Page 1 of Rookie Days

chapter 1

Ellie James; rookie Detective, Lewiston P.D., watched a drop of sweat roll down the nose of the officer seated next to her. The drop hung on the prominent tip for a perilous moment before Ethan sent it into the abyss with a sniff and a quick flick of the head. He winked at her. She smirked back. It was hot inside the van with a bunch of them crammed in the back, all in tactical gear. Mike Blair, ex-Marine and a recent transfer to Lewiston, checked his weapon and flashed her a confident grin. She nodded, adjusted the straps on her Kevlar vest. Not long to wait, and her stomach tightened in anticipation. She was pumped, ready for action. The order from Quinn Wesley, the lieutenant in charge of the op, came through precisely at 01:45 a.m.

“All teams – GO.”

Ellie was grateful for the blast of cold air that hit her in the face when the van doors flew open. She moved quickly, in line with the others, holding her police-issue Glock 22 comfortably in her gloved hands. Thick freezing fog hung in the air around the dilapidated two-story building which was their target tonight. The rest of 10thStreet was muted in lingering fog, blinking neon lights from takeaway joints and bars advertising nude girls andpromising cheap alcohol barely piercing through. It was a good night for a surprise raid in this run-down part of town.

“Team 2. In place,” the confirmation soon came.

“Team 1. Ready,” Quinn responded instantly. “Go for it.”

The building’s front door was surprisingly new and sturdy for a supposedly abandoned place, and of course, they knew that it was just a front. Bottom line, the door was no match for a good battering ram. Ellie raced inside to shouts of‘POLICE’,and the ear-busting clap of flash-bang grenades. Earplugs protected her from the worst of it, and she ignored the pounding of her own heart as she flew up the stairs after Quinn. No fear, just a healthy rush of adrenaline.

“You take the right,” Quinn ordered when they reached the landing.

“Roger,” Ellie confirmed, and she headed that way.

A warning shout coming from downstairs, followed by two rapid shots, made her pause, but she went on as soon as Mike’s report came over the team radio.

“Two down. We’re clear,” he announced.

Up on the first floor, it was like a regular hotel corridor. Light bulbs glowed red above the door of occupied rooms. The prostitution house was doing some brisk business on this early Saturday morning. A series of frightened, surprised, or annoyed faces greeted her as Ellie kicked in doors and ordered clients and sex workers alike to get on the floor. A few attempted to argue or grab clothes before they complied.

“Don’t do it,” she repeated. “Get down, now!”

One guy, naked but for a pair of yellow cowboy boots, was standing next to a bed on which a voluptuous woman in bright-red lace lay with her wrists tied to the bedposts. He went for a knife when Ellie stormed in. Bad choice, bad idea. With a well-aimed kick, she had him weaponless and embracing the carpet in no time.

“Argh!” He shrieked and spit as she cuffed him. “You bitch! I’m gonna—"

“Shut up,” she ordered flatly. “Shut up and stay down.”

Next room, different scenario, same difference. This time, she came upon a six-foot dominatrix in killer red stilettos and a Jessica Rabbit dress, armed with a flogger. Her blindfolded client was naked, kneeling at her feet, already in handcuffs.

“Hey, I didn’t ask to have a cop in this scene!” he protested when the blindfold came off. With a furious look at the woman, he added, “Did I not tell you specifically? I do not want anyone else involved!”

“Sadly, darling, this is no play,” she informed him.

“What?” Now he blinked, flabbergasted. “But—"

“On the floor,” Ellie instructed. “Both of you.”

The woman flashed her a sizzling smile as she obeyed.

“I submit, officer. Gladly. To a woman like you, I’d even do it for free.”

Ellie suppressed a grin and moved on to clear the last room, back-up uniforms hot on her heels to take care of any follow-up business. Quinn would be pleased; the operation was unfolding like clock-work. And yet…

“No sign of any minors on the premises,” Ethan announced when they met again downstairs.

“All above board,” Mike agreed, arching an eyebrow as a big guy in a pink bunny outfit was escorted out the door. “Well. So to speak.”

Quinn turned to look at one of the few men in the house who was fully dressed. And nicely too, if you liked this sort of style, in a dark-grey striped suit and polished two-toned shoes. From the case file photographs that she had memorized, Ellie recognized Emilio Castro, a mid-level member of the local mafia. With an elegant head of glossy black hair, high cheekbones, and a full mouth, he might have been handsome but for the ugly scarthat ran from his forehead, over his nose, and to the middle of his right cheek. Rumor had it his own mother had done this to him in a fit of temper. The scar, and the hateful glint in his dark eyes as he watched Quinn approach, made him look even more threatening and dangerous. He was in handcuffs but the two cops on either side still tightened their grip on the man when she stepped close. Emilio Castro was well known to have a short fuse and a nasty temper. He was powerful in his world, but not very bright. And he liked to bite. Literally.

“Where are the kids?” she asked him bluntly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sneered.

“Sure you do.” Quinn was taller than him, and she stood in a way that forced him to look up. “We know about your porn business, Emilio. We’ve been watching you and your associates for a while. Tell me where the children are, and I’ll remember it later when your attorney tries to cut a deal.”

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