Bleed Blue 69: Twenty-Five Authors…One Sexy Police Station

by Anthology

  The rowdy band followed at a more leisurely pace, flinging insults and laughter back and forth with intoxicating smiles. Damn it. How could four people all be so good looking? My heart hammered in my chest as they approached. I tried to keep staring at a minimum but it was impossible to look away. One guy caught my ogle and his brow lifted in time with the curl of his lips. Busted.

  His gaze held me immobile and the racing of my heart amped up to more of a thudding in my throat. With each step closer, my pulse quickened. God damn, this man was fine. His band veered left to get backstage, but he held his course until the puffs of air that left his mouth mixed with mine. I licked my lips. The flitting thought of him kissing me worked heat all over my skin and left goosebumps in its wake. His stare was so intense, brooding, sexual . . . beautiful. But then, like all attractive men before him, he opened his mouth.

  “Sexy senorita, you are a fucking wet dream come to life. I wanna be bad, bad, bad . . . but only if we get to play cops and robbers. Naked. In my suite.” Confidence dripped from each word, but they were a slap in my face and jolted me back to reality.

  “Sir, please step back.” The words left my lips a growl and one hand rested on my weapon. I wasn’t threatened per se, but part of me wanted to be ready in case he escalated this and tried something.

  He only smiled wider. “Oooh . . . Sir? I like the sound of that. Maybe we can take this back to the hotel later. You into sub play, Miss Muy Caliente?” His words rang out in the night and anger burned my cheeks. His buddies gathered close enough I’m sure they heard his words.

  “Fuck.” One hissed.

  “Shit.” Another cursed.

  I held my ground and his gaze, but his swagger only increased as he took one step closer. I don’t know what came over me next. My intelligence, proper decision making skills, and patience must have evaporated at his misuse of Spanish. I knew he was only some famous, privileged white boy musician, but I had enough for one night. Not only from him, but everyone. The race jokes. The sexist comments. This entire night could go fuck itself because this Latina was also a police officer. A badge and profession I wore with pride, and one I worked my ass off to achieve. This rock star, although very attractive, needed to learn a lesson.

  “Shut your mouth and move to the stage. Now.” My eyes bore into his with challenge.

  “Oh, I get it. You like to dom.” He winked with a nod, “I’m cool with that. I’ll be whatever you want for the night so long as you promise not to spank too hard.”

  Fucking hell. I tried to hold back, I really did. My fingers itched to pull out my baton and knock this asshole upside the head so he’d shut the fuck up.

  “Final warning.” I said with more calm than I felt.

  His lips twitched and pulled into a broad smirk, “What are you gonna do? Cuff me?” He reached to my hip where the pair of silver restraints adhered to my belt.

  That was it. With the promise of his fingers milliseconds from touching my uniform I reacted. All my training kicked in and I saw red as I grabbed his arm, tugged him forward and shoved my knee up into his groin. He bent forward with a howl.

  “Oh, shit!” one of his friends shouted as I twisted rock boy’s arm and stepped behind his body. Yanking hard so he had to arch back to avoid bone breaking pain, I slapped the cuff onto his wrist and left his other arm free. I leaned in—his muscular frame felt delicious and warm against my front—and I don’t know why, but I pushed up against him a little harder.

  “This turn you on, big man? How about I add your other wrist to these cuffs and we can book you at the station for an overnighter. You’re kinda pretty with that styled hair. Bruno, one of our regulars likes to make guys like you his bitch. He’d probably be into playing cops and robbers with a smart mouth like you. Only, you’ll be the one giving head and having your asshole pounded, so I’m not sure that’s the kind of kink you’re wanting.”

  “Jesus Christ! Austin! What the fuck did you say to her? I’m so sorry, officer. My friend here has the habit of saying stupid shit when he should keep his mouth shut.” My eyes snapped up to meet his friend’s worried face.

  “You don’t say?”

