Sheriff (The Police Trilogy, #3) (2 page)

“You want I should beat their punk asses?”

“Hell yeah,” Brandon threw up his arms, as much in frustration for not catching his man red-handed as from acting pissed off at being denied his pound of flesh.

Conrad was unimpressed.

Hemp leaned against the side of the SUV and put a cigarette in his mouth, which he began to share with Kane as they shuffled from foot to foot, somewhat at a loss for what to do now.

Brandon felt that same dissatisfaction, albeit for different reasons.

Conrad sat down on the rear fender of the truck, examining his boots with a methodical glare. Then he reached back and pushed the holdall deeper into the confines of the vehicle.

“Okay,” Brandon nearly spat. “What the hell is going on?”

“Oh, you think you’re ready for the truth son?”

Brandon lurched forward, his fist in the air, ready to pop this bastard in the jaw. It was all an act, and he stopped himself short, as if torn; Conrad smiled, not really buying the pantomime.

“What’s in the bag?” Brandon asked, dropping his fist in a fake display of deflation.

Conrad shrugged.

“It’s not important.”

“Clearly it is,” Brandon snapped.

“Clearly it’s not,” Conrad looked up at the sun for a moment, then back to Brandon, not even blinking against the light. “The point is, they think it’s important.”

He gestured to where the goons had run.

Brandon was confused.

“The game is to get them looking this way whilst we move that way.”

“What?”

“You deaf son?”

“Stop calling me son.”

“Whatever you say sport.”

Brandon glowered at him, not saying anything, waiting for the explanation he felt he deserved.

“We want them looking at the wrong end of their pipeline,” Conrad said finally.

“Meaning?”

“They think we’re hitting their take,” Conrad shrugged, a little nod towards the bag behind him.

“I get it,” Brandon said, finally understanding. “You’re after the product?”

“We’re after it,” Conrad said with enough emphasis on the first word it made it sound menacing.

“Glad you want me along for the ride,” Brandon said with a wry smile. He realised he needed to add another sentiment now, just to sell the moment. “We’ll bring down a gang and put them behind bars.”

That did the trick.

From the corner of his eye he saw Hemp and Kane shuffle awkwardly, and when he looked back to Conrad, he saw an uneasiness about him that told a story.

Conrad made a subtle face and a decision flickered in his eyes.

He stood up and clapped his arm around Brandon’s shoulders, walking him away from the car, away from the rest of the team. They ended up around a corner, shielded from view in a narrow alleyway, trees waving in the breeze above. Light dappled through the leaves, casting odd shapes on Conrad’s face as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

“You smoke?” Brandon asked, genuinely surprised.

“Only when I need it,” Conrad admitted with a deep breath and exhale.

Then he offered the packet to Brandon, who declined with a simple shake of the hand. Conrad shrugged, and pushed the packet back into the inside pocket of his battle-scarred leather jacket. Then he scratched his solar plexus, and Brandon had to resist the urge to look down and check his microphone wasn’t visible.

“Were you in the Boy Scouts?” Conrad asked with a wry smile.

“No,” Brandon lied. He knew where this was going, and he needed to tease him along.

The wind whipped up a little, whining through the branches above, which sent a new pattern dancing across Conrad’s face. It made his eyes glisten suddenly, tiny little white pinpricks shining from the dark pools of black; and it put Brandon on edge.

“Were you?” he asked, to end the silence.

“Yup,” Conrad chewed something in his mouth and spat it out, before bringing the cigarette to his lips and taking a long, deep draw from it. Then he looked up and exhaled a thick plume of blue white smoke, before dropping the cigarette to the floor and flattening it with his heel.

“I should write you up for that,” Brandon quipped; the joke was weak and got the disdained response it deserved.

Conrad was examining his face now, gazing into his eyes, trying to gauge something, trying to measure something up.

“How do you like your life?” he asked suddenly.

“Okay I guess,” Brandon shrugged, lying. He knew what he had to say next. “But you know, there’re crappy days when you bust some asshole with a roll of bills in his pocket so big you could live in it; then you get home to see a pile of red bills staring back at you.”

