their respective windows watching the world go by.
Brandon realised slowly that he didn’t have a clue where they were. They had taken so many back roads and side streets that he’d lost all sense of geography, and he began to wonder if that was deliberate. They were taking him somewhere, and they either didn’t want to be followed, or they didn’t want him knowing where.
Either way didn’t bode well, and once again he became very aware of the microphone strapped to his chest.
Did they already know he was a mole?
There’s no way they could, only he and Eve were in on it; but maybe something about his demeanour had tipped them off, maybe they could see the equipment after all.
His heart began to thump in his chest, and he squirmed on the back seat, feeling the sweat on his palms as he gripped the door handle tight. Everyone else seemed to be getting more and more on edge too, and he knew they knew something was up.
Suddenly, the car pulled to a halt, and they all slowly climbed out, the morning surprisingly hot after the cool chill of the air conditioning.
The foursome gathered at the back of the SUV, and Conrad opened the rear door, handing out bullet proof vests. Brandon slipped his over his head, and then felt himself pulled roughly from his feet. He looked over his shoulder to see Hemp tugging the straps tight for him.
“Thanks man,” Brandon said weakly, wondering if the taut constrictions of the vest were muffling the microphone. Nothing he could do if they were.
Conrad tossed Brandon a squat nosed shotgun, which he caught mid air, surprised by the heft and weight of it. It nearly yanked his shoulder from his socket, but he hid the pain, and just pumped the action a few times to make sure it was clean and easy. When he was satisfied, Brandon pushed some shells into it.
He realised Conrad was watching him, and when Brandon acknowledged that look, Conrad stepped closer and stared right into his eyes. Out of nowhere, he felt Conrad’s hands on him, spinning him round, and he realised that he was folding down and securing the flap over the Police logo on the back of his vest. And then he did it to the rest of the team, and turned his back on Brandon for him to do the same.
Now they were just four guys, heavily armed, gathered on a street corner somewhere in the ass end of town.
Brandon tried to hunt for a recognisable landmark, something on the horizon he could use to get his bearings, but he found nothing.
It only added to his sense of foreboding, and he gripped the butt of his shotgun tighter, ready to aim it at any of the team who moved funny.
Conrad looked from one of his men to the other, and then at Brandon, and without a word being spoken, they all began to run across the street to a house surrounded by overgrown hedgerows.
They streamed through the gap where the gate should be, and fanned out. Brandon went with Conrad to the front porch, while Hemp and Kane took either side of the house to head round back.
Brandon had no idea what they were doing here, and felt so unprepared for anything. His heart was pounding harder in his chest now, and he was having trouble filling his lungs what with the tight vest.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped Eve had tailed them here, but he knew she probably hadn’t. This covert op was off the books, and there was no way she could procure the man power for that.
His feet clunked on the rotting porch decking, and he looked down to see the planks bending under his weight. He wasn’t sure it was going to hold, and he looked up to see Conrad ignoring it, pushing his back to the wall and peeking through a window.
Brandon had the sense that his world was about to fall out from underneath him.
Conrad gave the signal to take a position on the other side of the door, and Brandon did as he was bid. He watched the other man gently twist the door handle, making a face as it made a noise and clicked open.
A few more hand signals, and Brandon had his orders.
Conrad swept through the door, gun in front him, aiming it quickly into rooms either side of the hallway.
Brandon followed, moving along with each harshly whispered clear, and before he knew it, they were climbing the stairs, with Hemp and Kane falling into line behind them.
Almost as one, they burst through a bedroom door.
Brandon saw the woman’s naked ass first, sticking in the air as her head worked up and down the man’s rock solid penis. It smelt of sex in here, and the woman yelped as she jumped to her feet and grabbed a bed sheet for dignity.
“Holy fuck man,” the guy barked, and clambered backwards on the bed, trying to cover his cock with both hands.
Kane grabbed the woman and span her out of the room. She tripped on the bed sheet, leaving it under her feet, and it pulled away to reveal pendulous tits with swollen nipples. Brandon tried hard not to look, but it was difficult. Eventually Hemp scooped up the sheet and tossed it back to the woman, and Kane led her away to another room, her swearing and consternation loud and obvious.
Meanwhile, the guy on the bed had found a pillow, which he now pressed to his lap and looked up to Conrad who was hovering over him.
“Every time I see you Mickey, you got your dick in some chica’s face.”
“You need to learn some manners man,” Mickey spat back, but flinched when Conrad made to smack him with his shotgun. The movement was enough to discourage any further dissent.
“You been avoiding me?” Conrad asked with menace.
“Then how come I ain’t seen you?”
“Been busy man.”
“Something like that.”
Conrad flicked a look to Brandon, a little sparkle in his eye. He was enjoying making this Mickey guy nervous.
“Where’s the stuff?”
“Don’t make me ask it again Mickey.”
“There is no stuff.”
Conrad gestured with his head, and Hemp left. Within seconds, Brandon could hear another room being tossed.
A loud bang made them all jump a little.
“Sounded like your TV,” Conrad said.
Mickey swore under his breath.
“Say that again, and Goodheart here will cock you in the balls with his shotgun.”
Brandon shifted on his feet. There was no way he was going to do that to a prone, unarmed man.
“He don’t look like he could,” Mickey said.
“Prove him wrong,” Conrad said with a big shit-eating grin.
“Where’s the stuff?” Brandon asked, stepping closer and raising the butt of his gun.
Mickey retreated further into the headboard.
This was another fucking test.
Brandon had to show Conrad something now.
But there was no way he was gonna beat this guy.
And he was aware that Conrad was hovering at his side, expectant of something.
Brandon raised the butt of the gun higher, still sure he wasn’t going to pop Mickey.
“Found it,” Hemp called from the other room, and quickly arrived in the doorway holding a sports holdall.
Conrad flashed Brandon a look that made him drop the gun. It was one of disappointment, and again his eyes danced to Brandon’s chest right where the microphone was strapped.
They were nearly out of the room when Conrad pivoted, and smacked the butt of his own gun hard into Mickey’s pillow. Mickey bent double with a pained yelp, and rolled over on the bed clutching himself and sobbing.
Halfway down the stairs, Brandon tried to shake the fear from his head and asked, “What’s in the bag?”
No one answered him.