Code 11- KPD SWAT Box Set

by Lani Lynn Vale

  Although it wasn’t pointed at us, we all tensed.

  BOOM!

  The rooftop exploded.

  Or at least felt like it had.

  What was more probable was that the man in front of us had exploded.

  Bits and pieces of… ick… flesh, blood, and matter, exploded around us as Bullard’s body was blown to smithereens.

  “What… the… fuck,” Michael breathed. “I’ve never seen anything like that. And I was a fuckin’ marine for years.”

  I snorted.

  Nobody really knew what Michael had done before he’d come to Kilgore.

  We knew he had a mother and a father, and that he was in the Marines.

  What we didn’t know why he was the way he was. Why he didn’t date. And why he disappeared every five days… somewhere.

  What I did know about him, was that he had my back no matter what.

  He would forever protect the entire team with his life, and little impressed him.

  Right now, though, he was beyond impressed.

  As was I.

  Along with every man on the team.

  “What happened?” Downy yelled frantically through the headset.

  Downy was our negotiator. He’d been on the bullhorn down below with the Chief.

  Which meant he’d missed the show.

  “I think it’s in my hair,” Bennett whispered, thoroughly disgusted.

  I didn’t even want to think about things being in my hair. For now, I’d just ignore it.

  It wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

  “Who shot?” Luke yelled.

  Luke was pissed.

  Which I guess he had a right to be.

  However, as far as I knew, none of us had shot.

  “Negative.”

  “Not me.”

  “Nope.”

  “Nada.”

  “Wasn’t me.”

  The last one had been James. His confusion was just as apparent in his tone as it was in ours.

  Luke growled in frustration as he walked farther out on the roof.

  “Well, it had to be one of you!” he snarled.

  I started ejecting the shells from my shotgun, as did the others.

  “All accounted for, boss,” I said, handing him my shells.

  His eyes narrowed at me but then widened.

  “Well, if it wasn’t y’all… who the fuck was it?” he finally asked.

  Again with the thirty-nine thousand dollar questions.

  There was only one possibility, though.

  If it wasn’t us, then it had to be someone else.

  And that someone else never touched us.

  There’d only been one shot, and that had been aimed at Bullard.

  ***

  Blake

  I woke and stretched my arms up high over my head, rolling over as I did.

  I felt freakin’ wonderful.

  I’d gotten more than enough sleep last night, sleep that had been denied to me over the past few weeks.

  And I could thank Foster for that.

  When he’d suggested we watch a movie, I’d been wary.

  I wasn’t a big fan of horror, but it turned out that it didn’t even matter.

  I was asleep within the first thirty minutes, totally forgoing all the scary parts.

  The first thing that I became aware of as the sleep cleared from my brain was that Foster was gone and had been for some time.

  His side of the bed was cold

  Which made me wonder… why?

  He’d been just as tired as I’d been last night, and he’d promised that he’d wake me when he went on his morning run.

  What I could tell, though, by the sun streaming through the windows was that it wasn’t even morning anymore.

  It was going into the afternoon.

  Standing up, I walked into the bathroom to take care of my morning ritual before heading to the living room to look for Foster.

  Who I found instead was anyone but Foster.

  There was a woman in Foster’s living room.

  A beautiful woman.

  “Who are you?” I snapped at the cute blonde on Foster’s couch.

  The woman looked up and smiled.

  Although it came out more pained than anything.

  Her eyes took in my pantless state, as well as Foster’s shirt, before she dismissed me.

  “Alice. I’m Foster’s neighbor; I also work with him on the force. Foster got called out in the middle of the night for a SWAT situation,” she explained. “He didn’t want to wake you.”

  I gritted my teeth at the slight curl of disgust her words carried when she’d said the last part.

  “How long has he been gone?” I asked.

  “Six hours,” she clipped.

  I decided that maybe I wouldn’t bother talking to her anymore.

  Turning on my heel, I walked back to the bedroom and slipped on a pair of black shorts.

  A pair which happened to be Foster’s.

  I was happy with them, though, since I planned on throwing a pot or two while I waited.

  I was fairly sure he wouldn’t care, either.

  After taking care of that little tidbit, I walked back out to the living room and started to gather my things.

  Since what I planned to do today was a large vase, I cut a much bigger piece of clay with my wire instead of the small one I’d used with Foster the previous time.

  We both stayed silent as I started to get the things collected that I’d need.

  I was fully aware of her assessing me, even though she never bothered looking up from her magazine.

  As I sat down, she finally deigned to speak to me again.

  “So, you’re a dispatcher?” she asked offhandedly.

  I looked up at her sharply, not liking the tone she used to say dispatcher.

  She might as well have called me a garbage man.

  “Sure am,” I said.

  “How come I’ve never seen you?” Alice asked, not bothering to look up from her magazine.

  It was one of Foster’s Guns and Ammo ones that he had on his nightstand.

