Hot Steel

* * *

"Lieutenant Lewis?"

Her back was to me. She was reading a report on a clip board. She turned around.

"What can I do for you?" She was curt and businesslike.

It was hard not to notice her piercing blue eyes. Dishwater blonde. Twenty year veteran of the force. I had seen her dozens of times in the station but never had the opportunity to talk to her. You could see fine lines on her face, the only imperfections in her flawless complexion, no doubt the product of the stress of her position.

"My unit is assigned as back-up to your operation."

She dispensed with any pleasantries. "We're running a sting on West 51^st. Corporal Gillies will brief you on the logistics. She'll instruct you on where you will help set up a perimeter for the operation. Dismissed."

I started to walk away but took a peek back. She already had her head down, studying the plans for the operation. Being the pussy hound that I am, I couldn't help noticing her body, trim and fit, in her dark blue uniform. No wedding ring.

Then I focused on the task at hand. "Setting up a perimeter" meant sitting on your ass for four hours watching from the outside while the Vice squad had fun on the inside. Rachel and I were assigned to sit on a corner two blocks from the operation and monitor outgoing traffic. I was given a list of license plate numbers and descriptions for the vehicles associated with the targets. I had tucked away a bag of potato chips and a cooler filled with soft drinks in the patrol car, now fully prepared for a long wait.

I grabbed Rachel from the ready room and gave her the keys. She looked at me, startled. I couldn't help noticing the shimmer in her eyes.

I patted her on the back. "You want to get some real life experience? Nothing like the present." It was one of my favorite phrases. I watched Rachel stare at the car keys. I was sure that she had butterflies in her stomach, and I thought driving the car would take her mind off her anxiety.

I got into the passenger side of the car and pulled out a magazine I had stored under the seat. I opened it up and started reading. Rachel got into the driver's seat and sat there waiting for instructions. There was an uncomfortable silence.

"You've got the intersection we're supposed to be at?" I asked in a not so courteous tone.

I could hear her fumbling through the papers she brought but I kept my eyes focused on the magazine. She was going to have to earn it. All of it.

"Yes ... yes, it's right here." She pointed to something on a piece of paper she was holding up for me to see.

My eyes never strayed from the magazine. "You can read. Find it."

Rachel backed the car out extremely carefully, mindful that she had never driven a patrol car before. I wanted to laugh, but held back. A couple of the guys that watched us back out leaned over to get another look at Rachel as we pulled out of the parking lot.

She turned left out of the parking lot and started to get more at ease driving. About ten minutes later our cruiser came to a stop. I pulled up my nose from my magazine.

"We here?" I asked.

"Yes, Max, we're here. So you're going to throw me in the deep end to see if I can swim?" She got out of the car without waiting for my answer.

I got out of the car and yelled over the roof of the car. "Look, it's the way everybody does it. Who am I to break with tradition?"

"Thanks, Max," she said, her voice dripping with a scorned woman's sarcasm. I could tell that behind that thin veil of anger that she really liked me a lot. Maybe I was fooling myself.

I walked around the car with purpose and stood so I was in her grill. "Look rookie. You're going to have to learn fast. It's the only way you'll survive out here." I paused for effect. "But I will never, ever, compromise your safety. It's my job to make sure you get back alive every day."

She leaned back, creating a bit more space between us, as I spouted out the speech I'd given a half dozen times before. "OK, I get it." Then she turned around and muttered something under her breath. I've got pretty good hearing and would bet she said, "fucking cunt."

"What did you say?" I demanded.

Without missing a beat, she said, "Fucking sun," and then put on her sunglasses.

"Right," I said. It was overcast.

This one had sass. I knew she really liked me because she chose me to train her. But she was going to give me attitude when I was giving her the business. This was going to be fun. I was going to enjoy this, I told myself. I also told myself I was wrong most of the time.

We agreed that I would stake out the northwest corner and she would cover the southwest corner. I could see her clearly from my position. She was busy surveying her surroundings and looking for the best place to stand. I put down my cooler and opened the bag of chips. No time like the present. I stuffed three of them in my mouth. Salty goodness.

