Hot Karl

"Hey. Calm down." I raised my arms and tried again. "Look, I'm not saying I expect you to help anybody make a case against fucking Charles Manson or anything like that. You just strike me as a guy who keeps his ears open and who knows a lot of people." I risked a smile. "It'd be nice if I could rely on you to, you know, maybe throw me a bone or two sometimes. Or do me favors? Because I don't really want to stay up late doing paperwork on Kenny's arrest, honestly."

"Okay," he nodded after a long pause, the smile twitching at the edge of his mouth once more. "So you're not necessarily racist. Just lazy."

I met his eyes, the two of us nodding. "I'm just a lowly deputy sheriff, looking to get ahead in a hard and dangerous world. That's all, Prince." I swallowed. "Carlos."

He arched an eyebrow. "You want my number, Deputy Weber? So you can reach out when you have needs?" He snickered. "Or do you just want to type your contact info into my phone next to a pic of those fine-ass titties I nutted all over?"

"I told you," I hissed, "stop that." I reached for my pocket and pulled out my phone. "That was a long time ago, Carlos. A random drunken night."

"A fun random drunken night," he winked. He rapped out his phone number. "Deputy Weber. What's your first name, baby?"

"Colleen," I told him automatically. I named his contact Prince Carlos.

He nodded. "Me and my boys always make sure the ladies have fun. Speaking of which..." He gestured meaningfully back toward the living room. "I'm not getting paid to stand here talking to you, Sister Colleen. You know?"

"Keep the noise down," I nodded evenly, "and make sure I don't get called back here. Because if Dispatch sends me back to the same location a second time, my captain's going to expect an arrest."

"Got it." He was already back up to half-mast, as I couldn't help but notice. "And I'll look for a bone or two to throw you, babe." He wiggled his hips, that fat cock of his swinging side to side like a battleship gun. I couldn't look away. "So to speak."

"You do that." I reached up, adjusting my Stetson. "Nice, uh, seeing you. Again."

"I can tell." He grinned, smug. "Stay safe out there, Deputy Weber."

* * *

I hitched up my gunbelt as I left the party house, the snide giggles starting up even before the door shut behind me. They'd be laughing about me for the rest of the night, but I didn't care. As long as they kept the fucking music down.

My rig purred smoothly in the night as I swung around on Josslyn and headed out toward the State Park. There was a low moon out, the jagged peaks up there standing out like torn construction paper against the stars, my radio giving occasional chirps as Dispatch checked in with the other deputies on the far side of the county. I was all alone out here tonight in the western suburbs, and as my embarrassing kitchen interview drifted into the past I relaxed and began to enjoy the warm late-spring night. My headlights were sweeping along trees now, the houses thinning out as the road started to twist and dip a bit more.

The only problem was the radio, which had just started playing Bryan Adams' sappy twaddle from that old Robin Hood movie. I was just reaching over to punch up a different station when my headlights swept past a shadowed patch off in the trees, the glint of eyes. I stomped hard on the brake, instinct taking over despite the distraction of that fucking song, and my rig went shrieking down the road in a mild fishtail, shuddering to a stop.

"You know it's true...

Everything I do..."

I was out the door almost before the big vehicle was stopped, jamming it into PARK and slapping the switch that activated the roof flashers. That's my favorite part about being in law enforcement: you can stop and park right in the middle of the goddamn road. My gear jingled as I moved quickly around the back, my Mag-lite up and gleaming into the night, now still but for the muffled strains of bad pop coming from my windows in the eerie glower of my blue-lights.

I swallowed hard when I saw what lay in the trees just off the road, and automatically I swung my flashlight down onto the road, my eyes wide, seeking evidence: tire marks were what I was hoping for, willing the driver to have slowed down. But I caught nothing there but a little pile of deer shit in the road, a few wisps of hair, and then a thinly trickled trail of blood leading my Mag-lite beam back to the scared eyes of the struck fawn.

"Shit," I bit out, my heart pounding. The poor thing lay in the light, its eyes huge, trembling. My hand fumbled for the radio at my shoulder. "Dispatch! Unit four. Over?"

I was used to pauses in the middle of the night; I suspected Dispatch often dozed, but this time she came right back. "Dispatch. Go ahead."

I strained to remember the reporting format. "Unit four. Show me, uh, 10-45? Or 10-54?" I couldn't remember: one was for dead animals and the other for live ones, but I jammed onward anyway. "Deer strike, westbound on Ray Park Road about a mile short of the park entrance." I hesitated, remembering what to request. "Seeking help from the Conservation Police, over?"

