I didn’t open the shop in the morning. Not that anyone was waiting to beat the doors down or anything. I spent the time getting the place back in order. In the light of day, the damage didn’t look that bad. I decided to forgo calling the insurance company to make a claim. I got a locksmith out to fix the door and put it on the only one of my credit cards that wasn’t maxed out. Things were looking slightly better by the time lunch rolled around.

My phone chirped as I was admiring my handy work. It was a text from Chris.

I can’t make lunch today, but if you stop by the office, I’ll give you some cash to fix your door.

“Fucker,” I muttered. But damn right I’d take his money. He didn’t need to know that the locksmith had felt sorry for little old me and significantly slashed his normal rate. I might have made it seem like I was open to the idea of him taking me out sometime. Whatever. It had only cost me fifty bucks. Chris was likely to give me more than a hundred.

I shot a message back to him.

I’ll be by in an hour.

I left the shop, locking the door behind me, and strode up the street. I’d open after lunch if I felt like it. I found I had less and less motivation each day. That was something else Chris had blasted me for. Getting held at gunpoint had zapped the rest of my flagging excitement for owning the shop. But I couldn’t walk away from it. I was going down with that ship eventually. I just couldn’t decide how quickly I wanted to steer myself into the iceberg on the horizon.

Chris worked for an ad agency uptown. I hadn’t showered since last night and was a little funky from running around the store all morning, so I shot him a text when I got to his building.

Here. Could you come down? I’ve been working all morning. I don’t smell great.

I loitered on the sidewalk, waiting for his reply.

Be down in a second.

I paced the sidewalk, always a little nervy to see my ex. He’d kept going, his life on the same upward trajectory as when we’d met. But mine had gone straight into the toilet. He didn’t like his job but he was good at it. I’d loved the bookstore when I first opened it, before I began to understand that it was a vortex of shit that would quickly suck away every good thing in my life. Before that, I’d worked tirelessly to find the space, get the small business loan, sink my savings into renovations and inventory.

I leaned back against the glossy front of the building, just casually watching the activity on the street. My eyes fell on a face I knew. Officer Scott was across the road, staring at me, his dark eyes sending their sizzling bolts of lightning over to where I stood.

I closed my open mouth and frowned at him. Had he followed me here? I wanted to run across the street and confront him, but Chris would be down any minute. I watched him watching me. I didn’t like thinking about him following me, but it thrilled me too. I’d felt something between us last night. Something hot. Something I might like to explore if he caught me in the right daring, needy mood.

Officer Scott reached and grabbed a handful of his own crotch, right there on the street. My body seized, the heat running through me and stoking the itch between my legs. He liked me watching him. Did he want to do something about what I’d felt between us? Before I could find out, he strolled off. I watched the fine sight of his uniformed ass until he disappeared from view. My body relaxed. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been.

Chris came out several minutes later, dressed in a dark gray suit and blue paisley tie. I’d given him that tie for his last promotion. We’d gone out for drinks and dinner, coming in late at night and fucking like crazy, both of us giggling at his good fortune. He knew he was seeing me today, and he put on that tie. I didn’t know if he was trying to make me feel better or worse.

He kept an awkward distance between us—close enough for us to talk but far enough away that I wouldn’t try to hug him or anything. I hadn’t seen him in a week and a half. His light hair was trimmed a little shorter, very tidy around his ears and the back of his neck and longer on the top of his head, slicked back so it looked professional. At home, he let it do whatever it wanted after getting out of the shower.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I parroted, grinning a little, like none of this bothered me. Because it didn’t. The more I told myself that, the easier it would be to actually believe it one day. My sorry dating life was the least of my worries. I had a crippling business loan to pay off. Maxed out credit cards. A shop that sold physical books when everyone wanted to read using an app on their phones. Holy shit, I could go on and on.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few folded bills. “I’m sorry about your shop.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I hope this helps repair some of the damage.”

I took the money and pocketed it without counting, my heart going pitter-patter at the sight of the twenty on top. The folded stack felt heavy. I’d count it as soon as Chris went back inside.

