I.N.E.T 1

by Brenda Cothern

  “Detective Knight,” Slade greeted evenly and took in Knight’s size. The man was the same height and build as he, which was saying something since Slade topped out at 6’4”.

  “Get the fuck off my truck,” Knight growled and clenched his fist not giving a shit if he further ruined the forms in his hand.

  Knight was close enough to stand toe to toe with the man. It wasn’t often another man could meet him in the eye when he got up in their face. A chiseled jaw clenched in either anger or a bid for patience. Whichever it was, Knight didn’t care. If the guy was angry, he was nowhere near as pissed as Knight and if he lacked patience, that wasn’t Knight’s problem. A fight was what he needed and if this jerk-off didn’t get the hell out of his way, it would give him the perfect excuse to vent his aggression.

  Those weren’t the first words Slade expected, even though the tone was dead on. Slade used his shoulders to push off the truck and stood his ground beside the driver’s door. He wanted to make sure he wasn’t at a disadvantage if Knight did something stupid, like throw a punch.

  “I’m off your truck, Knight,” Slade pointed out and braced himself for a physical confrontation. Knight’s body language indicated he was holding onto his temper by a shoe string. “Look…” Slade stared again, but was interrupted by Knight.

  “No. You look, asshole,” Knight poked the guy in his chest. His finger hit the metal of a badge and he glared down. ‘Agent’ was clear in dark blue letters above the badge number. Knight didn’t bother to look at the rest. The man’s rank didn’t cool his anger, either.

  “Agent whoever-the-fuck-you-are. I don’t know what the hell you want and I don’t give a flying fuck,” Knight snarled. “Get the hell out of my way before I move you myself.”

  Slade was tempted to dare the cop to try, but held his tongue. He was also tempted to show the cop what normally happened when some asshat poked him in the chest. However, getting into a punch-up in the middle of the precinct parking lot would only make matters worse, even if he did think it would benefit Knight.

  “Slade,” Slade introduced himself. Knight cut him off again before he could finish telling the cop why he was there.

  “I don’t care. Now fucking move,” Knight pushed the agent’s shoulder to move him out of the way. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recognized the guy was as solidly built as he was, but that still did nothing to deter him from getting the fucktard out of his way.

  Slade allowed himself to be moved, but not before he grasped Knight’s wrist. The cop’s other hand still held his duffle bag over his shoulder and Slade waited for the man to drop it and throw a punch.

  “I need five minutes of your time,” Slade glared back at Knight as he tried to keep his own temper in check.

  “Let. Go. Agent. You are about three seconds from getting hurt.”

  Knight’s eyes blazed with vehemence, but Slade couldn’t resist the smirk that spread his lips. He couldn’t stop the look that said ‘I dare you to try’ either. Still, he released his soon to be new partner’s wrist and stepped aside.

  Knight didn’t spare the detective, whose dark blue eyes dared him to follow through with his threat, another look. He yanked open his truck door, tossed his duffle onto the passenger seat along with the crumpled papers, and climbed into his truck. He slammed his door shut at the same time he started the truck. Knight threw his baby in gear and tore out of the parking lot.

  Slade walked back to his motorcycle and tried to cool his temper. Knight wasn’t pissed at him, but that didn’t excuse the cop’s behavior. However, knowing that didn’t lessen Slade’s ire at being the target of the cop’s aggression.

  He wasn’t concerned that Knight had taken off like a bat out of hell. Slade had slipped a tracker under the front wheel of the cop’s big-assed Silverado. He’d follow the guy, give him an hour or so to calm down, then talk to him.

  As much as Slade wasn’t keen on having a partner, he had a feeling that Knight would be a good fit. Slade understood why Knight was livid. He was pissed at that asshole Daniels too, but he hoped Knight’s fury was because of the harassment and not part of the guy’s regular personality. The undercover work at INET required a cool head or they would end up dead.

