Betrayal

I didn't hear Lanny come up behind me.

"Boss," he whispered. "What's going on in there?"

"Fucking," I whispered back.

"Oh..."

Lanny shined his flashlight on her face. It was Brianna, the same woman I'd rescued a few days back who was running down the street, hysterical. She looked at us with the hollow eyes of a drug addict, glazed over, vacant, as she lay beneath the large man. The man was as high as she was, and blinked as he saw us, fighting to recognize the situation he was in. He pushed himself upright, his erect cock covered with his own cum, and pulled on a pair of dirty, ripped jeans. The woman just lay there with her small breasts exposed and her legs spread open, cum running out of her pussy. Her dirty blonde hair, unwashed for days, and the grime on her face suggested she was on an extended bender.

"Reggie," she said weakly. She extended out her hand. The man, unconcerned about our presence, reached into the pocket of his jeans and put a small rock of crack cocaine in her outstretched palm. She closed her hand around it as she drifted off into a space I knew too well. The man pushed past us to leave, and we did nothing to stop him. Small potatoes, not worth the time it would take to book him. A helpless woman was harder for me to ignore.

"Let's clean her up a bit and get her to a woman's shelter," I told Lanny.

"You OK?" I asked her.

Her eyes were half lidded. A far away place. Somewhere away from this shithole.

"Fuck off," she said to me in a ragged voice. "I can take care of myself."

Clearly she couldn't.

"Get her into the squad car," I told Lanny. I pried open her fist and dropped the rock of crack cocaine onto the floor, grinding it to dust with my boot.

* * *

The next morning seemed like a good one. I'd forsaken the bottle for almost a week. This was the first morning I didn't wake up with a screaming headache. Lanny came out of Grand Lake Donuts holding two large coffees and a white wax paper bag. He handed me a coffee. It was steaming hot and delicious. I motioned to the bag.

"Got one for me?" I asked. There was a chocolate old fashioned that was calling my name.

"Ask nice Max." He had his hand gripping the bag as if he wouldn't let go.

"Pretty please oh great and powerful Lanny?" I asked, laying it on thick.

He laughed and reached in the bag, handing me my reward. I washed the donut down with coffee, and was blissfully content. Sometimes stereotypes are true. Cops do love donuts.

My phone chimed, telling me I had a new text message. It was from Rachel's doctor. It simply said, "Call me." My good feeling evaporated. I knew it wasn't going to be good.

I hit the button to call him.

"Dr. Kravis speaking."

"Doctor. Max Pemberton."

"Ah, yes Max... I'm sorry to tell you this but Rachel passed away early this morning..."

I'm sure he kept talking but I didn't hear what he was saying. I heard only the roar of the ocean and felt myself sinking below the ice cold water and into the blackness. Cold... dark... numb.

"Officer Pemberton?"

"Uhh, sorry." I fought to focus. "What happened?"

"Cardiac arrest. There was nothing we could do."

I thanked him and hung up. I let go of the phone and it thudded on the floor of the cruiser.

"Rachel?" Lanny asked, hearing my side of the conversation and sensing what was said on the other side.

"She didn't make it," I said, choking back tears.

Lanny took my coffee away from me and threw the contents in the gutter.

"I'm taking you back to the station."

* * *

Cap suggested I take the rest of the day off. I was a walking zombie and no good to anyone.

My first instinct was to get a drink... and then another one. I went to the Landing Point to drown my sorrows.

"Sorry Max," Kris said as I stepped through the wood plank front door. Kris had been working at the Point since as long as I could remember. The bar was only two blocks from the station, and given its rustic appearance and proximity, it was a natural hangout for cops after hours. Kris served Rachel and I many times, and no doubt heard the news the same time I did. Nothing that happened at the station got by Kris.

She got out from behind the antique bar and took me by the arm.

"Let's go out for a smoke."

She pulled me by the arm to go back outside. I offered no resistance. We both leaned against the rough hewn wood exterior of the hundred year old establishment. I squinted in the bright daylight. She had a cigarette behind her ear. I offered her a light. She took a drag and handed it to me.

"Sorry about Rach, honey." She put her hand on my face. Kris was sort of a pistol in the bar so I had never seen her tender side. I took a puff of the cigarette and handed it back.

Then I let it out. All of it. There was too much pent up emotion. Rachel's death put me over the line.

