Hello, hello wonderful readers! I have the next installment for you! This one won the poll and I certainly hope you enjoy it :) IMPORTANT NOTES AT THE END :) Listen to:

Casual Sex - My Darkest Days

Just Like You - Three Days Grace

Cry - The Used

Madness - Muse

Can't Sleep, Can't Breathe - Digital Daggers

Enjoy :)

~ Miranda Warnings ~

"Dispatch, we've got a 505 on the Eastside Highway. Possible DUI. In pursuit."

"Roger that, Quarterback."

"Anderson - again with the codename?"

"That would be an affirmative, Quarterback."

I felt like an idiot, crying about it. I mean - this happens all the time, doesn't it? Everywhere in the world. For all different sorts of reasons.

People get fired.

It happens.

But not like that...

That little voice in my head may as well have been sticking its tongue out at me. I gave another loud sniffle, fiercely rubbing the tears off my face. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Because I was pretty sure nobody got fired for eavesdropping on a conference call...after working at a firm for three years...by accident.

If I was getting points in any arena, it'd be originality.

My Chevy's engine whined under the exertion I'd been putting it through, basically driving in a big loop around the city for half an hour. It was an old car, and part of me felt a bit guilty for taking out my anger on it.

But the roads were pretty empty, and all I wanted to do was drive, drive, drive...

A tear got caught on my eyelash, forming a rather large dewdrop and blurring my vision. With a choked sob, I practically smacked it away, and then had to swerve on the road to correct myself.

Okay...maybe the joy ride was over.

Swallowing my sadness and trying to make myself forget how much I'd loved that job, I resolved to head home.

Or, at least, I was about to...until -

Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Wee-oooh. Wee-oooh.

"...You have got to be kidding me."

This day just got better and better.

My fists clenching around the steering wheel as I released an extremely vulgar string of expletives, I let the old Chevy whimper to a stop on the side of the road.

The lights of the police cruiser grew more and more hypnotically bright as it pulled to the side behind me and parked, and I struggled to remember what my dad had told me to do if I ever got pulled over.

Put the car in park. Turn the engine off. Roll the window down. Hands on the steering wheel.

Breathing deeply through my mouth, I went through the motions, and then waited in a tense, nerve-wracking silence.

It was a long while before I saw the driver's door of the cop car open in my rear view.


It was a guy.

And a tall one, at that.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

That just made me ten times more nervous.

The cop moved slowly, but with purpose, towards my car, the lights flashing too brightly for me to get a good look at him until he was right next to me. And then I looked.

Oh, boy, did I.

Looming over me from outside the door, He stood about six foot five. And I mean He with a capital "H." I'd heard about intimidating cops, but Jesus...

Broad shoulders. Long, strong neck. Muscular arms - at least, from what I could see through the uniform. Perfect jawline. You know...the kind girls tend to salivate about. Curved and sharp. Lips pursed in thought. Long, sloped nose. And intense, intense brown eyes with possibly the longest, thickest lashes I'd ever seen.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Yes, I was just pulled over.

But - come on! Can't a girl look?

And anyway, the hormonal teen thing disappeared as soon as it came on, replaced by a cold, hard fear. I couldn't afford anything those eyes were threatening to give me right now.

Please just be a warning.

Please just be a warning.

"Evening, Miss," he said, voice deep and textured. Okay - it wasn't a warning.

I cleared my dry throat. "Evening, Officer."

I was sure he could see how red my eyes were. See the tear stains on my face. I could only imagine what the hell he must've been thinking about me.

I had to clear my throat again. "What - uh - what...seems to be the problem?" Too cliche. Way too cliche.

"Can I get your name, please?" He ignored my question.

Now I swallowed thickly, cheeks burning. I was in trouble. "Uh - it's Judith. Judith Fairbanks. Did I do something wrong?"

He snatched a notepad out of his back pocket and scribbled on it. "License and registration."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I reached over for the glove compartment and took out my registration, then dug in my wallet for my license. I almost didn't want to hand it to him. The picture was really embarrassing.

Just pile on the humiliation. No - really. Please, I can take more.

Note: Sarcasm.

The officer studied my license for a moment, then told me to "sit tight" and went back to his cruiser.


He may've been gorgeous, but that did not contain the assholeness. Which is a word. Look it up.

I squinted into my rear view mirror for about five minutes, watching his silhouette shift around inside the cruiser, then got bored of it and thrust my head back against the seat.

I repeat: Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I kind of, almost, maybe felt like crying again.

Suck it up.

The officer was coming back.

He rested his hands on the inside of my window and leaned over a bit, face a tad more relaxed than before, and asked, "Do you know why I pulled you over this evening?" as he handed me back my license and papers.

"Uh...because old Chevys with dented bumpers are suspicious?"

He ignored my wise crack. "Were you aware you were going twenty over the speed limit?"