“Thanks,” I said. “It wasn’t too bad. Just the door.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds more, like a couple of bashful kids. It was hard to believe that, just last month, I’d had Chris to lean on. Now I was alone. I mean, he’d been drifting away those last few months, but I at least had the semblance of a relationship.

“I have to go back in,” Chris said. “Shoot me a message and let me know how things are going.”

“Sure thing.”

He hesitated and I thought he might step into a hug, but he backed off, smiling shyly—that same grin that had reeled me in on the night we met—and went inside. I watched him walk back to bank of elevators on the far wall and step into one. Once it had swallowed him, I pulled the cash out of my pocket and counted it. Two hundred twenty bucks. Only the top bill had been a twenty. The other four were fifties.

“Thank you, Chris,” I whispered. I stuffed the money into my bra, not willing to chance having my purse snatched on the way to the bank, and strode off down the street.

*

To celebrate my unexpected windfall, I decided to watch the sunrise at the park. When the weather was nice, like it was today, Chris and I used to pack a picnic dinner—sandwiches, wine, some froufrou dessert from the corner market, the whole nine yards—and a blanket and head to the park down the street from his apartment. I didn’t go to that park now. I went to one closer to the shop. And I didn’t pack a picnic lunch. But I did bring a bottle of wine, the cheapest I could find at the neighborhood bodega.

I parked it on a bench near the water, looking across the river. After scanning my surroundings for cops, I opened the paper bag, unscrewed the top, and took a good long pull on the bottle. It tasted like cheap shit, but I was sure I’d stop caring once it started working its magic. I hadn’t been drunk in a long time. Not since I lost my apartment and Chris in the same week. Good times.

I took another few gulps and rested the butt of the bottle on my leg. Leaning back against the bench, I watched the sun drop slowly out of the sky, the light blinding on the fast moving water. To my right, cars were streaming over the bridge from one side of the river to the other. Not for the first time, I considered climbing to the top of that bridge and swan diving to the shallow water below. But I didn’t really want to die, I just wanted the fuck out of this mess.

I put the bottle to my lips, tilted my head back, and drank until I’d drained more than half of it away. That was nice. I could feel the buzz moving through me now. I needed to enjoy this as it wouldn’t happen again for a while. I’d skipped dinner tonight to justify buying the bottle.

I watched the rest of the sunrise, not really impressed by the colors—I sat out here a lot, usually sober—usually happy to be somewhere other than the bookstore. As the light drained from the sky, I sipped on the wine. It still tasted terrible, but I was starting to care a lot less.

“First code violations, now public intoxication?” A deep voice rumbled from behind me.

I turned, gasping, and nearly dropped the bottle. That would have been a true tragedy.

It was Officer Scott.

“Could you get any creepier?” I asked, trying to smile. “Did you follow me here?”

He chuckled. He was even sexier in the muted light right before twilight fell. “Don’t flatter yourself. I patrol this neighborhood.”

I tittered a hiccupy little laugh at the thought of him patrolling the streets on foot. It had to burn his ass after working so hard to become a detective.

“Aren’t you a little old to be a beat cop?” I asked. I turned to look at the river again, taking another deep swallow of my shitty wine.

He didn’t answer, just kept burning me with the intensity of his dark-eyed stare.

“What about this afternoon? Do you patrol the financial district uptown too? Because I saw you watching me from across the street.”

His shapely mouth curled into a small grin. “So what if I was?”

“After the shit you’ve done, they’ll fire your ass for stalking the victim of a robbery.” I didn’t know how I’d suddenly become so bold. I liked it and I could see he did too, even if he did seem to burn hotter at the words I spoke.

He stepped closer to the bench, staring down at me, the heat in his dark eyes setting my skin on fire. Or maybe that was the alcohol. Either way, I didn’t want the sensation to end.

“I could arrest you right now for drinking in the park.”

I leaned my head back and sucked the rest of the wine from the bottle. “Do it,” I said. When he didn’t move, I launched the bottle at the sidewalk in front of us. It shattered, the glass sparkling in the last of the sunlight. I stared up at him defiantly.

