Betrayal

Another story about Max. I can feel her in my veins now and trying to channel her. I hope you like this story as much as I do.

Please vote... comment... it's catnip for me.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older. This includes the fictional "Bearcat Club" in downtown Cincinnati (Go Bearcats!).

Prologue

I'm Maxine "Max" Pemberton. I was a member of the Cincinnati police force for thirty-five years. I'm retired now, and running a café that was owned by my good friend, Nicky, who passed away almost ten years ago and left it to me. When I joined the force, I was a brash, impressionable young woman with a chip on my shoulder and a serious drinking problem.

I was married to a man I met in college, but the hard living and the long hours took its toll, and after many years of ups and downs we called it quits. It wasn't Ron's fault. It wasn't mine. He knew I was going to be a cop. His dad was one. He knew what he was signing up for. What we didn't figure was the I was attracted to women and not to men. I didn't know it for sure during our marriage, but I knew it for sure the first time I went to bed with a woman. My sex life with Ron was practically non-existent at the end, and the intimacy I achieved with my first female lover told me that I would have never found that had I stayed with him.

Back when I started, the force was only about ten percent women, and few at the upper echelons. I had to be scrappy to make it in a testosterone fueled work environment. And make it I did, but not without my share of ups and downs.

I found love (and lost it as well) with a battered wife [Cold Steel], tried my luck again with a police Lieutenant [Hot Steel], and crushed a drug ring [Pink Ice]. I want to tell you about the time that I hit bottom, and managed to pull myself together under a number of unusual circumstances. Here it goes...

Chapter One

A Highly Placed Source

My fucking eyes were glued shut. I tried to open them with my fingers and painfully ripped out a few eyelashes. My mouth was parched and felt like I-75 after half of Cincinnati had driven over it. I was wickedly hung over.

"Alexa, what the fuck is the time?" I growled, trying to sit up in bed, my temples pounding.

The blue ring went around in a circle. "Go fuck yourself Max."

Even Alexa was all the way up my ass.

I pushed two empty vodka bottles off the nightstand and looked at the digital display on the motel's cheap plastic alarm clock. "8:15 a.m."

"Fuck!" I shouted. I was already late for the morning briefing. I was afraid of looking in the mirror.

I staggered to the bathroom and got a washcloth and wetted it, wiping it across my eyes so I could open them. I was staring at the mirror. Horror movie quality. Bloodshot eyes, hair pointing in a thousand directions, lines radiating from the corners of my eyes. The look you get when you need a fifth of vodka just so you can get to sleep.

I performed emergency surgery on my body. A quick shower followed by mouthwash and Visine. Fortunately my uniform was ironed and I was in my car in ten minutes. I rolled into the station a half hour late for the morning meeting. The conference room was full, and everyone in it looked at me as I walked in with a Styrofoam cup full of lukewarm piss that masqueraded as police station coffee.

"Too early for you Max?" Captain Sheehan asked, stopping her briefing mid-sentence.

I found a seat in the back of the room, squeezing in between two burly male officers.

"Sorry Cap, overslept," was the excuse I offered, there not being a snowball's chance in hell that anyone was buying it.

"Not as sorry as you're going to be after this meeting," Cap retorted, already making a mental note of the shit assignment she was going to give me.

There were snickers in the room as I settled into my uncomfortable chair.

The meeting droned on for another half hour. I faded in and out as the talking made my head pound. I'm not sure how I made it. When it ended, everyone filed out, with me pulling up the rear.

"Max... my office... now," Cap barked out.

Cap was pissed. Nice way to start the day.

* * *

Captain Sheehan slammed her door, making the inset glass panel rattle. Her phone was ringing. She ignored it, giving me a death stare.

"Listen Max, you look like shit and you've also been a shit officer lately. You've been hitting the bottle hard. For fuck's sake, I can smell vodka on your breath, and it's only 9:30. What the fuck Max?"

Cap was really pissed. She only swore when she was mad, and I counted at least two "fucks" in her first volley. The only thing that was saving me was the bust I led last year that netted us a major drug ring. But that only got me so far, and it looked like I used up all of my capital. I was about to walk my last mile in the station, and Cap was going to make me do it.

