Chapter 10

Ten

Fletch

I listen as Gemma tells Nyx the version of events how she remembers them. I remember them differently.

"He was in the back of my father's police car when he stopped to speak to me."

He'd demanded she go home because, in his opinion, she was dressed like a slut. She wasn't. She'd been wearing leggings and a shortish jumper that rode up when she moved, showing a slight bit of her stomach. "You're too fat to wear that," he'd hissed, and I remember her looking so mortified, it made me want to smash his face into the steering wheel.

"Anyway, then he popped up everywhere, and before I knew it, he'd worked his sweet charm, and I was kissing him behind an abandoned house."

It was my house, but the second she'd screwed her nose up as we walked up the drive, I panicked and told her it was some derelict house and we just hung out around the back. I never took her back there after that, and I avoided all talk about my family.

"How old were you?" asks Nyx, and I can see the lust in his eyes. He's warming up, and I shouldn't be pissed about it—after all, I texted him and told him to come here so we could put the plan into action. But now, as he leans closer to her, his eyes fixed on hers like whatever she says is the most important thing in the world, jealousy is burning through my veins.

"I was sixteen, and Fletch was twenty."

Nyx's brows shoot up. "Damn, brother, she was barely legal." I don't smile as they both laugh. Instead, I knock my drink back. "Next, you'll tell me you were a virgin," he adds, and Gemma presses her lips into a fine line, her cheeks pinking slightly. "Fuckkkk, you lucky son of a bitch."

"Is this all necessary?" I snap, unable to hold it in. "This getting to know us part?"

Nyx smirks, settling back in his chair and eyeing me for a minute. "You wanna step out, bro? Talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" asks Gemma.

"No, I don't. Change the fucking subject," I mutter, grabbing the bottle of sours from him and taking a swig.

"Easy, tiger, you'll not be able to perform for the lady if you carry on," he teases, and I slam the bottle down. He grins. "You want me to speak to the Pres and explain the situation has changed?"

"Am I missing something?" asks Gemma.

I stare at her as she waits for me to answer. Then, without thinking, I take a handful of her hair and tip her head back slightly, kissing her hard. When I pull back, there's heat in her eyes and she's breathless. "What was that for?" she whispers.

"Being so fucking hot," I tell her, taking another drink.

Nyx stands. "I'll be at the bar."

"What's going on between you?" asks Gemma.

I sigh. "Long story."

"I got the impression you were friends, but that didn't seem friendly."

"Remember when I said I've had threesomes?" She nods, and then it dawns on her and her mouth falls open slightly.

"Oh, with Nyx?"

"Sometimes, yeah, and I think he thought he'd try his luck with you."

Her cheeks burn brighter as she glances back towards the bar, where Nyx is in a deep conversation with Grizz. I'm sure the fucker is telling him I'm about to pull the agreement, but like fuck I am. "Doesn't it get weird?" she asks, her voice quieter.

"Me and Nyx?" I shake my head. "Nah. He stays at his end, and I stay at mine." I laugh for extra measure, trying to relax her and show it's no big deal. "Now, finish your drink. We're done here."

We get back to Gemma's, and I linger in the doorway. "Is lover boy likely to return?" I ask.

"Are you scared?" she teases.

I smirk. "Nope, but if I hit him, are you gonna arrest me?"

She laughs as I follow her inside. "Yes."

"You got any cuffs laying around?" I ask casually, and she looks back over her shoulder at me. "Hey, don't judge. Having you cuff me before was hot. I've relieved myself more than once thinking about it."

"It wasn't supposed to be hot."

"Well, if you were going for scary, you failed," I tell her, rushing her until she's pressed against the back of the couch. My hand trails across her stomach and under her top, tugging her bra down and cupping her breast. "Now, tell me where you keep those cuffs."

"Bag," she whispers, kicking a large black bag at side of the couch. I reach into it, not bothering to release her. When I pull out everything but the cuffs, I tip it up, emptying the contents to the floor. There's a brown file amongst the debris, and I push it out of view and under the couch before taking the cuffs. "Now, Officer Stone, you have the right to remain silent," I tell her while slipping the first cuff around her wrist. "Anything you do say, may be given in evidence." I secure the other cuff and pull her arms up her back until she gasps. "The things I could do right now, while you're defenceless and at my mercy . . ." I lift her top and unclip the front fastening on her bra. I pinch her nipples, and she shudders, pushing her backside against my semi-erect cock. "Now, get on your fucking knees," I hiss in her ear.

She does it without question, turning and dropping down in front of me as I release my erection. "Open," I order. She does, and I force my cock into her mouth, tipping her head back and groaning in pleasure as the warmth of her throat closes up at the intrusion. And just when I'm close to coming, I haul her up and push her over the couch so her backside is up in the air. I bury myself inside her, lost in the sensation of her.

"Condom," she pants, using her legs to try and kick me away.

I smirk, pulling her back to her knees, "I ain't coming inside you, Snap," I pant, pressing my wet cock to her lips. She takes me, sucking me clean and draining me dry.

