Bulletproof (#1) ✔

36: Tyler

"So you're saying that you come to me because you know you won't punch me?" Franny asks with slight amusement.

I laugh softly. "Something like that."

I reach up and brush my knuckles against her cheek. Franny closes her eyes before slowly opening them back up and reaching out to me. Her fingers grab at my clean shirt and make a fist in the material. She drags me closer and my hand clamps down on the curve of the door beside her head. My other hand breaks her knees apart and I slide into the space between her legs. With my hand caressing her side, she keeps one hand in my shirt and the other on my cheek as she brings my head down towards her.

Her lips are almost hesitant as they meet mine—but that soon changes.

Franny's fingers grip my hair as she deepens the kiss. I smile against her lips and hike a thigh over my hip as I kiss her back. Fingers slide away from my now-crinkled shirt and her arm circles around my back, pushing me down onto her. I stroke her cheek, taking in the heat from both our bodies as I pull away for a moment only to dip back onto her lips mercilessly.

The kiss becomes feverish and we grip each other, hard. My hips slide downwards to settle into the new position, moving back and forth slowly. Our lips part and Franny pushes at my chest.

I stumble back until I'm sitting, frowning over at her, thinking that she's made a quick decision to want me gone. But with a sudden move, Franny gets up and hovers over me, straddling my legs. My hands automatically find refuge on her hips where they settle comfortably as she strokes the edge of my jaw and leans down to place a kiss on my neck, right on the bruised vein. My body tenses, but Franny doesn't move. Instead, she grows more confident. The prim and proper kiss becomes an open-mouthed kiss on my neck that sends a shudder down my body. I grip her hips tighter as Franny rolls her lips and tongue over the red marks littering the skin of my neck. My head lolls back and gently hits the truck window. I wrap one arm around Franny's waist and roll my hips against hers. Her eyes close as her lips find purchase against my neck.

"Fuck," I whisper against her hair.

Once her lips have touched every mark on my neck, Franny lifts her head and looks up at me. I place my knuckles under her chin and tilt her head up to kiss her soundly on the lips. It is much more chaste than I want it to be but from the light that just flicked on in her home's kitchen, Franny has company waiting for her.

I tilt my head towards her house and Franny looks out the window to see the light in the house.

"It's Tally," she explains. "I said my dad needed me."

I nod and run my hands up and down her sides before leaning forward and resting my forehead against hers.

"That detective that was talking to you about your dad's injuries," I begin. "I'm going to meet up with him tomorrow. We'll make a plan and then I just have to follow through with it and Carl's gone. This could work."

"He sounds like a bent cop to me," Franny says bitterly and I smile.

"He's rough around the edges. Does things that aren't exactly . . . legal to get people behind bars."

"Which makes him no better than the people he arrests," Franny comments.

"But he's my last chance," I say. "My very last. I don't get the chance to be cautious about people anymore."

Franny kisses my cheek. "Be safe."

I just hug her closer.

***

Detective Franks is standing beside his car with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth when I pull up. He drops the cigarette on the ground and stomps it out before catching my eye and tilting his head towards his car.

Climbing out of my truck, I lock it up and walk the two car spaces down to reach his standard-issue undercover police car. The parking lot is nearly empty even though it's the middle of the day. I take once glance at the lake it looks over before opening up the passenger door and sliding inside.

Franks is flicking through a little notebook when I settle down in the seat. His eyes roam over a couple of things before he sighs.

"Look, Carl's an asshole," he says. "And he's good at clearing up his tracks. Apart from lately."

"Lately?" I ask.

"He's been physically harming more," Franks says. "Couple of guys are beaten up, minimal force, a bat. Then suddenly we have two cases that are high priority. One is a man beaten nearly to death with a bat, multiple broken bones, bruising, cuts and a completely destroyed eye. Another has a knife wound bleeding like hell and bruises and cuts covering his body. Then there's a dead body showing up in some ditch a couple streets over from a notoriously sketchy bar. He's getting sloppy. And that's where you come in."

"How?" I ask.

"You make the perfect scene. Catch him right in the act of doing something he shouldn't be. Have the whole thing as a setup. I'll be waiting outside the doors with a whole damn SWAT team if I need to. And when the time is right we come charging in and catch him red-handed."

"You make it out as if it's going to be easy," I comment.

"It will be," Franks says. "All you're going to be doing is what you always do. Do a fight for a bit of cash, pretend like nothing is going on, and then before you know it, a whole army of policemen will have him down on the ground with guns pointed at his fucking head."

- Ellie x