Lorna Rodriguez had long ago given up the dream of finding a knight in shining armor, the stark reality of her life not leaving much room for flights of romantic girlish fancy. The grit of her day to day survival involved coping with an angry pimp and abusive johns; getting arrested earlier that evening was actually a small respite from what would still be waiting upon her release from police custody. Coming up short for the night would probably cost her a split lip, at least.   

She didn’t question Officer White’s sudden appearance. His car offered a few moments of safety and if he asked for something in return as a sign of her appreciation, at least he was clean and she sensed that he wouldn’t hurt her. Maybe he’d give her some money to keep her pimp from expressing his disappointment in her lack of responsibility. It would be nice to not have to wake up to a black eye or worse for a change.

w

Bud White settled behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb. He didn’t look at the girl, didn’t hardly breathe. What the fuck was he doing, anyway? He drove several blocks and parked, took the keys from the ignition and grunted. “Stay here.”

He trotted across the street and into the diner. Ordering what he always ordered, two roast beef sandwiches, he waited for his grease stained bag, paid and went back to the car. Without explanation, he tossed the paper sack between him them then drove to Griffith Park. Finding a quiet place, he parked, reached into the bag and handed her a sandwich.

They ate in silence, his mind still reeling with everything she’d said that night, with what he was feeling. And what was he really feeling? Protective? Nothing new. He fucking hated to hear about a woman getting used and hurt like she was. Glancing over, he noticed the reddening around her wrist turning to bruises, the soft golden tones of her tender skin glowing purple and blue under the streetlamp light. He wasn’t sure if it was from the uniforms who brought her in or from that fucking bastard on the street. He balled up the butcher paper that once held his sandwich and tossed it into the back seat.

Bud White sat, staring through the windshield at the sparkling view of Hollywood over the hill. It was one of those hot nights, not a breeze; Los Angeles had lost its breath just like he had. How did he get himself into this … again? Things just weren’t going his way lately. He draws a partner who’d shown that his only value so far … was waking from a drunken stupor just in time to save his life once. He finds the stupidest cases on his desk, knowing full well he’ll need to figure it all out himself … and now … Calloway and his fucking study. It was bound to lead to this. White should start taking in stray cats, it would be less trouble; leave out a saucer of milk and you’re done with it. But Bud was never able to just do that … not where the Lornas of the world were concerned. He groaned a sigh; spoke without turning to her, even though he could sense her looking at his profile in the darkness.

“You okay?” his voice came soft.

“Yes, thank you.” It seemed strange to speak those words and actually mean it. But his show of kindness deserved some response of gratitude. She hadn’t eaten since that morning and the sandwich tasted far better than it should have to someone else under different circumstances, but Lorna Rodriguez was very aware of who and what she was.

Bud pressed a hand to his forehead as he considered what would be awaiting her once he took her back to where she needed to go. The sound of Lorna’s soft breathing seemed to match the thrumming of the blood in his ears as he thought a few things over. “Twenty-five dollars enough to keep your pimp off your back?”

He knew her average take was probably much less, but judging by her thinness and how quickly she consumed her sandwich, eating was obviously among her list of luxuries.

“Fifteen would be enough.” Leroy, her pimp would hurt her for sure if he knew she was turning down the offer of more money, but Lorna couldn’t bring herself to be greedy with this man, even if it did cost her in the end.

He had already gotten emotionally involved, despite his better judgment. But he couldn’t stop himself from doing this kinda thing, not after looking into Lorna’s eyes that evening and seeing a shard of himself reflected back. “What happened to your mother after you ran away?”

His question surprised her. No one had ever asked her that before. “She died two years ago. She couldn’t stop her husband from hurting her or me, and it got worse after I left.”

“Did he kill her?”

Lorna shrugged and shook her head. “If she died at his hand or in her sleep it wouldn’t make any difference. No one tried to stop him or even cared about one more dead wetback.”

He knew that she had no illusions and despite not having many left of his own, he couldn’t help the tight feeling of sorrow that gripped at his gut.

He started up the car again and pulled away from the curb. Lorna didn’t feel a need to ask him where they were headed.

w

Carson Calloway was so frustrated he could have exploded, but he was a real smooth pro, the kind who could hide it until had all his ducks in line and he could formulate his decisions. In his mind, the entire evening was a fucking fiasco. Dudley Smith had played his hand well and at that moment, the hooker quiet in the back seat and Exley silent at his side, Carson was unsure if he could save the study or actually gather any information the good professor could use for his study.

When Miss Rodriguez left the car, he simply stated that he wanted to talk with Exley. He took the kid to the Formosa and they sat in a far booth. “How do you think it went?”

Exley actually blinked. This was a development he wasn’t expecting. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because I value your opinion, Ed.”

The brief wave of ego quickly dissipated and Exley narrowed his eyes at Calloway. “My opinion? You expect me to believe you care what I think? You do know I’m just on this detail to – ”

“Yeah, yeah. To watch over me,” Carson grinned. “What’s the Cap worried about? That I’m going to begin my own stable of whores? Make some extra cash on the side?” His own eyes narrowed and his voice lowered. “That I’m an Internal Affairs plant?”

