Page 18 of Misadventures in Blue
I have no doubt she could keep up with me, though, given the way she’s biting her lip and eyeing my erection right now. If we were at her place or mine—if we were anywhere else—we could go as many rounds as we needed to scratch the itch. As it is, I’m almost considering asking her for another—just one more, just real fast—because I’m not satisfied, not satisfied at all.
She’s still all rumpled and flushed, and that pussy is still exposed and taunting me with its silky blond curls and swollen, florid petals, and I just need one more time, one more fuck. Then I can start thinking straight again.
Cat’s cell phone rings from the floor where she dropped it earlier, and as she bends down to get it, I hear a voice from outside the door. Two voices.
Shit.
The look of alarm I shoot Cat is reflected right back at me, and she ignores the phone in favor of setting herself to rights as quickly as possible. She doesn’t bother fastening her garter—simply yanks down her skirt, smooths her shirt, and digs in her portfolio for a small elastic hair tie. She pulls her mussed hair into a ponytail as I zip up and manage to get my duty belt on with some degree of quietude, although the keepers I have to shove into my pockets because I don’t have enough time to fasten them on. I shove her panties in my pocket too, unlock the door, and flick on the light.
Within seconds of us getting seated at the table, there’s a casual knock and then the door pops open.
“Hey,” Sergeant Hougland says. The door opens more, and he’s with—aw, fuck—he’s with Captain Kim.
I see Cat swallow in the corner of my vision.
But both administrators seem unsuspecting and oblivious as they come in, and they don’t seem to pick up on Cat’s pink cheeks or the smell of sex in the room.
Not that I can relax any. I just had delicious, wet, unprotected sex in a police station. Sex that is still all over my skin and probably my clothes too, and now my new supervisors are strolling in for a chat. I hold myself as rigid and as detached as I can manage, hoping it’s not obvious that I was a rutting, eager beast just a few minutes ago.
“Day, we’re just swinging by on our way out to a meeting to see if you got that report I sent over from KCPD.”
Cat nods, folding her hands over her crossed legs, looking every bit the untouchable ice queen she’s rumored to be. Except between those crossed legs is a cunt that’s currently leaving a wet spot on that dry-clean-only skirt.
I feel a jerk of primitive satisfaction at the thought.
“I did,” she says crisply. “It was a report full of nothing, which I expected.”
“No leads on their end?”
“No leads,” she affirms. “Same as what KCKPD and the other Johnson County agencies said. The televisions aren’t being sold in the area, if they’re being sold at all. It’s like they’re being stolen and hoarded.”
“That’s not the usual way of things.” Hougland sighs, as if personally put out that these criminals aren’t following the template. “You think they’re planning on selling them in one big shipment?”
“It would be foolish,” Cat says and lifts a shoulder in a graceful shrug. “But I suppose we can’t rule anything out. I’m pulling together a list of plates that have hit plate readers mounted on traffic lights near the burglarized offices. Any duplicate hits—especially in the hours before and after the burglary—I’m going to follow up on. I suppose a next step could be seeing if any of those car owners have made payments for a storage unit in the metro. We might find our televisions there.”
Hougland and Kim are nodding. “When it’s warrant time, loop me in,” Hougland says. “I want to look it over before we submit it to a judge.”
“Of course,” Cat says coolly, and then Kim and Hougland ramble on a bit more about this and that before one of them glances at the clock on the wall and gives a theatrical sigh.
“It’s time to head out. Great work, Catherine,” Kim says, and they finally leave.
When the door closes, I look across the table at Cat and see a peculiar tightness around her mouth. If I had to guess, I’d say she looks pissed, but on Cat, it’s hard to guess at any emotion because she’s constantly wearing this forbidding, almost haughty shell.
“Hougland tick you off?” I hazard.
She looks back at me with some surprise and then gives a reluctant, sly grin. “That obvious, huh?”
“Nothing about you is obvious,” I say, and I mean it. “But I’m determined to learn every single thing about you. Including how you feel and what you hide.”
Her lips part, ever so slightly, and she shakes her head. “I keep thinking I know the box to put you in, and then you keep surprising me…”
I’m dying to know what box she wants to put me in, but she continues.
“Yes, Hougland has been frustrating to deal with. He just transferred into investigations last month, after I’d been put on the robberies. He’s old and a man, and he has old-man ideas about what I’m capable of. He’s been micromanaging the hell out of this case, and me, and I don’t deserve that.”
I love how unapologetically she talks about this. How fearlessly she calls out Hougland on his bullshit.
I don’t know what she sees in my face just now, but she raises an eyebrow.
