Chapter 2 - Rookie
The cop's hands are on her, and all I can see is red.
I wasn't looking for trouble this morning. Just taking a ride to clear my head after last night's celebration at the clubhouse. All my brothers paired off now, happy, the war with the Iron Eagles finally fucking over. We can rest. We earned it.
But then I saw the patrol car pull into this alley, saw them get out, saw him grab her, and every instinct I've spent months honing with the Savage Riders kicked into overdrive.
"Get your hands off her," I repeat, moving closer.
My boots echo off the warehouse walls. I want this asshole to hear me coming. The male cop, mid-forties, soft around the middle, the kind who uses his badge to compensate for being a worthless piece of shit doesn't let go immediately. He's assessing me, trying to decide if I'm a threat.
I crack my knuckles, letting him hear each pop. The bruises from proving myself during the Iron Eagles war have mostly faded, but I've kept them fresh with training.
"This is police business," the cop says, his voice all authority and bullshit. "Move along before I arrest you for interfering."
I laugh, cold and sharp. "Fuck the police." The words taste good in my mouth, righteous and true. "I said get your fucking hands off her."
The female cop, and shit, she's exactly my type, all curves and softness wrapped in that uniform, black hair falling around her face, bright green eyes wide with fear tries to pull free again. This time the asshole lets her go, his attention fully on me now.
My cock twitches in my jeans just from looking at her, and I fucking hate it. Hate that my body's responding to a goddamn cop. Hate that those curves are making me hard when I should be focused on the situation. Hate that I want to know what she feels like under that uniform.
"Do you know who I am?" He steps toward me, puffing out his chest. "Officer David Hayes, twenty years on the force. I can make your life very difficult."
"Don't give a shit if you're the fucking chief.
" I close the distance between us until we're toe to toe.
I'm younger, leaner, and I want to hurt him so badly my fingers itch with it.
"You put your hands on her without permission.
That makes you a predator, and your badge doesn't mean fuck-all to me. "
His face flushes red. "You little punk—"
He reaches for his belt, probably for his cuffs or his baton, and that's all the excuse I need. My fist connects with his jaw before he can complete the motion. The impact jolts up my arm, and he staggers back, hand flying to his face.
"You assaulted a police officer!" he sputters, blood on his lip.
"Prove it." I advance on him, rolling my shoulders. "Your word against mine. And you're the one who dragged your partner into an alley and put your hands on her. So, who's really the criminal here?"
He looks at the female cop, then back at me, calculating. He's realizing his position isn't as strong as he thought. If he arrests me, she might talk. Might file a complaint. Might expose what he was trying to do.
"This isn't over," he spits, backing toward the patrol car. He points at her without looking. "Collins, you're walking back to the station. Consider yourself on administrative duty until further notice."
He gets in the car and peels out, leaving her and me standing in the alley. Leaving her stranded.
I turn to face her fully for the first time, and fuck me, she's gorgeous.
The uniform doesn't hide anything. It just emphasizes every curve.
Her black hair is slightly messed up from the struggle, her green eyes are bright with unshed tears and fury, and my cock is already straining against my jeans, throbbing.
I hate it. Hate that I'm getting hard for a fucking cop.
"You okay?" I ask, keeping my distance and my voice gruff. I just punched her partner. And I'm fighting the urge to adjust myself.
"I—" She swallows hard, her hand going to her arm where he grabbed her. "Yes. Thank you. You didn't have to do that."
"Yeah, I did." I shove my hands in my pockets, partly to keep from reaching for her, partly to hide the bulge forming in my jeans. "Guy was assaulting you. Doesn't matter that he's a cop."
She flinches at the word. "He's my partner. Was my partner."
"He's a piece of shit who uses his badge to prey on women."
The words come out harsher than I intend, but I can't help it. Cops. They're all the same. Corrupt, power-hungry, worthless. Even if this one has an ass that's making my mouth water and tits I want to bury my face in.
Fuck. I need to stop thinking like this.
"You're one of them," she says suddenly, her eyes dropping to the leather vest I'm wearing. The Savage Riders patch sits over my heart. "The motorcycle club that runs this town."
"We don't run shit." I keep my voice level even though irritation pricks at me. "We protect this town. Big difference."
"Protect it from what?"
"From people like him." I jerk my chin toward where the patrol car disappeared, trying not to notice how her uniform pulls tight across her chest when she crosses her arms. "From gangs. From anyone who thinks they can hurt innocent people and get away with it."
She studies me, and I let her look. Let her see the patches, the bruised knuckles, the tattoos peeking out from under my sleeves.
Let her decide what she thinks of me. Meanwhile, my cock is getting harder, pressing painfully against my zipper, and I want to hate her for it but can't quite manage it.
"I should get back to the station," she says finally, but she doesn't move. "File a report."
I snort. "Good luck with that. They won't believe you."
Her jaw tightens. "You don't know that."
"Yeah, I do." I cross my arms over my chest, mirroring her posture. "How long you been wearing that badge? Can't be long."
"That's none of your business."
"It is when you're walking into a shitstorm thinking your badge means something." My eyes drop to her body again. I can't help it. The way her hips flare, the curve of her stomach, those thick thighs. Jesus Christ. "They'll bury you. He's got seniority, connections. You've got nothing."
"I have the truth." Her voice rises, anger breaking through. "That should count for something."
"Truth doesn't mean shit to cops." The bitterness in my voice surprises even me. "They protect their own. Always have, always will."
She stares at me, something shifting in her expression. "You really hate us, don't you? The police."