I leaned against a lamp post and watched the pedestrians scurry across the street. It was good people watching and there wasn't anything else to do. I crumpled up the bag of chips and tossed the empty bag into a trash receptacle. The sun was starting to bake me, so I dipped into the cooler for a Diet Coke. It was about an hour before I heard chatter on my radio that one of the suspects had eluded the team by jumping out the window and onto a neighbor's roof. I called over to Rachel and she waved back to me to acknowledge that she got the message as well. I unbuckled the leather strap holding my Beretta in its holster and clicked off the safety. Rachel was going to get some front line action on her first day.

We stayed in a high alert position for about ten minutes when I lost sight of Rachel. A long semi stopped at the traffic light, blocking my view of her. By the time the light turned green and the semi left the intersection she was gone. The fine hairs went up on the back of my neck.

Fuck. My sniffer was telling me there was trouble - big trouble.

My first day partner wasn't at her post and some drug crazed lunatic was loose in the city. I scanned across the street and waited for the traffic to stop so I could dash over. I took one step into the street, and then I felt the nose of a service revolver poked into the back of my neck.

Double fuck.

"Drop your fuckin revolver ... now!" It was a male voice. Probably in his 40's. His breathing was fast. There was the sound of true desperation in his voice. I've heard that tone of voice before, and it scared me. With a muzzle pressing into the back of my neck I relaxed my fingers and let my revolver hit the pavement with a clatter.

"Kick it over there," he snarled. I was sure his intentions were bad. It was fight or flight time.

I knew he was standing directly behind me. I'm not sure whether it was bravery or stupidity, but I whirled around and dropped low and thrust my knee upward, crunching into his groin.

"What the f ..." he started to utter when I dropped to the ground. His words devolved to a shrill scream when my knee met his nuts. He dropped like a rock, his head grazing the curb and knocking him out. He was a white male, medium build, wearing a black windbreaker and faded jeans. I got up and dragged him onto the sidewalk and against a building. I frisked him and pocketed his burner phone. Looked like he was also had a few thousand dollars in a money clip. I cuffed his right hand to the leg of a mailbox and went to find Rachel.

I found her between two parked cars. She was lying on the pavement, clutching her left arm.

"I'm so sorry," she said, looking up from the ground with a forlorn expression on her face.

I knelt next to her and motioned for her to move her right hand away from her left arm. I rolled up her sleeve and saw an ugly purple mark. I found out later that the man had walked toward Rachel like he was a pedestrian and hit her left arm with a short length of pipe he was carrying. She dropped her gun out of her left hand and crumpled to the ground, falling between two parked cars. The man picked up her revolver and probably saw me manning the other corner. I'm sure he was sorry that he had decided to take me out instead of running in another direction.

Rachel looked so vulnerable sitting on the curb, cradling her hurt arm in her lap. I sat next to her. "No need to be sorry, rookie. I'm sure there was nothing you could do."

"He pulled out a pipe ..." she started to utter. I held up my hand.

"That can wait. I've got him chained to a mailbox across the street. Let's get you fixed up." I helped her into a standing position so she could get out of the street. I felt around the area of impact. It didn't appear that her arm was broken. She was going to have a nasty ass bruise. I called in for the paramedics, then reported that I'd gotten the suspect. We walked together across the street, Rachel's left arm hanging limply, and waited next to the suspect until help arrived.

While we were waiting, Lieutenant Lewis's black and white rolled up. Gillies was driving. Lewis got out the passenger side of the car. Her expression turned to one of concern when she saw Rachel's arm, her sleeve rolled up to reveal an ugly purple bruise.

"Damn, that bastard must have hit you hard," said Lewis, pointing to the injured arm.

"Not as hard as my knee to his family jewels," I interjected.

Lewis put her hand on Rachel's shoulder. "You did good rookie." Then she turned to me. "And you too. You got the main person we wanted. He must have been tipped off that we were coming and escaped before we had a chance to secure his house."

"Tipped off?"

"There must have been a leak at the station. I'll deal with it when I get back. Not a word of this to anyone else?"

Rachel and I both nodded.

"Good work. Pemberton, after Tompkins is taken by the paramedics I want you back at the station to help me write your part of the report."

Thank God for paperwork. I was looking forward to my quotient of boredom after an exciting morning.

