Large, strong hands slide around my waist. He pulls me close with a groan vibrating in his chest. My body shudders against him. The only thing between us is a growing bulge beneath his combats.
“Lilly,” he groans inches from my face. His eyes darkening. I’ve never seen him like this. My loyal German shepherd is replaced by a jackal. A ravenous jackal who’s set his sights on his next meal. Hopefully, my aching pussy.
“Aunty Lil?” Harry shouts, breaking me from Shane’s gaze.
I take a step back. For a minute there, I’d forgotten Harry was here. I was dickmatised. Again.
It’s been too long since I had any real physical interaction. I’m practically throwing myself at my brother-in-law. Or ex brother-in-law as he put it. It makes no difference. My sisterwould never forgive me if anything were to happen between us. No matter how much I want it.
“I’m up here, sweetie.” I spin on my heel and walk to the landing. “Do you want anything?” I ask Shane.
He says, “No.” But when I turn my head back to gaze into his eyes, they convey a different answer, full of everything he wants in his deep, dark-brown pools of desire.
3
SHANE
Istifle a yawn as we leave the station after a briefing. Sitting in the passenger seat of the van, I squint my eyes as the sun rises in the distance. Drug raids require an early start. I should be on top form, but some nights insomnia snatches away any attempts to sleep like a thief stealing my dreams and leaving me to face my reality.
My hand reaches inside my jacket, checking I picked up the search warrant for a property we’ve been scouting for two years. I relax my shoulders as my fingers trace the sharp edge of the folded paper in my inside pocket. Levi Jackson is the scum of the earth. He’s been in and out of prison since he left school for dealing, rape, and possession with intent to harm. There’s no reforming him. Some people are just rotten to the core.
“Sarge, surveillance said there’s still no sign of Levi at the property since he left last night,” Ben says from the back of the van.
“Damnit.” I flex my fingers, clenching to a fist and opening again. I was looking forward to arresting that piece of shit.
Ben says, “At least he won’t cause us any bother. Hopefully, we’ll be done by dinner.”
Mike chuckles as he turns the wheel, driving onto the deprived council estate on the rough side of town. “Do you ever think of anything but your stomach?”
Ben pats his abs. “Only my dick.” He winks at Taylor.
“Wink at me again, and I’ll chop your dick off,” Taylor says, folding her arms over her police vest.
Jordan, another one of our female officers, says, “Don’t they say those that think about it are the ones that never get any?”
Ain’t that the truth. I huff unable to remember the last time I had a woman. I stopped casually sleeping around years ago. Sex is just sex when there’s no emotion involved. And frankly, I may as well use my right hand than get into a meaningless relationship.
There’s no such thing as no strings attached where a woman’s concerned. They’re all too emotional and after Fern, I don’t think I could trust another woman with what’s left of my heart. Except for Lilly. But she’s off limits.
Mike slows the van down, weaving around a kid’s old tricycle dumped in the middle of the road. A battered sofa sits on someone’s front lawn, more like a jungle as the weeds climb up the sides. We drive past the surveillance car, giving the guys a nod, then pass another car with social services waiting in the wings.
Mike sniffs the air in the cab. “It’s a wonder them two aren’t high from sitting there all night. I can smell the crop from here.”
Taking a deep inhale, a small laugh escapes. I’m not against cannabis for personal use or medicinal purposes, even if it is against the law. I turn a blind eye every time I visit Kane’s place. His dad used to grow it for personal use, and he’s carried on the tradition.
What I am against is people growing it to sell, class A drug distribution, and ruining kids’ lives. Too many people close tome have been affected by addiction thanks to scumbags like Levi Jackson.
Mike slows the vehicle to a halt at the kerb. “Time to get the party started, guys.”
Everyone piles out of the van. Another team follows behind in a patrol car. Ben carries the big red key, our battering ram. He’s a big guy who plays rugby in his spare time and loves nothing more than hammering down doors. He practically runs down the concrete path past the overgrown lawn littered with broken furniture, empty bottles, and food packets.
The rest of the team follow the usual procedure, scanning the surrounding property for any sign of life.
My breath fogs in the frosty morning air. The sun peeks through the clouds at the dew on the grimy windowsill.
After the second hammer against the door, there’s movement upstairs. A curtain twitches, followed by muffled voices. “Fuck. It’s the cops.”
Ben knows we have limited time before they start flushing stuff down the toilet, and he hammers harder with the enforcer. Mike stands behind him with the grinder at the ready, but the door finally gives way.