She just held me. Others were still going in and out of the bar, and I'm sure most of them knew me and Rach and I knew they were offering me sympathetic glances but I was too busy crying.

When I stopped it told her that I needed a drink.

"Max... don't get drunk. You're a terrible drunk and I don't want to see you like that. I'm going to take you home."

She went inside and handed her tables to another waitress and then came out with her bag. "My car is right over here." She pointed to a silver Accord that was parked in the space closest to the bar entrance.

"Looks like rank has its privileges." I managed a weak smile.

"Honey, for what I've done I deserve more than a parking space."

* * *

Kris dropped me at my motel. She pulled into one of the empty spaces next to the stairwell.

"You're staying here?"

Kris could see it was a shitty motel in a shitty neighborhood. I could see her looking at the faded and peeling paint on the hotel's walls with her critical eye and disapproving.

"Max, get your stuff," she ordered me.

I didn't want to argue about this. I wasn't in the mood for it.

"Another day... another day," I told her.

She got it. There was only so much she could do.

"I'm coming back for you. Now you take care, and try not to drink."

She pulled out of her space and waved goodbye to me. I knew that she was thinking that I would go to the all night party store and buy myself a cheap bottle of vodka.

She knew me too well.

I slogged up the stairway. Some of the concrete in the stairs was missing, so you had to watch your step. Second floor -- room 205. I lived in that room for five months. It was right after I broke up with my Rachel. We were together for two years, four months and twenty-three days, but who's counting? There was an all-night convenience store about two blocks from my motel. I was on a first name basis with the night clerk. It was a pint of Smirnoff's Green Apple Vodka every night. Why the Smirnoff? Because it was only $2.99 a bottle, and I went through one, and sometimes two bottles a day. It was disgusting, but I didn't care.

Now I was back. Back to the days where it was only me and a bottle. Even though Rachel had broke up with me, I was still in love with her and the hurt I felt was barely numbed by the alcohol. With Rachel's death, I didn't care what happened next. I was fortunate that Lanny and my colleagues and friends at the station supported me through those dark days. I decided to take my accrued vacation and get my shit together. I did not accomplish my objective.

My routine devolved to watching daytime television and then drinking myself to sleep at night. It was a Tuesday night, a hot muggy one. In Cincinnati, those hot summer months were as tough as the winters. I remember as a kid sleeping on cardboard boxes on the cement floor of the garage because it was the coolest place in the house. Only the rich folk had air conditioning. I got out of my car, must have been about 11 p.m. There was only one other car in the drive up lot, on the left edge of the paved parking area, right next to a litter strewn vacant lot. A feral cat dashed into the brush as I pulled up.

There were three young women drinking beer from cans wrapped in brown paper bags and laughing and passing around a joint. They were leaning on the hood of the car. I was about twenty feet away. I noticed one of them was an attractive blonde... short, bleach blonde hair, neon pink hot pants, white skin tight top, and calf high white boots. She stubbed out her cigarette and walked over to me.

"Max!"

I stopped with my hand on the open door of the convenience store. She stopped, standing in front of me and posing for me, waiting for me to recognize her. It seemed like an uncomfortable minute before the tumblers lined up. It was Brianna. But not the frightened dirty and hungry Brianna. Now she was wired, nervous, and available for purchase along with the goods inside. It was clear that she was now hooking for some local pimp and still a junkie as well. It was smart to hang out in front of the only all-night convenience store in a five mile radius.

"Brianna... uh... how are you?" I asked, wondering if I really saved her.

"I'm umm fine. I... I just need to find someplace to crash. You got someplace?"

She was fidgeting. Like she needed a fix. I was going to buy two pints and watch the rest of the Reds game that was being played in Los Angeles. I was a diehard Reds fan so watching them on TV gave me a temporary pass from my depression. Otherwise, my life was nothing but boredom and alcohol. I could tell Brianna needed help, and part of the Max that always wins out is the good one.

"You can crash at my place tonight." I knew I would regret it, but it was my inner angel talking. I was a burned out drunk, but there was still a core of good somewhere inside me.

"Uh thanks Max. Let me grab my stuff."

She ran back to the car and picked up the bag she left with a girlfriend. It was still hot and muggy outside so she followed me into the bright lights of the refrigerator cold convenience store. The cool air felt good on my face. I went to the counter and saw Nigel, some Brit who came to this country to follow his girlfriend, who was going to the University of Cincinnati.

