by A. E. Via
Before Green could finish his sentence, three guys that were playing pool in the corner, dropped their pool sticks and ran towards the back doors. Michaels spun and ran to the front door while Ruxs and Green chased the guys out the back. Michaels ran up the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians hoping to get to the end of the strip before the other guys did. He cut the corner and turned just in time to slam into one of the guys, knocking them both to the ground with a hard thud. He heard the other guys fly past him but all they needed was one. The guys in the pool hall would surely pass the word around that God was asking about the East side which should be enough.
Michaels rolled with the guy he’d taken down, making sure he didn’t end up on the bottom. He gave the man a hard knee in his ribs making him fold in on his left. The guy was reaching behind his back but Ruxs was there, stopping him from getting to whatever weapon he had and yanked the man to his feet. Green extended his hand and Michaels gripped his big forearm letting him pull him up. He winced at the pain in his back and flicked Green off again when he snickered at him.
“Don’t get mad at us because you always end up on your back.”
“Fuck you.”
Ruxs threw the guy against the brick wall and patted him down. He yanked a Glock from the guy’s waistband handing it back to Green. “Is that a registered weapon? I bet if I check it, it won’t be.”
The man huffed hard trying to catch his breath. He had a Bankhead tattoo on his hand which meant he wasn’t even East side. Didn’t mean he didn’t have connections there. He ran his scrubbed his hand over his buzz cut blond hair, dropping his hand to his face. “That ain’t even mine, Ruxs.”
“So you know who I am. I’m flattered… really.” Ruxs said drily, crossing his arms over his thick chest staring the young guy down. Unfortunately, most dealers did know them. “I don’t give a damn if it’s your pastor’s gun, it’s in your possession, which makes it yours. That’s an automatic five years, dude.”
The guy groaned. “Come on man.”
“Talk.” Ruxs growled.
“Fuck.” The kid hissed, looking up and down the street as if he was contemplating running.
“Don’t you even fucking think about it. Talk.” Ruxs slapped the guy on his cheek. It wasn’t hard but it was enough to show that he didn’t want to stand out here much longer. The guy only looked to be in his late twenties, too young to want to spend five years in prison.
Michaels watched the streets while the Enforcers pumped the young thug for information. Regardless it wasn’t relevant to their pertinent case, it would definitely be documented and stored away for later. Ruxs and Green played off each other masterfully and Michaels found himself wishing and hoping again. He didn’t have a life or work partner. He was alone… all the time.
When they were finished Green gave the thug a harsh warning before they turned to leave.
The guy threw a few curses at their backs before asking. “Can I at least have my piece back, man?”
Ruxs shook his head not bothering to turn around. “These motherfuckers get stupider every day.”
Chapter Three
“Good work today, Michaels.” Syn clapped him on his back on his way out of the locker room. He yelled over his shoulder. “You coming out tonight?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there for a little bit.” He yelled back.
“Cool.”
Michaels loved his team, they were the most loyal and dedicated men he’d ever worked with. After only being with them for three years, he knew they’d have his back no matter any situation and vice versa but lately he’d been a little anti-social and of course the all-knowing Day had picked right up on it. So unless he wanted the guy prodding him, he figured he’d go out for a while.
Michaels threw his duffle bag in the bag of his jeep. He’d left the top off, loving the coolness of Atlanta in the late Fall. He started his ignition and stalled before putting his car in gear. He really wasn’t in the mood to go out, he wasn’t in the mood to stay home and bored, and he wasn’t in the mood to pick up some random fuck. Goddamnit. He hated feeling like this. The feeling of wanting to do something… anything… except what’s available.
The rumble of a loud motorcycle had him turning his head in the direction of the parking lot entrance. He heard the tricked-out Hog before it came into view. When the rider finally turned into the lot Michaels knew immediately who the sexy rider was. He made a circle in the parking lot, his long tattooed arms stretched out, his leather-gloved hands griping the handles. Michaels squirmed uncomfortably.
