by Kim Knight
He was six-foot-two, athletically built, and on an average day, he’d proudly don a shirt and tie. This evening, he wore a Nike cap with his hood over the top, masking his face, with baggy dark denim, and a pair of timberland boots.
He adjusted his earpiece, then his caramel eyes met with hers through the sea of people.
If she were into men, she’d melt in a heartbeat.
Gibson was gorgeous, in a handsome but rugged way. Not the ‘clean cut’ detective you’d expect. He wore battle scars from his younger days. Born and bred in Jamaica, his parents immigrated to Amsterdam when he was fifteen. They had come over when his father was posted here for his work. Gibson nodded and winked at her. She lifted her chin again to acknowledge his greeting.
“All right, I see him. He’s coming your way,” Gibson said to the team. “Everyone on standby, please.”
Janssen took one final pull on her smoke, then moved her eyes over the crowd to find their suspect. He was tall, tanned skin, and had curly hair with a full beard. He was dressed casually in dark denim and a heavy winter coat.
“Okay, I’m going in,” she said again, then stubbed out her smoke on the ground.
“Roger that,” her partner said.
She left the lamp post, then headed over to the bar. Swinging open the door, she stepped over the threshold, paused a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light, and then looked around.
The tables were busy with drinkers.
Waitresses moved swiftly back and forth, balancing trays.
In the background, soft dance music played, and girls twirled around on their poles.
She spotted a few of her team undercover dotted around the room, blending in. They sipped their drinks, spoke to locals, all while keeping one eye on the entrance of the bar.
One by one, they all made eye contact with her. She nodded discreetly to each of them.
“All right, I’m inside, Gibson,” she said.
“Cool, I’m right behind you.”
“What do you have on him.” She headed over to the bar.
“He picked up a load on the other side of the city, drove over here, parked up, and now, it looks like he’s ready to do business for the night.”
Janssen frowned, leaned on the bar, then tapped her ear. “And his suppliers, what about them?”
“Don’t worry, sweet-pea, Uncle Gibson’s on it,” he teased in response. “There’s a team of men swooping in on them as we speak.”
Janssen raised an eyebrow and looked around the room at her team. They had all heard the conversation. Discreetly, they exchanged smiles.
The door swung open, and Janssen turned toward it.
Gibson’s large frame invaded the threshold.
She noticed him lower his hood and glance around as if he were looking for someone.
He made his way over to a table of plain-clothed officers, high-fived them, and then took a seat.
To the outside eye, it looked as though he’d just met up with friends.
“What can I get you.” She heard a voice behind her.
Janssen spun around and widened her eyes at the barmaid.
Stay focused, she reprimanded herself.
One thing she hated was the distraction of pretty girls on a job.
A smile graced her lips. Her eyes settled on the crack of her cleavage, then made their way down her body.
“I’ll take a Heineken,” she said and licked her lips.
The barmaid was none the wiser to the lust in Janssen’s eye.
She scooped up the empty beer bottles on the bar. “Coming right up.”
The barmaid turned toward the fridge and bent over, and Janssen’s gaze didn’t move from her behind. Her gaze lingered, watching her reach down for the bottle of beer.
“Eyes on the prize, Janssen. Leave that ass alone. He’s just walked in,” Gibson’s voice announced in her ear.
“Shut up. I’m focused.”
Stemming a smile, she slowly turned around and lock eyes with Gibson from across the room. He was focused on Ali, their suspect by the entrance.
Ali nodded to a few of the patrons, then took a seat in a booth over by the men’s toilets.
It wasn’t long before Janssen saw a few drinkers huddled around his table. They made small talk, from what she assumed, probably over a deal.
Ali and his men rose from the table and headed to the men’s room.
“I’m moving in,” Gibson said. “I wanna see if he’ll supply me with anything.”
“Right behind you,” Janssen confirmed.
Once Gibson made his way to the men’s room, Janssen casually spun around on her bar stool. She looked around through the crowd for her men.
The officers had spread themselves strategically around the room.
She glanced behind her, Gibson had moved over toward Ali and tapped him on the shoulder.
Janssen noticed Gibson glance over his shoulder and look around the room, he nodded to an officer discreetly, to signal him to follow his lead.
Turning around to face the bar, Janssen waited for the word in her ear that it was time to make an arrest.
She listened to the men’s conversation: Gibson cutting a deal with Ali over some cocaine and pills.
As Ali fell for the bait and started to discuss prices, she smiled to herself, then turned around to eye-fuck the brunette with the amazing tits as she brought her drink over.
“Here you go, that’s two euros fifty, please.” The barmaid placed a bottle of beer on the mat in front of her.
Janssen pulled out her wallet and handed her a note.
“Thank you, beautiful.” Janssen kicked herself for flirting. “Keep the change.” She winked at her.
The barmaid took the note and threw back her head with a laughter, and then she moved on to serve the next customer.
While she listened to the deal taking place in the men’s room, Janssen watched the woman hard at work. She chewed on the inside of her lip every time the barmaid bent down in front of the fridge to retrieve a beer.
“So how much?” Gibson’s voice boomed into her ear, causing her to stop assaulting the barmaid’s curves with her glare. She straightened her back and listened in closely to Gibson.
“For the pills and the coke?” She heard him say.
“Call it sixty euros, and we’re cool,” Ali said.
“Show me the goods, man. What’s up? You can trust me,” Gibson said.