The kid actually drew in a breath. “Are you? And why would you be?”

“You tell me, buddy. I wanted to do a study sure to improve the skills of his top men … and what’s he give me? Stensland and White Rabble, Egotistical Narco Cat and … you. You do realize you’re about the only man I would’ve hand picked for this detail, don’t’ya Ed?”

“Why?” The young man blinked.

“Because you’re smart. You’re quick. You have real promise and will learn from this. Lemme see your notes.”

Ed reluctantly tugged them from his breast pocket, folded pages with neatly scrawled penmanship. Carson read carefully. “Your observations are good. Lookie here,” he pointed but Ed didn’t even glance at the paper, simply scowled and slouched deeper in the leather cushioned banquette. “You noticed the important stuff, how Miss Rodriguez responded to each man, her expressions. This is good. This … White … he surprised me tonight. He was almost gentle with her.”

Exley shrugged.

“I was pretty sure the man had started to take on all his partner’s habits. This was revealing, don’t you think?”

Again Exley shrugged. “It’s not like Bud White is someone I watch for tips on how to be a good detective, Calloway.”

“Maybe you should. Maybe we all should. But … there’s something up with him. He always like this with women?”

“Hell if I know. Like I said, he isn’t all that important to me.”

Calloway grinned. “You think you can’t learn from him?”

“I know I can’t.” Ed sipped whiskey and water.

“You’re wrong. There’s a shit load of things to learn here. This,” he pointed to the notes. “Don’t put this in your report to the Captain, this stuff about Stensland being belligerent.”

“Why? He was.”

“Yeah, but it’s what Dudley wanted. He put Dick Stensland on this detail to derail the focus. He put Vincennes on it to undermine my authority. He put you on to make me nervous. None of it’s going to work, Ed. This is too important.”

“If you say so. But I make my report to the Captain the way I make it. I answer directly to him, Calloway.”

“Yes you do. But,” Carson leaned forward over the table. “You answer to yourself, too. This is about making you better and it’s about moving your career forward. If it isn’t, then maybe you should withdraw yourself.”

Ed huffed. It was exactly what he was thinking. But something Calloway had said burned like a hot coal, sizzling on his brain. “I.A. Why’d you mention I. A.?”

Carson grinned. “Why not? Don’t you think Captain Smith has things to hide?”

“Of course not.”

A chuckled rumbled in Carson’s chest and he shook his head. “Poor sad little man. You’re still pretty innocent, aren’t you? Don’t get upset. We’re all innocent when we start this. Let me guess … you think every cop joins the force and moves up in the ranks because he wants to help people, right? I don’t doubt for a minute that’s why you joined. Your dad was a good cop, a good detective. You’re a bit of an idealist right now. I’m not saying you can’t help people in this line of work, Ed. I’m just saying … everyone’s hiding something. Everyone.”

“What are you hiding, Calloway?”

Carson grinned. “That’s for you to find out. Vincennes is hiding something, Stensland is hiding something. Even White is hiding something. You are and I am … and trust me, so is Captain Dudley Smith. The trick to doing this work and doing it really well isn’t that we hide our secrets real good … it’s that we can do our job very, very well in spite of the things we’re hiding. What are you hiding, Exley?”

The kid stood, downed the last of his drink and walked out.

w

Bud drove Lorna to Hollywood Boulevard and a specific corner near Barnsdall Park. Something in his gut twisted as he drove slowly around a bend. He felt more than saw her tighten and his eyes went to where she was staring.

Fuck! Leroy Belkner; black as night, ugly as sin, brutal and wild-eyed on the curb, his sharkskin suit shining in the streetlight. Bud had picked up Belkner just last week, brought him in for questioning about a robbery not far from where he now stood. The bastard was bad. Ran drugs and prostitutes and liked to see his whores bleed, even said so while Bud interrogated him about the robbery. Bud made him do a little bleeding that night; his thick lip was still misshapen from it. Belkner was waiting for his girls. Bud could see the Negro’s mind ticking off the numbers as they passed and handed over cash.

“S’at him?” Bud grunted.

“Yes, I can get out here, Officer White,” she reached for the handle

“The hell you will,” Bud pressed hard on the accelerator, speeding past Belker. All the bastard had to see was that his girl was with a cop. No way he was placing Lorna in that mess … and no way he was letting her anywhere near the likes of Belkner. What he was gonna do next wasn’t so fucking clear. And as he swerved to miss a cat slinking across the dark street, he knew there was only one place Lorna was gonna be safe that night. One place.

His place.

w

Dick Stensland sucked down his fourth scotch. He looked at his watch then turned a glare at the door. It was his favorite watering hole, the one that ran a substantial tab for him just because someone got black and blue if they didn’t.

He groaned. White wasn’t coming. He fucking knew it. He even knew where Bud was … most likely comforting that Spic whore right that minute. White had a thing for damsels in distress. This stupid fucking detail was only going to get his partner in trouble.

