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For as drunk as he was, his fingers were still nimble and well-practiced. He had his fly open in no time and she found herself staring at his semi-erect cock. Her mouth dropped open, which he seemed to take as a good sign.
“Get your mouth on it, girl,” he demanded and leaned back onto the bed.
Izzy hesitated then stood up. She was reaching for her Glock, which was tucked into the waistband of her jeans, when the distinct sound of the man’s snoring made her pause. She edged a bit closer to the bed and, sure enough, the president of the Badlands Buzzards was passed out, dick flopping against his belly, mouth slightly open. If she weren’t so nervous, she’d laugh.
She tucked the gun away safely and then quietly made her way to the door. After checking to see that the hallway was clear, she slipped out and ducked out the open window. In the dark, she sprinted toward her car and didn’t slow until she threw open the door and slid safely behind the wheel. She cranked the engine and did her best not to peel off from the curb, even though she really wanted to.
She sped past the warehouse, turned onto the cross street and headed back to the relative safety of the motel. Thankfully, no one had seen her car. She kept to the speed limit the rest of the way and made it back to the Rainbow motel with little traffic. She pulled into the spot directly in front of her room, pulled her laptop out from under the seat, and stalked to the door. A grungy-looking man in a stained wife beater and cut-off jean shorts lounged in the doorway of the neighboring room.
“Hey, there gir—”
“Fuck off,” Izzy snapped and gave him the finger.
“Bitch,” he groused.
She ignored him and unlocked the door. Slamming it closed behind her, she settled into the chair in the corner of the room and set her computer on the table. It took more than a few deep breaths to calm down, though. Izzy was good under pressure, but she wasn’t made of steel. Things could have gone very, very badly tonight. She only hoped the payoff was worth all the trouble.
She lifted the lid on the laptop and turned it on. Opening one of the programs, she calibrated the reception until it was optimal. She listened intently for a few moments, cycling through the feeds. Jason’s room was silent, the party was still in full swing with what sounded like a gang bang in the main room, and the piss-drunk prez was snoring away in his back bedroom. Izzy set all three transmitters to record and rose from the chair. She hadn’t touched the man’s cock, but she felt like she needed to shower anyway.
Chapter 12
Caleb sat outside the chief’s office, waiting for the hammer to fall. Officer-Involved Shootings were not taken lightly, even if the suspect was only hit in the leg. Moira had come out alright. The cut on her neck had bled a lot, making it look worse than it was. Caleb had hovered around the ambulance that had arrived on-scene and waited for them to clean up the cut. The slice was probably the least of her injuries. Her swollen eye was troubling and there was the fact that she couldn’t raise her left arm. Caleb assumed that was from a rotator cuff tear, which is pretty common when you grabbed someone by the arm and twisted it behind their back as far as it would go.
Technically, he’d saved the woman’s life and maybe the boy’s, too. He only hoped the top brass would come to the same conclusion. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had all gone terribly, terribly wrong. He knew explaining himself wouldn’t do any good, though. He’d taken a huge risk, violated procedure, and now he was waiting to accept the consequences. He didn’t relish the idea of having to see the department shrink, but he was confident that he knew what to say and how to say it. It would be a pain in the ass, but he could get through it.
When the chief’s door finally opened, Caleb rose from his chair and squared his shoulders. He knew that even though things had gone pear-shaped tonight, it wasn’t really his fault. He stepped into the room, prepared to ride a desk for a week or two while he jumped through enough hoops to prove he was mentally stable. He paused, though, when he noticed that there were two chairs positioned in front of the chief’s desk. And the rookie was perched in one of them. Caleb glanced at him darkly, then sat down slowly in the remaining seat.
Obviously the kid knew nothing about honor, duty, or brotherhood. It was apparent from the look on the younger man’s face that he was here to throw Caleb under the bus.