I'm aware she hasn't come, but it's all part of the plan. I need her to be eating out the palm of my hand, and for that, she needs to hear me. I lead her to the couch, and she lies down. I pull her to the very edge and drop to my knees, spreading her legs.

"Seeing you with Nyx tonight . . ." I begin, rubbing my thumb over her swollen clit. She hisses, closing her eyes. "Made me wonder what it would be like to watch him fuck you." I push a finger inside and find she's wet. "While you're sucking on my cock." I insert a second finger, and she moans. "Would you like that, Snap? Two men worshipping you?" She moans again. "I need words, Gem," I whisper, moving my mouth close enough for her to feel the warmth of my breath against her pussy.

A breathy ‘yes' falls from her lips, and I lick her opening, tasting her juices on my tongue. "Do you think you can take us both together?" I ask, moving my fingers faster.

She's climbing, and small gasps of pleasure leave her lips one after the other. "Maybe I can take you here," I add, pressing my thumb to her tight backside. It's enough to send her over the edge, and she cries out, shuddering as wetness coats my fingers. "Damn, Snap, that's the hottest thing I've ever seen," I say, licking my fingers clean as I rise to my feet.

I go the bathroom to clean up and when I open the door, she's there, waiting to do the same. "Do you want to stay over?" she asks, not quite meeting my eyes. "I mean, you don't have to or anything. It's totally up to you."

"I wasn't planning on leaving yet, Snap. I haven't finished with you."

I can feel the questions on her mind because she isn't relaxing against my chest like before. "Spit it out," I tell her, stroking my hand lazily up and down her back. Having her pressed against me naked makes me want to repeat what we just did all over again, but we're both exhausted.

"Were you serious?" she asks.

"About?"

"You know what about," she huffs.

I smirk. "Nyx?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely not," I tell her.

"Oh."

"You wanna tell me why you sound so disappointed by that?" She's playing right into my hands and she doesn't even see it.

"I mean, you've done it before, so why not with me?"

I arch a brow and stare at her until she looks away, embarrassed. "You remember why you moved back here, right? Your job?"

"You keep telling me I'm wasting my time, so if there's nothing criminal going on, I'm not doing anything wrong."

I shrug. "Fine. If that's what you want."

Her head whips around to look at me again. "Is it what you want?"

My heart twists painfully in my chest. "I'm up for it," I lie.

She bites on her lower lip, smiling coyly. "Okay, then . . . great."

Gemma

I tap my fingers on the desk, waiting for my Chief Super. When she enters the meeting room, I drag my hand into my lap to stop the nervous fidgeting that'll no doubt give my game away. "Are you feeling better?" she asks, taking a seat opposite me.

I give a nod. "Yeah. Did I miss much?"

She shakes her head. "Have you got any news on Operation Sapphire? I'm meeting with the powers that be later today, and it would be nice if I could give them something."

"I haven't really had a chance to interact, what with Pete and everything," I lie.

"Maybe we're due another raid?"

I give a stiff nod. "Usually, weekends are busier, I believe."

"What about their businesses? Would it be worth watching those for a while?"

I shrug. "We tried that in the beginning. Phil had surveillance on their massage place."

"The whorehouse?"

I give a nod. "Although, on that day, they were massaging clients. They're always one step ahead. It's like they know all our moves."

She sighs heavily. "If we don't find something soon, you know your father will pull the case. We've spent too long on it to come up with nothing, not even a wrap of weed."

"I'll speak to Phil, and we'll get a new plan together."

I find Phil at his desk scrolling through CCTV. I perch on the edge and ask, "What are you looking for?"

"Just the movements of the bikers, mainly the VP or the Enforcer."

"Oh?" I peer closer at the screen, trying to calm my racing heart. "Anything I should know about?"

"We had a team briefing yesterday, and Kay mentioned we had all this footage come in that hadn't been viewed. And seeing as my partner in crime was a no-show yesterday, I thought I'd make a start."

I scoff. "Don't we have someone from downstairs who can do this?"

He shakes his head. "Nope. Short staffed, apparently."

I get a glimpse of Fletch and my heart almost stops. "Where is this?" I ask.

"The Bar."

I stand abruptly. "How about I take over and you take a break?"

"I'm fine," he mutters, making a note on his pad.

"I insist," I say more forcefully, and he glances up, frowning. I force a smile. "To make up for my no-show yesterday."

He grins. "Fine, whatever." He unplugs the USB stick and hands it to me followed by his notes. "I've got to put some hours into some of my other cases anyway."

I head over to my own desk. "Who even asked for all the CCTV to be collected?" I ask casually.

He laughs. "Are you pissed you didn't think of it?"

"Not at all, but it's my investigation and I didn't ask for it."

"Karen got a uniform on it yesterday. Apparently, the order came from higher up."

I briefly close my eyes. "Right."

I spend a few hours staring at the black and white images of people coming and going from The Bar. It's tedious, and I lose count of the amount of coffee I've gone through just to stay awake.