Shit. Fuck. Damn.

The answer was no.

"No. No...god, I'm sorry, Officer. It won't happen again."

"And swerving..." he added after a moment.

"And being an idiot. Yeah. I know. Gosh, I'm really, really sorry. I need to start paying more attention to the road." How about some more bullshit for frosting?

He eyed me for a long time, brow furrowing and relaxing again and again, then squinted suddenly and leaned a little closer.

I gasped.

"Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the car."

Oh god. Oh shit. Oh god.

"But - I don't -"

"Step out of the car, Miss."

Swallowing thickly, far too aware of my raging heartbeat, I fumbled for the latch and got out.

Jesus. This was even more intimidating.

Definitely six foot five.

"Look into the light, please," and before I knew it, Officer No-Nonsense was flashing an LED back and forth in front of my eyes.


"Have you ingested any substance this evening?"

"What? No! Oh, no - Officer, I've just been crying. My eyes...it's from crying." I felt my cheeks flush at the admission, but still, I was glad for an excuse.

He didn't seem to buy it. I repeat: Asshole.

"Any drinking this evening?"


He whipped out a fancy contraption - oh shit, a breathalyzer.

It looked like an old-fashioned tape recorder with a tube sticking out of the side.

Holding it up, tube facing me, he told me to, "Blow into the straw for four seconds, please."

What the hell had I done to deserve this?

When I hesitated, he repeated his command, and out of sheer panic, I complied. Leaning forward, I wrapped my lips around the tube and exhaled. The breathalyzer made a quiet beeping sound, and I pulled away, trying my best not to look as pissed as I was.

He glanced at the screen.

"Turn around and place your hands on the hood of the car."

"Wait - what?"

"Place your hands on the hood of the car."

I gaped at him.

"Now, Miss Fairbanks."

"What for? What did I do?"

He snatched my arm before I could expect it and spun me around, forcing my hands to meet the hot metal of my Chevy as he kicked my feet apart. I heard an unmistakable jingle.

The handcuffs were cold and tight around my wrists, and at the angle he'd pulled my arms behind me, my chest was puffed out and heaving with fright.

"You have a blood-alcohol content of 0.09 and have been driving under the influence."

"I - what!? That's impossible, Officer! There must be some-"

"You have the right to remain silent." His deep, commanding voice was right beside my ear, and it sent unwelcome shivers up my spine. "You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

"Officer, please-"

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

Jesus Christ, the Miranda Warnings...

I forced myself to shut up.

What was happening?

I hadn't had so much as a drop of alcohol all week. The test had to be wrong. Or had I been spiked? No - no, that didn't make any sense. The test was wrong! The test had to be wrong!

I needed to call my dad.

He'd believe me, wouldn't he?

...Wouldn't he?

The police officer reached around me with one hand and took my keys from the passenger seat, then began to march me back towards his cruiser. I swallowed thickly as he opened the back door and guided me into the seat behind the cage.

I couldn't believe this was happening...

The door shut with a very final thunk and then he was getting in. He took his radio from his belt.

"Dispatch, I'm bringing in the 505."

Some crackling on the other line. "That's a negative, Quarterback."

"Dispatch, say again."

"Negative, Quarterback. We have a serious Code Purple in the downtown area. Possible man down. Possible bomb threat. All units responding."

The officer - Quarterback, they were calling him - sighed angrily into the receiver. "Roger that, Dispatch."

He shoved the radio back into his belt and turned the engine over, revving it with a little more force than I thought was necessary. A move like that probably would've killed my Chevy.

I cleared my throat a little nervously as we roared off down the road. "What's - uh...what's going on?"

I asked mainly because the sirens were on again, and he was definitely speeding.

His eyes shot to the rear view mirror, and our gazes connected sharply. "Sit tight," was all he said, and then we didn't speak again.

I struggled to calm myself down. There had to be a way to fix this. Somehow, they'd find out this was all a mistake and I'd be sent home with a slap on the wrist and a warning. I'd find a way...

I had to.

I'd done nothing wrong, right?

Officer Quarterback made a sharp turn and I slid up against the window, nearly smacking my head on it. I tried to convey fierce annoyance in my glare.

Don't be stupid.

Pissing him off is stupid.

Street lights flashed rhythmically in the windows, mixing oddly with the blinking police siren, and my heartbeat gradually began to slow. I could handle this. I could get out of this.

But the feeling of the handcuffs was...

Jesus, fuck it - I was very scared.

Somewhere in the distance, other sirens were going off. A chorus of trouble, really. I tried to keep my eyes off the rear view mirror, where he proceeded to glance every few minutes.

His gaze was like a hot sting. I couldn't avoid it.

His radio continued to crackle with broken phrases from Dispatch and other officers, but I guess he knew which ones he could ignore because he didn't reach for it again. Instead, he just drove.