“Kick in the balls ain’t it?” Conrad said with a smile.

“Then two weeks later you see the same asshole back on the street like nothing ever happened.”

“It’s the game we play, sport.”

Brandon tried not to wince at the patronising use of the word sport.

“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe. Just wish we were all playing by the same rules.”

“I hear that,” Conrad smiled again.

“What ya gonna do?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the wall in a show of self-defeat.

Conrad sniffed, thought a while.

“You ever wanna take what’s yours?”

Brandon feigned a look of confusion.

“Sure, who doesn’t?”

“Well, me and the boys, sometimes we go our own way. Take a different road. One that glitters. You understand?”

Of course Brandon understood, but he needed Conrad to be less subtle, if only for the benefit of the tape. This was a delicate act now; he had to push the point without seeming too dumb, which might make Conrad retreat.

“It must be tempting,” Brandon say with a wry tone.

“More than tempting. We take what’s ours. We police these streets. And we collect taxes. This is your one chance to take your cut. One chance.”

Brandon licked his lips, feeling them dry and cracked against his tongue.

“So what, we intercept their supply and move it on? Who too?”

“I ain’t getting into specifics,” Conrad said. “But we got an out, for sure.”

Brandon was irked that he hadn’t got a totally incriminating line on tape, but he had enough, and if he was bought in on it, well, that was pay dirt. But he had to walk the tightrope first.

“I’m not sure,” he said, and started to walk deeper into the alley, as if trying to get away from the offer.

“Let me ask you this,” Conrad said loudly. Brandon stopped. “You’d be happier if your sister came home right?”

Motherfucker.

“Sure,” Brandon said, swallowing back the bile, and turning to look at the cock sucker now using his personal pain as a debate point.

“And you’d do anything to get her back?”

Brandon nodded, feeling his fists clench in his pockets and resisting the urge to lunge forward and pop this asshole in the jaw.

“No matter what it took?”

“Damn straight.”

“Fuck the law?”

“Fuck the law.”

“So, you’d be happier if you could pay those bills right?”

“Sure.”

“What’s the difference?”

There was a massive difference, and Brandon seethed at the false logic of this crooked prick. Is this how he justified all the shit he ever pulled? What sort of weak ass argument was he using to convince himself?

“Guess there is no difference,” Brandon said softly.

“Then you’re in?”

“I’m in.”

Conrad smiled broadly, then swept off back to the SUV.

Brandon looked down at his chest, the faintest outline of the microphone staring back at him.

“Asshole.”

E
ve’s stomach was churning like the sea in a storm. It was making her light headed, and she was finding it hard to concentrate. Her mind kept flitting back and forth between memory and fantasy, and she was wrestling to bring it under control.

There was too much for her brain to process, and she realised she would have to focus on one thing at the expense of the other, and then switch.

And the easiest thing to focus on was the delicious, wonderful memory of the night before.

Her body still ached for him and from him.

She could smell his scent on her skin, taste his mouth on her lips, feel his body against her flesh.

Eve bit her lower lip, staring hard at the glowing screen in front of her, out of focus, looking through it as if to see the events of the evening unfold before her once more.

She felt her lips curling into a contented smile.

It had been her idea to change their venue; and she’d done so deliberately, wanting to act on the adrenaline that was still pumping through her veins. Something had to be done, there was too much tension between them, and she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone.

And so she had sent a text, with her home address, telling Brandon to come there instead for his debriefing.

She smiled at the double meaning of the word.

And the memory flooded her mind, and it was as if she was back in the moment, re-living it completely.

The carpet felt plush against her naked feet, and she looked at herself in the hallway mirror. Her blouse was undone to reveal the plunging curves of her swollen breasts, her cleavage goose-pimpled with nerves and arousal. She could see her nipples poking hard through the silk material, so obvious and so big for him. Her skirt was tight and short, hugging her ass cheeks so close even she thought it looked delicious.

She didn’t have a plan; she wanted it to happen, and would make it happen if need be, but deep down she hoped that he would walk in and devour her right there and then.

