by A. E. Via
Yelling about his money Bookem barked when the guy kicked the woman in her stomach. Great, a hooker and her pimp. The guy spun around, gasping at him. “Yo man. You need to put that dog on a leash.”
“Why? You’re not on one.” Michaels said angrily, setting his bag down, making his way over to the woman to help her.
“You don’t want none of this, man.” The guy snarled right back, his eyes bouncing from him to Bookem.
Michaels squatted and tried to help the girl up. Her white, low-cut crop top had blood splatter on it and her pantyhose were torn from the concrete. Her lip was busted and swelling fast. Michaels pulled a napkin from his bag and dabbed at her mouth. She snatched it from his hand, frowning up at him. “I’m fine. Just go. He’s my husband, so don’t go calling the damn police or nothing.”
“You heard her. She’s fine. Now get the fuck out of here, white knight.”
Michaels stood. He’d seen plenty of situations like this. Unfortunately not every damsel was in distress, or wanted help if they were. To free a whore a whore had to first admit that she was a whore. He shook his head, stood and went to pick up his bag, when the dirtbag stupidly opened his mouth again.
“You got money man? She’s good. Fifty dollars and she’ll make all your dreams come true.” He grinned a fake gold smile and it made Michaels want to puke. He calmly set his bag back on the ground. “That’s more like it.” The pimp said, rubbing his slimly hands together.
Michaels walked up to the smug ass and caught him twice in his jaw and lip before he could even blink. “You piece of shit.” Michaels spat.
The man put his hand to his mouth in shock, looking at the blood on his fingertips. His jaw was already turning a dark shade of red.
“Now you and her look just alike.”
“Motherfucker.” The pimp reached in his back pocket and Bookem leaped into action but Michaels barked at him to ‘stay’ before he could get to the man. Last thing Michaels wanted was for Judge’s dog to get hurt from a fight he’d picked. Pimp pulled out a switchblade and Michaels laughed. When the man brought his hand up, Michaels punched him hard enough in the rib to at least fracture a couple. When he doubled over, Michaels brought his knee up fast and precise, his kneecap connecting the pimp’s nose. The crunch was sickening and disturbingly satisfying to hear. That should put prohibit him from throwing any more punches and kicks for a while. Michaels ignored the cursing from the pimp and his wife as she inched over to wrap her arms around her husband.
He showed his badge. “You better be gone before I come back.” He calmly picked up his bag and headed back around to the front of the motel, ducking into the stairwell. He climbed the stairs two at a time and waited to see if they were going to come looking for him. The sound of tires retreating over gravel met his ears and that’s when he went to his room. Opening the door, he wasn’t surprised to find Judge standing at the window with his arms crossed, shaking his head.
Michaels ignored the condescending look and placed their breakfast on the table. “Hungry?” he asked, not even out of breath. He went about mixing his coffee like nothing had happened.
Judge snorted, while patting Bookem on his head. A bowl of food had been made and set next to the bathroom door, Bookem quickly found his way to it.
Michaels was just setting his cup down from a large sip when Judge placed one massive hand on the back of his chair and the other on the table, caging him in. he leaned down over him and Michaels got a smell of Judge’s deodorant or aftershave, whichever one, it smelled fucking delicious. Keeping an even face, he let Judge tower over him, leaning in close to his face. Neither one of them said anything, just stared. After a few seconds, Judge’s sexy mouth, quirked into a smile. “So you’re a fighter, huh.”
It wasn’t a question so Michaels didn’t respond. Instead he focused on keeping his body from combusting at the close proximity of this sinful man.
“Why didn’t you let Bookem attack him?” Judge’s deep, raspy voice was doing a number on Michaels cock. It was too early for this shit. Still keeping up is composed façade, Michaels shrugged.
“I didn’t need him to.”
Judge’s gaze dropped as he ran a thick, calloused thumb over Michaels’ swollen knuckles. “No I guess you didn’t.” he whispered, those bedroom eyes, staring down at his hands.