His Sergeant, Syn, came out right on cue. Michaels knew it was Syn’s lover before the man removed his sleek black helmet because of the long gold ponytail braided down his back. Syn rarely smiled or laughed during the course of the day, but when he was looking at Furi, it was like looking at a completely different man.
Michaels watched Furi slowly remove his helmet as Syn made his way to him. He didn’t see Syn’s mouth move to speak, only a slight quirk of his lips before he gripped the back of Furious’ neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Furi’s head was titled back while he let his Sergeant ravage him right there in front of the precinct, not giving a damn if anyone saw them. Letting their forehead rest together, Michaels noticed they were saying something into each other’s mouths when Syn reared back and laughed hard. Wow.
Michaels cursed and threw his jeep in drive. This was why he didn’t want to go out. He felt like a voyeur. The guys would be all over their significant others, finally able to rub and feel like they’d been dying to do all day and he’d be sitting there nursing drinks trying not to get caught staring longingly. Yes, there were single guys on their team, some bi or gay, a few of them not, but they were happy playing the field and using their titles to give their many lovers the fantasy of fucking some bad boys. Been there, done that.
Michaels navigated through Atlanta’s rush hour traffic almost glad there was a slight delay to his inevitable. He figured while he had the time he’d think of his excuse he’d use to leave early. He stopped by his apartment Edgewood to wash up and change into something that hadn’t been in contact with the grim of a dirty alley. He splashed on some cologne and couldn’t help laughing to himself. What’s the point? A person had to get close enough to him to smell it. In a comfortable pair of jeans and a blue and white stripped Polo shirt he threw on his beige leather jacket and left. An hour, then I’m out.
It was a quarter to nine and Michaels was at the bar alone with a watered down vodka and cranberry when a heavy arm draped over his shoulders almost knocking him off his stool. “Damnit God. Your fuckin’ arm weighs thirty pounds.”
“Lightweight.” Day laughed coming up on his other side.
Michaels shrugged Gods’ arm off him.
“Why are you being so anti-social tonight?” God’s voice was rough and slightly slurred.
“I’m sorry if I don’t feel like sitting over there and watching you guys molest each other in between pool shots.” Michaels regretted the statement before he finished the last word.
Day rubbed annoying circles on his back while he laid his cheek on Michaels’ shoulder. “Awww. Are you feeling alone? Are you feeling left out?” he crooned in a mock sad voice.
“You’re gonna be feeling a punch to your face if you don’t shut up.” Michaels sneered.
“Whoa. Okay ease up, man.” Day sat up, looking at him more seriously. “Austin, you been a part of this family for three years, why won’t you date anyone?”
“I’m not having this conversation with you Day.”
“Oh yes you are.”
“No I’m not.”
“I’ve lost interest.” God said, taking his beer and walking away.
One down. One to go.
“Follow suit, Day.”
“Come on, man. We’re brothers. You can tell me. Are you insecure? Are you lacking in the lovemaking department? Do you need some pointers? First, what are you packing down there, huh? People say size doesn’t matter but that’s bullshit. So ar
e you six…seven inches. Don’t be shy.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Michaels groaned. Throwing back the last of his drink. “Check please.”
“Oh don’t be like that, Michaels. Come on.” Day whined. He was clearly drunk and Michaels wasn’t in the mood to entertain them.
The bartender came back with his check. “You sure you ready to go, handsome? How about the next ones on me.”
“Yes. I’m sure, but thank you.” Michaels refrained from rolling his eyes, hating that Day was there to hear that. The bartender had been throwing hints at him for the past three hours but he’d pretended not to notice. Instead keeping his eyes on the pre-season football game playing on the flat screen behind the bar. The cute thing pouring the drinks was too fucking small and too fucking pretty. Michaels would’ve bent his petite ass in two. Besides the tiny stature, he also didn’t do lip gloss and guy liner.
