Badge Boys

by Caliente Morgan

  Ivan stepped over her, and grasped her waist, hauled her up, and set her on the chair. Then went behind her to see that this time she stayed in the chair.

  When the dust settled, Ivan was assigned to her. He had carefully volunteered. Not acting anxious enough to raise an eyebrow. Just routine. No one could guess she had pole-axed him. Every nerve ending in his body was on full alert, sending signals he was forced to ignore for the moment.

  His body had come alive the moment he had touched her. Dormant longings and dormant needs were demanding attention. He shouldn’t have gone two weeks without some kind of release. His dick had rammed into the bottom of the heavy equipment belt and he had already needed to adjust himself more than once. If this room were empty— If she had a room— If she wasn’t wounded.

  He forced his thoughts back on business. He knew better than to allow this distraction.

  Annie had refused medical services beyond a bandage and low-dosage shot for the pain, which was her right. She was insisting on driving herself, which he didn’t think wise but he could not stop. She had recovered from the initial shock of the ordeal and was walking around unimpaired. He had no reason to arrest her. He had no reason to stop her.

  With few options, he took a different approach. He coaxed Annie into riding with him. Not routine, but under the circumstances... If she decided to drive, he’d have had to follow her. She was a witness as much as a participator.

  The idea of a ride-along evidently had its attractions to the writer she was and she agreed.

  Soon enough, he had stuffed her into his cruiser.

  The massive active-shooter response had shuttled off to other calls. The big fire truck had pulled out. Someone had driven Bobby’s cruiser back to the barn. Troy had driven his cruiser out and chased the ambulance with Bobby in it. Even the extra ambulances, sent in in case any of the women needed medical help, had gone on their way. There had been minor attention by the paramedics but on the whole, the women were fine. Over stimulated. Talkative. Shook up. But otherwise, fine.

  Probably anxious to get home and write it all down. Fodder.

  Annie probably wanted to write it all down. Good. Because he would eventually need a formal statement.

  With the injured Annie settled in the passenger seat, he was driving her to her selected clinic of choice and it’s associated ER room, up the 163 to the 15. She was bandaged. Stubborn. She was not to be tricked into talking without a lawyer. That had been made clear.

  Once she stated that, his hands were tied as far as the investigation went. He didn’t care. They had so much video it would take a month to sort this event out. Many months. If the public wanted to see these videos, they’d have a long, long wait. Investigations had priority over the public’s curiosity.

  If she wanted a lawyer, that was fine with him. He’d call someone who could come handle the legal stuff for her. He’d rather not take her to the station. Not yet. He could always drop in on the North County guys.

  No. He wanted her to himself for now. He had become very possessive of his witness.

  Annie, as she had asked to be called, had saved Bobby’s life. Prevented other deaths. Single-handedly took control of two other shooters after dropping one. The bullet holes in the hotel conference room walls showed the perps were not timid about raking gunfire around at will. There had been nearly sixty people in that room. The possibility of a slaughter was too obvious to discount. The realization of just how close a call that had been had shook even him up.

  There had been a few moments while the hotel was searched when they thought bullets, which could slice through multiple walls, might have hit people in other rooms. Collateral Damage. Fortunately, everyone was accounted for and fine. Also shook up, but fine.

  Annie had been a guardian angel. She had fired in self-defense. That was obvious. Now that they knew she’d been hit, the self-defense claim was a no-brainer.

  She had saved lives. She didn’t even acknowledge it.

  She was busy fussing about getting her truck home. He promised to see someone got it and returned it to her.

  He chalked her reactions up to residual shock.

  He had a different name for his own condition. In mere seconds, his whole life had been changed by a kick-ass woman with a pistol.

  Chapter Three

  Not for the first time, Ivan stood in the hall by the ER bay door. Waiting. His witness, Annie, as she preferred to be called and which she had managed to convey to him quite clearly more than once, even if she was more than a little under the influence, was waiting to be stitched up in one of the cubicles inside.