He raised his eyebrows, his smile deepening. “Public intoxication and littering.” He took me by the arm, just under the armpit, and hauled me up from the bench. He slapped handcuffs over my wrists before I could twist away, trapping my hands at the front of my body.

“Hey!” I cried, but he had an iron grip on my arm.

“I tried to warn you, Angela.”

Since when were we on a first name basis?

“Don’t take your shitty life out on me!”

“What are you talking about?” He squeezed my arm a little harder. Not enough to hurt. Yet.

“I read all about you. How you were a detective who fucked some witness and ended up getting knocked down to a patrol officer after you got her killed.” I sneered up at him, basking in the heat of his glare. The alcohol was working through my veins. I felt heedless and full of tingling power. I was miles beyond caring what happened to me.

“Is that what you thought about when you were curling into your little cot in the back of your store?” he asked, pulling me closer to him. “Me fucking some girl?”

Heat bloomed in my cheeks. I didn’t get a chance to respond before he started dragging me around the back of the bench.

“You’re going downtown,” he said, and pushed me over a little, one giant hand at the back of my neck so I had to put my hands on the back of the bench to catch myself. “Stay there so I can check you for weapons.”

“I don’t have any fucking weapons!” I snapped. We were alone in the park. No one came here after dark but me. It was dangerous. I had pepper spray in my purse and a what the fuck do I have to lose attitude.

His hands dropped onto my waist and I jumped.

“Stay still,” he commanded. His hands moved down the side of my hips, going slowly over the curve of my ass. I made a gasping, surprised noise when he squeezed. His hands kept moving, first down the length of one of my legs, up again, then down the length of the other. By the time his hands found their way to my waist again, I was trembling with how much I wanted him to continue.

His fingers slid under the hem of my shirt and I moaned when he touched my bare skin.

“Do you have anything hidden in your bra that I should know about?” he asked in his low, gruff voice.

I had to swallow a few times before I could answer. One of his hands had dropped down to my ass again and was slowly drifting between my legs. He stopped just short of it and my entire body begged him to keep going. I was dripping wet down there.

“You’ll have to find out for yourself,” I said, trying hard to sound as gruff as he had, but my words were too breathy with the need I felt coursing through my veins.

He chuckled again, slapping my ass hard so I cried out a little. “Bad girl.” He reached under my shirt again, pushing it up as his hands traveled the length of my skinny torso. When he got to my bra, he shoved it up and out of his way, freeing my breasts. He cupped one in each hand, pressing his crotch into my ass so I could feel how hard he was. He pinched my nipples and I arched my back, rubbing myself over his cock. He moaned and pinched harder.

“Do you want me to take you into the station?” he asked, leaning over and whispering his deep, rumbling words into my ear, still twisting my nipples, his cock jammed into my ass. “Or should I just take care of punishing you right here?”

“You’d better just punish me right here, Officer,” I whispered. The wine was making it easier to relax into this. I couldn’t deny how much I wanted him. I’d felt something hot between us last night and hadn’t been able to shake the feeling all day.

He straightened up, his deep chuckle making heat rise from my neck to my cheeks. He let go of my tits and one hand slid down my back, over my ass, and went between my legs. I arched my spine again, gasping as he pressed his fingers into my boiling hot, throbbing sex. Could he feel how wet I was through my jeans?

“You’re on fire, Angela,” he said, his fingers continuing their work, stoking that heat until I thought my cheeks would catch burst into flames. “Let’s do something about that.” He reached to undo my jeans while I held onto the back of the bench for dear life, my handcuffed wrists trembling as he tugged my jeans down to my ankles. He lifted each of my feet gently, removing my shoes and taking my pants completely off. I could feel his mouth very close to my ass, his hot breath on my skin. He leaned in and bit the curve of my ass cheek hard. I screamed with pleasure and he did it again with the other ass cheek. He pulled my panties down next, exposing my pulsing hot sex to the air. He stood up, his fingers sliding back between my legs and sampling the wet heat there.