Drove and drove and drove for what felt like miles, seeming to know exactly where he was going. Did P.O.'s have a built-in radar for trouble?

Eventually, he took an off-ramp that led back into the city, and I tried to amuse myself by watching the panicked faces of other drivers on the road as we soared by.

Bet they weren't wearing their seat belts.

The traffic was normal for this time of night, but it really started to decrease when we cruised into the west side. This was the shady lane of the city, and all sorts of stories had been made up by parents to keep children away from here.

I'd avoided it like the plague.

Another police cruiser was parked up ahead, but its lights were off and there was no sign of the other sirens I'd heard. Officer Quarterback pulled in on the corner, shut off the lights, and told me again to "Sit tight," as he killed the engine.

I watched him approach the other car.

They talked for a long while. It just made me antsy.

On the other hand, perhaps there was hope for me yet. If whatever Officer Quarterback had to work on now was such a big deal, maybe he'd forget about my alleged offense and let me off.

Wishful thinking, I know...

Officer Quarterback was returning, and boy did he look pissed.

Well, I guess...as pissed as he could look with such calm, police-like composure. He got back in the car and sat for a second, his sigh of frustration quieter this time. And then he actually had the decency to explain a thing or two.

"I'm acting as back up at the moment. This may take awhile."

I restrained my own sigh. This was fine. I shouldn't care. Maybe if I was patient enough he'd appreciate it and put in a good word at the precinct.

Damn my misled optimism.

I let his words lie for a little bit, and then decided I could ask a question. "So...a bomb threat. That's a big deal, right?" Obviously, you idiot.

His eyes shot to the rear view and he quirked a dark brow at me.

My hotness radar gave a little zing! I tried to scold myself.

"Yes," he said.

I nodded, trying to appear innocently interested. "Do you get that a lot in this part of town?"

Another brow quirk. "Yes."

Gosh. A man of many words.

My wrists started to itch and ache from the handcuffs, and I squirmed with discomfort, leaning to the side so he wouldn't see it in the rear view.

He did anyway.

I could tell because he sort of glanced over his shoulder, but he didn't do anything about it. His radio crackled some more, and I tried to focus on the little clipped codes that were being said.

Maybe, if I wasn't in handcuffs, and I was riding shotgun, this would've been kind of exciting. Ever since I was a kid, I'd found police to be really cool. And when I'd become a teenager, the hormones had really kicked in and I'd been addicted to the idea of a man in uniform. My friends and I used to get pictures of cops, firemen and paramedics and play a little game of "Hot-Or-Not."

I'd thought that phase had passed, though.

Now I wasn't so sure.

Despite my being his prisoner, Officer Quarterback still had quite an affect on me.

The radio crackled more loudly, interrupting the partial silence, and a voice came through clearly this time: "Quarterback, what's your twenty?"

He kind of wrenched the radio off his belt. "Corner of Park and Rutgers. On back up duty."

"And the 505?"


I was starting to guess that the 505 was me.

"Roger that," the other voice signed off, and the feed died, returning the silence to the car.

It was a beautiful night, really. Kind of chilly, but with lots of stars. I rested my head against the cold window and stared up at the sky, trying to make myself forget about the mess I was in.

I was curious, though...

"Why does he call you Quarterback?" I asked - whispered, rather. "That guy..."

He shifted in his seat, shoulders readjusting. "It's just a nickname."

I didn't want to press, thinking he might get annoyed. I hoped he'd just decide to explain.

He didn't.

The silence kind of enveloped me after a while...and I started to think about my job again. I willed the tears to go away, but they welled up with a mind of their own, and before I could stop it I sniffled.

Officer Quarterback shifted again, this time actually glancing all the way over his shoulder. Our eyes met and I flushed hotly, burying my face in my shoulder to hide my tears.

He must've been used to crying criminals. I tried not to feel too embarrassed.

But still, if he believed what I'd told him about crying earlier, he probably thought I was just a big ball of stupid, girly emotions.

And I didn't want to seem like that.

I wasn't like that.

He signed - loudly, now - and quite abruptly opened his door. I jumped when he appeared beside my door, unlocking it and letting the cold air in.

"Turn around," he said, and I stared up at him with confusion before slowly shifting so my back was to him. I heard the jingle of keys again, and relief flooded me when my wrists came free, stinging but mobile.

I pulled them back in front of me and rubbed the abused skin as he shut and locked the door again, getting back in the car.

An even longer awkward silence.

"Thank you," I whispered, afraid I sounded as meek as I thought I did.

Still, that was surprisingly...decent of him.

He didn't respond.

At least fifteen minutes must've passed before it happened. In an alley up ahead, gunshots rang out, and before either of us could react, a deafening crack sounded just centimeters from my ear. A bullet was lodged in the window by my head, a spiderweb of broken glass branching out from it.