“Oh, aren’t you a sexy little thing.” Day said seductively. Looking back and forth between Michaels and the bartender as if seeing if they made a good fit. He titled his head at Michaels as if telling him to go for it.
“I’m outta here.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
“I’m fine.”
“I know. Just thought you’d like some company”
“I’m good. Really.”
Michaels didn’t bother going over and saying by to the guys that were still throwing back drinks and talking shit. They’d only try to convince him to stay. Michaels was moving fast up the busy sidewalk to the parking lot at the end of the block, not bothering to look at Day. As soon as he got to his jeep he hoped inside and started the ignition. Day propped himself against his driver’s side mirror preventing him from driving off. Michaels dropped his head with a sigh.
“Look bro. I know what’s it like to be lonely and -”
“I’m not fuckin’ lonely. How can I be when I’m surrounded by you motherfuckers all day and night? I’m cool alright.”
“I don’t believe you. I’ve noticed some changes in your demeanor when you’re around us now. Like something’s different. It’s almost like you don’t want to be around us unless its work.”
“I’ve just been tired. That’s all.”
“Do you need some time off?”
“No!” Michaels yelled before calming himself again. “No. Of course not. I can handle this. I just don’t need my nosy Lieutenants thinking they need to step in and manage my personal life.”
“Ouch. That stung.”
Michaels shook his head as if trying to organize his thoughts. He didn’t want to be an ass. But he honestly just wanted to go home. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be a dick.”
“Well you failed.”
Michaels huffed a weary laugh.
“You know were all hear for you, man. If you need to talk some of this out then my door is -”
“Oh my god. Day come on, dude. Let’s not do this weird Oprah shit okay.”
“Hey!” Day snapped. “Now I draw the fuckin’ line when you start talking about Oprah!”
Michaels paused for a minute before he busted out laughing right along with Day. Damn this guy. “I hear you, Leo. Okay. If I need to talk. I know where to find you.”
“Good man.” Day stepped back and let Michaels drive off.
Surprisingly he felt a little lighter on his way home. Day just had a way about him. If he couldn’t get you to open up right away, he could definitely make you laugh.
Chapter Four
“Ah fuuuuck.” Michaels groaned pulling on his cock a couple more times, his eyes heavy still glued to his laptop as he watched his favorite bear fuck a huge leather daddy. Damn. His covers had been tossed to the floor sometime during the night so he used his tank top to clean up the mess on his stomach. He was so fed up with teasing himself, massaging himself until he got off. He was way too familiar with his own erogenous zones, having not had a lover in over a year. But, honestly it was getting harder and harder to bring himself off.
He wasn’t saving himself or no shit like that, it was just that he’d worked so hard to get on God’s task force that he couldn’t allow himself to slack off in the beginning so he hadn’t worried about chasing ass. Then it came to a point where he would be fucking exhausted most of the time, so he’d barely noticed. When he did have free time he tried to appease his parents with frequent visits since he was the only son, and also spending time with the fellas. It had become rather tedious over the year. But each night, he’d go home to his empty apartment… alone.
Since it was a Saturday, God usually gave his field officers the weekend off before they did a bust. He showered quickly and packed a gym bag. A good workout should help ease some of the tension. Maybe he’d find a rookie to spar with, he needed to stay on his toes since he wasn’t getting any younger.
He did some weights to get his muscles loose before working on the heavy bag for half hour. He got on the treadmill to wait out his turn in the ring. The precinct had a nice facility for them to work out in for free but he’d been coming to Charlie’s Gym since he’d been in Atlanta. He’d left college in Virginia and immediately came here to work with his father, but after hearing about God and Day, he knew where he belonged.
