Chapter 5 Raelynn #2
Compared to my last ride-along, which dragged on for ten uneventful hours with only a handful of low-level calls and long stretches of radio silence, today had been… intense. And constant. And honestly? Kind of thrilling.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Rodriguez says, offering a small smile.
“You’ll have plenty more opportunities for ride-alongs over the next fifteen weeks.
But while I’ve got you here, let’s talk about your duties around the station and what areas of law enforcement interest you most, because that’s where we’ll try to focus your time. ”
I nod, shifting slightly in my seat to give her my full attention.
“While you’re at the station, I’ll assign you a mix of responsibilities.
Some tasks will be administrative, including filing, organizing case files, and assisting with data entry.
You’ll assist with logging reports and, occasionally, updating digital records to track property or evidence.
It’s not glamorous, but it’s important.”
She taps her pen on a legal pad and glances back at me. “We’ll balance that with time in the field. I expect you’ll spend roughly half your hours on ride-alongs or shadowing officers in different units. The idea is to give you a full view of the department, not just the flashy parts.”
“I’m good with that,” I say quickly, then add, “honestly, the two areas I’m most drawn to are patrol and criminal investigations.”
Rodriguez smiles like that’s the answer she was hoping for.
“We can definitely work with that. I’ll most likely pair you with Detective Meyer at some point.
She has been a part of the Criminal Investigation Department for some time.
She has worked on a wide range of cases, including robbery, homicide, missing persons, and even cold cases. You’ll learn a lot from her.”
I nod, even more interested now. “That sounds perfect.”
“Good,” she says, scribbling a quick note on her pad.
“We’ll get your schedule mapped out by the end of the week.
In the meantime, if you have questions or would like to explore other units, such as traffic, forensics, or community outreach, please don’t hesitate to let me know.
This internship is what you make of it.”
Rodriguez finishes jotting down a few final notes before flipping the notepad closed with a quiet snap. She looks up at me, offering a final smile. “That’s it for today. You’re free to head out,” she says with a nod. “First days are rarely smooth, but you handled it well.”
“Thank you,” I reply as I rise from the chair, the observer’s vest still draped over my arm. “Ma’am,” I say to get Rodriguez’s attention. She looks up at me, brows slightly lifted in question. I hold out the vest.
“Oh! Thank you,” she says, reaching for it. “I completely forgot you still had that.”
“You’re welcome. I hope the rest of your afternoon goes well.”
“You as well, Miss Carson. We’ll see you on Thursday.”
I nod and step out of the office, the door clicking shut behind me. My footsteps echo faintly as I make my way down the hall toward the lobby. A few passing officers offer polite nods as I go, and I return each one with a small smile.
Entering the lobby, I spot Thomas behind the front desk and give him a wave as I pass. He grins and returns it, then continues his conversation with a visitor as I make my way through the crowded space and back out into the heat.
I cross the lot at a steady pace, the heat radiating off the pavement in shimmering waves as I approach my maroon Optima.
Key in hand, I press the button, and the doors unlock with a soft click.
I slide into the driver’s seat, thankful that I don’t have leather seats, and press the start button beneath the steering wheel.
The engine rumbles to life, and a rush of cool air spills from the vents, sweeping across my flushed skin.
I lean back into the seat, letting the air hit my face and dry the sweat that was beading along my forehead as I close my eyes for a second, hoping to decompress and let the weight of the day melt off me.
My mind, however, has other plans.
It’s running in a hundred directions, but nearly every thought circles back to him.
Emilio Perez.
Officer Condescending. Mister I-Don’t-Have-Time-for-Interns. The embodiment of everything that should make my skin crawl.
He pissed me off. No—he infuriated me. Treated me like I didn’t belong, like I was just dead weight in the backseat of his cruiser.
Every word he spoke carried that same clipped, dismissive tone, and when he laughed at my ambitions—laughed—like they were some kind of fucking joke, I swear I saw red.
And yet, beneath all the irritation and anger, there’s something else simmering—a heat that coils in my gut and spreads low and slow, soaking through the fabric of my panties with humiliating ease.
I hate that my body doesn’t seem to care that my brain wants to punch him in the throat.
This is what I get for reading too many dark romances and obsessing over morally gray men with emotional trauma and control issues. My type? Apparently, assholes with badges and looks that should be illegal.
God, why does he have to be so obnoxiously hot?
I let out a long, exasperated sigh and lean forward, jabbing the touchscreen on my dash to switch from radio to Android Auto. The screen blinks, then loads Music. I hit shuffle on my “Favorites” playlist.
The opening beat of “Motley Crew” by Post Malone pulses through the speakers, bass thumping in time with my pulse.
Throwing the car into reverse, I ease out of the parking spot, jaw tight and knuckles white around the steering wheel.
I need a distraction. Preferably one that doesn’t come with a uniform, a brooding stare, or the power to completely unhinge my thoughts with one fucking look.