Revenge is Best Served Cold

Oh, I wanted to. So much.

I rubbed the inside of her satiny soft coffee colored thighs with my hands and pushed them apart, exposing all of her to me. I plunged my face into her pool of wetness, finding her soft, ripe center with my lips. I closed my lips together, pushing her cream into my mouth so I could taste her. Earthy, pungent sweetness. I sucked hard, pulling her clit out of its protective hood and lashing it with my tongue. My finger found her anus, winking with each suck on her clit. I spit on my finger and rimmed her asshole while I was eating her out. She gasped when my finger penetrated her, massaging the tight band of muscle protecting her back passage.

I used the tip of my finger to stretch that muscle. I couldn't help but finger myself when I was fingering her. It was too God damn sexy not to. It was a swampy mess between my legs.

Lehka was pleading, "No... Max... you can't... oh... my... God..."

Her hips flexed wildly. Her hands gripped my head, not letting me move it. I sucked harder and pushed my finger all the way inside her. I could feel her tight back channel pulsing with life and her anal ring gripping hard on my finger. She was babbling something I didn't understand and pounding my back with clenched fists.

"Fuck yes!" she bellowed.

I kept going, loving the feeling of her muscular thighs squeezing against my face. When she was exhausted, she pushed me away.

We lay there for minutes, how many I didn't know and didn't care. My eyes fluttered open to overhead lights that were brilliant streaks of yellow. The ceiling was a sea of whiteness. I traced my finger along the curve of her breast. She sighed, but I wasn't sure if she was asleep or just resting.

Then she gripped my finger and raised her head up.

"You passed Max."

I was disoriented. "What?"

"The sexual compatibility test. That's what we were doing, wasn't it?"

So smug. It was fantastic and we both knew it.

I grabbed her and nuzzled her neck. Then I gave it a light nip.

"Hey. What was that for?" she asked.

"Retest."

"Proceed," she whispered into my ear.

* * *

I got a solid two hours sleep before I had to get up, leaving Lehka in bed in a restful repose. I took a long hot shower to wake me up, kissed my sleeping beauty, then got ready and drove to the station to meet Lanny. He was waiting in the parking lot next to his new white car. I got out in the dark and cold to admire his car under the glare of the security lights.

"Model 3, huh?" I said to him. I'd never ridden in an electric car before.

"Just got it. It's got enough range for us to go to Detroit. We can stop at a supercharger for the ride back."

"Slick Lanny."

"Let me drive Max."

"OK."

He gave me a thrill by stomping on the pedal when we left the parking lot. Head snapping acceleration.

I figured we'd break up the trip by stopping after a couple hours of driving to catch a bite to eat. We stopped somewhere on I-75, can't remember exactly where, but the exit had a Micky D's.

We pulled into the drive-thru. "Usual surf and turf Max?"

"Yeah, I'm a creature of habit," I answered, even though it was early enough to eat breakfast instead.

Lanny ordered two Big Macs, fries and a large Coke. I got a fish sandwich, a cheeseburger and a Diet Coke. We pulled off to the side to eat. I wanted to check in with Lehka, but had no cell coverage. Lanny had the same cellular provider and the same luck. We scarfed down our meal, then finished the drive to Detroit in just under four hours. I tried Lehka again and got her voice mail. Lanny was pleasantly surprised to find he could park his car in a public garage that had a charging station.

Lanny and I went to Detroit's main police station in the old part of downtown and found it had a similar look and feel to ours. The meeting with Captain Grosjean was interesting, but the light he shed on the Ukrainian operation in Detroit didn't provide any useful intelligence on our locating Shevchenko. Ditto with the staff meeting afterwards. Maybe the relationship would yield something down the road, but Lanny and I left after a day of meetings tired and unsatisfied. I couldn't wait to get back to Lehka and to build on the beachhead I'd created the previous night. Maybe she was close to taking me back.