  Nurses came and went. They wanted some observation time. His witness didn’t, which was something else she had managed to convey. They had her hooked up to IV and monitors. Had done X-rays. Now they were waiting for the plastic surgeon to come and check the wound and recommend how to close it for minimal damage.

  It would be awhile. Annie couldn’t be put under anesthesia for the procedure. She had to be able to sign permission papers. They told him they would use a local. He had left since he couldn’t stay and watch her get stitched up. He wasn’t a relative. Even a relative would have been chased out of the room. Ivan took some comfort in that.

  Not like he hadn’t been stuck in the ER hallway waiting on a doctor before. Not even unusual for him to be with a witness. Or even a perp. The staff knew a cop was on-scene. They would try to hurry. He preferred that they concentrate on the victim. Do a good job. Another reason to play least in sight.

  Several young and pretty nurses strolled by and offered to fetch him coffee. Troy was up by the OR, waiting on word about Bobby, who was in surgery, getting patched up. Somehow they had ended up at the same facility. The nurses, who knew another cop was in the building, couldn’t get up there. They were stuck with him. The staff rotated the young nurses in and out of the ER area often enough that there was always a new girl or two. That’s what these seemed to be. New. Fresh. Young. Too young.

  To them, he was fresh meat. He no longer found the attention flattering.

  Normally, the coffee fetching—complete with sweeteners, cream, skim milk, or whatever they could offer—led to flirting.

  There were three nurses now, and having fetched the grateful cop a cup, they were vying for said cop’s attention. Not the man’s attention. These were badge bunnies. They were in love with the uniform.

  When he was a younger man, he would have texted Troy that he was in a target-rich environment. Maybe allow a selfie to be taken. Sent to his email address. Might have emailed a group photo to Troy and asked which one he wanted.

  It was not that unusual for the nurses to go ape when they learned he was a twin. There was something exciting about them and a friend getting to double-date with look-alike cops. More likely then not during the evening, behaving like every other male twin pair on the planet, they would switch dates. None the wiser.

  Once or twice, the women had rather blatantly suggested it. He and Troy had been perfectly willing. Sport fucking was sport fucking.

  The nurses tonight were displaying themselves because they wanted action. He made no mistake about that. Two of them had undone one or two buttons and had managed to lean over in his line of sight, displaying firm, rounded, young breasts cupped in anything but a sensible bra.

  Ivan was nursing a hard-on for his witness. He had seen under her bra. He hadn’t meant to, but the medics had wanted their stick-on leads in place. He had snuck a peek before she had gotten covered up.

  His witness was a fully-fledged woman. Curvy. He didn’t have any interest in these nubile young things. If anything, they made him aware he was out of his twenties. Way out.

  These girls had on uniforms that were damn near poured on them. Not the loose scrubs that the nurses actually practicing medicine in the ER were roaming around in, preferring comfort and ease of motion to bragging about their waistlines.

  He didn’t have to wonder if these girls were wearing panties. Thongs, maybe. If that. He’d bee
n flashed.

  Nurse One and nurse Two were downright blatant. Nurse Three got a beeper call. Her face fell in disappointment, the flirty girl gone. The rebirth of the woman she would become fell into place. “Gotta go. See ya around?” She was gone.

  Now two of them were left. Offering to get him a donut. A coffee refill. A cookie. One of them even knew where some See’s candy was. A nut roll from a patient. Suggestively described in all its luscious, phallic-shaped glory. He was waiting for one to pull out a See’s lollipop. Start licking it, or worse. If they did, he’d have to move.

  He declined it all.

  There had been a time when he would have made the most of this. Snuck a peek. Said yes. Flirted back. He was surprised at how little they enticed him.

  To signal that he was not available, when the third button was accidently opened on their tops in a last ditch attempt to catch his attention. He busied himself checking on the status of his witness.