Michaels breathing was accelerating and he tried hard not to groan when that hand suddenly disappeared as if Judge realized what he was doing. The big man dropped down heavily in the other chair and inhaled his sandwich in three bites. It looked like he’d hardly chewed it all, when he gulped the warm coffee to wash it all down. Crumpling the cup and wrapper, Judge tossed it in the trash and stood to finish getting dressed. Michaels’ had his bag by the door and waiting while Judge placed his weapons on him. Instead of him eye-fucking Judge, he focused his attention on his emails.
“Anything word from God yet?”
“No.”
“Oh yeah.” Judge closed the distance in a couple strides and yanked Michaels’ phone out of his hand.
Michaels growled angrily and stood up, nosily knocking his chair over. He reached for his phone but his wrist was gripped tight as Judge pushed him back to the wall with his chest. He brought his other hand up fast and Judge just dodged it before he secured both of Michaels’ fist above his head. The vibration emanating from Judge’s chest was having an effect on Michaels’ groin that he didn’t want to have, especially since Judge was using his body to keep him pinned to the wall. They were face to face, but Michaels’ had to tilt his chin just a bit to look into Judge’s eyes. He was pissed to see amusement in them. “Let. Me. Go.” Michaels hissed.
“Ohhh. I forgot I got a fighter on my hands.” Judge purred. With his meaty hand still holding Michaels’ over him and against the wall, he pulled Michaels’ phone from his pocket and looked at the message he’d been reading.
“Fuck you.” Michaels snapped. “Don’t read my personal emails, that’s none of your goddamn business. I told you if I had information I’d share it with you.” Michaels’ argument was falling on deaf ears as Judge continued reading his email from Justin. He’d emailed and texted him a few times since Michaels had choked him a few days ago on his parent’s deck. Why he still wanted to fuck was beyond what Michaels could comprehend. Obviously Justin still itched but was too scared to get someone else to scratch it. He immediately saw when Judge read the one sentence that would confirm that it was a man begging for Michaels’ cock.
Judge turned back towards him, his face completely unreadable. If this man turned out to be a homophobic jackass then -. Michaels turned off that train of thought. There is no way this man could be such good friends with God and Day and hate gay men. So what was this look he was getting? Did he not want him in the same room with him when he slept… what?
“You finished?” Michaels snarled. “You want to answer it for me too. Reply back. ‘No thanks, been there… hit that… I’m done.”
Judge still hadn’t released him and if Michaels really wanted to, he could’ve been out of that hold a while ago. Maybe a part of him didn’t want to. Maybe it was best if Judge knew, and there wouldn’t be any surprises.
“You’re a real one-hitter-quitter, huh, sweetheart.” Judge’s voice was rough and irritated when he finally spoke. He tucked Michaels’ phone in his pocket for him before finally releasing his wrist. Michaels rubbed at bruised and red skin, his frown deepening when he brought both hands up and shoved hard. Judge didn’t go flying back against the table but it was enough to get him out of his space. Judge smirked and licked his lips.
“Keep your fucking hands off me, Judge, and we’ll get along just fine.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me -” Michaels huffed. “You know what. Nevermind. Let’s just go. And by the way, you’re welcome for breakfast, ya’ ungrateful bastard.”
Michaels waited by the door, peeking out the window first to be sure it was clear. He felt Judge come up behind him,
pressing way closer than he needed to. Now he’s just fucking with me, since he knows I’m gay? Michaels didn’t take the bait, he didn’t overact trying to shove Judge away or scurry out the door. He steeled his back and calmed his breathing.
“You want gratification sweetheart?” Judge leaned against his back, pressing him into the door. The whisper was erotic but harsh. His mouth so close, his beard tickled his neck. “Stop picking fights drawing attention, and stop walking off with my fuckin’ dog.”