He’d been running for forty-five minutes when Charlie held his hand up and told him it was his turn. He slowed down to a brisk walk to lower his heart rate and went to corner to put on his protective gear. He knew the guy that he was sparring with, had seen him around enough times. He was extremely fit and he believed that the guy did some amateur fighting or was in an underground ring, he wasn’t sure. But, the man looked serious as he tightened his gloves and tossed his thick brown hair back before tugging on his head gear. The guy was a couple inches taller than Michaels 6’1 and his arms looked like they could reach him even if he was on the other side of the ring. Well, he wanted a work out. He was damn sure about to get one.
Michaels popped in his mouth guard and met his opponent in the center of the ring. The man’s eyes were a startling green as he narrowed them in intimidation. Michaels pfftd’ at him. He was not easily intimidated. He’d went up against men on the street, way scarier than this fucker. With a snort and a slight lift of his brow the man receded back to his corner and waited for the bell. Charlie yelled in his smoker’s gruff voice at them from the side. “We’ll go to eight fellas. No dirty shit. Keep it above the waist. Give me a clean bout. When I hit that bell, you hit those corners. Got it?”
Both men nodded, bouncing lightly on their toes. When Charlie was satisfied that they understood, he signaled his man to ring the bell. Michaels could already see a few guys crowding around but he stayed focused on the man in front of him. With his eyes on the center of the man’s chest, they made their way to the center of the ring, dancing around each other for a bit, throwing out quick jab combinations to feel each other out, then it started.
Michaels had to admit his opponent’s footwork was effortless and fucking poetic. He flowed gracefully, his power and speed perfectly balanced. Imagine the power of a battleship combined with the precision of a figure skater. By the eighth and final round Michaels was completely winded. His ribs ached terribly and he was sure to have a headache the rest of the night from that goddamn right hook. He knew how to keep his guard high and protect his body. It was that technique that kept him from hitting the mat a few times.
After getting caught in chin, Michaels threw a sloppy right, his opponent half dodging it and they fell against each other. Head gear bumping together, harsh gasp of breath mingling with each other. The guys arm was heavy as hell on his left shoulder. “If you keep your eyes off my chest you might can block my right faster.” He huffed quietly, looking Michaels in his eyes.
“We all have our own techniques.”
“Or maybe you just like my chest.”
Michaels didn’t have a chance to respond before Charlie stepped in and pushed them away from each other.
He’d gotten in enough of his own shots as well. On the fifth bout he’d sent
a strong forward jab straight to handsome’s nose, causing him to stumble back and curse. The trickle of blood that started very soon after had Charlie calling them to their corners, but of course the guy was way too proud to even consider stopping.
Michaels knew they had less than sixty seconds left, that’s when men usually gave it their all. A series of expert combinations were thrown, both of them breathing heavily before thank god that damn bell rang.
There was a multitude of clapping and encouragement from around the ring as Michaels met his opponent in the center of the mat. His head gear had been removed and when he hugged the big man he could’ve sworn he felt lips graze his neck while the guy whispered harshly in his ear. “Not bad, detective.”
Apparently his opponent knew him too. He’d left from the gym in his work gear enough. “Yeah. Good fight, man. Is just what I needed.”
“Nothing more?” The amusement in the man’s eyes was easy to read. It was a question… an invitation… not a statement.
Michaels didn’t respond. He eyed the guy for a second before turning to leave the ring so it could get cleaned up for the next guys in line. He got his gloves off and his wrist unwrapped and made his way to the locker room. He winced, pulling off his shorts and jock. Fuck. That hurts. Michaels loved it, loved every ache. His body was in great shape and he was proud of it. He’d worked damn hard to get to where he is.
He had his head bowed in the shower, letting the water beat against his shoulders. He felt he could probably fall asleep like this, it felt so good. After washing once more he went to get dressed. Turning the corner to his locker he saw mister boxing extraordinaire a few lockers down from his, shirtless and in a pair of jeans swiping on his deodorant. When he dropped it in his bag that’s when he saw Michaels watching him. Great. Michaels turned to open his locker deciding to ignore the smirk he got.
“Go ahead and look. I don’t mind.”