"Damn it, Russ, we told you not to provoke him."
"We got answers, didn't we?"
"But look at the damn cost!" Leon snapped at me, running a hand over his short afro. "I swear, if you could see yourself..."
I glared flatly up at him with the one eye that I wasn't currently pressing an ice bag over. "I don't care. I got you your answers. Mafia druglord Vahlov Pretikov is the father of that little boy. He needs an heir, takes the kid, momma fights back, daddy doesn't like it. Daddy teaches mommy a lesson, but mommy has already taught daddy one. Baby boy is gone and now starts the grand search for where mommy hid him. So, with that summarized, give me a new case before I get bored again."
Leon scoffed, leaning forward on his elbows. "I'm not giving you anything until I'm sure you're back on your feet. Take a break, Russ, what you're doing isn't healthy. On top of your divorce—"
"I'm sorry, am I crying right now? Use your eyes and make your own goddamn deduction," I snarled, wincing as I stood up. "I should hope that the Miami police hasn't completely lost the ability to make one, even if the evidence is compelling."
"Watch it. We give you a long leash to play, but don't go acting all shit on us for worrying about you," Leon protested, standing up. His six-foot-five beat my six-foot-three, but even then I didn't find him intimidating. "We're just try'na look out for your superior ass."
I rolled my eyes and reached for my jacket after ditching the ice bag on his table. "Then get me a new case before I die of boredom."
"If you ever need a friend, just call," Leon called after me, after I turned and walked down the hall. I didn't bother replying.
I left the station and headed home.
~~~
"What the hell happened to you?"
I glanced over my shoulder from my kitchen to the door of my apartment. Amy stood leaned against the sill, watching my bruised topless body. I saw a slight frown of concern stain her face.
"Monday's," I curtly replied, returning to cleaning the wound on my chest by the kitchen sink. When I heard her step into my apartment, closing the door behind her, I added, "Please come in."
I felt her hands on my back, running over my shoulders, down my arms. Her lips pressed against the nape of my neck. "What happened?"
Gritting my teeth, I clenched the sponge in my hand and kept my focus on the wound by my rib, not the fact that she was only wearing boxers and a white transparent T-shirt. "A Russian mobster took a few swings at me. Nothing serious."
"That," She said, poking my swollen eye, "doesn't seem like nothing serious. Did you ice it?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
I turned around, catching her by surprise again and captured her in my arms. "Why do you care? Scared that one of your trophies got a dent?"
Amy glared up at me, pursing her lips. "You're not a trophy—"
"The hell I am. I'm another guy to your collection and you know it, so you can unclench. We're not dating and I'm not your boyfriend, so why are you really here?"
She glared, squinting her eyes a little at me. Then, slowly, she leaned into my ear and whispered; "You're the detective. You figure it out."
When she slowly leaned back,I did a take down her body; Boxers, white shirt, bare feet and exposed legs. I could smell her coconut shampoo and lotion, meaning she couldn't have showered more than an hour ago. She wasn't wearing makeup or anything else that could get smudged or ruined. Her hair was loose and she had deliberately put on a see-through white T-shirt before coming here. Her hardened nipples underneath revealed she wasn't wearing a bra. Even without this deduction, I could've said without a doubt in my mind that she came to get the void between her legs filled.
Meeting her eyes, I could see her getting aroused by the fact that she knew I just studied her.
"Why don't you just hold up a sign?" I said, leaning back against my kitchen sink.
"Because I like watching your eyes work," She smirked, stepping up to me, pressing a hand against my chest. "And reading is too boring for you, isn't it?"
She pressed her lips to my jawline and let her hand slide down my torso to the buckle of my belt. I closed my eyes.
Why do you let her do this? She's more fucked up than you, why do you keep sleeping with her?
I felt her hand slip into my unbuckled pants, rubbing my hardening member. I sighed. "Amy..."
"Come now, Detective Crane, what's holding you back? You were very willing last night."
My conscience, that's who's holding me back.
But then again, I never listened to it before, so why start now?
Gripping her hips, I brought my lips down on hers, meeting them with the same passion she offered. She moaned and leaned into me while still keeping her hand in my pants.
I pulled her hand out before picking her up and walking her to my bedroom. "You win, Amy."
~~~
"Why are we here, Leon?"
"Because I know you don't eat breakfast, so I thought I'd give you the opportunity to do so."
"Oh good grief, is this where I'm supposed to be flattered that you care? Because I'm really not."
"Enough, Russ, just look at the damn menu," Leon glared at me from across the booth at the diner we were in. According to their menu board outside, they served coffee, a delicious variation of breakfasts and sunny-side-up smiles. The annoying music they played in the background (which sounded alarmingly much like 80's music) was beginning to annoy me. Unfortunately that title had already been claimed by Leon who had refused to talk to me about the new information they'd gotten on the Russian case unless we got a bite to eat—and apparently Omeletta's Diner was his preferred choice.
"I don't eat while I'm working, digesting slows me down," I said, impatiently running a hand through my hair. I couldn't wait to get this over with. I had to be seriously desperate if I agreed to go to diners with police officers, just to avoid getting bored. I needed work.
"Yeah, and so does dying from malnutrition," Leon dryly added. "Just eat, will you?"