  I remembered it distinctly because it had a pink gun on the front, and there’d been a little blurb that was asking if it was okay to make guns look ‘pretty.’

  I’d actually wanted to read that article, but I’d left it on the nightstand to get to when I got a chance.

  And I knew Foster had already read the entire thing since we’d had our own debate on whether guns should be made to look like that.

  His main argument had been about kids.

  How they’d, if the gun was left within reach, be more tempted by a gun that was pretty rather than a gun that was just plain black.

  In fact, I’d argued with him about it, and had meant to read the article, but he’d put his foot down that we’d be watching a movie, so I’d left it in the bedroom.

  Which meant that she had to come into the bedroom.

  And she’d seen me naked.

  What the fuck?

  Rather than dwelling on it, I got some water on my hands and pressed the pedal with my foot to get the wheel spinning.

  Then I started to press my fingers into the clay, moving them up to form the base of the vase.

  “So what do you think of him?” Alice said sometime later.

  I’d just started to work the vase up about nine inches in height when she’d said the words and accidentally pressed harder than I’d meant to, making it lean slightly to one side.

  Sighing, I fixed it before I stood and started to press inward. “What do I think about whom?”

  “Foster,” she answered quickly, finally looking up at me.

  Something which I caught out of the corner of my eye.

  I didn’t look at her, though, so totally focused on my vase that I didn’t even care enough to look up.

  “I love him,” I said simply. />
  It was true. I loved him.

  Something which didn’t scare the shit out of me like I’d thought it would.

  When I’d left David, I’d had a party to celebrate our split.

  A party of one where I got drunk and then passed out in my rented hotel room.

  But it’d been fun.

  However, I’d made a promise to myself that night that I’d never let myself fall apart over a guy.

  A promise that I broke the first day I met Foster Lager Spurlock.

  A promise that I was happy to break.

  I knew in my heart that Foster was a good man.

  When he’d expressed his disgust over David’s behavior, I’d felt relief.

  Utter relief that there were still good men in this world who weren’t taken.

  “You love him?” she asked slowly. “You’ve only known him for like a month.”

  I ignored her, thinking it’d be best to not bring attention to the fact that she was getting to me.

  “He’s not a love kind of guy. He’s a fuck and go home kind of guy,” she said, turning to face me now.

  She was wearing short shorts that rode up to her vagina, and a skin-tight tank top that had some sort of police symbol on it.

  How did the woman become a police officer?

  She was the epitome of dainty, dumb blonde. Which was saying something since I was blonde myself.

  I’d heard that the KPD’s fitness test was one of the hardest in the State of Texas to pass.

  Did she have to suck someone’s cock to get them to pass her?

  “You know, when he called my number last night, I was fairly sure he was calling me to come up to his apartment for a completely different reason,” she said snidely.

  The insinuation in that comment had me backing away from the table before I could even think better of myself.

  Once my foot left the wheel, the spinning vase slowed slowly, before stopping completely.

  Once I was sure it would stay where I wanted it, I walked purposefully to the woman, muddy hands and all, and didn’t stop until I was toe-to-toe with her.

  She’d stood once she saw me coming toward her, quickly dropping the magazine on the table and squaring her shoulders.

  “So tell me,” I said, eyeing her. “What’s your malfunction?”

  She moved forward, putting her face into mine before poking me in the chest.

  “He’s mine,” she hissed. “I’ve been waiting for him to come back. I had to give him time because of his handicap. He was so good, he’s worth the wait.”

  I scrunched my eyebrows at her. “He’s not handicapped. And if he wanted to be with you, he’d have been with you. His dick wasn’t affected, it was his leg. And Foster doesn’t do things half-assed. If he wanted you again, he’d have had you. Which means only one thing. He doesn’t want you.”

  I heard the lock on the door click open and heard the tink-step of Foster walking into the room.

  Did I turn around and face him?

  No.

  I stayed looking at Alice, who also kept her eyes on me.

  “I’ll just let you know now that I won’t give up,” she hissed quietly before she backed up, picked up her phone and keys from the coffee table, and walked around the table as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

  When I turned around, I was stunned to see that Foster was going out into the hall with her instead of coming to me.

  Just… what?

  As I watched the door close behind him, I turned on my heel and went back to my wheel, wetting my hands once again, and finishing my vase.

  Other than a few problems, like the fingernail mark at the very top, and the thicker lip on one side of the opening, it was pretty good.

  All things considering.

  Although once I had it finished and removed from the wheel, I wasn’t up to throwing any more pots.

  Not the kind I usually threw, anyway.

  After ten minutes of still no Foster, I went to the sink, washed my hands, and then got into the shower.

  I made sure to lock the door, though, just in case he tried to come in.

  He didn’t.

  When I got out, I dried off quickly and walked into his bedroom, surprised to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, watching the bathroom door.

  He looked at me.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  I glanced up at him as I walked to my bag in the corner.