* * *

I was on my third beer when Rachel arrived at Vince's, our station's after hours hangout, a dive bar two blocks away. I signaled to the bartender for another beer and one for my partner as she slid onto the barstool next to mine. Her arm was wrapped but wasn't in a sling. She held it up so I could get a better look.

"All fixed up," she said with some measure of pride. "Doc said I can go back to work immediately."

"That's great. Any issues?"

"No. He said it was take a few weeks for the swelling to do down and for the bruise to go away. It's pretty sore right now. But it's not as bruised as my ego."

It was time to reassure her. It wasn't her fault. "Nothing you could have done. How are you supposed to know someone has a metal pipe in their back pocket?"

She was stymied by my question.

"That's right," I continued. "There's no way you could have known that."

"I'm grateful that you got him, and recovered my sidearm."

"It was either him or me. I chose him."

She managed a laugh. "He was still in the fetal position when they took him away."

"I think his balls are going to be sore far after your arm has recovered."

She picked up her beer. We toasted the necks of the bottles. "Cheers to that."

"Yeah, cheers to his sore nuts and your quick recovery."

The chill that was between us was gone, thawed by adversity. Even with the bandaged arm she looked attractive, enough so that she was garnering an occasional stare from the others sitting at the bar. I started to wonder if she was a lesbian. No wedding or engagement ring. I pushed that thought out of my mind. She was my partner. She was off limits.

As I started onto my fourth beer Lewis and three other members of Vice, including Lanny, came in as a boisterous group.

"Max!" Lanny cried out.

I got off my barstool and gave him a bear hug. "I didn't think I'd miss an idiot like you, but I do."

"Told you Sarge. I'd grow on you."

"Have fun today?"

"Lieutenant let me kick in the front door, just like in the movies." You could tell he was excited ... like a little boy. "They were flushing drugs down the toilet when we showed up, but we were still able to recover a bunch of meth and a shitload of cash. And you got the kingpin."

"Not my most glamorous bust."

"It hurt me to see him." Lanny put his hand to his crotch for effect.

"Yeah, I guess my knees are pretty hard." I gave him a playful shove. "I told you that you don't want to fuck with me."

He put up his hands in mock surrender. "Not me, Max, not me."

Lewis stepped forward, a drink already in her hand. "Good collar Max. You saved our ass." She was in a good mood, and she cut a good figure in her uniform. After three beers, she looked even better than she did in the station. I felt a tingle in my thighs. That was good.

"Just doin' my job," I said humbly.

"Fuck you Max," Lewis shot back, calling me out on my fake modesty.

I broke into a big smile. "Yeah, I got that motherfucker. Kicked him in the balls for all of you!" I proclaimed, fueled by my fourth beer. The others hoisted their beers in a mock salute to me. Lewis, who was standing next to me, surreptitiously placed her hand on my ass.

* * *

I forgot to shut my drapes. The morning sun was burning my face. I tried to open my eyes but they were almost glued shut. I staggered out of bed and threw cold water on my face. It was 6 a.m. I remember finishing my handle of vodka after the six beers at the bar. I think Lanny drove my car to the motel and had someone pick him up. Bless him.

I rinsed my mouth out with mouthwash and spat the foul concoction into the bathroom sink. I looked into the mirror and saw a middle age woman on the wrong side of forty. If there was a Wikipedia page on shit warmed over it would have my picture on it.

I forced myself to take a long hot shower and then downed a pot of the putrid motel coffee. I told Rachel I was going to take her to Rita's for breakfast so she was going to pick me up at 6:30. She was picking up the patrol car first.

I still had my hair wrapped up in a towel when I looked out the front window and saw our patrol car park in the parking lot. Moments later there was a knock on the door. I let her in, dressed sharply and showing no signs of wear and tear. Her uniform covered her bandaged arm.

"Nice place Max," said Rachel as she surveyed the unmade bed, the empty vodka bottles and the dirty clothes strewn on the floor.

"Yeah. The maid doesn't come till nine. Excuse the mess." I was past the point of embarrassment. So goes the life of a self-aware alcoholic.

She sat down on the unmade bed. "Go ahead and finish getting ready. I'm early."

