The squad car jerked as I swung sharply into the parking lot, Dustin swearing next to me as I took the corner hard.

“Fuck, man.”

I shot him a glance. “Sorry,” I muttered, feeling the clawing feeling digging inside of me as I braked hard into the parking space out front of the coffee shop. I could feel the all-too-familiar need raging inside — the demon of addiction that I kept locked up tight in there with an iron chain.

But locked up didn’t mean he wasn’t loud as fuck sometimes.

I’d been sober for four years now, and I loved it. I was sharper, and healthier, and just better in every aspect of my life without the guy I used to be fucking shit up anymore. But that didn’t mean I didn’t still have days where I felt like I could murder for a sip of whiskey.

And on those days? Well on those days, I drowned that screaming craving down with my new addiction.

Caffeine.

“Got it bad, huh?”

I glanced at Dustin as I shut the car off, my jaw clenching, my teeth grinding, the roaring of my addiction threatening to explode out of me.

I nodded, and his face went grim.

“You want to call anyone?”

I shook my head. “I’m good. Just…”

“Black, one sugar?”

I nodded again, breathing heavily.

“I got you, man. Sit tight.”

My friend was out of the car in a second, jogging to the door of the coffee shop.

Dustin had seen me through the worst of it, back then. We’d been best friends since, well, shit, I don’t even know since when. Before I could remember, that’s for sure. We’d done it all together, growing up across the street from each other — playing with GI Joe’s, taking on bullies on the playground, playing football, chasing girls.

Hell, we’d lost our virginities on the same night, to the same damn girl, at the same time.

Well, technically speaking, Dustin had lost his first — something he’d never gotten tired of jokingly reminding me of over the years.

After school, we’d gone to the same college to play ball, signed up on the same day for the Marines, and done two tours together in Afghanistan. We’d come back home to SoCal, breezed the policeman’s exam, aced our detective’s tests, and now here we were.

But the short of it was, my friend was the closest thing to a brother I’d ever had, and vice versa.

We’d both found beer young, I guess. And we’d both enjoyed partying over the years, but there was always something about me and booze that never clicked right. Something in my genetics or something. Long story short though, four years ago, Dustin had saved my damn life when he’d shoved me against the wall one particularly rough morning and screamed at me that he wasn’t going to watch me slowly kill myself anymore. He’d put his service gun in my hands, jabbed a finger in my chest, and told me if I was that set on meeting my maker, I could take the fast lane right then and there.

I went to my first meeting that morning, and I’ve been sober ever since.

But again, sober doesn’t mean you never think about it. Stress and emotion bring it out, of course, but I’d spent the last four years mastering self-control and keeping myself in check.

She wrecked that.

She took that control and shattered it from me. Watching Samantha this last month had shaken me to my core. Watching this girl and slowly realizing how goddamn incredible she was in that almost unbelievable way had tested that self-control.

Coming face-to-face with her today, in that fucking bikini, and watching Dustin spread her across the hood of her car and let his hands wander over those curves?

Yeah, self-control gone. I was shaking with the need for something — clawing out of my own skin with the need to give in, to throw the rest of my self-control away.

My blood boiled, my head swam, and my cock was throbbing hard in my uniform, just thinking about her.

The passenger door slammed shut, and I blinked, my head clearing slightly.

“Here. Drink up.”

I shot my friend a look as I gratefully took the steaming cup of coffee. “Poor choice of words, pal.”

He snorted. “Sorry, dude.”

I shook my head, laughing quietly before gratefully sucking down the scalding hot brew. “Thanks for this.”

“Anytime.” Dustin looked at me carefully. “This about—”

“Her? Yeah. Obviously.”

He swore under his breath. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have, I just…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I just—”

“Can’t help it?” I swore myself, taking another sip from the styrofoam cup. “Believe me, I know the feeling.”

“What’s going to happen to her? I mean, after the FBI moves in on this whole thing and ol’ Tim gets locked up for helping drug dealers falsify shipping reports and legal docs?”

“Well, she’ll be done with him, so there’s that. And she’s got nothing to do with this — that you and I can attest to. So, she’s not in trouble or anything.”

Dustin’s jaw tightened. “They’ll be after her, you know. The Mexicans. When Tim gets nabbed with the rest of them and she walks, they’ll have questions.”

I felt my hand tighten on the cup, my jaw clenching. “Not on our watch.”

“Out watch will be over when they move on this thing, dude. And you know that. When this case is wrapped up, it’s not like we’re still going to be watching Samantha.”

I hissed out a swear, growling lowly. “When this thing is over, we’re still watching her, because I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to that girl.”

“Amen to that, brother,” Dustin said quietly.

We sat in silence another minute as I drank my coffee, the addiction slowly receding back into its cave. Slowly, I turned and grinned at my friend.

“I can’t believe you frisked her, you fucking dick.”

He grinned back, arching his brows. “I can’t believe you didn’t help. All that smooth, creamy skin, those long perfect legs, and oh man, that ass was just—”

“Alright! Alright!” I laughed as I flipped off my best friend. I jammed the keys into the ignition and cranked on the engine. “Rub it in, douchebag.”

“Oh, I’ll rub it into Samantha Caraway any day of the week, buddy.”

“Prick.”

We laughed as I pulled the car out of the parking lot.

“Alright, what’s the job tonight?”

Dustin frowned. “We’ve got stake-out duty with the niece tonight.”

“Goddammit.”

We’d pulled this job before — watching Miguel’s niece’s lavish mansion when we weren’t lucky enough to be on our usual Samantha duty. The worst part — aside from not being able to watch our Sam — was that Maria Santiago had a thing for leaving her damn blinds open. This wouldn’t have been that much of a problem, I mean, she wasn’t a bad looking girl, for sure.

The problem was, she’d leave ‘em open when douchebag Tim Plimpton came over to get his tiny cock sucked. And we’d have to sit there watching that shit.

Believe me, police work is not all glitz and glamour.

“I know, it’s bullshit. Like we need to watch that pudgy fuck get his limp dick wet again.”

I rolled my eyes as I drained the last of my coffee. “It still makes zero sense that a dude like that somehow has a girl like Samantha.”

Dustin growled angrily. “Zero fucking sense.”

I shrugged. “People do dumb shit sometimes. Hell, you were with that Christy chick for way too long.”

“You’re just pissed she wasn’t into dating both of us, like Jen was.”

“Dude, Christy is and was insane. If she comes knocking again, believe me, she’s all yours.”

Dustin laughed. “Asshole.”

“Dick.”

“Speaking of which, it is Tuesday. We need to get going to Maria’s place so we can watch ‘shitty, small-dicked blowjob night’ at the Santiago house.”

“Hope you brought popcorn,” I muttered as I took us onto the freeway and headed for the beach.