  The girls moved on, getting the message that he was not in the market for what they were trying to give away. They were out of time in any case. Break time was over. Beeping signaled phones or pagers. He suspected they were all on customized smart phones.

  In the old days, he’d have whistled at the swaying hips. Chatted. Smiled. Looked. Got their number.

  Now, he had made no move to respond to them.

  His body didn’t want these slick young things. Didn’t want to play. They were too young.

  When had that happened?

  His body was interested in the older, more rounded, well-covered and more mature woman currently being sewn back together in the next room. How fast could she get off the pain meds? How fast would she recover? Would she want him? Did she want him? He had caught a glimpse of her thighs under her knit loose slacks. Lovely thighs. He wanted those thighs gripping him.

  Because he was well aware that he wanted her. Not for a one-night stand, either. His arms had the memory of holding her. His hands remembered the feel of her.

  Ivan was having very possessive feelings toward his witness. He was having very lusty feelings for his witness. He had feelings best not explored too closely for his witness, at least not until she was off pain meds and fully functional.

  It was with a sense of relief that the doctors told him that he could take his witness home. They didn’t specify whose home. He assumed he needed to take her to her house. He really wanted to take her home to his.

  They handed him the prescription. Allowed him to enter her room. Wait while she was disconnected from the IV.

  Papers were signed. Discharge instructions. Whatever else they needed to do while he stood there, watching, enjoying just being with her. Her hair was tousled like she had just gotten out of bed. Well, she had. He got more uncomfortable than he had been in a decade.

  Christ! He had it bad.

  He wondered about Troy, because, when one twin was smitten the other followed close behind. A little wave of jealousy swept over him. Rare, but there.

  He wanted her all to himself, for now. But later?

  Did he want to share as they had done so many times before?

  No. Not the first time. Not the second.

  First, he needed to know if she was interested in him.

  One step at a time.

  What the hell would she do when she understood that there were two of them?

  And just how much they did things together?

  Because jealousy or no, a threesome was where his mind had gone. He wanted to see her come apart. He wanted see her skin with a sex-flush, her lips parted, her chest heaving, and he wanted to...

  If he could have slapped his brain silly, he would have done it.

  Damn. Rookie. Stunt.

  He had a witness to transport. He texted Troy for a sit rep. Gave his.

  He just left off the more important issue.

  He was head over heels for his witness.

  Chapter Four

  Adonis in an SUV was how she thought of her ride. Every nerve in her body was on full alert, at least the ones not clambering for attention in her arm. She was aware of every move he made. Fluid, practiced motions. Once they reached the hospital, he took privileges allowed cops and cruisers, parked close to the door, escorted her in, and deposited her in the emergency room. After a short conversation with the people there, he had left her with the promise that he’d be waiting. She had felt the void in the room even as she submitted to the fussing of the ER staff.

  Annie was home with about eighteen tiny stitches and a neat bandage on her arm, lots of pain pills that she was already setting up to be off of in less than three days, and a nifty bandage. She was nursing a specialty coffee Ivan had carried in for her—not decaf, not soy—and sucking down Lactaid pills as a result. Her truck was in the police secured lot, which made her nervous. Someone had taken her spare car keys, truck club and all, and driven it there.

  She had ridden to and from the hospital and clinic in the passenger seat of a cruiser, one of the new SUV models which she was grateful for since it was a whole lot better than riding in the rear seat of an active patrol car. She had heard stories. She had been on a ride-along once as an observer. The average, law-abiding citizen had no clue what went on in that back seat.

  The new SUVs had a molded back seat. Made for an easier hose-down. Made it impossible to kick out the rear window. She mulled that over for lack of anything else to think about.

  Home. She was safely home.

  Adonis had left her at her house on her own to go retrieve her truck for her since she was, as he put it, “obsessed with the fact it was missing.” Of course she was. And of course, now she was obsessing at the fact he had left her alone. In her own home.

  Alone.