  A glance at the tracking app on his phone, after he cranked up his bike, showed the red light that was Knight moving through Tampa. Based on the location and direction the dot was heading, Slade had a good idea which bar Knight was heading to in order to have a drink and calm down if he wasn’t going home. He turned out of the parking lot and made his way toward The Body Shop in north Tampa.

  Three

  Knight turned up his radio so loud that even with the windows up, he was sure the other cars at the red lights could hear the AC/DC blaring from his stereo. He didn’t give a shit. He paid good money for the kickass sound system and at least he wasn’t jamming to some punk rapper’s crap.

  It didn’t take him long to get to Sparta with the way he was angrily driving. He needed to hit something and as tempting as it was to throw down with the agent who was standing by his truck, he didn’t need to be on the other side of an Internal Affairs investigation. Especially, if he wanted to see Daniels’ ass nailed to the cross. And he fully intended to see his lieutenant’s job security threatened.

  Just thinking of the agent… Slade, he said his name was…brought the image of the man to mind. Aside from the guy’s height matching his, the eyes that were a darker shade than his pale blue, and the five o’clock shadowed jaw that flexed like the cop was grinding his teeth, Knight did not notice much else. It didn’t matter what he did notice, even if he found those tidbits sexy, because the agent was more than likely straight. Knight wouldn’t be seeing him again, either, if he had any say in the matter.

  Whatever he’s selling, I’m not buying.

  Pushing thoughts about the sexy agent from his mind, Knight grabbed his gym bag from the compartment in the bed of his truck. His anger had dampened, but it was still strong enough that he was not fit to be civil to anyone.

  Fifteen minutes later, Knight was changed into his workout clothes, his fists were taped, and he was wailing out his aggression on a heavy punching bag.

  Slade pulled into The Body Shop and circled the small parking lot. There was no sign of Knight’s Silverado, so he checked his tracking app again. He was practically sitting on top of the red dot.

  Slade had never been in this particular bar even though he knew it was here. He made a habit of knowing where all the bars were in the cities he might find himself working. The building was small and had the front end of a Cadillac sticking out of the front wall of the building and the rear end of the car out another. It looked like the car drove through the side of the building. The sign was of a guy lifting tires. If it weren’t for the rainbow flag at the door, Slade would never have known the place was a gay bar. He was sure most people assumed it was a car detailers, auto repair shop, or a gym.

  From what he had read of Knight’s file, the cop didn’t live far from here, which was why he assumed it was the cop’s regular hang out. That’s what I get for assuming. Slade smirked at his thought and coasted to a stop. He looked up and down Nebraska Avenue and a grin spread his lips when he noticed Sparta right next door to the bar.

  Two minutes later, Slade was walking into the ‘extreme workout’ gym. The building appeared to be an old warehouse and a quick scan of the open floorplan revealed Knight attacking a heavy bag as if the thing had insulted his mother. Slade admired his soon to be new partner’s form. It was good even if the guy’s anger was making his hits sloppy.

  The dark grey tank top Knight wore displayed every flex of his tattooed muscles when Knight jabbed, kicked, and punched the bag. Starting at each shoulder was scenery. From a distance, they appeared the same, but the closer Slade stepped, the more he could see they were not. Both arms had mountains, but on one arm, a sun rose over the peaks and on the other, the moon.

  The boxing shorts the cop wore did nothing to hide his strong thighs and
tattooed calves as he kneed and kicked the bag. From Slade’s current angle and Knight’s rapid movements, he couldn’t see more than the blur of ink on the back of Knight’s calves.

  Sweat already covered Knight’s body and soaked into his tank, making it appear two-toned, but his chest didn’t heave from the exertion. No one was stabilizing the bag so it remained a moving target that Knight abused time and time again. It was clear this was common exercise for the cop.

  Damn he’s fit. Sexy as fuck, too.

  Slade shook off the thought and made his way over to Knight. The guy was so in the zone that he didn’t notice, at first, when Slade grabbed the swinging bag and braced it against his shoulder to give Knight a still target for his hostility. Several more punches and jabs landed, causing Slade to grunt from the impact, before Knight halted his attack and stepped back.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Knight growled. “I told you, whatever the fuck you want, I’m not interested.” Knight gave no thought as to how the agent found him.

