“Fields,” the deep-voiced officer greeted as a light came directly through my window followed by a muffled whistle.
“Think someone forgot their undergarments, Clay,” the other officer yelled. There was little I could do to cover up, but someone seeing my lady bits wasn’t really a problem I was too worried about. Half the men in the city had probably seen my twat at one time or another.
“I believe you have who we’re looking for, detective. Wait, that’s right; you’re still suspended until you can prove your loyalty,” the man drawled with false disappointment. “So, you want to explain why you haven’t called this one in?” I assumed he meant me, and I couldn’t help but tense at the implication that he was not on my side.
“Why do you think I have her sucking my dick, you moron? You know, this is why you’ll never make it past a beat cop. You don’t have the brains to realize that if she can’t see where she’s going, she can’t kick up a fuss about it. And I was getting a blow job out of it. Thanks for ruining that, by the way.” He released my hair and pushed me back before slipping his underwear and pants up, ignoring my accusing stare the entire time.
“Fuck you, Fields. Roscoe, let the boss know we have her and will be there soon.” The cop was pissed, but he didn’t have anything on my level of fury. I was going to fucking gut Fields the first chance I got.
“Sorry, boys, she’s my catch. You’re welcome to follow and collect whatever praise you’d like for being second place.” Ignoring the cursing and refusing to unlock the door when Roscoe tried the handle on my side, he started the car and slipped it into gear. “Better get in your car, Clay. You can’t escort me in if you’re standing on the side of the road holding your dick.” As he rolled up his window and accelerated, he tried to apologize, but I wasn’t interested.
“You two-faced piece of shit, I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you!” I yelled at him, biding my time until I could try to run.
“Eden, you have to understand, I really was trying to get you home. They’re going to kill me. Slowly and painfully.” I tuned him out, thinking it was an excuse, until he said the magic words. “Tony and Santos described in great detail how they’d do it, and now I’ve fucked up. I promise I’ll do what I can to get you home.” He swallowed and went silent, but from what I could tell in the dash lights, he had paled considerably.
“I don’t trust you. I only marginally believe you. And I want a fucking knife like you promised.” When he pointed at the glove compartment, I popped it open to find one in a tactical sheath, and bonus, it was small enough to replace the one from my boot.
“Put your seatbelt on,” he demanded, urgency in his voice. I pulled it over me and clicked it into its latch, but it didn’t matter. The roadblock prevented us from taking the exit we needed to turn around. Its mere presence said it all. “He knew I’d run with you.” He turned his head to glance at me for just a moment as he put on his turn signal. “Do whatever you need to to survive until I can get you out. Do you understand?”
Oh, I understood alright. I understood that I was fucked, but so was he. What I didn’t understand was why he had such an interest in my wellbeing. I mean, the guys could be a big part of it, but he’d pretty much shown his disdain early on for the mafia Families in general, and the Carlotti men in particular. I didn’t trust this about face he seemed to have done.
“I’m not making any promises. Besides, Rodrigo will kill me on sight. He probably just wants to do it himself for his personal satisfaction, to make sure I stay dead this time.”
Fields didn’t answer me, but really, there wasn’t much else to say on the subject.