章 7: | Repercussions

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒

In life, you got two types of women. You got the women who thought they were hot, pretending like they knew how to use their bodies to get a man's attention, but they didn't. Sure, they would probably end up getting a man's attention-or his responsiveness-now and then, but only because seeing how pathetic they were guaranteed a quick and easy lay. Not a good lay, just an easy one. You know, like a good jerk-off in the shower. It didn't satisfy you completely, but it was sufficient to get you through the day.

And then you got the kind of women who didn't need to use their bodies to get a man's attention at all. They didn't walk around thinking, "If I sway my ass a little to this side, and then a little to that side, I'll get the men drooling." No. They walked the way they walked, and they talked the way they talked. And without even trying, sexual energy seeped through every pore, sensuality emanating from their every move, and they wore eroticism like a second skin.

Guess what kind of woman Vanessa Bologna was. Yup, she was the kind who managed to get my balls aching and my cock twitching in a matter of minutes. And while I was staring at that gorgeous, curvy ass hugged tight in her black pencil skirt as she walked out of the station, all I could think about was seeing those cheeks jiggle while I pounded into her from behind. And those legs, those calves - good God, I wanted them wrapped around my neck, squeezing the fucking air out of me while I feasted on the sweetness tucked away between her legs.

The second she was out the door, I pulled my hand through my hair, trying to get my raging hard-on under control. The way her lips moved when she talked, the way confidence leaked from her every word, it was like everything she just did during the last twenty-five minutes had a direct line to my dick. That had never happened to me before - sober. I knew this interrogation was going to be a fucking disaster the moment I had set my eyes on her. Women happened to have this kind of effect on me when I had more tequila and rum in my system than white blood cells and platelets. And it was usually those pathetic women, you know, the quick and easy lays.

"Gunner!"

Ah, crap. Like one run-in with the devil wasn't enough.

I sighed before turning and watching as the commander came storming my way. Judging by the way his nostrils flared and the smoke poured out of his ears, I'd say he was pretty pissed.

"Commander Puti."

He stopped in front of me. "How do you always manage to piss me off?"

"I don't know. Talent?"

He stared at me with so much disdain that for a second I felt twelve again, standing in Principal Judy's office, listening to him telling me how wrong it was to trash the school hall, half of the classrooms, and the principal's office with toilet paper.

According to me, I simply showed my extreme commitment to a classic prank. Unfortunately, Principal Judy didn't agree and kept repeating the phrase "you're suspended" while he tried to remove the toilet paper from his fish tank, along with the dead fish. How was I supposed to know the little fishy fuckers would eat the toilet paper? And, in my opinion, if you were stupid enough to eat shit paper, you deserved to die.

"Detective Gunner, was that Vanessa Bologna I just saw walk out of the interrogation room?"

Shit.

"No. That was, ah...that was Megan Jolie." I thought on the fly, combining two of the world's sexiest women, Megan Fox and Angelina Jolie. And what exactly made them the hottest pieces of ass to ever walk among us, lower-class humans? The lips. It was those full, beautiful, heart-shaped lips made for their awe-inspiring suction capabilities.

"I brought her in for a Bible full of unpaid parking tickets." I continued the lie. By the way, the commander went from a normal beige colour to a ruby red, I'd say the lie was plastered all over my now very worried face.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Larry smirk like an idiot as he witnessed the uncomfortable conversation between me and the commander. I made a mental note to punch him in the balls the next time I saw him down at Joey's Pub.

Commander Puti took a step closer, narrowing his eyes. "You're suspended."

I swear to fucking God, the way those words rolled out of his mouth, I was pretty sure he just came in his pants.

"Commander, that was not Vanessa Bol-"

"Larry," the commander called, and Larry instantly straightened.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Who was that woman who just walked out those doors?"

"That was Vanessa Bologna, sir."

Oh, my God. I was going to kill this motherfucker.

"Seriously, Larry?" I turned to him. "Can you breathe up there?"

He looked confused. "Up where?"

"Up his fucking ass." I pointed at the commander, and then his face turned all shades of red.

"Get out!" the commander yelled. "Give me your fucking gun and badge and get the fuck out of my department."

I was appalled. Really. "Suspended? Just because I asked Vanessa Bologna to come in for five fucking minutes?"

"Twenty-five," Larry chimed in.

"Larry, I swear to God, I will tear your dick off and shove it up your ass if you don't shut the fuck up."

The commander smiled wickedly. "Threatening a fellow police officer. Well done. You just signed your fucking suspension letter." And then the asshole turned and started to leave.

"Am I the only one convinced the Bologna are responsible for the shit hole this place turned into?"