  “Officer Martinez, is there a problem?” Lieutenant Lawrence called from behind the fence separating the crowd from the back of the main stage. As soon as I met the Lieutenant’s smug gaze I regretted cuffing this rock star. The jerk never even touched me; my reaction had more to do with all the comments, catcalls, and disrespect snowballing to this moment. I held up one finger to my supervisor. “I’m handling it for now, Lieutenant.”

  “Fuck yeah, she is.” Another one of rock boy’s friends said with a nod of respect.

  I loosened my hold the slightest. “Apologize and I’ll let you off with a warning.” I murmured into his ear and tried to ignore the little thrill that raced through my veins when he leaned back into me, a throaty chuckle his response to my demand.

  “You know how badly I want to make a sex joke?” He said.

  “I’ll gladly take you downtown. I’m sure your band won’t miss you.”

  One of his guys by the steps leading to the stage raked his fingers through his long hair, and shouted above the amplified techno beats. “Dude, fucking apologize! The band doesn’t need any more bad press. Not now.”

  “You hear my buddy, let me go, pretty please with whip cream on top. Though I’d rather lick—”

  “Try again.” I cut him off. “That didn’t sound much like an apology.” I grabbed the shoulder of his unrestrained arm and my hand traveled down his inked bicep. My fingers brushed over his exposed skin, chilled from the night, but the heat and strength beneath dominated all the same. He was gonna catch a cold dressed like this, though I guessed the lack of jacket or sweater had more to do with showing off for the screaming fans. God damn, he had a nice body. More so when I didn’t have to see the smart ass smirk attached to it. Fuck. Dumbass was turning me on. His back shuddered and I wondered if he was just as affected by my touch. I whispered in his ear. “Time’s up. Hands behind your back.”

  “Fuck.” He swore but the flash of a camera shook me from my naughty pat down.

  Paparazzi.

  The other three rock stars stepped back and their gazes widened with the same alarm I was almost certain was written all over my bad boy’s face.

  Shit.

  We didn’t need negative press any more than this band did. I could read the headlines now. Latino officer uses excessive force on helpless boy band during New York City’s biggest night of the year. No, thank you.

  “Hey, I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll let you go if you play this off as a joke?” I whispered against his ear and his body relaxed against my restraints.

  “Why would you do that for me? I’ve been a total douche.”

  “Not arguing with you. Let’s just blame my forgiving mood on the festive spirit. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “And that’s how a woman can protect herself against a potential attacker.” My voice lifted into the night above the muted cheers coming from across the mainstage. I dropped pretty boy’s arm and stepped around his side to smile brightly.

  His amber hued irises twinkled with his own smile, albeit guarded, and my breath caught in my throat. Wow. He really was beautiful.

  His lips pulled into a smirk before he responded with an overzealous reply, “Thank you for that very informative lesson, officer.”

  He lifted his arm between us, timidly, with the one open cuff dangling from his tattooed wrist. “And it makes for a nice fashion statement, don’t you think? Cuffs are all the rage this season!”

  His obnoxious smirk was back in full force and this time I rolled my eyes and gave in to a laugh.

  “You wish.” I grabbed his wrist and retrieved my key to unlock him. “These are neither a piece of jewelry nor a toy. The right to these, along with my badge, is not granted lightly.” An air of annoyance snuck into my lecture despite the fact I owed this man nothing. He didn’t deserve my explanation.

&nb
sp; He rubbed at his wrist as I re-pocketed my key and returned the cuffs to my hip.

  “Come on.” He slung one arm around my shoulder and I almost responded with another drop kick to his balls. “Just smile,” he murmured against my earlobe as if he could already sense my desire to push him away. We walked over to the chain link fence, the alleyway behind now swarming with gossip rag photographers. “Let’s make sure they don’t spin this twisted,” he whispered, and fuck if his voice didn’t simultaneously send warmth through my body and scatter goosebumps across my skin.

  “Officer, did he harass you?”

  “Did we just witness a resisting of arrest?”

  “Austin Banks, are Three Ugly Guys in danger of breaking up with all the recent arrests.”

  “Austin, are you high right now?”