Her clit was aching for some touch, and she was wet, even now, just with the anticipation. She had been wet for hours, the thought of him coming to her was too much to ignore.

She pouted at her reflection; no make up, her hair tied back loosely.

The doorbell chimed, and she felt her heart race, thumping harder in her chest than when she had been held captive at gunpoint.

She gave her breasts one last plump, and turned to the door.

The moment she opened it, Brandon barged in and grabbed her head with both hands, forcing his mouth to hers with an urgency that made her dizzy. His tongue pushed inside and probed and explored with a frenzied desire that made her wrap her arms around his waist and pull him tight.

His taut chest felt solid against the soft swell of her tits, pressing into him, her hands on his muscular ass now, nails digging into the flesh through the thick cotton of his jeans.

She kissed him back now, urging her way into his mouth, the breath rasping from her nostrils as his hands released her head and snaked into her hair, one dropping to the small of her back and rubbing just the right spot, the exact spot that made her moan into the kiss with a wanton purr.

She heard him kick the door closed with his foot, and they stumbled back and around so that she could feel the cold of the hallway wall on her back. She moaned again and bought a leg up to his hip. His hand snaked down to her curved ass cheek, massaging it with a firm grip that just made her want him even more. She pushed her hands under his vest top and grazed her nails up his spine. The way he kissed her deeper made her do it again, and his hand stroked from her ass to her thigh, cradling it against his hip as he pushed his crotch into hers.

The shape of his massive prick felt so good against her, she could feel the heat from it, feel how hard and big he was for her. Her mind was blank now, focussing only on the physical sensations cascading through her body.

His other hand pawed at her blouse, finding its way under the silk, his fingers teasing up her side until they brushed the side of her breast through the bra. She whimpered into their kiss, and he grabbed at that tit now, squeezing it roughly, firmly, with masculine hands that made her nipples painful for his touch.

Suddenly he broke from the kiss and she sighed with annoyance and wonder; just as he buried his face into the crook of her neck and sank his teeth deep into her flesh.

She swore and gasped all at once, and he yanked the cup of her bra free from her tit, and found her aching nipple with his strong fingers, pinching it, pulling it, rolling it, and squeezing it.

It was too much, and she pulled her hands from under his shirt and plunged them between their bodies, finding his swollen bulge with both hands and pawing at it with a hungry touch.

He bit her again, which made her grab his balls hard and squeeze them tight through the denim. She heard him swear into her shoulder, and felt his other hand snake under her skirt, sliding up the outside of her leg to find her ass cheek, scratching at her skin the way she had his.

Eve yanked open his fly and tore down the zip, pushing one hand inside and finding his prick through his shorts, so hot, so hard, so big. She pressed into it with the heel of her palm, pushing it hard against his abdomen and rubbing it, letting the tips of her fingers tickle against his balls.

His mouth came back to hers and kissed her with even more urgency now. He liberated his hand from under her blouse and bought it into her hair, grabbing at it, pulling it, making her neck arch against his strength, just as his other hand slipped round and found her panties, pulling them to one side and easily penetrating her with two thick fingers.

She gasped into his mouth, and rocked her hips as he began to pump his hand between her legs. Her fingers urged his shorts down, freeing the top half of his magnificent prick, so she could grab the tip with her fingertips and wank it roughly for him, so hot against her skin.

His fingers curled within her and found the right spot. She broke from the kiss and bumped her head back into the wall, swearing and moaning hard, ready to come for him. His thumb found her clit and she just had to let it go.

An orgasm tensed her body with perfect delight, and washed over and around her, engulfing her in ecstasy. It was quick, and intense, and like nothing she had ever felt, like a mini explosion that consumed her completely.

And when he pulled his fingers free from her dripping and quivering pussy, she shivered, and moved to kiss him again.

But he grabbed her shoulders and span her round, pressing her face into the cold surface of the wall. She pushed her ass out for him, felt his hands stroking her skirt up to reveal her panties. His wet fingers grabbed at the material, bunching them tight, pulling them into her flesh and lips, before one powerful yank tore them painfully from her hips.