"Sorry Cap," I told her. "It's just that when Rachel broke up with me...". Rachel was my last partner, and ultimately my lover. Everyone knew about it but no one said anything. Rachel was a gorgeous brunette who was much younger than me. Things didn't work out, and she transferred to Narcotics and took up with another woman.

"Cry me a river Max. What the fuck did I say about fishing off the company dock?" Cap took a sip of coffee out of her favorite "Reds" coffee mug. She looked me in the eye, waiting for an apology.

"I know. I fucked up. It seems like I've been doing a lot of that recently."

"Look Max. I can't keep protecting your ass. Chief has seen your most recent performance review. One more black mark on your record and we're going to have to discipline you, which is the first step in letting you go. I'm putting you back out onto the street until further notice. Report to Lieutenant Driscoll. Dismissed."

She turned her chair to face her computer. Our meeting was over. My career was about over.

I left the Captain's office bleary eyed and in dire need of a drink.

* * *

"Lieutenant Driscoll?"

I leaned into his office, wondering what he had in mind with me. Driscoll was hired from the Columbus force earlier in the year. He had closely cropped salt and pepper hair and steely grey eyes. I could sense that he was staring at my tits, which were not insubstantial.

His eyes swept upwards to mine. "Pemberton... what the fuck do you want?"

"Cap sent me over. He told me I'm back in a patrol car."

I was on a special assignment with Vice, but with my excessive tardiness and overall shitty performance I was lucky to get this assignment instead of unpaid administrative leave.

"Oh yeah," he said, as he reached for a pile of paperwork. He sifted through the papers until he found the one he was looking for. "Transfer order signed by the Chief. I guess you really pissed somebody off. I'm going to put you in the West End."

West End was a shit assignment. One of the toughest neighborhoods in Cincinnati. Having grown up in nearby Camp Washington, it was one of my old stomping grounds. I guess I screwed up my face when I heard the good news.

"Don't look at me that way Pemberton. You're lucky you're still on the street," he admonished me. Then he made a peace offering. "I'm going to reassign Lanny to you as your partner."

That was a break. I took on Lanny when he was a rookie. He saved my life and I'd never forgotten it. His eyes wandered lower to take one last look at my tits.

"Like what you see Lieutenant?" I asked him in a smart ass way, which for me was my usual way.

He looked me in the eyes. "I've seen better."

"Fuck you," I said as my witty rejoinder.

"That's 'Fuck you... Sir'," he corrected me.

"Fuck you, Sir."

"That's better. Now get the fuck out of my office."

* * *

I went back to the locker room to gather my things for the day, including a paper bag with a pint of cheap vodka in it. Lanny was sitting in front of his locker, dressed and waiting for me. He was a tall, good looking guy, not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but had a big heart and good instincts when trouble was about. Lanny saved my life during a drive-by shooting. He saw the car coming before I did and pushed me to the ground. He took a bullet in the arm instead of me taking one in the head.

"Back together again, eh Sarge?" He had that goofy smile on his face that I learned to love.

"Yeah, looks like I drew the short straw and got you."

"You look like shit, Max. When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

"2003, I think." Actually it was 2004.

"Really Max, I've seen dogs at the pound that look better than you. When did you fall off the wagon?" Lanny voiced trued concern.

"About the time that Rachel told me that she met a cuter, younger thing and was transferring out of our division."

"Yeah," Lanny acknowledged. "That would do it."

He leaned over and brushed an imaginary speck of dust off his spit shined black shoe. "I thought you and Rach were solid."

"Lanny, you know that everything I touch eventually turns to shit."

"Present company excluded... I hope."

"You're right Lanny. You're the one bright spot in this shit storm. I need to pull it together... again." I took the paper bag with the vodka bottle in it and tossed it into the trash.

* * *

I went into my secret stash of coffee and brewed a thermos full for both Lanny and me. Lanny pulled around our patrol car and I got into the passenger side.

"Just like old times Sarge?" he asked as I slammed my door shut.

"That's right Lanny. I can't wait to hear your lame jokes."

Lanny laughed. "Good to work with you too, Max."

I told him what was really on my mind. "So tell me. You've been working with Driscoll for a while. Does he know he's an asshole and does he care?"

"Yes and no," he answered right away. "Driscoll's a hard ass. Sometimes when you're the new kid on the block you need to show that you're tough."