The commander turned back around. "Unfortunately, you have no proof to back that up, Gunner. Make sure you book in your gun and leave your badge in my office. You have ten minutes to get your ass out of my precinct. You're suspended for a month."

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章 8: | Punishment

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒

A month? A fucking month? "Are you serious? You want to take Bambi away from me?"

"Who the fuck is Bambi?"

I tap against the gun at my side. "This sweet little thang right here."

"Well, that sweet little thang is no longer yours. Bambi and badge on my desk in five."

Goddammit.

"Way to go, dumbass," Larry sneered from the side.

I wanted to smash his face in, but assaulting a fellow officer would be the final nail in my career coffin right now. Besides, I needed to act like a grownup, not letting insults get to me.

"I knew your brown ass wouldn't last around here."

Ah, fuck. How was I supposed to act like the grownup now?

"It's African, you fucking tit-head!" I launched myself forward and punched him in the face, hammering that last nail into my now-dead career. And since that career was already bolted shut with a fuck-load of nails, I punched the asshole again. Why? Because I fucking wanted to. It was like trashing the school with toilet paper. You didn't know why the fuck you did it. You just did it because it was fun.

It took three other guys about twelve-point-three seconds to take my gun, my badge, and haul my ass out of the station and onto the fucking pavement.

Jesus Christ. Suspended for a month? How the fuck was I supposed to continue my investigation of the Bologna if I was nothing more than a damn civilian, unable to use all my detective perks to get the information I needed?

I kicked at the ground beneath me and pulled my hands through my hair, feeling like I was about to burst a damn aneurysm in my brain. It was when I looked to the left that I saw the hard-on triggering ass get into a black Mercedes. Vanessa Bologna.

She didn't know I'd just been suspended and tossed onto the curb like a loser. Vanessa didn't know I didn't have any right to keep tabs on her, or to harass her anymore - not that I did in the first place. But so not the point.

If I had any chance of proving my suspicions about the Bologna were correct, and thus getting the commander and his damn suspension off my ass, I was going to have to go about this in a completely different way.

I took out my phone and grinned as I slid my finger across the screen.

Hell, at least I was going to have so much fun.

****

𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀

My heart was still beating frantically. And my skin still felt like it was on fire, all because of one arrogant, overly confident, egotistical male with devil eyes and a smirk that could melt panties everywhere. For the last half hour, I'd had a constant prickle of warning in the back of my head. Detective Gunner was a temptation I needed to stay clear of.

I leaned back in the seat of the car and inhaled, counting to four, and then exhaled. Maybe if I did a few breathing exercises, my heartbeat would normalize.

I tried it a few times, and it seemed like it was helping since I no longer felt the overwhelming urge to make a slut out of myself.

It was about half an hour drive back home, so I grabbed my phone, thinking it might be a good idea to interact a little with my one point two million followers.

One thousand, two hundred and nineteen notifications in under forty minutes. How was that even possible? Did these people sit around waiting for public figures to update their status so they could comment and like poke—to their little hearts' content?

Were these people even aware there were things like world hunger and global warming? Things that were way more important than what I had for lunch, or what Kim Kardashian wore to the damn beach.

I opened the Facebook app and clicked on my notifications bar, marking all as read. If I replied to every comment made, I'd be here until next Tuesday.

Just as I was about to close the app, I paused, wondering …

Scrolling to my list of followers, I started typing in "Gunner." I had no idea what his first name was, but if he'd managed to get my latest status update back at the station, he must be following me.

And, sure as shit, there he was... James Gunner. James. Such a mundane name for such an asshat. If it weren't for me recognizing that sinfully gorgeous face, I never would have guessed it was him.

I knew I shouldn't. I really shouldn't, but I clicked on his profile anyway.

As I scrolled down his timeline, I noticed there wasn't much going on, since his last status update was two months ago saying, "I'm drunk. That is all." That was so attractive.

I rolled my eyes and went to the About section. He had Self-Employed listed as his job, which made me snort since I knew that was a crock of bull. But it did make sense he wouldn't go put Detective on something as public as Facebook, especially when he was investigating my father.

My stomach turned at the thought. Not that it was anything new. The police had been investigating my father for as long as I could remember, but they'd never managed to get any concrete evidence against him.

My father was as intelligent as he was cunning. Hell, I was his daughter, and if it weren't for a conversation about the Vecna-Nosta which I just happened to hear between my parents ten years ago, I never would have suspected my father was a mafia boss. Back then, I didn't even know what that meant, or what it entailed. And when I heard my dad say the words "managing protection rackets," I knew it meant something bad. I was too young to understand back then, but not anymore. I knew exactly what it meant now and if I wasn't careful, it was going to be the end of me. Especially if Detective Gunner had anything to say about it.

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