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Cops

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Book: Cops


EXCERPT FROM BOOK

Jeff stared into space as Mickey typed a report for an auto theft on their mobile computer. He was parked in the church lot they occupied when they wanted peace and quiet and…after dark, as a place to play.
The lot was expansive and surrounded by shrubs and trees, making it a good place to be left alone. By backing into the corner, Jeff had a grand view of anyone or anything that drove into the area before they could come up close and disrupt them.
The sun was beginning to angle down but since it was August, it was still light at seven o’clock. Jeff was beginning to wear out from the long shift hours and rubbed his face, yawning. He placed his sunglasses on the dashboard. As Mickey typed beside him, Jeff closed his eyes and could easily nap. In the background the dispatcher was sending cops to domestic violence calls, traffic accidents, suspicious activity…everywhere and to everything.
Jeff didn’t realize he’d dozed until he woke when he felt a touch to his thigh. Mickey had obviously finished the report and scooted closer. “Tired, baby?”
“I am. I’m exhausted.”
Mickey reached for Jeff’s jaw and turned it to face him. The kiss was tender and loving, a side of Mickey Jeff knew and enjoyed, but they tended to act quite the opposite most times.
After the kiss Mickey looked around the abandoned parking lot, rubbing his hand over Jeff’s crotch. Jeff knew what his lover wanted. “I’m so tired I don’t know if I can get it up.”
Mickey dug deeper under Jeff’s balls and scooted even closer so he could kiss his neck. “Bullshit.”
Jeff chuckled as chills of pleasure began to build, and he did indeed feel his cock begin to swell.
“Wanna suck you, bitch.” Mickey chewed on Jeff’s jaw and earlobe sending chills over Jeff’s skin.
“Dirty, dirty pig.” Jeff smiled, still relaxed in the driver’s seat, but now his legs straddled as he enjoyed the crotch rub.
Mickey went for Jeff’s zipper flap, pushing back the material.
“Some days I hate this uniform.” Jeff looked down at the heavy vest, the weighty gun belt, long dark pants…
Mickey ignored him, working on getting the zipper down.
Jeff caressed Mickey’s blond hair, seeing his determination to get at his cock. Something caught his attention. He tapped Mickey. “Mick, sit up.”
Mickey instantly moved upright in the seat.
A car pulled into the lot, seemed to spot them, and made a circle to get out quickly.
“Go!” Mickey pointed, buckling his seatbelt.
Jeff hit the gas and grabbed his sunglasses as they skidded across the dashboard. He put them on his face and nailed the pedal to the floor, hearing the heavy engine of the powerfully build patrol car whine as it went from zero to sixty in mere seconds.
“Right turn!” Mickey pointed as he spotted the car. It was a dark sedan and they couldn’t get close enough yet to get the license plate. Zigzagging around the traffic, which was always heavy in LA, Mickey leaned closer to the windshield as if trying to see the plate number. Then he began typing on the computer screen.
Jeff couldn’t read it yet, and was focused on getting on top of the car without turning on his lights and sirens. The occupants hadn’t done anything illegal at the moment.
“Stolen hit.” Mickey grabbed the microphone. “Eight-Adam-One.”
“Eight-Adam-One.”
“Possible code thirty-seven, license plate number…”
Jeff knew the occupant of the stolen car knew they were onto him as his driving became more erratic. Jeff turned on the overhead lights and sirens as Mickey got verification it was indeed a stolen car, and he broadcast they were chasing it.
“Eight-Adam-One is in pursuit, code-three.”
The air became jammed with other officers offering to back them up, and Jeff kept up with the stolen car enough to not lose it, but it was beginning to pass through red traffic lights and stop signs. No way Jeff was going to allow them to get broadsided over a stolen car.
As the rest of the vehicle traffic either stopped short or tried to get the heck out of their way, Jeff slowed at the intersections because people simply did not pay attention. Mickey kept broadcasting the locations on the air, describing the direction of the suspect vehicle.
Jeff changed the sound of his siren from wail to yelp to wail, to keep the rest of the civilian traffic alert. The stolen car rode over a curb, hit a parked car and kept going.
“Motherfucker!” Mickey said, “What the hell do we have here?” He advised the dispatcher the stolen car had just hit a parked vehicle and the location of the accident.
“How many in the car, Mick? I only see one. The driver.”
“That’s all I see.” Mickey held onto the dashboard with his right hand and used the radio with his left to keep dispatch in constant communication.
Behind him Jeff could see three other marked units flying after him, going with lights and siren.
The LA traffic had come to a complete stop as this caravan of emergency vehicles flew like a crazy train down a broken track.
Jeff looked up ahead and noticed a State Patrol motorcycle cop spot the incident and he too flew after the stolen car.
“This asshole’s going to crash again and kill someone,” Jeff said, “Mick, he’s losing control completely.”
It was then Jeff heard their sergeant on the radio asking for their vehicle speeds. That was an indication he was worried too, even though he was not on the pursuit, or at least they did hear him say he was with them if he had.
Then up ahead, Jeff spotted a billow of smoke and debris flying. “Fuck!”
Mickey told radio, “Suspect has crashed!”
Jeff and Mickey were the first to arrive, and the one man from inside the car raced from the smoldering wreck and took off. Jeff threw the patrol car into park and ran after him, seeing a black semi-automatic pistol on the sidewalk as if the suspect had dropped it. Mickey picked it up as he ran, tucking into the back of his belt and they began a foot pursuit.