I released a clipped shriek, scrambling to the opposite end of the car, unable to register what exactly Officer Quarterback was shouting at me. My heart was beating too fast, and my breath started to shorten.

No...not here.

I almost got shot.

I almost got shot.

My brains were almost blown out.

Oh shit -

And the asthma attack hit full force.

Officer Quarterback had cracked his window, gun pulled and poised in the space, and he was still shouting, but this time I think it was into his radio.

My inhaler was in my purse.

Try to breathe. Try to breathe.

And my purse was in my car.

Breathe! Breathe, dammit!

And my car was...




Officer Quarterback fired. The shot was too loud to have come from anywhere else. I tried to hold in little shrieks every time the gun went off, clutching my chest with pain as the gasping only got worse.

"Are you shot?!" I thought I heard him shout, but there was no way to respond.

Sirens and lights filled the street as the other police arrived, and pretty soon the chorus of gunfire died down to shouting, then to loud talking, and then to distant murmurs outside the car.

Officer Quarterback left the cruiser...and that only added to my panic.

Except he didn't leave.

No. Instead, he came around the back of the car and opened the door I was propped against, catching me when I started to fall backwards.

"Hey! Hey. Hey." His voice was steady but forceful. I still had to try to focus on it. "Are you shot? Look at me! Are you shot?"

My wide, panicked eyes met his sort of upside down, and I tried to convey to him exactly what was happening. What if he only thought it was shock? What if he only thought I was hyperventilating?

How would he figure out that I needed my medicine and my medicine only?

"Hey! HEY!" I heard him shout, and I thought he was angry with me, but then I saw the direction his jaw was jutting and realized he was calling to someone else. "Help!"

Footsteps sounded, and pretty soon I was looking into the face of a middle-aged man in a white and red shirt.

A paramedic.

Thank god!

"What's wrong with her? She's not shot! Is she in shock?" Officer Quarterback sounded more panicked now than I'd ever heard him in our short acquaintance.

The paramedic gave me a once over. "She's an asthmatic."

Damn. That was fast.

Hope blossomed in my chest...that is, if it could underneath all the convulsing.

"She needs prescription medicine. I don't have it."

Hope status: Dead.

My gasping picked up a notch with fear, and I started to shake uncontrollably. I wasn't sure whose arms were around my torso, holding me up, but they didn't feel like the paramedic's.

"Ma'am - ma'am do you have your asthma medication?"

I shook my head frantically at the paramedic.

"Where is it?"

I wheezed and made crazed gestures with my hands. Gestures I was sure didn't make any sense, but I was too far gone to fix that. This had to be one of the strongest attacks I'd had since my childhood.

But I was able to choke out one word.

"C-C...Car! C-Car!"

Officer Quarterback jerked against me. "I know where it is! I know where it is! Here - give her to me! Give her to me!"

I was suddenly hoisted up in that same intense, masculine hold, muscular arms under my knees and shoulders. Officer Quarterback ran - I could feel the contact of his feet with the ground, plus the sky was bouncing.

I was shifted around - a door was opened - and then I was lowered oddly into the seat of his cruiser. Sprawled out, my head ended up on his thigh as he slid in and the engine growled. The whole car lurched from the force of his acceleration.

He floored it.

Sirens on and blaring, he must've cut through traffic like a hot knife in butter. All I could feel was the vibration of the engine through the seat and the incredible warmth of his strong, firm thigh on the back of my head.

Hell, if I hadn't been dying, I might've enjoyed it.

Street lights flashed, a lot faster than they had been when we'd entered the city, and I marveled at the drastic twist my night had taken.

One minute I'd been loving life. The next I'd been fired. The next arrested.

And now dying.


Something to tell my kids one day, I guess. The possibility of death hadn't really occurred to me, though. Dying, yes, but death? No. For some reason, Officer Quarterback's presence made that seem impossible to me.

I tried to ignore the sight of my chest pumping up and down - tried to ignore the dizziness. White spots climbed over my vision, and I could barely hear Officer Quarterback chanting words of reassurance.

"Just breathe...breathe for me, Judith."

And all I could think was that he'd remembered my name...

I lost consciousness somewhere along the way, the dizziness overcoming me, and by the time I woke up again I was alone.

Alone and still suffocating.

No, wait - I could hear some slamming.

I was staring at the ceiling of the cruiser, but I couldn't feel the engine running. And then I saw movement in the window, and Officer Quarterback was throwing open the door again with my familiar blue inhaler in hand.

I forced my arms to grab desperately for it, but he only batted them away and leaned over me.

If I hadn't already, I would've lost my breath.

His face was inches from mine, brown eyes like chocolate as he pushed the inhaler between my lips and demanded I "inhale" as he jammed the button down.