Chapter Two

Lehka's Story

Additional Protection

It was wonderful being with Max again, and the night of lovemaking went a long way to repairing a broken relationship. A long way, but in no way finished. Max didn't understand that matters of the heart take time, and her late night "date" with Heather and her drinking binge didn't set well with me. She knew her drinking would be a dealbreaker issue, and yet in a moment of weakness forgot her promise to me and got stinking drunk. Fortunately Heather confessed the panties I discovered in Max's bed were hers, but were planted there by her to create the impression she had sex with Max. If they had had an affair, that would have ended things between us. As it was, Max's willingness to put herself in such a compromising position showed poor judgment. I wasn't going to let her break my heart again so I wanted to take it in baby steps before I committed my life to her. The sex was great, but great sex alone didn't provide a solid foundation for a long term relationship.

No one on our side had seen Shevchenko since the shooting. The left side of his face was likely horribly disfigured. Think Phantom of the Opera. I shuddered when I thought a man of such treachery and true hatred of women would be wandering the streets of Cincinnati. Though Max had her obvious flaws, tenacity in her pursuit of a madman was not one of them. If I had my choice of anyone I knew in Columbus or in Cincinnati to track down Shevchenko, no matter the time or the cost, it would be Max.

I felt a tinge of regret at not telling her sooner that she was right and I was wrong on Shevchenko. Perhaps that was a character flaw on my part. I'm not perfect either, and professionally I take great pride in my work. I had to eat crow along with the delicious dinner at Nicky's the previous evening when I told her that I had made the wrong call on Shevchenko when I insisted we pursue the Columbians instead of him. Max's "heart first" and gut instincts were the only thing that saved Carina De León. If Max had buckled to Captain Sheehan and myself Carina would have never seen her baby again. It was Max's inexhaustible desire to save people that saved Carina.

Our breathtaking night together made me once again reassess our relationship. Although I wasn't willing to welcome her back to the apartment with open arms yet, her genuine love for me made it hard to turn her down. I desperately wanted her to get the message this time that binge drinking was completely unacceptable. I had an uncle on my mother's side who was an alcoholic and I learned from her that sometimes "tough love" was the only way to penetrate the seductiveness of an addiction. Last night made my resolve waver, but I reminded myself that Max had a strong constitution, and that half measures with her would not work. She had to choose -- either me or the bottle.

With my mental angst rationalized at least temporarily, I refocused on the task before me. I was putting the finishing touches on my plan for an outreach program for recently displaced refugees from Guatemala. It was a gratifying to do something positive and constructive, and with my parents also being immigrants to this country, I wanted to give back to those choosing the same path as my parents. Although Olek Shevchenko was still at large, the refugees he'd taken captive were safely returned to our detention facility. Many of them, including Carina De León, were granted political asylum and soon would be placed with host families in Cincinnati with a view to permanent residency in Cincinnati or elsewhere. My program would serve as the framework for their assimilation into our country.

Max was in Detroit in meetings to gather intelligence on Shevchenko, which left me with enough alone time to complete my 128 page draft. I needed to get it reviewed by Sheehan before it went to the Police Commission for final approval. Fortunately my writing skills were honed as an English major at Ohio State, and I was pleased with the quality of my work product. I sent the draft to the shared printer and retrieved it moments later. I flipped through the crisp new pages for one final pass and then satisfied, put a binder clip on it for delivery to Cap Sheehan.

Captain Pamela Sheehan was an interesting character study for me. In many ways she was typical of the women I interacted with on the Columbus police force -- strong, confident, and decisive, qualities that I aspired to in myself. But there was more to her. She approached her job like a chess grandmaster, playing out the match in her mind after the first piece was moved. I marveled at her ability to stay one, or even two steps, ahead of me.

She also shared one more characteristic in common with many of her female peers. She was divorced. I knew all too well the pressures of the job and the commitment to excellence. That left little time for personal relationships and the tender loving care that's required to nurture them. Max was horrible at relationship management. To her, the job was her first, second and third priority, which left me in the caboose. It wasn't a deal breaker for me as I knew first hand how Max threw herself into her cases. I accepted it as a fact of life, though it did complicate our ability to manage our relationship through the inevitable bumps.

I admired Captain Sheehan, and was grateful to work with her on this project. I carried the draft into her office with eager anticipation of her approval. Cap was drinking some wonderful smelling coffee.

"What's up Lehka?" she asked. She motioned for me to take a seat.