“Hold up. Here’s a sample.” Janssen imagined Ali pulling out a bag of cocaine and pills. “The purest powder you’ll find this side of the city,” Ali boasted into her ear.
“Sixty euros,” said Gibson. “Is that all?”
Janssen’s expression became serious, and she listened with interest.
“That’s a small price to pay for a prison sentence,” said Gibson. “Or deportation, huh, Ali.”
“Ahh, fuck. You fuckin’ feds, man.”
Janssen looked around the bar and nodded to her team, giving them the go ahead.
They all made their way over to the men’s toilet.
Janssen threw open the door in time to see Gibson pin Ali up against the grimy wall of the men’s bathroom, holding the suspect with one hand behind his back.
“You’re under arrest,” Gibson’s deep voice bounced off the ceramic tiles and around the room.
Two men left the cubicles and tried to exit.
Janssen blocked their way. She grinned, then held up her politie badge.
“Not so fast,” she said. “Over here, please.” She pointed to her left, and one of her plain-clothed officers took them to one side.
“Fuck you, man. I need to make some money,” Ali whined.
Janssen turned back to face her partner and the subdued target.
Gibson had him under his firm grip.
“Not like this you don’t,” Janssen said. “People are dead because of you—ya piece-a shit.” She stepped over the threshold of the bathroom.
Ali spat at her in response. “Bit
ch.”
“Aye,” Gibson shouted protectively and gripped him by the neck. “That’s no way to talk to a lady.”
“Get off me, pig,” Ali protested, then spit again.
Janssen dodged his phlegm and rolled her eyes. “Thanks, I’ve been called worse,” she said, then proceeded to read him his rights while Gibson cuffed him.
“What’s going on?” A faint male voice called into the bathroom.
Janssen glanced over her shoulder, and she locked eyes with one of the barman.
“We’ve made an arrest. Sorry for the disruption.” She nodded at one of her team to help the barman. “Someone handle this please.”
One of her officers move the barman to onside, then pull out his notepad.
She moved her focus back to Gibson, who now had Ali cuffed and ready to go.
Gibson led him out of the men’s toilets, through the club, and then to the car that waited for him outside.
Moving deeper into the bathroom, a strong uremic aroma assaulted her, and she held her nose. She stepped over the piss puddles on the floor, and cleared each cubical, checking for partygoers, then left the room.
The main bar area was full of uniformed police.
Patrons sat around with stunned looks on their faces. The men that had been in negotiations with Ali, were now in cuffs too. Janssen was satisfied.
Her phone rang. She fished it out from her inside pocket, then headed outside the bar so she could hear.
“Janssen,” she said into the device, then pulled off the wig and shoved it into her coat pocket.
“Detective,” Sergeant Van Baas’ voice boomed in her ear. “We need you over by Amsterdamse Bose, now.”
“What’s up?”
“It’s a girl,” the Sergeant said. “We’ve got another one.”
“Where?”
“Her body was found in the woodland area.” A bit of static crossed the line.
Janssen took a deep sigh and moved her eyes over the crime scene in front of her.
The cuffed men were being led out to the cars.
Gibson was stood by a vehicle with Ali in the back. The road along the canal had become busy, locals and tourists stood around to watch the politie in action outside the bar.
“Fuck me,” Janssen said after a beat. “I’m over on the other side of the city. I’ll be there soon.” Janssen cut the call, then jogged to Gibson.
“I’ve gotta go,” she said. “A body’s been found over by the Bose.”
Gibson peeked at her from underneath his hoodie. “Another girl, or someone else?”
Janssen looked at her partner. Jaw twitching, he ground his teeth together, and his eyebrows met in the middle. She recognised this quirk as the telltale sign that he was about to lose his shit. She’d worked with him for five years and knew him all too well.
“It’s a girl,” she said, then looked away. Her eyes roamed over the patrol cars and flashing lights.
“What the fuck I can’t—shit! All right, cool.” Gibson ran a hand over his beard, then folded his arms across his chest.
Janssen watched him closely. His gaze roamed over the scene in front of them. His mind was ticking, and she knew it.
After a beat he spoke, “I’ve got everything under control here. I’ll meet you over there once I’ve got these guys back at the station.”
Janssen nodded in agreement, then set off to her car.
She fished out her keys, opened the door, then got behind the wheel. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed her wig on the backseat, then glanced at her watch.
Fuck. It’s only eight-thirty at night.
She started the engine, then made her way over to Amsterdamse Bose.
About the Author
Kim Knight was born in 1983 and from London in the UK. She’s a mother to a beautiful little boy, an award-winning romantic suspense and thriller author, and the #1 Amazon Best-Selling Author of 365 Days of Writing Prompts for Romance Writers. Kim started her journey as a traditionally published author and later dived into self-publishing also. Kim’s an Associate Editor at Tallon Lake Romance Literary Magazine, and a contribution writer at Aspiring Authors LLC Magazine.
As a reader she’s head over heels in love with romance, historical fiction, crime fiction, African- American, suspense and thriller genre books. As a writer, Kim enjoys creating steamy stories with a diverse and multi-cultural line up, within the romance, romantic suspense and general thriller and crime genres. Her other passions include learning about astrology, numerology, esoteric subjects, all things ‘witchy and strange’ and spirituality. When she’s not reading, or writing stories of her own fashion, makeup artistry, spending time at her sewing machine dressmaking, watching make–up and beauty tutorials on YouTube, and being a mum are things she’s probably doing.
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