Page 94 of Concealed

A desperate groan rips from my throat as I release into her wet and willing mouth, my hips pumping with the instinctive need to drive into her, fill her, and possess her.

I’m slowly rolling down from my high when she bounces to her feet and carefully tucks my cock back into my pants. Words fail me when she puts the coffee mug into my hand.

“You’ll still make it on time if you leave right now. I’ll take a repeat after work, officer.”

“You’re seriously the best, babe. I’ll see you after work.”

I kiss her forehead and then head out to the truck, stopping briefly to talk to the night shift boys driving by.

They didn’t find anyone lurking, or notice anything that made them suspicious. I thank them, and then head to the station, somehow making it with one minute to spare.

And the internal grin that I’ll have all day thinking about my sexy girl on her knees for me would have been worth being late anyway.

The war room buzzes with excitement, and everyone is talking over each other as they update me on what I’ve missed.

And it’s a lot.

Wang Yong and his lawyer are cooperating to avoid felony charges and man, does he have a lot of information on the human trafficking arm of the gang. He’s a small fish, but he was working his way up and is going to be the key to helping us lock away Zhang Lei for good.

His information is California-specific and extremely useful to our investigation. He also has contact names for our international colleagues. I’m scrawling copious notes and ideas as they pop into my head while my fellow officers provide stream of consciousness updates.

Chat Tok is often used to recruit the girls, but the gang also grabs street girls who no one will miss.

There’s a small domestic trafficking business, but most of the product is shipped to Bangladesh.

They don’t kill the girls unless absolutely necessary, or when they’re too used and abused to be desirable. Dead product is bad for business, and the girls are only worthwhile to keep alive if they’re sellable – over and over.

But Wang Yong insists he’s not as involved as he would have to be to know all of this information, and that he’s just a small cog in the big machine.

That might be true on a global scale, but he’s crucial to the California operations. It’s clear he is Zhang Lei’s bitch, but Wang Yong’s hands are covered in blood, too.

And, of course, Wang Yong wants everyone to know that he’s not a pedophile himself and would never personally touch any of the girls. He’s just helping to direct the product where it needs to go – and that’s it.

No biggie.

The most frustrating part of the whole case is that while arresting Zhang Lei will slow the Reapers down, it won’t come close to stopping them for good. There will always be someone else to take a leader’s place.

But it’s all we can do – get rock-solid cases, arrest the thugs, and then lock them away. We have to keep trying because we’re the only ones fighting for the innocent and voiceless.

And it’s a damn good feeling to get the bad guy.

I live for the rush of hard work paying off because sometimes it doesn’t. Perps walk away because we don’t have enough evidence, or someone made a procedural error. Knowing a person is guilty and walking around continuing to commit crimes keeps me awake at night.

But it won’t happen this time.

Grant assures me that I wouldn’t have been allowed to interrogate Wang Yong and that I didn’t really miss anything. Not only did we want him to think I was dead or at least in critical condition, but I’m also not a detective – yet.

But I did want to watch the more experienced cops in action. And I’ll ask the boss man if I can review all the footage on my own time.

“So, what I’m hearing,” I start, giving Grant a wink, “is that you guys have done all the work, and I can just go home and keep relaxing.”

“I mean, you could have tried pulling your weight a bit more,” Dean says sternly. “Working basically 24/7 for weeks and being shot aren’t really good enough excuses for fucking off forthreewhole days.”

“Yeah, really, Wyatt,” an officer named Joel says. “The LAPD didn’t mention how much of a slacker you are. I guess they just wanted to get rid of their bad apple.”

“What can I say? Next time I’ll take a better hit to earn more sympathy points,” I joke.

“All ball-busting aside,” Grant says, “your intel from Chider set us on this path, and you saved lives at the stakeout, including mine. You did good, rookie.”

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