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JAMESWe finally walked through the revolving doors of the local district station, and I smelled the fat-induced, sugar and spice scent of a fuck-load of doughnuts. Really? No wonder all cops get stereotyped as doughnut-eating slobsβbecause it's true. In all my years in the force, all these fuckers did was prove every horrible thing ever said about them. No wonder they hated me for being the best of them all. Jealousy they say kills."It was nice seeing you again, Rio," I said as I shoved his ass into a chair. "Larry, book him for snatch and grab. I found this on him too," I grunted and tossed the bag of cocaine to the uniformed cop standing around like he had nothing better to do. As if there weren't things like drugs, child kidnappings, or the mafia soiling our streets. Sometimes I feel like the police were given their uniforms so they could look pretty for the magazine."And it was a real pleasure doing your job for you, Larry," I spat before adding, "Again.""Fuck you, Gunner," he groaned and I smirked."Funny enough, you're not the first one to say those exact words to me today.""That's 'cause you're a Brown cocksucker.""I'm African, idiot. Get a fucking map." I showed him the finger and turned around and he sent me a barely mean glare. The guy was pathetic.On my way to my desk, I spotted Roman sitting at his desk across from mine. Motherfucker. My day just keeps on getting better. Just when I thought I could have some peace, my Nemesis shows up. Well, Nemesis is a bit of an exaggeration but who cares?"Roman," I grunted and took my seat next to him. "So nice of you to finally join us on the job. How long has it been? Two, three weeks?" I leaned back so I could properly look at him."Lay off it, Gunner," Roman said and glowered at me with his blue eyes while strands of his light blond hair fell across his forehead. There was a brownish tint on his cheeks which wasn't there the last time I saw him."You should lay off the scotch that's burning that hole in your liver. Maybe then you'd be able to put in a decent day's work every once in a while.""I would say 'fuck you,' but something tells me you've been hearing that a lot lately."I shrugged. "You've got that right. Those words don't have quite the same effect anymore. It's like fucking a cute prostitute. The first time is exhilarating since you know it's so wrong and dirty. But after a while, it just gets blandβunmemorable."Roman's expression remained stoic. Nothing fazed the old bastard. He was like a rock, granite that had been around long enough to prove it would never crack. And unfortunately, I'd been stuck with him as my partner for the last few months. Do you see why I call him my nemesis? What these assholes didn't seem to realize was I only needed one partnerβBambi. She was sleek, and powerful, and gave me an instant hard-on whenever I touched her. She was also my Glock 23, safely tucked away at my side."Are you still investigating the Bologna?" Roman asked.Roman was not just my partner. He was a perceptive bastard and a straight shooter too.I crossed my arms and placed my feet on my desk. "I have no idea what you're talking about.""I'm telling you, Gunner, leave that shit for the feds, okay? Let it go."The way he said it made me roll my eyes. "Okay, Elsa. Just don't go around erecting any ice castles, would you? This place is fucking cold enough during winter as it is."Roman continued to stare at me, unblinking. One day I would make this man crack, even if it was the last thing I did."Gunner."Oh, God. The sound of that voice gave me an instant headache. I groaned as I pulled my palm down my face, thinking I'd rather be having a conversation with Satan right about now. Remember how I called Roman my nemesis? Well, that was a joke. This bastard right here was the real MVP. TotalI turned in my seat and stared up at a tall, middle-aged man with a serious widow's peak going on. "Commander Pussy.""It's Puti. As in Pu-Ti.""Damn, I just can't get it right."Commander Puti placed his hands on his waist. "It's been three years, Gunner. You should get it right by now.""It's a mental block, I swear.""Cut the crap, Stone. Now, please enlighten me as to why a certain Rio Gang is bleeding all over my goddamn floor.""Not my fault he's dumb enough to walk into a wall."Grooves formed on his forehead. "Three times?""Yup. The dumb bastard walked into a pole as well. He should get his eyes checked. I think his sight might be out of whack.""You're hanging on your last damn thread around here, Gunner. Right now, I want your badge so much I can taste it." He leaned down, putting his face closer to mine. "So keep on fucking up. I dare you. I don't care if you solve more cases than anyone else around here. Give me just half a reason, and your ass is out that goddamn door so fast Bologna will be your friend for a month. Do I make myself clear?"The urge to punch this man in the face was so overwhelming, it was like finally feeling that welcome pressure after being constipated for a week."Crystal clear, Commander," I replied, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. I'd never been the kind who did well with commands and orders. Fuck knew why I decided to become a detective."Good." Commander Puti turned and walked off, his expensive navy-blue suit making it easy for anyone to see exactly who was in charge around here. The bastard.πππππ JAMES I turned back to Roman and noticed him staring at me. True as fuck, a grin started up at the corners of his mouth, almost reaching his eyes. Seriously? That was all it took to crack any kind of expression onto this guy's face? Un-fucking-believable. I leaned over my desk. "You know, we're supposed to be partners, and among other things, that also entails you having my back." Roman's dark brows slanted down. "If I remember correctly, you said you didn't need a partner. Your exact words, I believe, were, 'I don't need any motherfucking middle-aged bastard being my partner.' Ring a bell?" "None whatsoever." Roman snorted and got up from his seat. "Whatever, man. Just make sure you keep your nose out of the feds' business with the Bologna. Believe me, you don't need to get caught in the middle of shit like that." "Thanks for the warning, partner." "Anytime." He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and sauntered out of the building. I couldn't believe they
