The clubhouse bar is well-stocked. King made sure of that after the war ended. Said we earned the right to celebrate. I pour myself three fingers of whiskey and down it in one swallow, then pour another.
Officer Collins, according to the name tag I definitely didn't stare at. Curvy, bright green eyes, black hair that smelled like vanilla. A cop who became a cop because she actually believed in helping people, if her defensive speech was anything to go by.
Naive. Stupid. Doomed to be disappointed when she realizes the system is broken and badges don't mean shit.
I drink the second whiskey slower, letting it burn down my throat. My cock is still semi-hard, still remembering the feel of her body, still wanting to bend her over this bar and show her exactly what a criminal can do to a cop.
The fucked up thing? I think she'd let me. I felt her nipples harden through that uniform when I leaned close. Heard her breath catch when I let my eyes rake over her body. She might hate that she wants me, but she wants me.
And I want her right back, which makes me a fucking idiot.
"Rookie."
Shadow's voice cuts through my thoughts. I turn to find him standing beside me, those cold gray eyes assessing. He's got that spooky ability to appear without making a sound, earned from military covert ops and honed with the club.
"What?" I pour another drink.
"There's a woman here to see you."
My heart kicks up. "What woman?"
"Cop." Shadow's expression doesn't change. "The one you gave a ride to this morning. She's outside asking for you."
I nearly drop the glass. "She's here? At the clubhouse?"
"Parked right out front." Shadow leans against the bar. "King's not going to be happy about this."
"Fuck." I down the whiskey and stand, my cock already hardening at the thought of seeing her again. "What does she want?"
"Didn't say. Just asked for Rookie." Shadow's eyes narrow. "You want me to tell her to leave?"
Yes. That's the smart answer. The safe answer. The answer that keeps the club out of police business and keeps my cock from doing something stupid.
"No." I head for the door. "I'll handle it."
The afternoon sun hits me as I step outside, and there she is. Leaning against a modest sedan, wearing jeans that hug every curve and a tank top that shows off her tits. Her black hair falls loose around her shoulders, and those green eyes track me as I approach.
She looks fucking hot. Hotter than she did in the uniform, which I didn't think was possible.
My cock agrees, throbbing hard enough to hurt.
"Officer Collins." I keep my voice cold, even though I want to grab her and pin her against that car. "Long way from the station."
"I need to talk to you." She straightens, and I can see the tension in her shoulders. "About what happened this morning."
"Nothing to talk about." I stop a few feet away, close enough to smell that vanilla scent again. "I punched a cop. You rode my bike. End of story."
"It's not the end." She takes a step closer. "Hayes filed a report. My chief wants your statement."
I laugh, cold and sharp. "You came all the way to the clubhouse to ask me to talk to cops? Are you fucking insane?"
"I'm desperate." Her voice cracks slightly. "Hayes is lying about what happened. Saying I freaked out, that you assaulted him unprovoked. My chief is giving me forty-eight hours to bring you in, or I lose my job."
My jaw clenches. "Not my problem."
"You made it your problem when you punched him." She moves closer still, and now I can see the desperation in her eyes. "Please. I know you hate cops. I know you don't owe me anything. But I need you to tell the truth about what you saw."
"The truth?" I step into her space, crowding her against the car. "The truth is your partner is a predator who uses his badge to assault women. The truth is your chief won't believe you no matter what I say. The truth is the system is fucked, and you walking into a police station thinking justice matters proves how naive you are."
