Pretty Dirty (Dirty Bad Things Book 2)(45)

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.”