She hesitated on the other end, probably studying the code charts herself. "Dead or alive, over?"

The fawn quaked, staring into my flashlight as if I was her only hope in a cruel world. "Alive."

"Okay." She sniffed audibly. "So, that's 10-54 then. Got it. Conservation Police don't respond after hours, but I'll notify Fish and Game. Out."

The next fifteen minutes passed slowly, so slowly, alone out there in the woods with the mountains silent against the western sky. I wondered whether I should scrounge up a blanket or something, maybe give the little fawn my sandwich, but something told me I should wait for the experts; Dispatch had told me they were enroute from the park headquarters, so I kept myself busy laying out a few road flares and waving past the single passing car that drifted by. The night was quiet, almost breathless, and I kept smiling at the fawn.

As if it had the first clue what a smile meant.

When the big green pickup showed up, it was rolling from the other direction at a fair clip with its lights going. I breathed a sigh of relief. "Hold on, little one," I whispered. I was standing right by the little deer's head by that time, waving my Mag-lite at the wardens as they cruised up and circled around. They drove older, practical-looking trucks, not the souped-up tactical SUVs like I had. This one was covered in scratches and mud, like it had been doing donuts up on the hillsides all day long.

They picked their way between my flares, then turned the headlights off so as not to spook the deer. I nodded down at the poor thing, then started toward the truck as its engine rattled off. "Hi guys! I'm Deputy Weber, with the county sheriff."

"Okay." The passenger was all business, a tall blonde with her hair pulled way, way back under those baseball hats F&G wore. "You know this is a state highway, right? You know this is the kind of thing Conservation Police does, right?" The driver was fiddling with the radio in the cab, a dark shape flickering in my blue-lights. The woman held out her hand as though she was doing me a favor. "I'm Luchese. Senior Warden."

"Hi," I repeated, shaking her hand. "Look, I requested Conservation, but my dispatcher sent me you guys. Sorry to drag you out here in the middle of the night."

"Yeah." Luchese shuffled, glancing up at the stars. "Whatever. So, what? A deer strike?" She produced a tiny little flashlight from her back pocket. I was surprised she wasn't wearing the kind of utility belt I was, just a normal leather belt over green cargo pants. She had an old-fashioned 1911 at her hip. She strode over to the shaking fawn. "Poor guy. Did you see who hit it?"

"No. It was like this when I showed up." Luchese moved with purpose, strength. "No tire marks or nothing."

"There's some scat in the road," came a male voice from behind me, and I swung around with a startled gasp: I'd heard that voice before. The driver was playing his own flashlight over the scarlet trail. "Not much blood."

"Jacobsen?" I blurted, and his light darted at my face. My grinning face. My ecstatic face. "Karl Jacobsen? It's Colleen, from the Lettuce? Colleen Weber?"

"Weber." He left the light on me until I squinted, then swung it back down to the road. "Sure. It's great to see you." He came toward me then with his hand out, but I stepped in to give him an instinctive hug; it had been two years since our last hug, a perfunctory one on graduation day among dozens of less memorable hugs. He felt so good. He towered over me. We'd been somewhat close at the LET-C, but not nearly as close as I'd wanted; the guy looked like a Greek god. I'd wanted to get as close as humanly possible.

"So good to see you!" I backed off, his response awkward in the sudden hostile glare of Luchese's light. "I didn't know you'd joined the Wardens. Good gig?"

"It's great." We blinked over toward his partner. "I, uh, I knew someone on the job. You're a sheriff, huh?"

"What the fuck?" Luchese had an annoying voice, loud without being particularly commanding. "Come on, Karl. Get over here so I can show you how Conservation should be handling shit like this." He turned abruptly, and when he moved toward Luchese her flashlight stayed on me. "Or did you just want to stay out here and chat with him?"

Jesus. I felt myself tense up, bristling. Who the fuck was this bitch? I took a deep breath. "I called fifteen minutes ago, Senior Warden Luchese," I managed, with a transparently forced smile. I had to stop myself from resting my hand on my gun. "Don't you guys have a post, like, a mile away?"