  “I just need a few minutes of your time,” Slade said, rapidly losing his patience with the man.

  Slade took a step to the side of the bag and tried for diplomacy. His lieutenant would be so proud. Shocked, but proud. Slade wasn’t sure how Knight was going to react to being recruited to INET since the cop had never applied to join the agency. Most street cops were overjoyed to be selected for the elite narcotics unit, but after witnessing the shit Knight had been through earlier in the day, he wasn’t sure what to expect when he broke the news.

  Knight wasn’t in the mood to give anyone ‘a few minutes’ of his time. In fact, at the moment, he just wanted to be left the hell alone. Six years he had worked drug vice for his precinct and put up with Daniels being a douchbag toward him and just because someone figured out he was gay, not that it was anyone’s fucking business but his, everything he worked for had gone to hell in a handbasket.

  “You want a few minutes?” Knight glowered and clenched his taped fists. “You can have them in the ring.”

  Slade acknowledged the challenge in Knight’s glare. He had no problem going a few rounds with the man in the ring because he knew he could take him down. Not only would it release some of his building aggravation with the cop, but putting the guy against the ropes a few times would tell Slade more about his soon-to-be new partner than spending days getting to know him.

  “Alright,” Slade agreed. He didn’t have any workout clothes on him, but Walmart was right up the street. “I need workout clothes, so don’t cool down.” Slade didn’t wait for Knight to reply before he turned and left the gym to go buy what he needed.

  Knight watched the agent walk out the door. It wasn’t until he no longer saw the man that he realized his gaze had been glued to the guy’s faded, jean covered ass. Great. Just fucking great. Knight shook his head. As if I don’t have enough fucking bullshit on my plate over being gay. The last thing I need is to be checking out some straight agent’s ass.

  This time when he attacked the bag, it was anger at himself for noticing the agent. When the bag stilled mid-swing, Knight glanced past the beat-up red leather. His eyes met the stunning deep blue of Agent Slade’s, but it was the man’s smirk, which he found sexy as hell that sparked the anger at himself again.

  “You said something about the ring,” Slade commented while he watched Knight. The cop’s fury didn’t seem as volatile as it had been at the station, but anger still shone brightly in his pale blue eyes.

  Knight grunted and walked around the bag toward the ring. He resisted the urge to look back over his shoulder at the agent he knew followed; the agent who was currently wearing a red tank top and gym shorts like his own. The agent that had tattoos on his biceps that Knight wanted to examine more closely. Ink was one of his weaknesses, but he doubted the agent would appreciate him getting hard from his tats.

  “Win or lose, you give me five minutes without losing your shit.” Slade was actually looking forward to sparring with Knight. Even though the cop had the advantage of being already warmed up, Slade had the advantage of being INET trained. Most of his sparring partners were smaller than him and right handed. It would be good to go head to head with someone his own size and build for a change. It wouldn’t hurt to refresh his skills against a lefty, either.

  “You’ll get your five while you’re looking up at me from the mat,” Knight told the asshole confidently. He didn’t wait for the man to get into a fighting stance. His anger and frustration made him impatient to wipe the smirk off the guy’s face.

  Four

  Slade wasn’t prepared when Knight’s leg sweep tried to plant him on his ass. He barely avoided the attack, but still managed to counter with a jab to Knight’s ribs before the cop’s foot barely settled on the mat.

  “That’s how you want to play it then?” Slade chuckled at Knight’s dirty fighting tactic, which he respected, and dodged a left hook that was aimed at his jaw.

  Knight didn’t bother answering. Talking wasn’t fighting and wasted too much energy. The agent dodged his hook, but not the rib shot he got in with his right. He paid for that shot when a firm grip latched onto his neck and a knee came up to slam into his stomach. He tightened his abs to lessen the brunt of the hit. Tightened abs or not, that fucking knee hurt.

  Slade grinned at Knight’s grunt, but didn’t let his guard down when he bounced away. He blocked several more blows made up of fists, feet, and knees, to his head and ribs. Knight did the same.