"I figured as much. What's the chances that I'll get on his good side?"

"About the same chance that the Bengals will win the Super Bowl," he replied without missing a beat.

"I'm fucked, and fucked good," I observed, taking a sip of good coffee.

"That's about the sum of it."

"At least give me a warning before I step into shit?"

"Will do Sarge."

He put the car into drive. "Where to boss lady?"

I thought for just a moment. "Let's pay Jumbo a visit. I think I need to mark my territory."

"You got it." Lanny pulled out of the parking lot and took a left towards the West End.

* * *

The main player in the West End was Jimmy "Jumbo" Williams. Jumbo got his name from his high school football days, playing left guard for a team that won the OHSAA Division I championship some twenty years ago. As you can imagine, he cut an imposing figure. Jumbo's crew ran prostitution and drugs for most of the West End, and he'd been on my list of special projects in Vice I was working on before I was busted down to a beat cop.

I hadn't seen Jumbo in quite a while, and I thought since he was on my beat that I'd pay him a visit. Lanny was driving, and I directed him to Jumbo's neighborhood and the house that he'd been living in since he was a kid. We drove past boarded up stores and homes with metal security grates on their doors and windows that served as a constant reminder that we were in a dangerous neighborhood. Young men in groups of twos or threes were loitering on the corners, servicing the robust drug trade.

We arrived at Jumbo's street. We pulled up in our black and white in front of a modest three bedroom, two story row house. There were two physically imposing men standing in front in expensive identical black leather jackets and sunglasses. I had no doubt both of them were packing. They closed ranks in front of me when Lanny and I came up to the front door.

"What's your business with Mr. Williams?" the older and taller of the two men asked me in a deep voice. His shaved head made him look scarier.

"Social," I told them. "Max Pemberton."

The younger man went inside the house. We waited on the sidewalk. I heard the crack of a distant gunshot reverberate down the street. No one flinched. Moments later the man returned, holding the door open.

"Mr. Williams will see you."

I walked through the door and Lanny tried to follow. The older man stepped in front of Lanny.

"Max goes. You stay."

I looked back at my partner, who was sporting a puzzled look on his face.

"It'll be fine Lanny," I reassured him. "Why don't you wait in the car? It'll only be a few minutes." I didn't want Lanny to get too involved in my shit, as it had every possibility of taking a bad turn.

He shrugged his shoulders and turned around. I followed the younger man into the living room. It was clear that Jumbo's mother's original furnishings were still in there. Jumbo was sitting on a plastic covered sofa eating peanuts from the shell and drinking Hudepohl out of a can. A Reds day game was playing on the big screen TV with the volume muted.

He looked up at me when I entered the room and his face broke into a broad smile. He put his can of beer on the coffee table.

"Max... long time no see. What have you been up to?"

"Not much... I've been reassigned to West End."

"So I hear... so I hear." Then he chuckled. "I'd offer you a beer, but from what I've heard, you've been hitting the bottle pretty hard, thus your assignment to this garden paradise."

"Yeah," I acknowledged, rolling my eyes. Jumbo was letting me know he had eyes and ears in my station. "Better stick to water."

Jumbo motioned to his man, who left the room, presumably to retrieve a glass of water.

"So tell me Max, to what do I owe this august honor?"

"You know... new sheriff in town... that sort of thing."

"Yeah, I guess the last guy didn't fare so well."

My predecessor, Dave Martinez, was shot in the leg trying to apprehend a mid-level drug dealer in this neighborhood. The shooter was never located. We all knew who was ultimately responsible. I was looking at him.

Jumbo looked at me with his cold, dark eyes, appraising me as an enemy. "So how's Dave doing?" he asked, trying to fake civility.

"He's on the mend. Probably will walk with a slight limp. I think he'll be on desk duty from here on out."

"Yeah... that's too bad. Dave was a good guy. A bit over his head in this neighborhood. You know, if you're not careful around here, you could get shot."

It was a thinly veiled warning, but it didn't faze me. I was from these parts. I knew how to watch my pretty little ass and he knew it as well. But this was the dance we performed. His bodyguard handed me a glass of water. I took a sip and put the glass on the coffee table.