"Usual Max?" he asked with his very British accent. Tall and reed thin, slightly crooked teeth, just like you pictured him.

"Yes, two." He like Kris, knew me too well. I was a creature of habit and they were observant.

"That kind of night?" he asked with his back to me, pulling the two pints of Smirnoff from the top shelf.

"Got company."

"Oh." Then he turned around to put the bottles on the counter and saw Brianna holding a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos and coming up behind me.

"That kind of company." He rolled his eyeballs up. Brianna plopped the junk food on the register counter.

"It's not like that," I insisted. In the meantime Brianna mashed her very soft and very delectable breasts against me and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

"Uh huh," said Nigel, giving me a smarmy smile. "Right."

I swiped my credit card and picked up the two bottles of Smirnoff and the bag of cheese puffs and put them in a brown paper bag.

"Aren't you going to get something for me honey?" Brianna asked in a girlfriend voice and gave Nigel a sweet smile. Nigel knew that Brianna was working outside and assumed I was one of her customers.

Nigel smirked. I pointed to the left behind the amused clerk. "Give me a bottle of Maker's."

With a flourish, Nigel retrieved the bottle of Maker's and ran it past the scanner. I gave him my credit card again.

"Big night," he said.

"It is now," I told him. We walked out arm in arm with one of my hands on her ass.

We stumbled out of the store laughing.

"I'd fuck you in front of Nigel if you want," Brianna said sweetly. I think her offer was serious.

"No... no... that won't be necessary."

She was carrying a knock off Gucci tote stuffed with clothes. She followed me to my car and got into the passenger seat. She flung her bag into the back seat.

"Where ya staying?"

"Motel. Royal Palms."

Her face flashed recognition. Figures. I'm sure she met some of her Johns there.

I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. She leaned out her window and waved goodbye to her friends, who were still standing in the parking lot finishing their joint.

"You're nice Max," she said, looking back at me.

"I like to think I am," I answered, looking straight ahead at the road, but sneaking a peek at her sexy body.

"You kind of look like shit," she observed accurately. That hurt but was so true.

"Had something bad happened Brianna." I didn't want to lay it all on her. She was just staying for a night and I wasn't in the mood to use her as my shrink. But Brianna was observant and knew she hit a nerve.

"I'm sorry."

"That's OK."

"Really. I'm sorry."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

Then her face perked up. "Wanna get wasted?"

She was spot on.

"That's the idea." I pulled into the motel parking lot and parked in front of the open stairs. Brianna wasn't going to judge me. I liked that.

* * *

I opened the door and flicked on the light. There were empty vodka bottles everywhere. There were dirty clothes on the floor. It reeked of cheap booze.

"Sorry, wasn't expecting guests." I brushed some empty paper cups off the double bed I used as a table. "You can sleep here."

She threw her bag on the bed and went over to the window, pulling the drapes shut tight.

"It's just for tonight," I confirmed with her.

"Uh huh," she mumbled. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a small zip up bag.

"I've got to... uh... you know." She held out the bag. I knew what was in it.

"You can use the bathroom."

God I hated drugs and what they did to people. I could see that she was jumpy and needed a fix. It was only for one night. She wasn't going to judge me and I wasn't going to judge her. She flicked on the bathroom light and the fan kicked on as well. She shut the door behind her. I could picture that she was sitting on the toilet and getting her needle ready. It gave me the chills thinking about it.

Here I was, feeling sorry for her as I unbagged the alcohol. I'd start with the Maker's, and decided that when I started to feel that special glow I'd switch over to the vodka. I found two semi-clean paper cups and shook them out and then poured us each two fingers of the good stuff. I smelled the Maker's first. It had been a while since I had a real drink. The nose was heavenly. That sticky sweet molasses thick smell of good bourbon. I let the liquid rest against my lips before I took my first swallow. Ambrosia. I purred.

"Good stuff?" Brianna asked. She had just got out of the bathroom and was a bit wobbly standing next to me. Her eyes were glassy.

"The best," I answered. I handed her the other paper cup. She took a sip and made a funny face and lost her balance. She caught herself before she fell over.

"You don't like it?"

"I'll drink the vodka." She pulled one of the pints out of the bag and twisted off the cap. She took a big swallow directly from the bottle and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. Her face registered pain.