Medicated air blasted down my throat. He waited another five seconds, then did it again. I sucked it down eagerly, begging to get my breath back as I clutched at the front of his uniform.

He started speaking again.

"That's it. That's it. Breathe. Just breathe. There you go. There you go..."

Still mere centimeters from my face, he raised a hand and began to lift and lower it with every breath he took, showing me the proper pace. His warm exhales brushed against the skin of my cheeks and neck.

Slowly, I worked myself into the same rhythm, relief overflowing within me as the pain in my chest began to wane.

Several minutes passed like this, and Officer Quarterback never seemed to lose patience with me. He was kind and careful, making sure I was completely back to normal before he dropped his hand.

It was still difficult to speak.

"T-Thank...thank you."

He didn't respond for a few minutes, eyes flickering back and forth between mine as if to double check...but then he nodded. Just a curt, official sort of nod.

The look in those molten chocolate depths, however, was anything but official. And just as I was getting my breath back, I lost it again as I noticed our remaining proximity. He hadn't leaned back - not even an inch. And I couldn't decide whether to watch the slow heaving of his chest over mine, my hand still clutching his uniform, or his eyes.

But watching his eyes threatened to undo me...

"Officer..." I heard myself whisper hoarsely.

His gaze darted to my lips.


And before I realized it, I was leaning. Stretching. Craning my neck upwards. Reaching.

He sucked in a sharp breath as our noses brushed, and my eyes fluttered shut, heart pounding - preparing for a forbidden kiss that was certain to be the kiss of a lifetime-

Officer Quarterback jerked away, seeming shocked, those sultry eyes wide as he righted himself in the driver's seat of the cruiser.

I swallowed.

God, what had I just tried to do?

I felt an apology was in order: "I...I'm sorry. I just - sorry."

He shook his head tightly, eyes trained on the windshield, hands poised on the wheel. No - poised is not the word. Strangling, more like.

I gave myself another minute to breathe before slowly sitting up, my chest still aching from the attack. My inhaler rested forgotten beside Officer Quarterback's thigh, but I certainly didn't have the guts to reach for it.

He quietly cleared his throat. "Better?"


"Are you feeling better?"

"Oh - yeah. Yeah. Yes. Thank you. I'll be...I'll be fine now."

What was with these damn uncomfortable silences? Those fucking movie crickets should've been having a field day!

Eventually Officer Quarterback shut his door, and the little alarm's ringing that I hadn't noticed before stopped. He turned off the flashing police lights, too.

"I'm still taking you in," he said after a moment, deep voice almost startling me.

I bit my lip. Neither of us would look at each other. "I...kinda figured."

With that said, he switched the car out of park and we set off down a now familiar road. I tried not to think about what had almost happened, because when I did I became both incredibly embarrassed and inappropriately disappointed.

I needed to get rid of this tension.

It was going to eat me alive.

"So..." a lovely way to start. "Do I...get to know your real name? Or do I get to keep thinking of you as Officer Quarterback?"

Well, that was awfully bold. Even for me.

I wondered where I'd found the balls.

Risking a glance in his direction, I found him quirking that same, enigmatic eyebrow. I don't think I'd ever understand that expression, even if he explained it to me.

He cleared his throat again, but this time it sounded less forced. "It's Daniels. Officer Daniels."

Bond. James Bond.

"Is your first name Officer?"

This time, he actually cracked a small smile. I couldn't believe it! The hottest little half grin I'd ever seen in my life. And it was all for me...


Damn. I really wanted a name to use in my fantasies.

What the fuck, Judith?


But something kind of switched in my brain, and I suddenly felt really daring. "You must get that a lot. Women trying to kiss you. Save a lot of lives, Officer Officer?"

Now he turned his head a fraction, flashing me a bewildered look before focusing back on the road like a good boy. "I - uh - I...no. No."

"Why not?"


"Quarterback, have you successfully revived the 505?"

Dispatch cut in right when things were getting interesting. Dammit.

Officer Daniels didn't even bother restraining his sigh now, punching a button on the radio. "Yes, Anderson, she's fine."

"Yeah, well I kind of figured she was fine, Quarterback. Never heard you get so worked up over a troublema-"

Officer Daniels silenced the radio rather violently.

I felt the blush creep over my cheeks. Was this Anderson guy insinuating what I thought he was insinuating? Had Officer Daniels been well and truly worked up over me?

Holy shit.

Oh, now I really wanted to press the issue.

"I'm going to take a shot in the dark and say that I'm the 505."

I didn't think a P.O. was allowed to blush, but here was the evidence, right in front of me.


"What's it stand for?"

I watched his Adam's Apple bob as he swallowed. "It's code for reckless driving."

That snapped me out of it. I was rather roughly reminded of why I was in this car in the first place. And I had to do something. "You've got to believe me, Officer. That breath test was wrong. I swear, I haven't had alcohol in a week."