"I'll be sure to be careful," I said as if I was talking to my mother. Then it was my turn to issue him a warning. "Just make sure you tell everyone hands off my partner Lanny. If anything unfortunate should happen to him I'll be back here with the heavy guns."

Jumbo laughed. I didn't scare him. "You do that Max."

Then it was his turn to hit back.

"What happened to that pretty little thing you were seeing... Rachel was her name?"

That did hurt. His flunkee, who was standing at the entrance to the living room, covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smile. Apparently everybody knew about our break-up.

"Yeah... I think she found someone younger and prettier," my adversary said. He looked me over, spending extra time on my tits. "Listen Max, if you weren't a lesbo, I'd offer you a mercy fuck." He grabbed his crotch as if his point still needed to be made.

He laughed out loud, as did his sidekick. My face was burning.

"Cut the shit Jumbo. This was a social visit... not a crucifixion."

Jumbo waved his thick, fat paws. "Sorry... sorry... I couldn't resist."

"Fuck you."

Jumbo let the insult roll off him. He shelled another peanut and popped it in his mouth.

"You haven't been around here for a while. I don't think you've met my new head of security."

I hadn't. His former head of security was serving twenty to life for murder. I should know. I busted him.

"Yeah, how's Digger doing in the hole?" I asked Jumbo, not expecting an answer. "I heard a rival gang had him all trussed up like a Christmas turkey and were taking turns with him during an all-night salami party." That felt good.

Jumbo scowled. "Water under the bridge Max. Jess, go get our security chief."

The younger man, who now had a name, left the room again. Jumbo took another peanut out of the bowl and shelled it, followed by another swig of beer. Jess came back with a woman behind him.

I was stunned. It was Steph, a former lieutenant in Vice, and my former lover. We lived together for a short while. I busted Steph over three years ago for her involvement in a drug ring. It was another painful episode in my life, and I thought behind me. She copped a plea in exchange for her cooperation. She did a little over two years and was released a few months back. It made sense for her to be with Jumbo. As a convicted felon, she had no chance of getting a legitimate job, and her testimony against a rival gang leader made her a logical choice for Jumbo. She could provide him insight into our law enforcement team and tactics, and he could provide her with protection against retribution from her former gang.

Steph looked great. She had kept her short blonde hair, and must have spent most of her time in prison working out in the gym. She was buffed, tall and lean, and against my better judgment I still felt a twinge of attraction to her. She was still a very good looking lady.

"Hi Max," she said, as if we had just seen each other yesterday. It had been almost three years.

"Steph."

"I'm sure you're wondering how I ended up here."

"I'm not."

"You look like shit. I heard you're drinking again." Her voice was insincere. She was just needling me for pleasure. She knew first hand that I had a drinking problem.

"Crime doesn't become you Steph." Then I looked at the noticeable bulge under her jacket. Her eyes followed mine.

She pulled back the flap of her jacket to reveal a Sig Sauer 9 mm. "All legal Max."

"Who'd you pay off to get a permit?" As a convicted felon, she shouldn't be allowed to carry, or even own a gun.

"It's above your pay grade." Steph was clearly over me. "Why don't you take your retarded partner and get the fuck out of here?"

"Good seeing you too Steph." I turned around and walked out, not bothering to say goodbye.

* * *

"So what happened?" Lanny asked as I got into the squad car. He started driving back to the station.

"Steph is Jumbo's new head of security."

"What? You're shitting me." He was incredulous. Lanny was part of Steph's bust, and knew her almost as well as I did.

"I shit you not," I reassured him. "And she's carrying... I'm not sure how she pulled that off."

"Jumbo has to have someone in his back pocket."

"More than one I'd say. He already knew about my transfer. Probably before I did."

"Cagey motherfucker."

"I wouldn't underestimate him. And now with Steph, he's no doubt getting the full lowdown on our practices and procedures. Better watch your six at the station Lanny."

"Yes sir."

I needed to as well. My visit there, and my unexpected introduction to my former lover playing for the other side, raised my hackles. I sensed war in the air.

* * *

The next morning I arranged to meet with Lanny at our favorite diner, Nicky's, for breakfast. I'd been a regular there for years, and Nicky assumed the role of my surrogate mother (and conscience). Nicole "Nicky" Flores was a big woman, probably in her late 50's, whose heart was bigger than her considerable girth.