Don't Judge (Nothing Special 4)

“Don’t get mad at us because you always end up on your back.”

“Fuck you.”

Ruxs threw the runner against the brick wall and patted him down. He yanked a Glock from the guy’s waistband, handing it back to Green. “Is that a registered weapon? I bet if I check it, it won’t be.”

The man huffed hard, trying to catch his breath. He had a Bankhead tattoo on his hand, which meant he wasn’t even East Side. Didn’t mean he didn’t have connections there. He scrubbed his hand over his buzz-cut blond hair, dropping his hand to his face. “That ain’t even mine, Ruxs.”

“So you know who I am. I’m flattered… really,” Ruxs said drily, crossing his arms over his thick chest and staring the young guy down. Unfortunately, most dealers did know them. “I don’t give a damn if it’s your pastor’s gun; it’s in your possession, which makes it yours. That’s an automatic five years, dude.”

The guy groaned. “Come on, man.”

“Talk,” Ruxs growled.

“Fuck.” The kid hissed, looking up and down the street as if he were contemplating running.

“Don’t you even fucking think about it. Talk.” Ruxs slapped the guy on his cheek. It wasn’t hard, but it was enough to show that he didn’t want to stand there much longer. The guy only looked to be in his late twenties, too young to want to spend five years in prison.

Michaels watched the streets while the task force’s enforcers pumped the young thug for information. Regardless if it was relevant to their current case, it would definitely be documented and stored away for later. Ruxs and Green played off each other masterfully and Michaels found himself wishing and hoping again. He didn’t have a life or work partner. He was alone… all the time.

When they were finished, Green gave the thug a harsh warning before they turned to leave.

The guy threw a few curses at their backs before asking; “Can I at least have my piece back, man?”

Ruxs shook his head, not bothering to turn around. “These motherfuckers get stupider every day.”

Chapter Three

“Good work today, Michaels.” Syn clapped him on his back as he made his way out of the locker room. He yelled over his shoulder. “You coming out tonight?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there for a little bit,” he yelled back.

“Cool.”

Michaels loved his team, they were the most loyal and dedicated men he’d ever worked with. After being with them for three years, he knew they’d have his back no matter what the situation and vice versa. But lately he’d been a little anti-social, and of course the all-knowing Day had picked right up on it. So unless he wanted the guy prodding him, he figured he’d go out with his teammates for a while.

Michaels threw his duffle bag in the bag of his Jeep. He’d left the top off, loving the coolness of Atlanta in the late fall. He turned the ignition but paused before putting his car in gear. He really wasn’t in the mood to go out, he wasn’t in the mood to stay home and be bored, and he wasn’t in the mood to pick up some random fuck. Goddamnit. He hated feeling that way. The sensation of wanting to do something… anything… other than what’s available.

The rumble of a loud motorcycle had him turning his head in the direction of the parking lot entrance. He heard the tricked-out hog before it came into view. When the bike finally turned into the lot, Michaels knew immediately who the sexy rider was. He made a circle in the parking lot, his long, tattooed arms stretched out, his leather-gloved hands griping the handles. Michaels squirmed uncomfortably.

His Sergeant, Syn, came out right on cue. Michaels knew it was Syn’s lover before the man removed his sleek, black helmet because of the long gold ponytail braided down his back. Syn rarely smiled or laughed during the course of the day, but when he was looking at Furi, he became a completely different man.

Michaels watched Furi slowly remove his helmet as Syn made his way to him. He didn’t see Syn’s mouth move to speak, only a slight quirk of his lips before he gripped the back of Furious’ neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Furi’s head was titled back while he let his Sergeant ravage him right there in front of the precinct, not giving a damn if anyone saw them. Letting their foreheads rest together, Michaels noticed they were saying something into each other’s mouths when Syn reared back and laughed hard. Wow.

Michaels cursed and threw his Jeep into drive. This was why he didn’t want to go out. He felt like a voyeur. The guys would be all over their significant others, finally able to touch, and rub, and feel like they’d been dying to do all day, and he’d be sitting there nursing drinks while trying not to get caught staring longingly. Yes, there were single guys on their team, some bi or gay, a few of them not, but they were happy playing the field and using their career status to give their many lovers the fantasy of fucking some bad boys. Been there, done that.