  The cat wasn’t even present when she arrived with a cop in tow. The cat had taken to sulking under the guestroom bed on the upper level when anyone so much as knocked on the door. The cat hated men. The cat had greeted her—after the cop had left. It didn’t bode well. The cat’s feeding station was up one level. The cat was not happy when Annie refused to get up and climb the stairs. The cat would make her pay. Later.

  Adonis had told her to stay downstairs on the sofa while he was gone, in a voice that said he expected obedience, exhibiting very alpha male-like “I am in charge” behavior. Well, he was a cop. They demanded obedience.

  He had handed her the remote to the wide screen TV after tuning in the station she asked for, fetched her cell phone, the remains of her coffee, a card with his cell number just in case, and had taken her house keys, locking her in.

  Efficient.

  She had heard the ping of the code on the ADT alarm.

  Scary.

  To her surprise she had enjoyed being cared for, ferried around, and helped in her dealing with the medical mess of primary-secondary-which-specialist crap you went through to get a simple gunshot wound stitched up. Nothing like having a uniformed cop handy when they sputter that they needed to notify the police and file a report.

  Mostly, she had enjoyed watching his uniform stretch over his backside, the almost cat-like, make that panther-like, way he moved. The touch of his large, warm hands. The solicitous care. Those eyes. Those lips.

  The man had lit her up, and she didn’t mean with his blinky lights. He was a walking code three.

  Alert! Alert! Systems on full!

  She was a hard-charging woman, not used to being pampered in any way. Not needing to be cosseted. Independent.

  Why was she enjoying this so much?

  Why was her body sending her signals through the dim haze of the medication?

  Every time he came close to her she had to cope with signals from her attention-starved nether regions. Whenever he touched her, she felt herself open and knew her panty liner was getting soaked. If she weren’t slightly tipsy on the pain shot they had given her before stitching her up, she would stagger to the bathroom and change her shorts.

  It wasn’t worth the effort.

  She set the coffee down since her s
ystem would complain if she did not stop drinking it. She pulled a blanket up to her chin, killed the volume of a TV show no longer holding her interest, and closed her eyes. Images of a hunky, dark-haired, sexy cop flitted behind her eyelids. He was sometimes dressed, sometimes not. Ah. Or maybe residual shock. Because you haven’t seen him naked. Not yet.

  Lord knew she wanted to.

  Wanted him snuggled up under this blanket.

  Wanted him—

  Chapter Five

  “Wakey, wakey, Sleeping Beauty.”

  “Mmmmpf.” Annie struggled to wake up. The muscles in her arm and the stiches pulled and throbbed. It was past time for her meds. She managed to sit upright, shook her flying hair out of her face, stretched out her good arm and both legs.

  She glanced up, blinked a few times and pronounced very clearly, “Sergeant Troy?”

  “Wow. You can tell us apart?” He was genuinely surprised.

  “Evidently. What are you doing in my house?” She had a vague memory of him at the crime scene, formerly known as her writer’s meeting. And why in hell was his presence in her home setting of her alarm bells? Sex-alert alarm bells.

  “He brought me,” said troublemaker number two. She had already decided that Ivan was pure trouble.

  “Oh.” And there Ivan was. Troublemaker number one moved past Troy. She decided her body must have sensed him. No way was she reacting to two different men. No way.

  “Identical twins?” she croaked. Ninety-nine percent identical though they might be, that just seemed a little—off.

  “I put your truck in that tight slot you made for it in the garage. You need to make a little more room. Maybe toss some boxes away. They want room for two cars...”

  “They are moving boxes, and I am moving in twelve months.” Which made the mess perfectly logical, to her anyway.

  “I see.”

  “I think.” He had looked a little taken aback by her first comment so she felt the need to explain. “House too big for me. I inherited, and the market went to hell. Maybe next year it will have recovered.” She glanced back and forth. They really were identical twins, but something told her which was which. Troy was still watching her.