Gritting my teeth, I picked up the laminated menu card and skimmed it. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, omelettes, what a surprise. They served oatmeal, for crying out loud. "I think I'll stick to coffee."
"Christ, Russ, no wonder you got divorced if you're this difficult to dine with. When was the last time you spoke to Janelle?" Leon said, raising a brow of concern.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me. "If you wanted to question me about my failed marriage, a breakfast date wasn't needed, Leon. Not unless that breakfast involved a healthy dosage of heroi—"
"—finish that sentence and the only thing you'll be eating is the bullet of my gun," Leon cut in, slamming his menu down. "You quit a long time ago, Russ, don't start thinking about that again. Divorce is tough, and getting back in the game again—"
Dear lord, kill me. "I think I'll take that bullet now."
"I'm serious, Russ. If you need someone to talk to, you're always welcome at my house."
I glared flatly up at him, wanting to seriously just roll my eyes and leave, but he had my case—the thing I had resorted to as my fix instead of drugs—and without my daily dosage, I sure as hell would turn to my old friend Syringe. So, instead of leaving, I sighed, closed my eyes and massaged my nose bridge, trying to contain my irritation. "Thanks for the offer, but it's not necessary."
"Fine, but if you change your mind about talking about your divor—"
"Good morning, gentlemen, what can I get you?"
My eyes flew open and I glared up at Amy who stood in front of our booth in uniform and apron. Her face was straight, but her eyes were amused and trained on me.
"Good morning, Ms. I'll take a cup of coffee and one of your famous omelettes, please," Leon politely spoke, completely unaware of the tension between me and Amy. Then again, he had no idea I had spent last night between her legs, making her scream so loudly, the downstairs neighbor came up and asked if everything was alright.
"No problem," She wrote down on her little notepad before turning to me. "And you, sir?"
Her eyes glinted with humor as she spoke that last word sir, addressing me so formally. Last night she could barely form my name on her tongue from the brain-wrecking pleasure of climaxing so hard. You could tell she was enjoying watching me being caught off-guard.
"Just black coffee." I said, meeting her eyes. If she was expecting me to squirm, she could think again.
She scribbled it down before giving us—me—a glance. "Coming right up."
I followed her with my eyes as she walked back behind the counter, back to the kitchen to give the order. She looked over her shoulder, sending me a smirk, as if knowing I was staring at her.
"So as I was saying, if you change your mind, the offer stands. Michelle would be happy to take you in for a few days, you know how she loves cooking for more people, and my kids—"
"I'll be right back," I said, still glaring at Amy who watched as I stood up from the booth. "Bathroom."
Leon said something to me, but I didn't bother listening. I was heading down the bar, towards the kitchen, and evidently also the bathroom. Amy had turned to the coffeemaker, but the smirk on her face remained as she started pouring up coffee.
"You know, I don't believe in coincidences," I voiced, leaning in on my elbows on the bar. "But running into you here is making me rethink."
"Surprised? Why am I even asking; the look on your face was priceless," She mused, still keeping her back turned to me. "Does 'deer caught in headlight' mean anything to you?"
Funny. "How much did you hear?"
"Of what? Your conversation? Just enough to know that that finger you buried inside me yesterday used to have a ring on it."
"Who's eavesdropping now?"
"You did start," Amy finally turned around, holding two cups of coffee in her hands. She set them down on the counter in front of me. "I never got a chance to ask; Did it turn you on, listening to me moan your name when I masturbated? Maybe it's a little redundant to ask, considering what we've been doing the last couple of days, but I am still curious."
Her eyes locked with mine and I could just see the mischievousness glinting inside them. She was quirking her brow ever so slightly and tilting her head, toying with me. No deductions needed for what was on her mind.
I stood back up, unbuttoning the first button on my shirt. "Would you mind showing me the way to the bathroom?"
Her smirk only grew. "Certainly. Sir."
~~~
Fifteen minutes later, I was walking back to Leon who had been patiently waiting in the booth. I ran a hand over my hair to smooth it down before I sat down across from him again.
"Everything okay? You were in there a long time."
"My toilet visits, really? That's the topic you choose to strike up right before eating?"
He grimaced. "You're right, forget I asked."
I adjusted my tie a little, fixing my collar as Amy walked up to our table, looking a little flushed with her hair slightly undone and her cheeks still pink from minutes ago. In her hand she carried a tray with our coffee and Leon's breakfast. "Here you are, sorry that took so long."
"It's no problem, we aren't in a rush," Leon politely smiled, unfolding his cutlery as Amy placed the omelet in front of him along with our coffees. She didn't meet my eyes as she set mine down in front of me. "Thank you."
"No problem," She straightened her apron out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Call if you need anything."
"We will, thank you," Leon smiled and Amy smiled back before taking a step away. Our eyes quickly met and I couldn't help but smirk briefly as I saw the memory in her eyes sparkle with me taking her up against the bathroom door while she panted for her breath, trying to stifle her moans. She quickly looked away and left.
"You sure you don't want anything?" Leon asked me, cutting into his omelet.
I rose my coffee to my lips, taking a sip. "No thanks, I actually ate already."
• • •
Who really got served in this chapter?