He didn't respond, just kept his eyes forward.

"Please! Just - test me again! I don't care. I had no idea I was speeding. I was just...upset." I got quiet towards the end, kind of folding into myself on the seat and turning to look out the window.

All I could hear after that was the gentle purr of the engine.

And then he asked me, in a soft, husky voice, "Why were you upset?"

I tipped my head back a little, resisting those damn tears again. "I...got fired."

Another long pause.

"What for?"

I shrugged weakly. "It was an accident...and they weren't very understanding."

I saw him nod out the corner of my eye, and then he said something I didn't expect. "I'm sorry about that."

I chuckled weakly to myself. "But you're still taking me in." It wasn't a question.

He nodded.

Idle conversation became my best bet at this point. "Are you married, Officer?" I knew he wasn't - his ring finger was bare - but it felt like a better lead up.


"No girlfriend?"

"No." His reply was gruff. Quietly frustrated.

I stopped looking out the window. If I was going to spend the night in a jail cell, I wanted to at least commit something attractive to memory.

So I stared. Unabashedly.

He really was gorgeous. So tall and strong, but also lean and built for agility. I could still remember the feeling of his muscular arms against my skin as he carried me. I wished I'd been able to appreciate it at the time.

He could feel my eyes on him.

He shifted uncomfortably.

"What are you looking at?"

"You." There was no point in hiding it.

Officer Daniels shot me a quick, uncertain glance. "Why?"

I didn't allow myself to feel embarrassed. "I don't know. Maybe because you're gorgeous, and most women like to look at gorgeous men."

His exhale was sharp and shaky, and I took that as a good sign. "Judith..."


I watched his jaw work furiously as he tried to come up with something to say. Finally, he decided on, "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine now. Thank you." I had hoped he'd say something else, although what I wasn't quite sure.

The tension between us only grew, but I didn't think I had the courage to break the silence again, especially after being rejected like that. So I just sat there, my back against the door, seatbelt neglected - I was surprised he hadn't noticed that - and fidgeted.

Curling and uncurling my toes in my sandals, I watched the dark purple nail polish shimmer in the passing light from the street lamps. It was getting cold inside the cruiser, and as I wrapped my arms around myself, I tried to rub my feet against the seat to warm them up.

Only I slipped...

And my leg jutted out, bare toes grazing the top of his thigh by accident.

I expected to be able to say, "Whoops, sorry," and be done with it. Instead, Officer Daniels released a hissing breath through his teeth and the car swerved, making me gasp and jerk back.

My apology came out as more of a stutter. "S-Sorry."

"Judith." It was a growl. Jesus.

I swallowed. "Yes?"

"Stop it."

My brows creased. "Stop what? It was an accid-"

"No - just - god, please stop." His grip tightened further on the steering wheel, and I watched the needle of the speedometer kick up a few notches.

I should've said sorry again. That would've been the smart thing to do.

But I didn't.

And I'm so, so glad I didn't...

Instead, I said, in a quiet, hardly seductive voice, "Now look who's speeding."

The car gave a loud screech as Officer Daniels swerved - on purpose this time - and nearly rammed the cruiser into the highway barrier as he ground it to a halt on the side of the road. I'd only just opened my mouth to gasp -

And then he was everywhere.

His powerful hand latched onto my ankle, yanking me away from the window like a tissue and dragging me onto his lap. I gave a little startled yelp, fighting him instinctively, my hands fisting in the material over his shoulders.

But he made me silent.

Made me silent with a mouth as hot and soft as melting chocolate.

I froze against him, far too shocked by the feel of his lips against my own to do anything about it, my eyes still wide open. But he was quick and he was good, and before I knew it, my eyelids were drooping.

Releasing a soft little whimper into his mouth, my shoulders sank and I surrendered, hardly able to believe this was happening. Hardly able to believe how lucky I was. I'd thought this would only ever be a fantasy...

Our lips said otherwise.

He started off a gentleman. Well, at least, as much as he could be in this situation.

With these charming little nipping sounds, he sampled my bottom lip and then my top, hands distracting as they slid up the outsides of my thighs. I could feel those thick, feathery eyelashes against my cheeks, and it made me ball my fists again for a whole different reason.

"We can't do this," I heard him pant, contradicting himself as he broke away to mouth a burning path along my jaw to that delectable joint between my neck and ear.

"I don't care," I gasped out, hands sliding down the backs of his shoulders and clutching at anything they could.

Everything had happened so fast...

It didn't matter. I didn't give a damn. He felt too incredibly good.

My eyes rolled back into my head as his tongue probed my ear, teasingly darting inside before he sucked my earlobe into his mouth.


The chastity died then and there. I went for the buttons of his uniform, struggling with them as I shifted around on his lap. He groaned in my ear.

"We can't do this..." it was a weak, whispered warning at this point, his voice betraying him.