"Get over here, Karl." She was obviously in no mood to chat with me. I tagged along behind Jacobsen, admiring at the way his work pants outlined his butt; he'd been totally built back at Lettuce, a chiseled stud, tall and mysterious. All us women, and undoubtedly some of the male cadets too, had dreamed about getting rutted by Karl Jacobsen. "So far, I'm pretty sure this doesn't meet the criteria for a response either by us, or by the Conservation cops." The glare of Karl's flashlight showed a contemptuous glance my way. "Though I'm sure Deputy Weber will be happy to spend the rest of the night trying to soothe little Bambi's ruffled hackles."

"Wait." Jacobsen would have been on the job for about two years, like me. I had no idea how long F&G cops stayed on probation, but she was treating him like a fucking rookie. I had no doubt she, too, wanted him between her legs; Karl just had that effect. "No response criteria?"

"Nah." Luchese squatted beside the freaked-out fawn, studying its body. "If it was more severe, we'd obviously put it down. But this kind of injury looks like the kind of thing our vets won't want to bother with. They're at some kind of seminar this week." She sniffed, laying a hand on the thing's trembling head. "Doesn't look to be in too much pain."

"Well, but what about Lynn Jacks?" Karl was stooping beside Luchese, and I was still staring at his ass.

"Lynn?" Luchese examined the fawn's ear, looking for evidence of a tag. "Jesus. Lynn would take in anything, up to and including an elderly fucking squirrel. If you let her make the call, she'd decide this poor thing needed five surgeries at $2,000 a pop, all funded by her happy little donors." The flashlight beam played over the thing's hindquarters. "Definitely a leg problem back here, but it doesn't look broken or contused."

"We've got time," Karl said softly, in that carefully modulated voice he'd always had. "I mean, it's not that big a deal to run this animal over for a checkup."

"Not in my truck," Luchese snapped. "I just cleaned it out after that coyote the other day. We put this thing in a vehicle, it'll start pissing and shitting all over the place." She shrugged. "Nah. It'll be fine here. Karl, just call Conservation in the morning and have them follow up."

I flickered my own light at the thing's face, those eyes shining up at me like two placid pools.

"Wait," I said, clearing out an unexpected burr in my throat. "That's the procedure? You just leave them here?"

Luchese straightened with that particular slow control you often see in managers who aren't sure they heard you correctly when you told them to fuck off. "No," she snapped, her voice carefully flat, "we don't just leave them here, Deputy Weber. We call Conservation in the morning and have them follow up." She turned slowly to smile at me without warmth. "Kinda like I already said."

"But you said there's a woman who'll take it in now?"

Luchese's eyes glittered. "Yeah," she nodded, "she works with F&G a lot. She ain't taking your call, that's for sure."

I glanced over at Karl and took a deep breath. I was aware I was making an enemy out of Senior Warden Luchese, but I was also aware she was just some bitch from Fish & Game, who didn't matter to me one iota. "I'm happy to load this animal into my rig, if you guys will call and let her know I'm on my way."

"Not good enough." Luchese snapped off her little flashlight and ran her fingers through the little fawn's trembling head. "There's paperwork to be filled out once you get there, intake forms. F&G codes and stuff."

"Karl can come with me?" I blurted. "And then I'll drop him off at your station once we're done?"

Luchese nodded coolly. "Karl," she sighed, "do me a favor? Go call in our location and let District know we're clear here?" Karl passed me an unreadable glance, and he'd not even made it halfway back to their truck before Luchese started in on me. "So what's your angle? Why are you so interested in wildlife all of a sudden?"

"What?" I blinked, my head cocked. "Look, I'm just trying to do a good deed here. I'm going to have to file a deer-strike report with my department, and it would be great if I could close it out by saying I got the thing treated. That's all."

"That's all?" she mocked, her smile icy. "You're sure?"

I took a deep breath. "I'm not sure what you're insinuating here," I told her quietly, "but I'm not sure I feel like standing here in the middle of the night and taking shit from Fish and Game. If you're trying to keep your partner on some kind of leash, that's between you and him. But I don't feel like letting that little deer suffer because you're too unprofessional to do anything about it. So?" I shrugged. "If Jacobsen wants to help me out with this, trust me, you can go on back to your post and lay your pretty little head down and I promise, I'll have him back before he turns into a fucking pumpkin. But either way?" I matched her smile now. "Move aside while I load up that animal."

She stood a moment, eyes narrowed, before she gave a slow, measuring nod. "Be my guest," she hissed. "Karl! If you and Deputy Heartstrings here want to get this fawn over to the animal sanctuary... in her vehicle... don't let me stop you, okay?" She offered her hand one more time while Karl started back over. "It's going to be a pleasure working with you in the future, Deputy Weber."

