Handsome Policeman Novels & Stories

This was a man who only responded to strength. “Let’s start again,” he said jovially, striding forward offering his hand, his wet and graying hair falling almost into his eyes. “I’m Garret Wilson. The Chief of Police for this fine city.” He was tall and strong, clean shaven but with a face becoming rugged. He looked fit, yet his belly had rounded slightly, and it was clear what muscle he had was built through intentional effort, not actual work. When he stopped in front of me I stared at that extended hand for a moment, then looked him right in the eye. “I don’t touch humans,” I said through my teeth.

another voice comes from outside. A fifty-something-year-old policeman, with a huge belt and gun holster strapped around his waist, storms in. His eyes sweep across the room. Suddenly, they lit up. “Jonathan! Is that really you!”

He was charming and smart. His voice was that of any rich boy, honeyed and proud. There was nothing rugged about his looks at all, even his jaw was shaved absolutely smooth. Even barely mentioning her name sounded beautiful but you felt no compassion or trust for the speaker. He just slayed her with how handsome he looked, how safe. "Mike, Ha...hannah. I'm so worried about her. I can't do anything because my legs aren't doing their work. Di...did you find her?"

I mеаn look аt hіm. Thе mаn’ѕ a gоrgеоuѕ роlісе officer. Cops mіght suck, but thеу аrе all аbоut lаw аnd protecting people. Pluѕ, Blаkе looks great while hе’ѕ dоіng іt.

So she called out, "Help! Someone's grabbing my bag! Someone's robbing me! Help!" At that moment, a police car happened to pass by her. Hearing the shouting, the policeman stopped the car right away. An officer got out of the car. He had a tall figure. He looked handsome and solemn. "I am a policeman." The man said, "Go to the police station with me first. I will inform you once we have any information." Sherman was relieved to hear that the man was a policeman. She looked at the man for a few seconds, and she felt the man had some resemblance to Kingsley.

the officer said, smiling at me kindly. “Oh, thank you!” I smiled back, taking back my ID, concluding that the man was nice and sweet. It saw? It wasn't necessary to make all the fuss that Peter was making before until he reached the point of wanting to end the police officer's life, he was just a humble and friendly man who was concerned about doing his job. I would definitely say this to Peter when we were alone, so he would realize that going to extremes was not the solution to problems. But while I was swimming in my daydreams about good and just human beings, I saw the policeman scowling at Peter as he extended his hand to him. “You there, give me your ID!” He kind of demanded… his voic

Madison requested as she proceeded to walk right past him, toward a policeman that looked more elderly in appearance but was held back by the first policeman. “My name is John stone and am the head here, Miss.” He informed, and stared at her in the eyes. “You can tell me who you are and what relationship you have with this young man right here or at the station.” “What?!” Madison couldn’t help but say, as soon as she heard his utterance. She stared at the policeman, observing every detail about him. “You can’t arrest me…” “Your choice, not mine.” The policeman interrupted, as his eyes gave off a hint of coldness and his facial expression, serious, and grabbed her hand.

Suddenly he stopped, confused, as ten policemen walked into the funeral. Six of them were in uniform. The other four must have been detectives; they were easily identifiable by their mustaches and modestly priced suits. Not to be a Park Avenue Bitch about it, but when every other guy in the place is wearing three-piece Armani and you’re wearing Men’s Warehouse, you tend to stand out. The lead suit walked right up to Connor. “Mr. Connor Templeton?” Connor stared at him. “Who are you?” “Detective Morse with the NYPD.”

one of the police officers received me with pleasant smiles. It was as if this is the first time he has been anxious to set eyes on me in reality. “Is that not Liam Blackwood? What is he doing here?” A murmur escaped into my ears but I didn't turn to see their faces. “Words can't describe how handsome he's. I mean…he is so perfect!” They added. I sat down frozen and I couldn't wait any longer as desperation etched my face. “Let's head to the detective’s office, Mr Blackwood,” one of the police officers stated.

“Mr Shaw, is everything alright?” The other man’s hand settles gently on his shoulder, and Mr Shaw seems to come out of a daze, as if the world snaps back into focus for him. I don’t know how long we’ve been standing like this, facing each other. His eyes never leave me. Not once. I remain frozen too, my feet rooted to the ground, my mind unable to decide what I’m supposed to do next. The man who speaks is wearing a police uniform. He looks close to fifty, a little short, with a small belly straining against his belt. A friendly smile rests easily on his face, practised and reassuring.