"Then you shouldn't have arrested me," I told him.

Inch by inch, his golden flesh was revealed to me - the sharp, descending line of muscle between his pectorals...dark pink, dusky nipples, erect at my slightest touch.

Panting, he managed, "You - you were speeding..."

I grasped a fistful of his coarse, dark hair, placing my lips at his ear, "Everyone speeds when they're excited."

And feeling him shiver made me feel more powerful than ever before. I stroked a hand down that hot, smooth expanse of his chest, allowing my lips to wander, mouthing aimlessly until they met the skin of his throat. Then I began to suck, deciding I was going to shut my mind off - if only for a little bit - and enjoy this.

Because this was wonderful...

His movement was so subtle, I didn't notice it at first. Just a gentle rocking motion beneath me, his arm snaking down around the small of my back.

It was only when he ground my hips down against his, rubbing rhythmically and breathing hard in my ear, that I felt the pleasure - and the hard, telling bulge of his arousal.

"Mmm..." I wasn't sure whose voice it was at this point.

Somehow our mouths found their way back to each other, but it was then, as I finally got rid of the last few buttons of his uniform, that he changed his mind again.

Pushing me away - gently, mind you - he cupped my jaw when I went in for the next kiss and held me back.

"No," he whispered. "God, I'm sorry."

"What?" My voice came out as a mixture between shock and petulance.

"I can't," he said.

I released a slow breath, arousal slowly flickering out like a candle. "Fine." I started to lift myself off of his lap, struggling to get away and trying to force myself not to feel humiliated, but he stopped me again - damn him.

Hands bracketing my hips, he rushed, "No - no, Judith, listen to me. Look at me. Look at me." He captured my chin and forced my eyes up. "You are beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Which is exactly why I won't do this to you."

I tried to extinguish the small fluttering in my heart at his words, "Do what?"

He sighed. "I...I haven't been with a woman in a long time. The job doesn't make much room for it."

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Doing this with you...it would've felt like using you."

Seriously? That was his only reason?

Alright. I'd had just about enough.

Mimicking his earlier actions, I snatched up his chin and forced him to look at me, and when he opened his mouth to speak I pressed my finger against his lips. "You have the right to remain silent," I husked. "So shut up."

Wide-eyed, he watched mutely as my hands then skated beneath the open flaps of his shirt and spread it over his shoulders, letting it fall down and off.

"You barely know me," was his final warning, but the look I gave him rendered anything else to ash.

I glanced down to the side of the seat, one hand searching for the lever that allowed the seat to recline. He gasped lightly when the sudden extra room allowed me to lay over him in a much more comfortable fashion.

I was going to make sure he enjoyed this.

It took a few minutes, but as he sat paralyzed beneath me while I massaged his shoulders and chest, he seemed to resign himself. With a deep groan, his eyes fell shut, crease between his brows relaxing into nothing.

As soon as he let himself go, I leaned forward to kiss him again. I loved the feeling of it. I'd kissed many men before, but there was certainly something special about the way Officer Daniels kissed. With passion, but with restraint at the same time, as if struggling with internal demons all the while.

It turned me on.

My lips trailed a now familiar path down the strong, muscular line of his throat, eventually meeting the pronounced jut of his collarbone. I felt the light puckering of scars against my tongue - scars that could've been anything from childhood accidents to knife wounds.

I didn't know.

That was another marvelous thing about Officer Daniels. He was an enigma. A mystery.

Speaking of which...

"Tell me your real name," I murmured against his warm skin, slowly beginning to raise and lower my hips against him.

His breath caught as my hand found the buckle of his belt, heavy with weapons and keys, and struggled to unclasp it. Eventually, his fingers reached down, tangling with mine and helping to get it undone.

It hit the seat with a loud thump, and he sighed as though freed from chains, forgetting my question.

So I asked again, only this time, I waited until his zipper was down and my hand was beneath his slacks, caressing the unusually large outline of him.

He moaned, eyes flying open to meet mine with a new kind of fire, and brought my head down, kissing my forcefully. Around our tangled tongues, he managed, "Lucas...my name is Lucas."


God, I could get used to panting a name like that.

With a lazy, pleased smile, I kissed him harder, my hand beginning to draw circular patterns along the fabric of his boxer-briefs.

He growled at me - a sound that made my toes curl - and reached around to clasp both hands on my rear, squeezing and forcing me to grind against him.

And I suddenly couldn't get his pants off soon enough.

With much fumbling and grunting between the two of us, his shoes, socks and slacks were discarded somewhere near the gas and break, and I was trying not to stare at the shape of his hard-on through his underwear.

It helped that he had me distracted by his questing fingers.

They'd snuck quite abruptly underneath my skirt, and before I could prepare myself he'd curled them around the waistband of my underwear. With a sharp tug, they were gone, and then it was his hand caressing me - making me shake.