"That shit burns," she said, not saying anything I didn't know.

"Yeah it does."

"Wanna fuck Max? I like girls. I only fuck guys for the money." She pulled her top off. She had amazing tits. Young. Firm. Maybe like mine twenty years ago. She had a teddy bear tattooed on the side of her left breast. She shook her head, making her short blonde hair fly about. She looked as sexy as fuck. I hadn't been laid in a long time. My will was weak to begin with. I knew I was going to give in to my base desires.

I watched her pull off her hot pants. She wasn't wearing anything underneath. She was bare. "Brianna... it's not like that," I said in a completely unconvincing tone. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She laid back on the bed and spread her legs apart with her knees up. I looked at her body and watched her two fingers go slowly down between her legs, dipping them inside and then pointing them at me, glistening with a sheen from her wet pussy.

"You can do anything you want Max."

I stood there but said nothing. I was resigned to watching a Reds game while getting drunk. This was not happening.

She licked her already wet fingers like a lollipop. "You don't like me?"

I felt myself move closer until my legs were against her bed. "I do Brianna, but it wouldn't be right..."

"I'm not under arrest or nothing, am I?"

"No... no Brianna."

She sat up so she was next to me. She reached out and touched my breasts. I just stood there and let her. She unbuttoned my blouse so she could see my breasts, still in my bra.

"You're pretty Max -- behind that badge and all that bluster."

She reached under my bra and cupped my breast.

"Big, soft tits Max, just how I like them."

I leaned forward. I couldn't help noticing the needle tracks on her arms. It weighed on my heart. She was all bluster as well. She was a scared kid underneath.

"I want this to be real," I told her. I didn't think Brianna was playing me.

Her face softened. "I like you Max."

She convinced me.

"I guess so," I confirmed.

"Let's make love, Max... for real."

She pulled me closer and kissed me deeply. I became lost in her lips and the way her love poured through them. This was as real as it got. I kissed her back, feverishly. The abstinence, the alcohol, and the burning need to be close to someone made me want her in the worst way. Our kisses lingered and I held her like a long lost lover.

"You're beautiful," I admitted to her. Under the gaudy clothes was a truly beautiful young woman, the streets not yet running the hard lines across her face and giving her the gaunt look of a hard life. The arrest record I saw said she was twenty.

"Kiss me again Max." Brianna's eyes went from glassy to dreamy as she held me tight, as if we were at sea and she was drowning. She looked so vulnerable. I wanted to hold her and protect her. We kissed again, and I could taste the cheap vodka as my mind swirled in a haze of alcohol and a powerful sexual attraction.

I pushed her on her back and moved down to her long narrow neck, planting kisses on it as she sighed. She was mine now. I ran her fingers through her hair as I captured one of her cute pinkish nipples in my mouth, giving it playful bites before sucking on it. She was so young, and her skin was so tight, smooth and perfect.

"Max..." she moaned. There was no pretense between us. We were baring our tortured souls to one another.

I snatched the other nipple in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, while my fingers danced down her taut belly to her smooth pubic area. Her pussy lips were wet and ripe, and the slick, slippery feel made my heart flutter. I touched her clit, and her hips reflexively thrust upward.

"Ohh... fuck... fuck..." she muttered as I penetrated her with two fingers, sinking them in to the webbing, and probing for her soft, spongy G spot. Finding it, she moaned softly again, using her slender hands to push my head lower.

I kissed down her belly and could smell her feral scent -- a mixture of her pussy juice and the cum of clients who used her unprotected cunt. I didn't care. I wanted her too much, and dove in between her legs, greedily sucking on her snatch, and tasting her sweet young pussy. It was raw sex -- the kind we both wanted the most.

"God... oh God," Brianna cried out. She was about to have a real orgasm. Her back was arched and her breathing had become ragged. There was space for me to snake my hand underneath her and find her asshole. I dragged my index finger across her pussy to wet it, and then rimmed her anus while I vacuumed her clit in my mouth, pulling hard and lashing it with my tongue.

"Shit, shit, shit!" she screamed. Her body was thrashing on the bed, her legs flailing wildly while I hung on for dear life with my face planted firmly between her legs, drawing a deep breath of the moist heat. She stilled and her eyes became vacant as the rush of the orgasm and the ongoing effects of the heroin pushed into that secret quiet place where an addict finds temporary inner peace.