Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 82282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
He had a broom handle shoved up his ass, and his mouth was filled with what looked a can of cooking spray.
“Do you think this was consensual?” I finally asked, jolting the two men beside me into action.
As they removed the can of cooking spray from the man’s mouth, and the blindfold from the man’s eyes, a wide shit eating grin graced the man’s face, “Oh, my God! Aren’t y’all just the cutest things I’ve ever seen! Where’s my master? Did he send you in here for my entertainment?”
That was when I left.
I didn’t need to see them pull the broom out of the man’s ass.
I exited through the garage, and was assaulted by the man’s dungeon of doom, and overjoyed that I had decided to come this way to avoid contaminating the crime scene. I mean, how else would I have known what the man’s hobby was?
Each and every wall was covered in fetish toys.
I’m not one to complain about another human beings’ proclivities, but I sure as fuck didn’t want to think about two men, both very nearly obese, doing the things I saw today on the multiple pieces of furniture that graced the garage.
Luckily the garage door worked, because I wasn’t sure if I could handle any more of my imagination.
That and my chest was starting to hurt like a motherfucker.
Thank God my shift was only ten minutes from being over. I needed a goddamn vacation after the past couple of days.
Which I sure as fuck would be taking.
***
“Trance?” Viddy’s voice called from the kitchen as I entered through the front door of my house.
I followed the smell of spaghetti sauce until I found Viddy standing by the stove with a boiling pot of water on one burner, and a pot of sauce and meatballs on the other.
My eyebrows creased as my palms started to sweat.
How did she cook when she couldn’t see? How would she know if something bad happened?
“Trance?” Viddy asked worriedly.
“Right here.” I rumbled, walking over to the table and divesting myself of my gun belt and keys.
The Kevlar vest had already been turned into evidence, and I had a new one to pick up before I went back on duty in two days’ time.
Kosher, who’d followed his nose to the kitchen as well, walked over to Viddy and leaned into her, rubbing his furry head all along her left hand that was dangling at her side.
Once all my things that poked and prodded (besides the ones that were attached) were off my body, I walked up to Viddy and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.
“How was your day?” I asked, leaning my hips against the counter.
I watched as she stirred the pot of sauce as she spoke. “It went well. They found the boy that put those drugs in Falco’s locker. It was another boy that Falco had had a disagreement with earlier in the week. The kid got suspended and has to attend the alternative school for the rest of the year.”
That made me happy. After hearing how much Viddy had liked him, I’d hoped that he wouldn’t turn out to be a little shit head like some teenagers.
“That’s good. How do you cook when you can’t see?” I blurted as she started heading for the pot of boiling noodles with her pot holder covered hands.
I pushed her to the side and emptied the pot into the sink for her, and then poured the strained noodles back into the pot before setting it on the wooden cutting board beside the sink.
She glared in my direction, and then threw her hand out innocently.
Except it hit my bruised chest right where I’d taken a shot gun slug to the chest only an hour earlier. I doubled over, struggling to keep the nausea that threatened to surge up my throat down.
“Trance?” She asked worriedly when she heard me groan in pain.
I straightened half way, trying my best to shrug off the agonizing pain in my chest.
“I’m okay.” I wheezed.
I told her about what had happened over the past hour, and she looked at me in abject horror. “You were shot?” She cried.
I nodded. “Yes. Took a slug to the chest. Knocked me ten feet backwards.”
It wasn’t until I saw the tears rolling down her cheeks that I thought about what I’d just said, and how blasé it made me sound. Which couldn’t have been further from the truth.
“I’m okay, sweetie.” I said as I pulled her into my chest and wrapped my arms around her.
She buried her nose in my chest, and I winced when her chin met the tender spot, but I didn’t let her go.
“You scare the hell out of me. Your job gives me the creeps.” She murmured.
“It gives me the creeps, too. I’ve been in law enforcement for going on eleven years now. I’ve nearly lost my passion for it. I’m thirty three going on sixty in terms of police years.” I said before giving her a kiss on the forehead.
“You got into law enforcement when you were that young?” She asked in surprise.
“I was in the air force for five years. I was in the security force. That’s where I got the K-9 bug. I started training my first dog when I was nineteen. From there I became obsessed. When I got out of the Air Force, I hired on with Las Vegas PD and worked with four other K-9 handlers for five years before I came to Benton.” I explained.
“Did you like Las Vegas? That seems like a place that would be tons of fun.” She said wistfully.
I grimaced. In actuality, I’d hated it there. It was a constant struggle with belligerent drunks, tourists who were there for a ‘good time’ (And FYI, if you fuck up in Vegas, it sure as fuck doesn’t stay in Vegas, no matter how the saying goes.)
Then there were the prostitutes, druggies, and constant crime around the strip.
I’d worked one part of the strip for years, and I’d gotten burned out at the constant search for drugs. The chases. The shootings. The murders over the stupidest shit I’d ever heard of.