"With every fucking breath." I don't soften it, don't apologize for it. It's the truth. "Your badge doesn't make you a hero. Just makes you part of a broken system."
"And what does your vest make you?" She gestures to my cut. "A hero? Or just another criminal hiding behind brotherhood?"
She's got fire, I'll give her that. Even scared, even stranded, she's fighting back. It makes my cock throb harder, makes me want to grab her and show her exactly what this criminal can do to her curvy body.
Fuck. I need to get away from her before I do something stupid.
"I'm the guy who just saved your ass," I growl. "That's what my vest makes me."
"I didn't ask you to—"
"You were about to." I step closer, unable to help myself. She smells like coffee and vanilla, soft and sweet despite the uniform. "I saw the fear in your eyes. Saw you trying to figure out how to fight him off without losing your job. Well, guess what? You're probably going to lose it anyway."
Her face pales. "You don't know that."
"Yeah, I do." I'm close enough now to see the flecks of gold in her green eyes, close enough that if I leaned forward just a little, I could kiss that smart mouth.
My cock is screaming at me to do it, to press her against the wall and show her what a real man feels like.
"But when you realize I'm right, when they throw you under the bus to protect him, don't come crying to me. "
"I wouldn't dream of it." She lifts her chin, stubborn and brave and so fucking beautiful it pisses me off. "I don't need help from someone like you."
"Someone like me?" I lean in, watching her pupils dilate. She's feeling this too, this fucked up attraction between us. "You mean someone who actually does something instead of hiding behind a badge?"
"I mean a criminal." But her voice wavers slightly.
"At least I'm honest about what I am." I let my eyes rake over her body slowly. Let her see the hunger in my gaze even if I hate myself for it. "Can you say the same?"
She sucks in a breath, her chest rising, and I watch her nipples harden under the uniform. Yeah, she's feeling it. Feeling this wrong, fucked up pull between us.
"I need to go." She tries to step around me.
I move with her, blocking her path. "It's a long walk back to the station."
"I'll manage."
"In this heat?" I gesture to the sun climbing higher. "Wearing that uniform? You'll collapse before you make it halfway."
"I said I'll manage."
Stubborn little cop. My cock is throbbing so hard now it's almost painful, and she's standing there all defiant and curved and perfect, and I want to bend her over my bike and fuck that attitude right out of her.
Instead, I step back. "Fine. Walk. See if I give a shit."
I turn and head toward my bike, expecting her to call out, to ask for help. She doesn't. I can hear her footsteps heading in the opposite direction, stubborn to the bitter end.
Fuck.
I make it to my bike before my conscience, or maybe just my throbbing cock wins out. I grab the spare helmet and gun the engine, riding after her. She's already a block away, walking with determined steps despite the heat.
I pull up beside her. "Get on."
"No."
"Don't be stupid." I keep pace with her on the bike. "It's at least three miles to the station."
"I'm fine."
"You're being a stubborn pain in the ass." I stop the bike in front of her, blocking her path. "Get on the fucking bike, officer."
She glares at me. "Why do you care?"
"I don't." It's a lie and we both know it. "But I didn't punch your partner just so you could pass out from heatstroke."
She looks at the bike, then at me, clearly torn. Finally, she snatches the helmet from my hand. "Fine. But this doesn't mean I trust you."
"Good." I watch her struggle with the helmet strap. "You shouldn't trust anyone with a pulse and a dick."
Her eyes snap to mine. "Is that supposed to scare me?"
"It's supposed to be the truth." I reach out and secure her helmet strap, my fingers brushing her soft skin. Her breath hitches. "You're a cop. I'm a biker. This doesn't make us friends."
"Agreed." But she's staring at my mouth now.
"Get on the bike." I order.
She climbs on behind me, awkward at first. Then her thighs bracket mine, her arms wrap around my waist, and her tits press against my back. My cock jerks in my jeans, hard enough to hurt, and I grit my teeth.
Fuck. This is torture.
I start the engine and pull out onto the main road, trying not to focus on how perfectly she fits against me, how her body moves with mine as we take the turns. Her arms tighten around me, and I can feel every curve pressed against my back.
The station comes into view too soon. I pull into the parking lot and kill the engine, trying to will my erection down before she notices. She climbs off slowly, removing the helmet and handing it back to me. Her hair is messed up, her cheeks flushed, and she's never looked more beautiful.
I hate it.
"Thank you," she says stiffly. "For the ride."
"Don't thank me." I secure the helmet, adjusting myself subtly while her back is turned. "Just don't expect me to save your ass again."
"I won't." She starts to walk away, then pauses. "What's your name? In case I need to file a report about the assault."
I smirk. "Rookie."
"That's not a real name."
"It's the only one you're getting, officer." I gun the engine. "Good luck in there. You're gonna need it."
I peel out of the parking lot before she can respond, before I do something stupid like offer to go in there with her, before my cock convinces my brain that fucking a cop might be worth the headache.
I'm halfway down the road when Shadow pulls up beside me on his bike, his gray eyes questioning.
"The fuck you doing at the police station?" he calls over the engine noise.
"Nothing." I focus on the road ahead. "Just dropped someone off."
Shadow's eyes narrow. "Someone? Or some cop?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yeah, it fucking matters." He pulls ahead, forcing me to follow him. "King's gonna want to hear about this."
Great. Just what I need. Explaining to my president why I punched a cop and gave his partner a ride. Why my cock is still hard from feeling her pressed against me. Why I can't stop thinking about those curves wrapped in that uniform.
Why I'm already planning how to see her again, even though I hate everything that badge represents.
Fuck my life.