3. SHANE
3
SHANE
I stifle 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 to me 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.
A baby cries from the top of the stairs.
“On it, sarge,” Jordan says as she climbs the stairs two steps at a time.
The team disperses through the property in pairs, checking the bathroom first. In a small three bed semi, there’s usually only one bathroom. Once we’ve cleared downstairs, my partner and I head upstairs to join the others.
The only thing overpowering the aroma of weed is the stench coming from the baby’s nappy. A gaunt woman screams as Taylor restrains her and Jordan tends to the kid.
“Look, I just crashed here last night. I don’t even live here, man,” a young adult in the other room argues with Mike as he reads him his rights and cuffs his hands behind his back. I nod approvingly as the team gets everything under control, and we set about searching the property.
The aroma from a freshly cut crop lingers in the air everywhere we go. It’s more than likely not here anymore, but it’s not the weed I’m interested in. Judging by the state of the woman off her head, currently screaming at Taylor and Ben, she has heroine on tap here.
A ring light stands in the corner of the bedroom where the cot is and a mattress on the floor. I cover my nose with my hand, still smelling the stench from the kid. Lord only knows when he was last changed.
I knock the old Dell computer set up on a folding table next to the ring light. The screen comes to life with the tabs still open. www.seductivestreams… displays in the address bar. “What’s this?”
“Sarge?” Taylor cuffs the woman’s hands behind her back as she glances over at the screen with a selection of cam girls on display.
“Are you forced to do this?” I ask as I stare at the woman before me, her pupils dilated, eyes sunken as if all the happiness and life has been sucked away or beaten out of her.
“Nobody forces me to do anything.” She tries to wrestle in Taylor’s hold, but there’s no breaking free of Taylor’s grip.
I turn to click the monitor off, but something catches my eye. All noise muffles as the only sound I hear is my blood pulsing through my veins.
Black wallpaper with lilies behind a pewter metal bed frame is all too familiar. The curvy girl on the image might have long blonde plaits, but there’s no mistaking her, those curves, that ass, that face. Lilly.
Back at home in my office, the four walls close in on me as my fingers fly over the keys of my iMac like a man possessed. With clammy palms, I run my fingers through my hair in frustration. The small office at my home becomes stifling, despite the cool autumn chill outside.
Since I saw Lilly’s body with her black flowered bedroom wall behind her on some fucking adult content site during the raid today, I’ve been desperate to get on my computer and find her account, along with every picture there is of her on the internet, and erase it from every motherfuckers drive.
Waiting for the image I took on my phone to upload, I glance out the window on the ground floor. Orange leaves swirl in the wind, matching my scrambled mind. My ex-wife’s little sister shouldn’t be on a dealer’s screen.
The little girl with braces and pigtails is now a fully grown woman. Her soft bountiful curves covered in lace are enough to turn a man to sin. It’s not the first time I’ve noticed and it won’t be the last, but damnit, I don’t want every scumbag in this district seeing her body, much less anyone around the world.
Smoke curls from the cigarette butt in the ashtray. I clench my fist, then release and clench again. The search for her image on the internet is taking a fucking age. I’d know those thick thighs anywhere and the black flower tattoos climbing up her leg.
The computer beeps, distracting me from my phone and the image of her on my screen. Several matches pop up, filling all three of my monitors with her content from every angle, always sitting on the corner of her bed with the black wallpaper behind her.
I think back to fixing her bed, right on that very corner where the leg had broken, and remember the ring light she said was for makeup tutorials. Fucking makeup tutorials. I should’ve known then. Should’ve looked into it more, but I never in my wildest dreams thought Lilly would put herself in this position, though she’s always been trouble.
Clicking through the matching images, I check the metadata and trace it back to her account. “Fuck’s sake.” My voice echoes off the four walls in the box bedroom that’s my office. A room more like a teenage gaming lair, but lately all I’ve done is use it to track down my enemies with the help of Dom and Dan’s skills.
In the light of day, I’m Shane, ex army hero and small town cop, but under the veil of moonlight, I’m nothing more than a shadow.
Leaving the army wasn’t through choice, but a desperate attempt to save my marriage. It was too late. Fern had already moved on mentally. Shame I never got the memo until she packed her bags and took off.
Finally, I find the account. @nurseinfullbloom. It sounds more like a fucking garden centre than an account for adult content creation. With my fingers flying over the keyboard again, I subscribe to her channel under a pseudonym. With a quirk of my lip, I type in, @sarge_in_charge. A silent chuckle shakes my shoulders. That sounds like a fun username.
Once I’m subscribed to her highest tier, I’ve access to an album of photos and videos that date back to the summer. My shoulders relax a little when I see the feet fetish stuff. A seed of hope sprouts in my chest, hoping that’s all this is. A channel for her to create foot fetish content and earn a few quid on the side.
I scroll through an assortment of weird and crazy content of her replying to messages from strangers asking for all manner of kinks from popping balloons to eating cake and other snacks. The further I go, leading up to the present day, the more sexual and daring she gets. If I wasn’t so damn mad, I’d get off, but even my infuriated cock is on strike.
The next video, however, grabs both our attention. My balls draw up tight. Wide eyed, I watch her glorious tits bounce in a white cotton bra. Hard nipples chafe under the fabric as she bounces on a large teddy, the fur from its head between her thighs, hiding most of her white cotton knickers.
No wonder she broke the fucking bed, jiggling like she’s on a bouncy castle. Her moans fill the room, jolting me back to reality, and I click the x in the corner of the screen. I shouldn’t be looking at Lilly like this. I shouldn’t be picturing her bouncing on my cock. Or imagining what her stiff nipples will feel like against my tongue. And I certainly shouldn’t be wondering how much mess she’s making in her knickers or what she tastes like.
I close my eyes to stop looking at the screen, but she’s still there in my head, calling my name when I make her come with a violent shudder.
I’m finished.
Fuck. I’ll never be able to look at her the same way again. My little sister-in-law. Who you want to fuck. The voice in my head couldn’t be more wrong.
I don’t want to fuck her.
I want to ravish her, eat her pussy, and make her beg for my cock. I want to feel those thick thighs wrapped tightly around my waist; her painted red nails digging into my shoulders while I claim every part of her flesh.
A notification pops up on my screen.
@nurseinfullbloom Live at 9pm.
A growl rumbles from my lips as I jump out of my seat, the wheeled chair hitting the back of the wall. “Over my dead body.”