  The questions fired, veiled behind the flashes of light almost blinding, and my mind spun as I started to piece together who I stood next to. This was Austin Banks. The Austin Banks of Three Ugly Guys. The band Rolling Stone was calling our generation’s Aerosmith. The same band rumored to be well on their way to a disastrous split by The Star. And I only knew this because I’d seen him and the rest of the Three Ugly Guys splashed across the entertainment magazine headlines in every supermarket, gas station, and bodega inside my beat for months.

  He dropped his arm from my shoulder and held his arms out to the gossip reporters until they hushed at the prospect of him giving them something good.

  “Come on guys, give me more cred that that. I’m not high, it’s New Year’s Eve! I’m drunk!”

  At their choruses of laughter he beamed a megawatt smile. “Kidding. Kidding. Well, I might be a little drunk, but that’s beside the point. I’m getting ready to join the rest of the band on stage in a few minutes, but myself and Officer Martinez were just having a lively discussion about self-defense. I bet her she couldn’t take out an attacker of my size. And damn, she proved me wrong. Did you see that? Did you get a good shot? She’s pretty amazing, isn’t she?”

  I ignored the way his praise filled me with pride and grasped onto the irritation that came with him talking for the both of us to interject, “It’s incredibly important for women to learn, practice, and know how to protect themselves. In our society—and I don’t care if you’re from a big city or small town—a woman who knows how to defend herself has the upper hand. It’s not enough to stick a can of pepper spray in your purse, or carry a weapon.” I straightened my spine as Austin placed one hand at the small of my back. I glanced up at him and he nodded—a silent encouragement—and I continued my speech. “Myself, along with several other officers teach free sessions each week at the Brooklyn Community Center. They’re open to anyone. Women, children, men, too.”

  “Are you saying it’s not safe to live in NYC?”

  “What’s your stance on gun control?”

  “Why shouldn’t the public have the right to protect themselves?”

  “Is this a race thing?”

  Oh, God. What had I started? Vultures. That’s what these people were. And I wasn’t cleared to speak on behalf of the force. Fuck. I was in so much shit. I should have never given in to my temper and just walked away when Austin opened his big mouth.

  “Officer Martinez, have you ever been attacked? As a civilian?”

  That question packed the biggest punch of all, and it took every fiber of my being to keep a professional smile in place.

  Austin’s laughter stole their scrutiny, “Shit, you motherfuckers, this is New Year’s Eve and I’m about to get rockin’. This isn’t an official press conference. Officer Martinez needs to get back to work.”

  “Officer, will you demonstrate your takedown one more time?” One of the women reporters called from the back of the crowd we had gathered.

  Austin laughed again, shook his head, and waved his hands. “God, no! I need to sing backup vocals tonight and I won’t be able to hit an E if my balls take one more beating.” With that he held his arm around my body and turned us away from the reporters. We walked towards where the rest of the band waited expectantly just outside the back entrance to the stage.

  “Austin, let’s go, man! We’re on in five!” One not-at-all-Ugly-Guy shouted, but the paparazzi continued to haggle at our retreat.

  “Come on!”

  “Don’t be a wuss.”

  “Do it for a good cause!”

  The shouts behind us grew louder and Austin stopped short, then turned to call back, “You know what? That’s a great idea! I’ll see if I can convince Officer Martinez to do a live self-defense demo if my fans can raise a certain amount of money for battered women’s shelters. What do you think about that, officer?” He twisted to face me, only me, and his gorgeous eyes, playful yet knowing, captured my attention while his hands squeezed the arms of my coat. I shouldn’t have liked the way it felt to be held in place by him, but I did anyway. His lips pulled up at the corners, almost ready to give in to another radiant smile.

  I shook my head only because I couldn’t get lost in this man. And I was supposed to be working. I need to get back to it.

  Austin’s smile dropped with his hands and he turned away, calling back to the celebrity chasing journalists. “I’ll work on her. In the meantime, I have a show to play in one of the greatest cities on earth!” He shouted the last part and raised his hand in the air. Cheers followed and Austin jogged over to the stairs while his bandmates stepped behind the door. I walked back to the stage, too, only because I didn’t wish to field any more questions.

