Now that Cane and I had reached a loose understanding, he led me to the restroom and closed the door so I could do my business. He must know this building because he knew right where it was and before he left he told me to meet him in the office that was next to it.
I was grateful for the moment alone. Sitting on the toilet, I rested my elbows on my knees as I covered my face with my hands and sighed. The case has been compromised. My job has been compromised. And now, my sanity has really been compromised. I had committed so many crimes in this past hour that if I was caught without him, I was fucked.
When I originally signed on to this case, I thought it would be my first class ticket to a promotion and the next rung on the ladder up. I never knew that this convicted felon held the key to the lock inside my soul I had been keeping hidden deep inside. Instead of capturing him and bringing him to justice, I was helping him stay out of the jail he escaped from. But he opened a door inside me that made me feel alive. When he was inside me, I felt so much more than a cop; I felt like a woman.
Through the wall, I heard his muffled voice laughing. He must be on the phone or something. I got up and opened the door a crack to listen to him.
"Yeah, dude. The plan is going better than expected. But I had a little glitch... No, nothing to worry about. Just someone else has been added to the mix... This one will help. Trust me. She's a cop... Believe me, man. I have her eating out of the palm of my hand. Or in my case, off the tip of my cock."
Eating out of the palm of his hand? Is that what he thought? I'm not a tool to be used in his trade. I gave him trust to get trust in return and he's making jokes to some prick on the phone about me. Inside I hoped it was some macho guy ritual that he just talks about girls like that on principle. Inside I knew I was in far over my head. I needed a new plan. Plan A was fucked as soon as he kissed me. Plan B just vomited in my face. Plan C to the rescue.
I washed my face and cleaned up a bit, making myself look as presentable as possible. When I opened the door, I heard the last of the conversation.
"You're on your way, right? Ok, see you in five."
Cane hung the phone up and I walked into the office next to the bathroom. It was empty but for a desk, two chairs and the phone sitting on top of the dirty desk. No one had done business in here for years and I wondered at what other kind of nefarious acts have occurred in this room. In Cane's eyes, I saw he was wondering at how much of the conversation I had heard. I decide to throw him a bone.
"Who is on their way?"
I approached him slowly, bringing the bad girl back to play and I pressed my body into him, leaning into the cradle of his arms. He was resting against the desk and puts his arms around my waist.
"My partner. He has been waiting for my call. He is right down the street at the bar, on his way now."
"I didn't know you still worked with a partner."
I did. It was in his file when I researched him for the case. The team has been causing trouble and committing crimes for years together. Cane and Abel. How biblical. Abel was the brains behind the pair; Cane was the muscle. Together they have stolen upwards of 3.5 million in cash and prizes and done time for some of it in the beginning. They became smarter and contracted out most of their crimes to thugs and dealers now, so when Cane lost his temper and shot one of his minions in a fit of rage, we knew we finally had a charge on him big enough to take down the team. We didn't count on Abel helping him break out of jail before we could even get the case together. For cops, we should have expected it all.
Purring like a kitten as I rubbed my body against his, I leaned closer and ran my fingers up and down his back. "Can't wait to meet him."
He smiled down at me and said, "I bet he can't wait to meet you either, sugar. You're just his type."
Alarm bells rung my ears and I stiffened for a minute. His type? What would that have to do with anything? With my best Precious Moments eyes, I innocently looked to him and said, "What do you mean I'm his type?"
His hands curled around my waist and he pulled me closer, bringing his lips to my ear. "Abel likes good girls with a little bad in them. He especially likes girls with tattoos and an evil smirk in their eye that is just begging for trouble."
Sliding my hands up his back, I held him by his nape and met his eyes. Did he mean what I think he meant?
"We share everything, baby. Everything. And Abel likes to watch as much as he likes to play."
Before my panic could set in from his words, the door opens to the office as if on cue and Abel strolled in. The first thing I noticed about him was his smile. Cocky and crooked, he grinned like he had all the answers and all the time in the world to use them. Blond hair was messy and loose on top of his head and pushed to the side. When he turned to close the door, I noticed it shaved on the sides into a Mohawk. Turning back to meet my eyes, ice blue piercing irises slammed into me and I knew then I was in way over my head.
Abel cracked a smile and sauntered over to us; there really was no other word for it. He walked with a swagger that any cowboy would envy. With an open black button down shirt over a white tee and jeans, as unassuming as a Banana Republic attendant, the only thing that made him appear like a menace was the tattoos covering his arms and the heavy shit-kickers scuffing the floor. He would probably help an old lady across the street on his way to a bank robbery.
"Have I come at a bad time?" he said through his twisted lips as he took in the scene of me and Cane in a tense embrace. I slipped my hands away from him and came to a rapid fire conclusion. Plan C was getting better and better.
