I'm a Juvenile Delinquent, I Can't Fall for a Cop!

Erik Carlson, 45, and in service for 35 years. In charge of every station in the state of California, and residence in MY city. He was one of the hulking muscled guys with a shaved face and head, and I had the complete displeasure of sitting across from him, with Deyton in a seat beside me. “Starting tomorrow, the two of you will be partners.”

I stood up, knocking my chair over behind me. “Fuck no!” Deyton grabbed my waist.

I slapped him, and he grabbed my hand instead. I drew back to punch him with my other hand, as he smirked back at me and prepared to duck down (while sitting in a chair) when a gun fired. I ducked down into him, holding his other wrist so that he couldn’t do anything to me, and the bullet whizzed over me, just missing my hair. Carlson was trying not to smile as he re-loaded his gun with a click, and said to us, “I’m sure you’ll get along.” I glared defiantly as he nodded at the only remaining space for me to sit, giving him a fine-fucking-shoot-me-then look. “Now.” He ordered, as if I would listen.

Deyton pulled me down on him by my wrist. I would rather have his crazy buff-guy grip on my hand, but my wrist was the most sensitive part of my body- seriously. Well…the skin was the most thin and delicate there, anyway. I couldn’t bitch out at Carlson, since he had the stupid gun. So I turned on the asshole I was being forced to sit on.

“You fucking told me I would have until I turn 18!” I hissed venomously. He had his arms around me so that he could pin my wrists together on my lap. As if I couldn’t still kick him. I elbowed him as hard as I could in the chest.

He smirked. “Cops can twist the truth…when it comes to criminals, no sorry, juvenile delinquents such as yourself.” Since I was already on his lap (BARF), I ground my ass down onto his pelvis. (I’m not thinking past that) He got turned on- fast. Carlson raised an eyebrow, the picture of seriousness.

I was the one smirking this time. “Is it normal for your best officers to get hard-ons in front of you?” I asked him, with a perfect imitation of his stoic expression. “In my opinion, it’s not very professional.” I crossed my arms nonchalantly as well as my legs, and did what I could to disregard his hands on my cursed love handles. I was hyper-aware of any part of Deyton touching me, the gun barely directed over my head, and the window open behind Carlson opposite of us by the door.

I was suffering major OCD, claustrophobia, paranoia, and CCS. (Crazy Cop Syndrome.) “Just tell me what the fuck you want me to do, so I can get the hell out of here.”

“Be nice,” Deyton murmured in my ear, as if his boss wouldn’t hear.

“I’ll fucking kick you down into the deepest pits of hell, how’s that for nice,” I answered in an undertone as Carlson started.

“You’ll both be tracking Jerome Lastorino, who is as you know, the biggest Meth dealer in the North here. He sent his goons to break into several houses of boys that owed money, and beat them shitless. They’re all in the hospital. You two need to find their hideout and bring me all of the Meth.”

“Okay Carlson, first of all, why don’t we just burn the whole damn place down? And second of all, you shouldn’t have a problem with me burning the drugs since you’re not going to do them, of course.”

He tapped the heel of his hand with the base of his black gun down on his desk. “I need to have proof to show to the board, to prove that it was taken, and they will see to it that it’s destroyed.

“Secondly, from the way you are speaking you seem to suggest that you know where they are, Lyara.”

“First of all, don’t fucking say my name. I’ll let you call me Cunnings, but that’s it. You’re the reason I’ve been on the fucking run for years, and more importantly, why I’m human-strapped to a chair.” I jabbed a finger behind me to point at Deyton. There were snickers outside of the door. “PIERRE AND MATTHEW, SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Silence.

Carlson didn’t even try to contradict me because he knew I was gunna spill his valuable information.

“Second of all, of course I know where the stupid hideout is. I don’t know why you all can’t think the way they do, though obviously I know I have an unmatched, unique mindset. They’re underground, the middle of the city where they can run in any direction and keep watch over everything.

“Third of all, Deyton here is going to make sure you get your proof, but I’m still burning the place down. They shot my baby before, and they’re not getting away with it. In particular, my 2010 Ford Mustang GT. I’m going to rip their fucking intestines out, let alone spare their precious goods!”

I turned my head. “And if you don’t cut it out with the tightening-your-arms-around-my-waist every time I fucking insult your boss and his methods, I will fucking bite ‘chu. Capiche?”

I didn’t wait for Deyton to answer, but squeezed his upper thigh, making him loosen his grip on me enough to escape his grip. I faced Carlson and pulled down the front of my navy blue wifebeater, which was already pretty low in comparison to a guy’s. Both he and Deyton stared, like ‘WTF is she doing’. Until, of course, my beautiful silver gun came into view, strapped to my bra. “Just remember, every time you point a gun at me, chances are that I have something even better up my sleeve. Or in this case, well, I don’t think I should mention the explosives I’ll be using on the drugs. Oh whoops, I just did.”

Yep, and I’m also known for making illegal munitions. Did I forget to mention that?

Carlson pointed his gun straight at me. “A gun, you always have. Knives are fine. Illegal munitions are something I cannot allow you to carry about. Where are they?”

I looked at him. “Well if I was just half-molested by your second-in-command, and eye-raped by your two loony guards outside, I don’t think you’re going to find it on me. And no, if they actually raped me, there would still be no results. Not that it’s possible anyway,” I added with a disgusted scoff. “Just give it up, I’ve been careful with them since I was 14, and there have been no slip-ups…with bombs.” I flashed a smile.

He sighed, resignedly. “Deyton, don’t take your eyes off of her for a single second. When she showers, make sure she can’t get through the window or door to escape, and be certain that the air vents are too small for her to climb through, as you obviously cannot follow after her.” I sauntered out. “Yes, sir.” He followed, his eyes devilish and a smirk plastered onto his face again. I pulled the door open, and Pierre and Matt landed on top of me, squishing me to the floor.

“Hey we got her!” said Pierre.

“Hell yeah, we win!” came Matt.

“And this is the only time.” My voice was muffled under one of their biceps. I pushed my head back to free my mouth.

“GET YOUR FAT ASSES OFF OF ME!!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~