Between the Bars Pt. 01

"I know you get it all nice and slick... do you like to suck it? I wonder if you push it in hard, or slow and easy. Do you like to be fucked hard? Mmm, I like the idea of your legs in the air and this in your ass. What do you think about when you're fucking it, Rylan?"

He knew I wasn't going to answer; but despite my dismay, I felt a little tingle at the base of my cock. It was just too soon for either one of us to be up for another round and he knew it. He sat back up and dropped the dildo in the drawer with a sigh of regret.

"Too bad I'm not staying in town a little longer. I'd love to watch that."

"Maybe you'll come to Atlanta another time," I said shyly.

He shrugged and stretched out next to me, resting his heavy head on my shoulder. "Maybe," he mumbled. "Now... it's too early. Go back to sleep."

We both slept, still covered in juices. I woke before him and slid out of bed without disturbing his slow, even breath. I felt fantastic as I showered, even if my thighs were hitching a bit from the strain of all that fucking. It was an amazing feeling. I was grinning like a sap when I walked back into the bedroom naked and found him awake, blinking at me.

"Hey."

"Morning, again." He scrubbed his face with his hands. "I need to get moving. Mind if I take a shower?"

"Not at all. Towels are in the closet behind the door."

As he staggered off to the bathroom, I pulled on some jeans, grinning when I heard a groan over the running water. Least I could do was make him some breakfast after fucking him into oblivion. I went downstairs, still sleepy, still not caffeinated; and as I crossed the semi-dark living room to the kitchen, I tripped on something.

It was Daniel's leather bag. I bent to pick it up so I could move it out of the walkway; when I did, it tipped sideways and something heavy fell out and hit the floor. My first thought was it barely missed my toe. Then, I reached for it and saw what it was, and I stopped dead.

A handgun.

Wrapping my hand around it, I turned it over so I could inspect it in the dim light. It was a SIG-Sauer P229 forty-caliber semi-automatic. This gun had an automatic safety, not a conventional one, so if it had a round in the chamber, it would be ready to fire with a double-action trigger pull. I tried not to panic. This stranger had brought a gun into my house. Immediately, I started thinking all kinds of terrible things - that he was going to rob or murder me - but my rational mind got a hold of itself and reminded me he'd had plenty of time to do it already, if that were what he intended. Also, it was a very popular weapon for police officers, so it wasn't out of the question that he was in some sort of law enforcement. No doubt he was carrying it for protection while he was traveling and it was perfectly legal to do so, as long as he were properly licensed; and he seemed perfectly harmless and law abiding. No big deal, I decided. I wouldn't even mention it; he was leaving soon anyway, and I'd never have to see him again. I just picked up the gun, put it back in the bag and set the bag on the couch, and then I went into the kitchen and started the coffeepot.

My morning routine involved watching the local news on the TV in the corner of the kitchen while fixing breakfast. It was more the drone of the morning anchors I listened to than any interest in what they were saying. I fried some bacon and made a quick cheese omelet, only paying attention to the news with half an ear while I replayed some of the more erotic moments from last night in my head.

"...And out of Florida, Tallahassee police are searching for Detective Daniel Braden. Detective Braden disappeared Wednesday after allegedly being involved in the shooting death of a fellow officer. Details are not being released, but he is wanted for questioning and anyone who might've seen Detective Braden is urged to call Crimestoppers at..."

My heart in my throat, I ran for the TV as they showed a picture of the police officer on the screen. Yes, it was him. The picture was older but there was no mistaking it. The man on the TV wanted for questioning in a homicide in Tallahassee was in my fucking shower. That was why he had a gun. Holy shit. He was a cop and he was a suspected murderer.

Wildly, I spun around to grab the phone, but when I turned, Daniel was in the doorway in his jeans and t-shirt, hair wet, staring at me. I froze in my tracks, heart pounding and knees shaking.

"I didn't do what they're saying," Daniel told me urgently. He took a step toward me and I edged backward. The phone was about halfway between us, lying on the counter, and if I could somehow stop him for a second I could grab it and dial 911...

He saw my eyes darting to the phone and took another step toward me, keeping his voice calm and beseeching, his hands lifted unconsciously to show his good intentions.

"Rylan, please. Listen to me. I didn't kill anyone. The crime scene was tampered with and the evidence is all fake."

"So you were framed. Isn't everyone?"

"I really was framed, Ry. Listen. Just calm down and I'll tell you the whole story. Will you at least listen?"

I was scared as hell, but unless he had the gun down the back on his jeans, I wasn't in any immediate danger the way I saw it. Crossing my arms, I lifted my eyebrow expectantly and stared at him, waiting, while a voice in the back of my mind screamed at me that I was a flaming idiot for even giving him a minute to explain himself before I called the cops.