πππππJAMES Now, I had to admit, I was slightly disappointed at how cool and calm she looked. She hadn't even broken a sweat during the fifteen minutes she was cramped inside that stinking room without a clue as to what she was doing there.Slanting my head, I continued to look at her. This was the first time I'd seen her in person. All the other two thousand, one hundred and thirteen times I'd seen that face was when I stared at a picture of her in a non-weird, non-perverted kind of way.I'd been keeping a very close eye on the Bologna, studying them-her parents, her two brothers, and her. For the last sixteen months, I'd been glued to every move that my family made. And by now I sure as hell knew a lot about Vanessa Bologna.For instance, I knew she was twenty-four years old, her birthday was February fourteen, fucking Valentine's Day, and she was in her third year at Columbia University Law School. Currently, she was home for summer vacation, one of the three times a year she
πππππππ VANESSAI decided to do this whole fake-public-profile-picture-on-social-media thing myself to protect the little privacy I did have. The issue of privacy was one of the reasons I didn't come home very often. My parents usually had to beg me relentlessly for two months straight before I eventually agreed to visit. I didn't like the way I felt when I was here in town, the way everyone made me feel. As I said, I wasn't stupid. I was not oblivious to what my father did, and neither was the rest of Bostonβthe world, for that matter. Wherever I went, I was labeled as the daughter of the infamous mafia boss everyone knew he was but was unable to prove. I'd long made peace with the knowledge that whispers would always follow me wherever I went, no matter where in the world I was. But here in Boston, my hometown, it wasn't just whisperedβit was screams. No one here even tried to be inconspicuous when they talked about me, about my family. And I hated it. I hated every secon
πππππππ VANESSAThe moment I began making a move for the door, Detective James stopped me with his voice. "We are not done yet, Miss Bologna." I made a slow turn towards him and leaned over the table, getting as close to him as possible. "I have a life I need to share with my one point two followers. I don't want to disappoint them." "I wouldn't want to interfere with that, now, would I?" His eyes darted down to my chest, and then I realized I just shoved my cleavage in his face. "See something you like, Detective?" "Absolutely." He glanced up from my cleavage to my face. "And, unlike you, I'm not afraid to admit it." I bent a little lower, purposely allowing my blouse to gape, even more, making sure he got an eyeful of something he would never have. "Believe me, I'm not afraid to admit when I see something I likeβ¦or want." "That makes you a liar, then." "And what exactly gives you that idea?" "You arching your back so you can shove your tits in my face." His eyes fli
πππππ JAMESIn life, you got two types of women. You got the women who thought they were hot, pretending like they knew how to use their bodies to get a man's attention, but they didn't. Sure, they would probably end up getting a man's attention - or his responsiveness - now and then, but only because seeing how pathetic they were guaranteed a quick and easy lay. Not a good lay, just an easy one. You know, like a good jerk-off in the shower. It didn't satisfy you completely, but it was sufficient to get you through the day. And then you got the kind of women who didn't need to use their bodies to get a man's attention at all. They didn't walk around thinking, "If I sway my ass a little to this side, and then a little to that side, I'll get the men drooling." No. They walked the way they walked, and they talked the way they talked. And without even trying, sexual energy seeped through every pore, sensuality emanating from their every move, and they wore eroticism like a second s
πππππJAMESA month? A fucking month? "Are you serious? You want to take Bambi away from me?""Who the fuck is Bambi?"I tap against the gun at my side. "This sweet little thang right here.""Well, that sweet little thang is no longer yours. Bambi and badge on my desk in five."Goddammit."Way to go, dumbass," Larry sneered from the side.I wanted to smash his face in, but assaulting a fellow officer would be the final nail in my career coffin right now. Besides, I needed to act like a grownup, not letting insults get to me."I knew your brown ass wouldn't last around here."Ah, fuck. How was I supposed to act like the grownup now?"It's African, you fucking tit-head!" I launched myself forward and punched him in the face, hammering that last nail into my now-dead career. And since that career was already bolted shut with a fuck-load of nails, I punched the asshole again. Why? Because I fucking wanted to. It was like trashing the school with toilet paper. You didn't know why the
πππππππVANESSAAbout five years ago, the heat on my father and his activities was pretty intense. Until the Morellos moved in on what my dad called our territory. Then the heat got worse as the Morellos started wreaking havoc on the streets. I wasn't exactly sure what they did, but by the way, my dad and brothers always cursed whenever the subject of the Morellos came up, I'd say it was pretty bad shit.Still scrolling down James' page, I decided there wasn't much else to see or to stalk. So, I went back to my page, contemplating whether I should remove James Gunner as a follower. He was probably using it to keep tabs on me, watching me, waiting for me to slip up so he could get what he wantedβincriminating shit on my family. Plus, now he knew ninety per cent of my status updates were bullshit anyway. What if he called me out on it?While I stared at the screen, a notification popped up saying James Gunner commented on your post.Shit, shit, shit.I slid my finger across the s
πππππJAMESI stepped into my apartment to meet it as neat and perfect as I left it. It was so motherfucking clean that if you wanted, you could sleep inside my toilet. If you took into consideration what my apartment looked like, you'd say I was a neat freak. My sister would die a slow and painful death if she saw this place because she knows she'll never be able to keep up.There were empty beer bottles neatly tucked in the corner of the living room. From where I stood, my kitchen looked as white as snow, all my utensils were shining as if a star had hit them or something. You couldn't find one microwavable plastic instant meal container anywhere in the kitchen sink, and empty cans of soda were nearly nonexistent around the house. Although I used them to quench my morning-after thirst, I made sure there were no traces of them on the counter.The way most people saw it, I was a detective, not a domesticated pansy. I should have much better things to do with my time than cleaning