Chapter Fourteen
Judge drove down I75 careful not to keep glancing over at his passenger that he now saw in a whole new light. This sexy motherfucker is gay. According to that email he’d rudely snagged and read, Michaels must be the fuck of the millennium, the way that spineless man was begging for the dick. Was he a fuck buddy gone bad, or a one night stand? Didn’t sound like it. The guy said ‘they’d had a good thing once’. Maybe he was an ex. Why do I fucking care? Judge was driving himself crazy with these useless questions. This is not what he did. He got ass when he felt like it, then he moved on. But now that he knew for sure Michaels’ orientation, he wanted to fuck the cocky sonofabitch sitting next to him so bad that his stomach cramped. How did Judge find himself in this situation? If he could reverse time, he’d go back and tell God ‘hell no’ to this partnership.
When he’d finished getting dressed at the hotel, he’d heard the commotion downstairs with the whore. But Judge didn’t draw attention to himself. He moved through life with a purpose, and anything that wasn’t directly related to that purpose, didn’t receive his time or energy. Imagine his surprise when Michaels appeared out of nowhere and started kicking ass like it was a hobby. Now, all Judge could think about was reprimanding Michaels for being such a bad boy. Judge groaned trying not to squirm in his seat at the thought of holding the feisty man down and fucking the fight right out of him. Shit.
“You alright over there? Making a lot of noise.” Michaels said drily. “Need to stop and use the bathroom?”
Judge looked over, his jaw clenched tight. I can’t wait to fuck you until that sarcasm turns into begging. Decision made. Detective Michaels would be sent back to his office with his suspect but also thoroughly fucked.
“Look, you don’t have to keep eyeing me like that. Being gay ain’t contagious, so unscrew your face.”
“Damn you don’t know shit.” Judge scoffed. “Shut up and listen. We’re gonna park up the street from the cousin’s house and watch it today. If nothing is going on, we’ll call it a night around midnight and then sit on him tomorrow. If we still don’t see nothing, then your perp isn’t there and ain’t coming there.”
“Well I want to talk to the cousin.”
“No.”
“No?”
“You heard me.” Judge said roughly. “The cousin could tip him off. We want him to think he’s almost home free.”
“Whatever.”
“Fucking detectives. Always wanting to detect shit.” Judge said under his breath.
“Excuse me. If you got something to say, be man enough to say it and not whisper it like a bitch.”
“Careful.” Judge growled. “My patience has a very short limit.”
“So does mine.”
“I said.” Judge drawled out. “You’re not here as a detective. You can’t ask anyone, anything. You’re hunting, pure and simple. You don’t reveal yourself until you’re ready to pounce. He can’t see you coming or next thing you know, we’ll be the fuckin’ hunted. You’ll make my job ten times harder if you start raising eyebrows. Walking around flashing your shiny badge is only going to make your perp double his efforts.”
At least Michaels was man enough to shut his big mouth when he was realized he might be wrong. They got to the cousin’s house in Gainsville, Florida in a little over three hours because of an overturned tractor trailer on the highway. It would’ve only taken one, ordinarily so Judge was pissed that he’d missed so much surveillance time. He pulled into a Walmart that was sitting in a large open field. He put a leash on Bookem so he could let him out to exercise a little before the grueling day ahead of them.
“We’ll be sitting for about twelve hours. Get some stuff.” He ordered without looking at Michaels not bothering to respond to the man’s curses as he walked away. He thought it was pretty entertaining that Michaels felt Judge was treating him a certain way only because he was gay. It was actually downright hilarious. Hopefully God or Day didn’t tip the man off before he really got to have some fun with him.
“Your dog doesn’t ever give you away when you’re doing surveillance or creeping up on someone?” Michaels asked out of the blue. They’d been sitting there for almost four hours now. Judge was drinking one of his five hour energys he kept under his seat while he stared motionlessly at the house seven doors down.
“No.”
“He never barks or anything?”
“Have you heard him bark?” Judge said annoyingly. “He knows more about what he’s doing than you do.”
Michaels didn’t rise to the dig, and kept talking. “He’s still a large animal. It doesn’t hurt him to stay coped up back there for hours at a time?” Michaels looked back at Bookem, lying there asleep on his large pillow.
“He’s fine. I know how to take care of my dog. There’s plenty of room back there for him. He’s used to it.”