  Slipping the panties on underneath the towel, I said, “Wrong? Whatever would give you that idea?”

  My sarcasm knob was on full blast.

  And he could tell.

  His eyebrows rose. “What’s that supposed to mean? Alice said there was nothing wrong.”

  I snorted. “That’s rich.”

  Slipping my bra on, I followed it up with a short pair of shorts that were beyond indecent, and a tank top that said, ‘I love country boys.’

  Before I could pull the shirt all the way down, though, Foster was there.

  “Tell me,” he growled, eyes hot with ire.

  “I don’t want to talk to some chick about how good you are in bed. This isn’t a Kum-by-fucking-ya. I’m a real blood and bone woman. I don’t like sharing, and I’ve already proved that fact by divorcing my ex-husband who, apparently, had no problem with sharing. Maybe you ought to think about that next time before you call some old flame to watch over me,” I hissed at Foster. “One, who might I had, still wants to fuck you.”

  I surprised myself with the amount of venom I was able to pour into that little speech. Which apparently surprised Foster, too.

  “She said… what?” he asked incredulously, not moving back at all.

  “You fucking heard me.”

  He blinked, pushing into me until my back was pressed against the wall.

  “I know you’re pissed, but I don’t know what your deal is. What she said is not on me. What she said is on her,” he snapped. “Maybe you should stop thinking that every man is like that piece of shit you married.”

  I glared at him.

  “Get off me,” I hissed.

  He stepped back, giving me the space I’d asked for.

  Irrationally disappointed that he’d stepped back from me, giving me the space I’d requested, I walked past him into the bathroom.

  “Just leave me alone,” I said as I slammed the bathroom door.

  “Do you still want to come to the party with me?” Foster growled through the door.

  Opening the door, I glared at him, letting him know just what I wanted to do with his severed head with my eyes alone, and nodded once.

  “Yeah, I want to go to your fucking party with you,” I snarled.

  Then I slammed the door again.

  Or tried to.

  He caught it before the door could latch, forcing it open.

  Which, in turn, forced me backward.

  I was still mad.

  He was still mad that I was mad at him.

  Which meant, when his mouth slammed down on mine, our kiss was angry.

  It wasn’t a soft kiss, either.

  It was hot, hard, and heavy.

  He nipped my lip hard, pulling back only long enough to take a hold of my shorts, rip the button free of the hole, and yank them forcefully down my legs.

  I heard a tearing sound, surprised when I felt a rush of excitement between my legs with the force he was using.

  Without any foreplay whatsoever, he twirled me around and pushed me down roughly over the bathroom counter.

  My shirt and bra were immediately soaked by the water that’d been left over from my morning routine, making my white tank top transparent.

  My nipples hardened as I looked up, watching him rip his own zipper down, eyes zeroed in on mine in the mirror.

  He didn’t waste time ripping a condom out of his wallet and slicking it on over his length.

  By the time the end of the condom covered all that it co
uld cover, I was practically panting in need.

  Neither one of us said a word as he lined his massive cock up with my pussy and slammed inside.

  He filled me to overflowing in one powerful thrust, knocking on the entrance to my womb with such force that I nearly came from the surprise of it all.

  When we’d had sex in the past, it was normally slow and sensual.

  This time, though, it spoke of need, want, and anger.

  Fuck, I thought as he started to move. He feels fucking divine taking up every inch of me.

  I felt heat rushing to my core, pooling pleasantly in my belly, waiting for the right moment to spill over.

  A particularly hard thrust had my eyes, which I hadn’t been aware had closed, opening in surprise.

  I stared at him, watching his muscles flex as he took me faster and faster.

  Then when he had my gaze, he moved his hand from my hip and swept his thumb over my back entrance.

  That forbidden place that I’d only dreamed about in the comfort of my dark bedroom.

  I gasped, asshole puckering in response, as I pushed back against him even harder.

  He didn’t say it, but the promise was there.

  It’d be some day. Maybe not today. Or tomorrow. But one day he’d claim every hole that belonged to me. And I’d let him.

  With that promise in my eyes, he pressed harder, inserting his thumb into that forbidden entrance.

  And I detonated.

  Fucking blew into tiny little pieces.

  My asshole clenched on his thumb, causing erotic tingles to shoot through my body.

  His triumphant grin was the last thing I saw as my vision went dark.

  Either my eyes closed, or I had lost the ability to see, because when I finally came to once again, Foster had pulled out of me and stripped the condom from his length.

  He was working himself slowly.

  His big fist moving over the hard length of his cock.

  It looked so angry.

  He looked so angry.

  And when he bent down and lifted his pants over his raging erection, buttoning it, I knew that this wasn’t over.

  We’d have it out again later.

  He left without a backward glance, but once again, the promise was there.

  And I would never know when it was coming.

  Chapter 19

  Want to piss off a woman? Just open your mouth. That usually works.

  -Words of wisdom