I tossed the draft on her desk. She picked it up and flipped through a few of the pages. She dropped it into her briefcase.

"I'll read it tonight," she told me. "And thank you."

She didn't appear to be overly busy so I decided to share the previous night's diner confession to Max that I was wrong and she was right.

"I've thought a lot about that too," she said with a big sigh. "Sometimes sitting in this chair invites a lot of second guessing. You can't always be right but you always have to make the call. You're right though, Max seems to have a nose for this, and that can't be underestimated. But I can't maintain discipline in the department if people are allowed to do what they want. I have been tempted to apologize to her, but I was doing my job and made my decision with the best data available, and I won't apologize for trying to maintain my objectivity."

"You're right of course," I acknowledged, "but I also can't help but think that our actions would have deprived Carina's baby of her mother.

"Don't think I haven't thought about that too. But I've asked officers to do things that have put them in harm's way, and I can't second guess myself without driving myself crazy."

"I don't think I want to be in your chair," I admitted.

"And speaking of being in harm's way," she added. "Why don't we assign Rodriguez to you until Max comes back. Then we can reevaluate."

I didn't see the need for concern. Shevchenko had bigger fish to fry than me.

"Honest Cap, aren't we being a bit over cautious here?"

"That wasn't a question Singh. Go find Rodriguez and have him stay with you until Max gets back."

"OK," I agreed. Better safe than sorry I thought. I found Rodriguez in the break room waiting for me. I told him that I planned on staying in the office and would call him when I left.

* * *

No need for Rodriguez. I had piled up a stack of paperwork while I spent time finishing my draft on the outreach program. By late afternoon my eyes were getting bleary and decided to call it a day. Before I left I gave Max a call but got her voicemail. I figured she was either still in meetings or was on her way home and was in a dead spot on the freeway. I gave Rodriguez a call and told him I was heading back to the apartment.

"Hey Emil. I'm heading home. See you tomorrow?"

"I'll drive you home."

It was only a short drive and I had a security gate protecting the underground parking garage.

"That won't be necessary."

"Cap's orders were for me to take you home."

I sighed. "My car is still parked here."

"We'll have someone else bring it back or you can leave it here. I'm picking you up tomorrow morning as well."

"Haven't you got anything better to do?"

"Not if Sheehan tells me to do it."

What a pain in the ass. Whatever. "OK. I'll be in the break room in five minutes."

* * *

The ride back was uneventful. I texted Max and told her to come back to our apartment instead of the Royal Palms. I know. I was starting to cave, but I knew at some point I'd have to find out if this was going to work. I didn't see much point in letting her twist in the wind much longer. I think she got the message loud and clear.

I didn't really know Emil that well, but on the ride back I learned that he was married with two teenage kids. I told him about the outreach program I'd put together and he showed true interest. He was a young child when his family had immigrated to the United States from Mexico so he understood first hand the challenges of moving to this country.

We got to the parking garage. I told him the security code and he punched it in. The black metal gate opened and he pulled into one of open spots.

He got out of the car along with me.

"Door to door service?" I asked.

"Cap insists."

I went first and he followed me. I punched the call button for the elevator. Then I felt cold metal pressed against the back of my neck.

"Don't move," a deep muffled voice told me. I glanced to the side and saw that Emil also had the barrel of a gun against his head.

My heart was pounding wildly in my chest. I thought I was going to die, then and there.

The elevator door opened. There wasn't anyone in the cab.

I felt strong hands zip tie my hands behind my back. I was bulldogged over to a black SUV parked in the corner of the garage. I figured they must have followed someone in and waited for us. The back tailgate was opened. Emil must have struggled because he seemed to be unconscious and was dragged over. His wrists were bound together as well. He was unceremoniously dumped into the cargo compartment in the back. I was pushed into the back seat. A cloth bag was pulled over my head and the drawstring pulled tight around my neck. My world went pitch black. I started to hyperventilate. I was as scared as I'd ever been in my life.

"Where are you taking me?" I shouted through the cloth bag. I was of course in no position to make such a demand.

I was cuffed on my cheek by the back of a massive hand. I reeled sideways and my head hit the door window, stunning me.