  Both men were sweating profusely and a small crowd that neither man noticed had gathered to watch. It appeared they were evenly matched and there wouldn’t be a winner until one of them dropped from exhaustion. However, appearance wasn’t everything and Slade was sure Knight would tire first since he had already worked out so aggressively on the heavy punching bag.

  Slade was right. Knight was tiring. He could tell because the cop’s guard wasn’t as attentive as it had been when they started. Still, Knight took a swing and clipped him on the jaw, but Slade had pulled back far enough that he felt more of a breeze on his face than a fist. It was just a graze, but Slade knew the shot connected enough that he’d have a bruise before the day was out. The shot left Knight open and Slade didn't hesitate to pop the guy close to his eye.

  Pain blossomed just above Knight’s left eye and he cursed at his lack of guarding his face. However, the pain he felt refocused him and he launched a vicious attack of fists, elbows, and knees. He was only aware of another shot that connected with the side of the agent’s head before the man counterattacked.

  Slade wrapped his arms around Knight and swept his leg around the cop’s to cause them both to fall to the mat. Hard. Slade landed on top of Knight and wasn’t even aware of his erection until the cop groaned. He was sure the noise had more to do with the fall than his hard cock pressing into Knight’s hip. Still, Slade didn’t move while they both panted for breath. In fact, he froze when he felt Knight’s hard-on pressing against his side.

  Knight sucked in air. Each intake of air caused the agent’s masculine smell to flood his senses. Slade’s forehead was pressed to the mat next to his head, causing Knight’s face to be trapped between the man’s arm and his sweaty neck. Knight’s body reacted to the scent, the pressure of the other man’s weight, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about his hardening cock. He felt the agent stiffen and knew his day was about to go from shitty to whatever beyond shitty was called.

  “Fuck,” Slade exhaled on a pant and tried to order his dick to go down.

  Knight felt Slade’s hot breath against his neck when the man cursed and he jolted when he felt the hardness that pressed into his hip. Another groan escaped unbidden from his throat and he resisted the urge to push up into the man.

  Slade gritted his teeth. If Knight made one more sound, the man would break his resolve not to flip him over and fuck the ever living shit out of him. Regardless if they were in the middle of the gym or not.

  “Stop making that fucking noise.” Slade
breathed the words against Knight’s neck with a growl and just barely stopped himself from licking the trickling sweat that was only millimeters from his mouth. He clenched his jaw tight because the temptation was so great.

  “Then stop breathing on my neck,” Knight managed to reply. He knew his voice was lust graveled, but he had no control over how he sounded. When the agent chuckled and caused his body to shake against Knight, Knight groaned again and huffed out, “Damn it.”

  Knight couldn’t help but laugh at his current situation. However, his laughter caught in his throat when Slade raised his head. Their eyes met and Knight swore he felt the man’s cock twitch at the same time his jumped in his thin boxing shorts.

  Slade regulated his breathing and forced himself to look away. His gaze settled on Knight’s lips which were plump and the impulse to lick the sweat beaded above the cop’s upper lip was too much to resist. Slade lowered his head and caught himself at the last second. When his eyes met Knight’s again, he swore he saw disappointment.

  “We need to talk, Knight.” Slade forced himself to say. “About work.”

  Any irrational lust Knight felt toward the hard bodied agent that was pressing him into the mat disappeared at the mention of work. His anger spiked again, but wasn’t nearly as all-consuming as it had been before he worked out some of his aggression.

  Slade knew mentioning work would kill the fire he saw in Knight’s eyes. A fire that he felt as well and knew they shouldn’t do anything about until after they talked. Still, he regretted seeing Knight’s anger return.

  “Get the fuck off me,” Knight hissed out and began to push the agent’s shoulders so he could stand.

  Slade bit his tongue on the sarcastic reply that came to mind. He allowed himself to be rolled off Knight since he was no longer in danger of his dick embarrassing him. Slade watched Knight stand and leave the ring while he stood.