God, I hadn't felt this good in a long, long time.

With another distracting kiss, he had me spreading my legs again, and I heard rather than saw him remove his boxer-briefs. Just the slightest shuffling of fabric along skin.

Next I knew, we were pressed together in the most intimate way possible, the sight of it hidden by my skirt. Our simultaneous groans harmonized in octaves, and I told him the absolute truth.

"Please..." Our foreheads came together. "Please. I need you."

He responded to my plea with his eyes - so much understanding and trust. I could hardly believe I was seeing such an expression from someone who, as he said, I barely knew. He nodded, just barely, and only a moment later, I felt him breach me at the very tip.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

"Birth control?" he whispered.

"Y-Yeah. Yeah."

"Okay..." It was like he was preparing himself.

And then, suddenly, he was all the way inside. I tried to contain the rather loud, ridiculous squeal, but it escaped regardless. He was big. And it had been quite some time since I'd been bedded at all. Another thing we had in common.

"Okay?" This time he was asking me.

Panting, I nuzzled his nose with mine, "Yes..."


We started to move at the same time, and the wonderful combination of his upward thrust and my grind down nearly made me scream.



I hadn't expected him to cuss, and it sent a little, sharp thrill through me.

"Make love to me," I whispered, kissing his temple. I didn't really think about it until after I spoke...but I'd never asked that of a man before.

"Okay." He seemed to like the sound of it.

With a groan, he took control, forcing my hips into submission to thrust up into me without mercy. As soon as he got into a rhythm, he removed one hand from my backside to thumb the buttons of my blouse.

It didn't take him long to get it undone.

And then, only adding to the blissful sensation of his movement inside me, he licked his way across the tops of my breasts.

"Oh, god - Lucas! More! Please, more!"

He started to pant in time with me, moaning and gasping at all the right times as we began our ascent into a cloudless ecstasy.

I threw my head back, swiveling my hips - trying to increase the friction.

"You're beautiful," he told me again, breathing hard. "Fuck, you're beautiful."

A car passed on the road, headlights flashing and making us gasp. I'm unsure whether that made him anxious, or if it turned him on as much as it did me.

Because I was having sex with a cop.

In his car.

After he'd arrested me.

This sort of thing only happened in fantasies.

His teeth latched onto my ear, sucking hard as our climax approached. Somehow, I already knew we'd come together.

But when it happened - god, when it happened...I could never have predicted the pleasure.

"I'm-" was all he managed before I felt him lose control, hips pumping frantically as his burning essence filled me. And with a series of gasps, not so unlike the sound of my asthma, I followed him, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades.

Sweating and panting, we clutched one another, content to remain in this moment for as long as possible.

I nestled into his shoulder as he gently pulled out, scooping me up to lay across his lap bridal style. And for a wonderful few moments, it was nothing but him whispering sweet nothings into my ear.

A crackling ruptured the silence, followed by the static sound of someone clearing their throat.

Both of us jerked to attention.

It was the radio. His radio.

"So..." the voice said awkwardly.

And the same horrifying notion hit us at once.

Lucas struggled for the walkie where it rested beneath our feet, for some reason not removing me from his lap, which would've been easier.

Angrily, he clutched the radio and held it to his lips, "Anderson."

"Yeah, Quarterback?" The voice now sounded highly amused. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks.

"What the fuck did you just hear?"

The throat clearing sounded again, and then, "Nothing much, QB. Just a little grunting and groaning. Maybe a bit of 'oh, harder Lucas - harder."

I gave a little embarrassed squeal, burying my face in Officer Daniels' chest.

"Fixing a tire, huh?" the voice snickered.

Lucas seemed more shell-shocked than anything at this point, but he still managed to bring the radio to his lips and growl, "If you say one fucking word to anyone-"

"Relax, QB. It's about time you got laid. I was starting to think all that muscle mass was compensating for-"

Lucas cut the feed with all the anger anyone could possibly cut a feed with.

It took a while, but finally we seemed able to look each other in the eye.

There was a long minute of indecision, and then the guilt in his gaze melted away, and he leaned in to kiss me tenderly. Brushing his nose against mine, he murmured, "What do you say I just let you off with a warning?"

Police Codes:

505 - Reckless Driving

Code Purple - Gang Activity

I hope you enjoyed the fourth installment :) REVIEW AND LET ME HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS

As always, I will be clearing the poll for a fresh vote on the next pairing. PLEASE VOTE :) And if you have your own pairing, PM me or contact me on Tumblr and let me know.


I'm also thinking about starting a little something about forbidden romance, which will include things more along the lines of best friends, divorcees, enemies etc. that aren't strictly related to the work force. Your thoughts?

Some of the material in these works may prove to be offensive to several parties. These works are fictional, and any similarities that occur are purely coincidental.