Michaels shrugged nonchalantly, popping another chip into his mouth. “Not enough room to live. It can cause bone deformities and arthriti - ”
“Can you shut the fuck up, please?” Judge cut him off. He hated thinking about Bookem being sick. He knew they wouldn’t be doing this job much longer, either. But he’d be damn if he needed ‘Mr. Know-it-all’ to tell him so. “Are you a veterinarian too? Book is as healthy as an ox.”
“Mmhmm.”
That was all the smug bastard said. Michaels’ phone buzzed loudly in the cab and Judge looked over, immediately seeing it was God. He reached for the phone but it was yanked out of his reach before he could get to it.
“Put him on speaker phone!” He barked.
“I was going to if you give me a damn chance! I told you leave my phone alone!”
“Then stop trying to hide shit!”
“How am I hiding? You didn’t even give me a chance!”
“Just answer already!” Judge growled.
“Ahhh. I see the two of you are getting along.” Day’s chipper tone broke through their argument. Judge saw that Michaels was stunned and looking a little embarrassed at getting caught arguing like a fifth grader.
“Sorry. I didn’t know I’d hit the button.” Michaels said uneasily.
“Obviously.” God’s gruff tone clearly revealed his disappointment.
Judge didn’t like the chastised look on Michaels’ gorgeous face. It irritated him that he was concerned about it in the first place, but he ignored it and decided to get to the point.
“Do you have something for me, God?” Judge asked first. Michaels glared at him and Judge gave Michaels a good once over before licking his lips seductively, catching the pissed man completely off guard.
“Yes. I do. My contact in the Pensacola PD told me the girlfriend went to the post office to apply for a Passport. She’s never had one before so… bam… I think we know why she’s trying to get one now.”
“Yep.” Michaels and Judge both said at the same time.
Michaels rolled his eyes. “Any sighting on Swtich?”
“No. but I’m sure he’ll get there soon. We’ll wait it out until he does. How long before you get to Miami?” God asked no one in particular so Judge answered.
“We were sitting on the cousin today. I’ll head that way tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.” Day chimed in. “There’s a Pink Flamingo hotel up the block from the girlfriends condo. Park it there. You should be able to watch things from a room facing the street.”
“What if he doesn’t come in the next few days? What are you going to do about the Chief?” Michaels asked.
; “Let me handle the suits.” God said forcibly. “You stay focused on what you’re doing, Michaels.”
“Okay.” Michaels said and disconnected the call.
He couldn’t read the expressions on Michaels’ face but the nervousness and anxiety was radiating off him in waves. He’d heard in their briefing that Michaels was the one that had chased their suspect and lost him, so the guy had to be beating himself up. He seemed like a damn perfectionist anyway.
“We’ll head out tomorrow. He’ll be in your custody before you know it. This guy isn’t gonna stall. He’ll be anxious to get out of the country, not only from you but from everyone else he’s pissed off because of this dick move he made.” Judge tried to reason.
“Hope you’re right, Judge.” Michaels said softly as Judge pulled away from the curb.
“I’m always right.” Judge was surprised at the slight smile playing across that beautiful face. Damn. I’m so fucked.
Chapter Fifteen
Michaels didn’t question why Judge had pulled into a rundown dive an hour outside of Gainsville. It wasn’t late, they could’ve stayed on the road and gotten that much closer to Miami. He was beyond anxious at this point. He wanted Switch in custody, along with the drugs. He was getting pissed at Judge too, the guy had been acting weird. He couldn’t pick up on if Judge was trying to get a rise out of him or if the guy was actually checking him out now. No. He can’t be gay.
“Get your stuff. We’re staying here.” Judge confirmed. He slid his back seat up and Bookem bounded out of the car and ran straight through the open bar door.
“Um.”
“Don’t worry about him.” Judge cut in.
Okay. Michaels pulled his own duffle bag from out of the back and followed Judge inside. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust from the bright Florida sun to the dark, murky inside of the old-style bar. Maybe Judge knew something about this place that he couldn’t see. There was only a few old timers in there nursing beers, all of their eyes on the bass-fishing show playing quietly on the forty-two inch television mounted on the far wall over a pool table.