  Austin stopped and turned, and held open the door before disappearing backstage. “Hey, wait for me?”

  Wait for him? I couldn’t help but bristle. “I’m working. Not waiting.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He nodded and his eyes held a trace of what looked like sincerity, “But you’re not rotating to another post or anything, right? We’ll be done in like fifteen.”

  “Austin! The fuck, man? We’re on! Bedo’s freaking the fuck out! Get your ass in here.” A voice hollered from inside the door.

  “One second, Sean.” He held up a finger and twisted back to me. “So? You’ll be here?”

  “I don’t know,” I lied. Most likely I’d be stuck here well past midnight, but Lieutenant Tight Ass could move me at any time.

  “Give me your name, at least?” He pleaded and now I completely got it. The reason for the screaming, adoring fans. The women. The fame. It was enchanting, how he looked at me as if I was the only woman in the world. But no. I was not up for him or his kind of lifestyle. I was blue. I bled it. It was who I was. Not some fame infatuated foolish woman.

  “Officer Martinez.” I answered, my lips pulled tight.

  He laughed. “Fuck, there’s got to be a ton of those. A first name?”

  “Austin! Stage! Now!” The older man, Disco Fever, appeared in the doorway and dragged Mr. Famous away. I couldn’t meet his eyes, though I felt them as he left.

  I scanned the area, back to my boredom gig, and nodded as I caught the eye of an officer working over the barricade. The crowd erupted in shouting as someone took the stage, most likely to introduce the band. He shook his head and rolled his eyes before resuming his crowd scan. I wished I could’ve switched posts with him and snuck glances at the show, but that was stupid. I was here to work, not watch the band.

  Seconds passed and I could tell when Three Ugly Guys took the stage. Not from the wailing guitars amplified over the speakers, but from the rise in screams. Blistering female shrieks collided with grungy musical notes and only calmed when the lead man began to sing. I clawed through my memory to decipher which of the men I met tonight was the lead and owner of the luscious sounding voice that serenaded blocks of Manhattan.

  I glanced around to double-check that no new stars were arriving, then inched my way closer to the barricade for a sneak peek. One look. That was all. I was curious after my little encounter with Austin Banks, and though I would never admit it aloud, I wanted to see for myself how sexy he looked on stage under the br
ight spotlights with his instrument in hand.

  “Martinez!” Lawrence barked at my back and I spun to meet his approaching glare. “Lucky day. You’re going down to Fifty Fifth. Car’s waiting for you.” He nodded just outside the secured area.

  “What? Why?” Thirty minutes ago I would have jumped at this change of plans, but now I couldn’t help the disappointment that clouded my reaction.

  “Why the hell do you care? Head honcho needed a few extras to direct pedestrian traffic to the subway once this ball drops. Now, get out of here before I stick you with all my paperwork for the next month!”

  “Yes, Lieutenant.”

  Asshole.

  I hightailed it to the waiting car. As the wind nipped my ears along with the deep thrum of a bass solo I realized this was probably for the best. I didn’t need the distraction of any man, let alone a rockstar. I was here to serve and protect. It was better I focus on my job for the rest of tonight, no matter how delectable Austin’s body felt pressed up against mine. Yeah, I needed to remain far away from him and that smirk my mind was beginning to find far too charming.

  “Nine-teen, eighteen, seventeen . . .” The drunken stupor. The unfiltered joy. It was difficult not to get caught up in the moment. Thousands of people, all different races, ages, shapes, and ethnicities, came together to bring in the New Year in what could be considered the most iconic celebration in the entire country. But it was our job to not partake in the fun, and as an officer I was on high alert, searching the crowd for anyone who dared disrupt the peace and safety of this night. With a simple drop of a ball and an hour of crowd control, I would be heading home to relax on my couch. Home stretch, baby.

  I was so caught up in scanning my assigned area that the shouts at my back didn’t register above the swelling volume of the collective countdown.