I moaned and opened my legs wider, not wanting to do anything to discourage him.

One of his thick fingers slid inside me and I groaned with delight. “You know, that drug lord’s men still have me on their radar,” he said, his deep voice intoxicating. He added another finger to the first, working them in and out. “Hurting me would be too obvious. They’d rather hurt the people around me.”

I was too overcome with tingling ecstasy to respond. It had been so long since anyone had touched me and I didn’t want this to end. I was coming undone by his busy hands. I didn’t know what I’d do when he finally gave me that rock hard cock I’d felt through his uniform pants. That was getting me hot too, that he was in uniform. My very own bad boy cop.

I heard the sound of his zipper and bit my bottom lip to keep from begging him to give it to me. His fingers slid out of me, but he kept rubbing the tips of them between my soaking wet lips and over my clit.

“How bad do you want me to fuck you, Angela?” he whispered in his deepest, gruffest voice. The way he growled my name made it sound dirty.

I made a gasping, needy sound. “Bad.”

He slapped my ass again and I jumped. He got closer, the head of his cock pressing into the epicenter of all that throbbing heat and desire racing through my body. I bucked my hips back, trying to swallow him whole, but he dropped a hand onto my waist to hold me steady.

“I’m in charge,” he said. “Say it.”

I was squeezed hard with the agony of wanting him, wanting this. It was making me breathless but I got out the words he wanted to hear. “You’re in charge.”

“That’s right, Angela. I’m in charge.” He rubbed the head of his cock up and down my sex, getting it nice and slick. Without warning, he thrust inside me, and the agonizing need for him exploded into lightning bolts of pure pleasure as I opened to him completely.

I cried out again and he reached to slap a hand over my mouth, squeezing hard. “Shut up.”

I nodded against his hand and he released me. He took me by the waist and started a rough, even rhythm, grunting as he pushed inside me so deep I swore I could feel his cock tickling the back of my throat. He took hold of my hair and pulled my head back sharply as he continued to impale me with the rock hard nightstick between his legs. I screamed behind clenched teeth.

“You want it harder?” he asked, and started to give it to me before I even had the opportunity to answer.

My body shuddered with the harshness of my climax. My knees were so weak I thought I would wilt right to the ground. But he kept going, piercing my deepest, most soaking wet regions. He made a low growling sound in his throat and jammed himself into me up to the hilt, his rigid body shuddering the way mine had just done. I couldn’t help crying out again as he pulled my hair harder, snapping my head back even more and stretching my neck taut as he strained inside me.

He released my hair and I dropped my head, breathing harshly as the tingling pleasure moved through me and twisted between my legs. He stepped back, his softening cock sliding out of me. I whimpered at the loss of it, that luscious feeling of being filled up with something pulsating and rock hard. He zipped up his pants while my ass hung out in the breeze, then took me by the arm and spun me around to face him. I was too exhausted to fight him. Every single muscle was loose and shivering. I’d never been fucked like that before. And out in the open like this. We could’ve been caught at any moment. The idea gave me another little thrill, the burst of tingling sensation kicking off that agonizing itch between my legs. I already wanted him again and I’d only just had him. This was the single best thing that had happened to me in months.

He dropped his head and attacked my mouth, forcing his tongue in past my gasping lips as he closed his fist around a handful of my hair, directing my head the way he wanted it to go. I tilted my chin back, succumbing to the strength of his sizzling passion, my arms hanging uselessly between us, my wrists locked together.

“I’m going to see you again tonight,” he whispered, so close his lips moved over mine, his hot breath filling my mouth. “And whenever else I feel like. You’re mine now. Understand?”

I nodded, sucking at his bottom lip, wanting that sharp, spicy taste of him.

He released my wrists from the handcuffs and strode off without another word. I watched him go, the yearning for him, the brute need tingling at my core nearly tearing me in half. As soon as he was out of sight, I dropped to my hands and knees to gather my panties and jeans from the grass. I pulled them on and found my shoes, then stuffed my soaking wet panties into my pocket, grabbed my bag, and stumbled out of the park the way I’d come in.