From the bed, she had a clear view of the bathroom. I dropped my robe to dress. I looked in the mirror and could see her studying my naked body. It gave me a chill. Flashes of the video I watched the other night ran through my mind. I wanted her, and it scared me.

"About ready Max?"

I buttoned my shirt and straightened the collar. "Just about."

"I'll be waiting down in the car." She left the room and I finished getting ready. As I was pulling on my pants I noticed a small wet spot on my panties. Fucking rookie.

* * *

"So this is your new partner," said Rita, the affable diner owner that was my good friend for the past ten years. "Much better looking than the last one." Lanny and her had an uneasy understanding after he accidentally dropped a plate of scrambled eggs down the front of her blouse.

Rita knew I was a lesbian and gave me "the look."

"It's not like that Rita." I could read her mind.

"Didn't say it was," she fired back. Rachel looked at the two of us puzzled by our exchange. I thought it best not to explain it to her.

The diner wasn't busy, so after Rita brought us a hearty breakfast she took a seat in our booth.

"Tell me about yourself sweetheart," Rita said, taking a bite of her homemade apple pie.

Rachel disgorged information through Rita's gentle questioning that I would have never been able to extract. She grew up in a wealthy neighborhood on the north side of town. Her father, a prominent attorney, disapproved of her career choice. Her mother was deathly frightened that her youngest child was going to get killed on the streets. She had no boyfriend (or girlfriend) and fashioned herself as a gourmet chef and baker.

Rachel and Rita made an instant connection, and by the time we left they hugged and Rita gave us a takeout container with two slices of her apple pie and two plastic forks. I loved that woman.

* * *

It was about a week later that we were on a routine patrol when we got a call from a person reporting that she found an unknown substance in their living room. Rachel and I answered the call and arrived at a modest brick bungalow in a lower-middle class neighborhood. I knocked on the screen door and a woman who looked a bit strung out answered. Her breath reeked of alcohol. Takes one to know one.

"Found this last night on the coffee table." She held up a plastic bag. She gave it to Rachel. Rachel held it up to the light. It held a small quantity of crystals with a slightly pinkish hue. I'd seen it before.

"Crank," I declared. I had made a bust a few weeks earlier and the meth had the same color.

"Fucking Darren," the woman spat out. "He's my brother-in-law. He and his friends were partying here last night.

"Do you know where he got this?" I asked, knowing it was a longshot.

"No idea. Found it on the coffee table this morning. Don't want it around."

"We'll take it back to the station. You were right to call us." I slipped the plastic bag in my pocket.

We went back to the station at lunchtime so I could drop off the contraband. I found Lewis. She would know what to do with it. I saw her walking down the hallway ahead of me.

"Lieutenant," I called to her.

She wheeled around. Her image softened after hanging out in the bar with her the previous week. "Max."

"Someone gave us this." I held up the baggie. "Someone found it in her home. What did you want me to do with it?"

"Give it to Hightower. He's in charge of contraband. They'll destroy it.

Why did it have to be that asshole?

I found Hightower in the break room drinking a cup of coffee and reading some soft core porn magazine. Perfect.

He looked up at me as I approached. "Hey Max. You tapped that rookie's ass yet?"

He had a knack of instantly getting under my skin.

"Lewis told me to give this to you." I threw the baggie on the table. "I think you're supposed to shove this up your ass."

Hightower grinned. "You tell me when you two lezzies are going to do it. I want to watch."

I tipped over his cup of coffee. It spread all over the table and starting dripping on the floor.

"Oops," I said. "Better clean that up."

* * *

Rachel and I were working better as a team. She felt more comfortable out on the streets and I felt more comfortable trusting her in tight situations. We came back from patrol and went to the locker room to change back in our civvies. Two female officers from Internal Affairs were waiting for us in the locker room and there was yellow caution tape running across Rachel's open locker.

"Ma'am, you're going to have to come with us." The two officers escorted Rachel away. I got in front of them to stop their progress.

"What the fuck is going on?" I demanded.

"It's none of your business," said the older of the two officers. "Talk to Lieutenant Lewis if you have any questions."

They pushed passed me. Rachel looked back at me, confused. I stood there helpless.

I skipped changing and looked for Lewis. She was still out somewhere so I decided to wait for her near the front entrance. She didn't get back for an hour, and was harried.