"Shut up," the same voice told me.

I decided there was nothing to be gained by talking, so I sat there silent, trying to think straight but failing. The car drove for about ten or fifteen minutes (or was it a half hour?) before stopping. I heard voices in what sounded like a Eastern European language which I guessed to be Ukrainian. I was pulled out of the car. I stumbled and was caught by muscular arms and manhandled as I was pushed forward. I heard a lightweight metal screen door creak open and was pushed through, and then feeling a hard surface under my feet, maybe a tile floor. Arms went under my shoulders as I was guided down a long flight of wooden stairs. Judging by the cold, musty air, I was in a basement.

I was forced to sit in a metal chair, the cold cutting through my trousers. My hood was jerked off. I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the harsh fluorescent light from cheap overhead fixtures. One of the tubes sputtered, giving intermittent light, and making the situation feel surreal. Shevchenko was sitting at the other end of the table. I knew it was him from his pictures, and the fact that half of his face was missing, including the left side of his mouth, where his lips were severely disfigured. He had a patch over what I presumed to be a missing left eye. I wanted to be strong but I knew my legs were shaking.

"So good of you to join us Officer Singh," he said in a lispy heavily accented voice.

Sinister. It was cliché, but it sent a shiver up my spine nonetheless. I said nothing and looked blankly ahead. Inside, my stomach was doing flips and I was trying not to pass out.

"You're probably wondering how I know you."

Again silence from me. But I did wonder. Why did he take me? He was after Lanny, and maybe Max, but not me. I had no involvement in Shevchenko's unfortunate glass shower. But maybe it was because I was Max's girlfriend, and in his mind that made me fair game.

"I know all about you, and your lover Max Pemberton and her partner Lanny Townsend. Max can't help you. She's in Detroit with her partner."

Ahh. Suspicion confirmed.

"How do you know this?" I asked him. There must have been a well-placed mole (or two) in the department.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

We found out much later that Lester was one of the people playing both sides. He was providing information both to Shevchenko and to Max. The little weasel was trying to stay alive.

"First, a little demonstration for your benefit."

He signaled to the man who was standing in the corner. I tried to memorize his features. Tall, well over six foot, heavily muscled, shaved head with a jagged scar on his chin and tattoos on his forearms. The kind of guy who would scare the shit out of you if you saw him in a dark alley. He left the room.

I shifted in my chair to get more comfortable. It was difficult for me to sit with my hands zip tied behind my back. The plastic was cutting into my wrists. I was wondering how fucked I was. I concluded -- very.

"What do you want?" I asked him.

He gave me an insidious smile. "Everything, Officer Singh... everything."

Shit. My worst dreams realized. He was going to make an example of me. What fucked up thing did he have in mind for me as revenge for the disfigurement of his face? I was thinking that a quick death for me would be one of the better options.

He had a small tumbler and a bottle of Stoli sitting in front of him. He poured himself a double shot and drank it.

"I'd offer you one, but it's Max who really needs this. I've got something better for you."

He was talking in riddles, but I knew it wasn't going to be good. Max wasn't going to be able to help me. It was just me and this crazy person.

"Since we're going to get to know each other so much better, I'm going to call you Lehka. Is that all right?"

I scowled at him, trying to look mean and determined.

He smiled.

"Lehka it is. You can call me Olek."

Rodriguez was wrestled into the room by the burly man. He looked like he had recovered consciousness from a blow to his head. His hands were still zip tied behind his back. The man who retrieved him was barely breaking a sweat holding him in place next to Shevchenko. Shevchenko put a hand gun and a large serrated hunting knife on the table.

"Being a generous man, I'm going to let you decide how Officer Rodriguez is going to die. I prefer the knife, but you can choose the gun if you like."

This was not happening to me. Rodriguez was struggling harder and babbling something in Spanish. I heard the roar of the ocean. I was sinking underwater, into the cold dark depths. A man standing behind me shook me to keep me conscious. I stared at Shevchenko's face, the work of Lanny's gun. His face was horribly pitted. I was literally staring death in the face.

"Well Lehka, what will it be?"

I wasn't going to choose. I was going to resist. To the end.