Her grip was steel, but so was mine; we stood there glaring at each other. "Colleen, please," I muttered. "I insist." She dropped my hand like it was radioactive, my knuckles smarting.

"Sure. Whatever." She stalked back to her truck. "Tell Lynn hi for me, Karl," she called over her shoulder. "See you back at Park." We stood there in silence while the truck roared off, crushing my dying flares. I stirred.

"Well, Jacobsen," I ventured, "I think I just got you into a shitload of trouble with your partner."

He just looked down at me, his eyes still veiled. "Come on, Weber," he said at last, in that calm deep voice that had always made my pussy flutter even when he was just saying hi, "let's take care of the fawn."

"Sure," I sighed. Two years it had been since I'd seen this guy. I'd not even thought about him in all that time. And now? Fuck. I'd have borne his children if he'd asked me to, then and there.

I'd been a student at the regional Law Enforcement Training Center, or LET-C, or the Lettuce, on spec. Meaning, I'd attended without already being hired anywhere yet. The place trained cops, sheriffs, DA invesitgators, game wardens, and environmental police officers from all over that part of the state; about half came there with jobs waiting for them already, the rest were like me. "I didn't realize you'd become a game warden," I blurted, forgetting I'd already said something just like that.

"Yup." He took a knee beside the deer, lifting a gentle hand to the thing's forehead. "I think it's a doe, but I won't be able to tell until we get it off the ground." He jerked his head toward my rig. "Hey, can you back up right to here? Then we can just lift it up there." He glanced at the animal. "Just a baby. Maybe six months old?"

"Sure," I nodded, as if I had a clue. "Um, I'll get the head?"

"No," he replied thoughtfully; to be fair, my gesture had been totally symbolic. The way he'd attacked the weight room at the Lettuce, Karl had to be able to lift three of those little deer. "I'll lift it. You just move your vehicle, okay?"

"Absolutely." I scampered around and slid behind the wheel through the scorched remnants of my flares, my blue-lights still flickering between the trees, then leaned way out my window to peer behind me at where Karl Jacobsen stood tall in the beam of my backup lights, motioning me back, back, back, until at last he held his hand still with a fist at the end of it. I twisted back to put the vehicle in PARK, then nearly jumped out of my skin when I caught sight of him looming silently just outside my window. "Jesus!" I squeaked. "You startled me."

"Do you have any towels or anything?" I smelled coffee on his breath; he was that close. I felt my pussy clench and I forced myself to stay cool. "To cushion the fawn. I'll load it into the back and then call Lynn Jacks at the animal sanctuary while we're on the way."

"Oh!" I nodded, twisting around the other way, shoving my body between the seats to rummage around for the moving blankets we kept back there for the "comfort" of our "detainees." "Sure. Just a sec; I'll grab them and meet you at the back door."

"Thanks." He melted back into the blue-flickering darkness, leaving me to gather an armload of rough, stiff blankets, which I hauled around to the back. I found him there, staring wordlessly into the open rear cargo area, which was where I usually threw my used food wrappers from Papa Jay's Taco Shack. He raised an eyebrow. "Proper nutrition is the key to lifelong fitness, Weber." He wrapped his arms around my blankets and took them, my pussy mindful of how close he was.

"Shut up," I grunted, my face scarlet. I leaned in, my arms sweeping out the trash, hoping he was staring at my butt. "What are you, vegan?"

"No," he said quietly. "I just believe in trash cans." My hands darted out, grabbing wrappers. "Hurry up. The poor thing's in pain."

"Oh, come on." I glared over my shoulder at him: yup. He was looking at my rear. I felt a thrill rattle through me, smirking. "Come on in and help me, if you're in such a rush," I teased.

"Might be better just to remember to throw out your garbage as you go, Weber, instead of waiting for it to become a pigsty." He dropped the blankets onto the cleared cargo space and then turned to get the deer. "Now then. Give me some room."

"Sure." I know I sounded breathless, excited by the novelty of saving the deer, the aftermath of the conflict with Luchese, and the unexpected proximity of Karl Jacobsen. He approached like a guy on the cover of a harlequin romance, a sexy fucking stud saving a hurt animal.

My pussy was weeping by now.

"So, like, you just put him in there?" I felt like I needed to fill the silence with something.