I'm watching the footage from Anna's hen night when I spot my father breezing through the office. I pause the screen and rush after him, taking him by surprise when I slam the conference room door closed so we're alone.

"Gemma?"

I begin to close the blinds so my colleagues can't see from their desks. "Why did you ask for the CCTV to be checked on my case?"

He lowers into a chair, giving me that irritated look he saves especially for me. "I should be asking why you didn't."

"Because I didn't think it was important yet. We don't have anything, and trawling through hours upon hours of footage when we have no idea what we're looking for is a painstaking task."

"The footage may throw something up."

"And it might not," I snap. "I've wasted four hours already watching drunks come and go from The Bar. We haven't even touched the garage or the other businesses."

"Gemma, you're a police officer, half your job is surveillance."

I narrow my eyes. "I'm a Detective Inspector. Uniforms trawl footage."

"So, get them on it."

"They don't have the staff and you know it. You're looking for something . . . you don't trust me."

"Gemma, if that was true, I'd have my own guys looking through it. But you're running out of time. If you don't get something soon, I'll have no choice but to close this case."

"Why? You know they're behind most of the drugs on the streets. If we keep up the pressure, they'll spill over. You're trying to sabotage this for me."

"Why would I do that?" he asks, sounding more irritated by the second.

"Because you can't stand to see me pull this off. You've wanted that club for ages. Plus, you promised them there wouldn't be another fuck-up when you stepped into this role."

He scoffs. "And then they hired you."

"I can get them," I yell.

"No, Gemma. No, you can't," he says calmly as he pushes to his feet. He rests his hands on the desk and glares at me. "You will fuck this up, and I'll be the one looking like a fool . . . again. You're right, I made a vow that I'd get rid of that biker club and clear our streets of drugs and guns. So far, you've come up with nothing. Nothing!" He slams his hand on the table. "And my job is at risk as well as yours."

I shake my head. "I didn't make any promises, and when I took this job, it wasn't to get the Demons. I was offered the case and I took it. I won't lose my job if I don't produce them."

He smirks. "If I lose my job, I'll be taking you down with me. You're running the case, and I'll ensure your name is on everyone's lips when we talk about failure."

I storm from the room and head straight for the bathroom, ignoring everyone's eyes on me as I pass.

I slam the door and brace myself against the wash basin. That fucking bastard . I close my eyes and take deep breaths, just the way my therapist taught me to whenever I get into an altercation with my father. It happened often when I was younger.

I'm in my happy place, my face tipped up towards the sky and my eyes closed as the sun warms my skin. Here, like this, I can almost forget the way Fletch is pulling away from me. I'm terrified he's going to leave me. He's already talked about moving to London.

"Gemma?" My eyes shoot open at the sound of my father's voice, and as he rounds the corner, I scramble to my feet and stand straight. "Gemma," he barks, setting his eyes on me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, my voice quivering from fright.

"I went through this," he snaps, holding up my mobile phone. I gasp, feeling my back pockets to make sure it's definitely my phone. Shit. How did I forget that?

"The allotment at five," he reads. "Get some more condoms, we're out." My face burns as I stare down at my feet. "Tell me it's not that feral little bastard off the estate."

"My phone is private," I whisper. "I'm eighteen."

"Just," he spits, "and while you're living under my roof, you'll live by my rules. I checked your bank statement. You rent this space." It's not a question, but I nod. "Why?"

"I wanted to grow flowers," I mutter feebly.

"Flowers," he hisses, looking round at the array of different-coloured tulips. "I thought you'd gotten over this crap."

"There's no harm in growing them."

"Pull them up," he orders.

I frown. "What?"

"After all, you won't have time to look after them once this is born," he yells, throwing a piece of white plastic at my feet. I'm frozen to the spot, staring down at the positive pregnancy test. "I went through your room," he adds, sneering. "Read every diary, every fantasy." I pray for the ground to swallow me whole. Just remembering some of the things I wrote makes my face burn with embarrassment. I didn't expect my private thoughts to be read by anyone, least of all my father. "So, pull them up."

"No," I whisper, allowing tears to fall down my face.

He marches to me, and I flinch as he grabs my upper arms and forces me to my knees. "Pull them up, or I will have that little fucker arrested for grooming my daughter."

"He didn't groom me," I spit, and he slaps me. It's so hard, I instantly vomit into the dry soil.

"Your mother had stupid dreams of flower shops, look how that ended up."

I wipe my tears as I retch again, wincing as my fingers trace the burning of his slap. My mother loved her shop, but it's where she met the man of her dreams, leaving me and my father behind when she moved to Spain to set up a new shop and life there. Since then, she's not been in contact, and that's probably down to my father.

The sound of his belt unclipping has me reaching for the red tulips, and as I tug them from the ground, I sob uncontrollably. His slaps always sting, but his belt hurts so much worse. And while I rip each pretty flower from the soil, I promise myself that one day, I'll have my own garden where I can grow whatever I want.