"I'm a detective with Internal Affairs," Daniel began with a deep breath. "Know what that is?"

"Investigating the police from within," I shrugged. I sounded ice-cold when in reality I was shaking like a leaf.

"Right." He nodded; relieved I was with him so far. "I was undercover as a vice detective, working on drugs and prostitution and illegal weapons; but I was investigating a ring of dirty vice cops. These jack-offs are running an illegal gun-smuggling ring between Tallahassee and Chicago, with contacts in the Birmingham and St. Louis PD's. This week, I was finally able to nail down the proof I needed on my wire."

"But my cover got blown. I'm not sure how, but I have my suspicions and proving them will be my next step, once this is over. When they found out I was an IAD investigator, they could've killed me but that would've been too easy. Instead, the leader of the Tallahassee ring, Sgt. Adkins, shot another officer who was deeply into this, using my weapon, and tampered with evidence to make it look like I fired the gun. He wanted to discredit me and send me to prison, to send a message to IAD that he was untouchable."

"But why didn't you go to the police commissioner or something?"

"Because." He sighed heavily. "This thing goes very high, maybe even up to the top of the force. Internal Affairs couldn't even protect me. That's how high it goes. Now, every undercover cop has a contingency plan in place, just in case things go sour; it's an escape hatch nobody knows about so nothing can be used to trace you. I used mine. I went to my safe house instead of going home where I knew they were waiting. I shredded my credit cards and disabled my electronic equipment, anything that could be used to track me electronically. Adkins smashed the camera equipment I was wearing the night I cracked the case, but it was set up on a digital feed to the Tallahassee PD internal network so it's safe in there for now. I'm not stupid enough to keep the originals of my evidence anywhere near me; if I got killed it'd all be lost. I only had copies and I destroyed those before I left. The originals are with another IAD detective up in Chicago who's working this case from the other end. That's why I was headed up there. I need to get to him so we can bring these assholes down. I have a contact in Atlanta, so I took the soonest bus up here, and he got me a flight out of here today. I was just going to get something to eat and then crash at a hotel for the night when I ran into you."

He smiled and shook his head ruefully. "Leave it to me to let my dick get me in trouble. I never should've gone out to meet you, but I didn't think it would do any harm. I didn't think the story would be out this fast and I damn sure never thought my face would be plastered on the morning news." He glanced over my shoulder at the TV in disgust. "So now I'm a fugitive. I can't show my face at an airport, let alone ID."

"And how do I know you're telling the truth?" I demanded, with a bravado I wasn't entirely feeling.

"I dunno. You don't, I guess." He slumped, sighing. "Let me show you my badge and ID, at least." He reached back and I jumped, giving an involuntary gasp at the sudden move; and he dropped his hands and stepped toward me. "Please don't be scared, Ry... the last thing I want to do is hurt you. Here. Take my ID out of my back pocket yourself if you need to."

I nodded, mentally telling myself to get a grip; and he turned around and held his arms out while I drew his wallet out of his back pocket. There was no gun there and I was not looking at his ass and how delicious it was in his jeans. Not at a time like this.

Identification, gold detective's shield with a badge number. That was it.

"There's nothing here that says you work for Internal Affairs," I protested. I felt disjointed because I realized now I wanted to believe him. I didn't want him to be a murderer, or even a crooked cop trying to lie his way out of it. I wanted him to be one of the good guys because he looked and acted like one, and he fucked like a dream. But without proof, how could I be sure?

"No, because I'm undercover," he explained patiently. "Even though my cover's blown, we don't carry around anything to link us to IAD. In a case like this, it could be my death warrant. I can't ask you to go on faith, but... that's all I have right now."

"Fine." I handed him his wallet back and stepped back a few paces until my back was against the center island. "Your story sounds plausible and there's no way for me to discredit it, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. If you just leave now, I won't call the police."

He sighed and he looked so dejected, gazing down at the floor before he looked up at me with his brilliant blue eyes again.

"I wish I could do that, Ry. I really do. But it's gone beyond that now. I can't walk away from here, because I can't go through airport security to catch my flight to Chicago. The airlines would've been notified by now and I'll be arrested. I have to clear myself, because I have to bring these guys down. It's my job and I'm in too deep to walk away from it now. You don't know how many people have died because of these dirty cops, all over the country." Another sigh, heavy and resigned. "I wish I could leave you out of this, but the fact is, I can't. I need your help because you're the only help I've got right now. You're going to have to drive me to meet my contact in Birmingham."

****

hor's note: Thanks to Black Shanglan, Lady Christabel and all others who have given me feedback and encouragement on this novel.