He’d be having a talk with Bud on Monday morning, that’s for sure. It was one thing to get the weekends off to enjoy a few drinks and maybe get in a good fuck or two … but another thing to forget that a whore was just a whore, a Spic was a Spic … and he and Bud were detectives. Huh, maybe he needed to teach his new partner a little more about doing just that … being a detective. There was no place in the job for his partner’s asshole need to take care of damaged women.

w

He dropped his keys on the Formica tabletop and switched on the overhead light. Damn, the kitchen wasn’t clean. Ah well, it wasn’t like Bud entertained in his small West Hollywood apartment. He was lucky if he even looked at the place. Sleep, maybe some coffee in the morning and he was out of there.

Lorna stepped around him, glanced at the sink loaded with soiled, unmatched coffee mugs and simply reached to turn on the faucet.

“You don’t gotta do that,” Bud grunted, more embarrassed then angry.

She shrugged, not turning. “It is fine. I don’t mind.”

“Lorna, Jesus. You’re not my maid.”

She finally turned, wiping her wet palms down the cotton skirt of her dress. “Why did you bring me here, Detective White?”

“Bud.”

“Why did you bring me here … Bud?”

Fuck if he knew. He sat on a chair and rubbed the muscles at the back of his neck. “You’ll be safe here … for a while … that’s why.”

“Yes, I see.” She slowly pulled the cash he’d given her from her pocket and set it on the table, pushed it toward him then reached her fingers to begin unbuttoning the front of her dress.

Bud swallowed hard. “You don’t gotta do that either. I’m not your john.”

A sweet smile pulled one side of her pretty mouth and Lorna continued. She let the cotton dress fall around her ankles. Wearing only a white bra and panties, bright against the soft golden tones of her skin, Lorna looked into his blue-green eyes. Bud’s breath came in ragged heaves and he stood.

“I didn’t give you that money for this.”

“I know,” her voice was soft, sultry and she stepped closer, close enough to feel this very special man’s heat. Her small hand lay tender against his stubbled cheek. “I do this because I want to … Bud.” She rose on her toes and reached her lips to touch his. With that slight contact, she felt him turn, felt his heart accept her as no man in her life had ever accepted her. And Lorna wanted to feel what Bud White could bring to her body.

His hands settled on her waist as he kissed deeper. Palms moved up, cupped tender, young breasts beneath the stiff fabric of the bra. Firm. Perfect. He pulled his face away to see her under the harsh light dangling from the kitchen ceiling. He sweetly kissed a small scar over her left brow. Pressed his lips against the bruises at her wrist, then Bud White simply swept Lorna Rodriguez into his arms. He shouldn’t be doing this … but he was. Nothing was gonna stop what was coming next.

She clung to him, running her hands over the cords in his neck, the muscles in his back, feeling his strength and learning every contour and curve as he carried her towards the bedroom. Tonight she didn’t have to pretend; watching Bud through hooded eyes as he laid her back upon the mattress, she slipped off the remaining barriers of her bra and panties, her eyes taking in all of him as he quickly shed his own clothing and came down gently beside her.

His body felt good beneath her hands; hard and strong, his skin smooth and cool as she trailed her lips down across this chest and stomach. The sharp intake of his breath brought a smile as she slid her mouth lower; his taste, clean and salty as she explored his rigid warmth. She wanted to give him pleasure and as his hand cupped the back of her head and his fingers wrapped in her hair, he still allowed her to take the lead as his hips arched up to meet her.

Hoh yeah, this is what he wanted, what he needed and there wasn’t a thought in his head that didn’t involve the feel of her tongue, her fingers, her breath against the curls at the root of his cock. Fuck, she was a pro through and through, had him so deep he could feel her loosening throat opening to accept him. Yeah, oh fuck, this was what he wanted … or … was it?

No. It wasn’t. And he lowered his hips, reached down and tugged at her shoulders. “Come up here, Lorna.”

She slowly released and moved away, turning her back to him and curling in a fearful knot at the far edge of the mattress. Bud’s mind spun with the sudden loss of wet heat around his cock then he turned to his side, placed his hand on her trembling shoulder and ran his thumb in a soft circle on her back. Shit. What was he doing? Now he made her feel bad. “S’okay, baby. Come on. Let me see your pretty face.”

She finally rolled to her back, her eyes lowered and a tear shining on her face. He reached to switch on the lamp. Damn, she was beautiful. He kissed the tear and grinned. “Not like I don’t want that … fuck, I do. But I ain’t your john for the night. I wanna love you, Lorna.” His hand cupped a breast and his mouth lowered to it. “Just wanna love you.”

His mouth was like a starving baby, sucking and lapping as his fingers explored everything he could reach. When he slid one into her, he was surprised when she gasped with pleasure; not surprised to have given her pleasure, but surprised that she had responded with such shock. Her eyes glittered as he looked into them. Oh yeah, he was doing something he wanted to do, showing her something she didn’t get to see too often. Maybe his luck would hold? Maybe he could show her more?

Bud was tender, gentle, moving over her like he was a blind man learning an all new touch and with each stroke of his hand, again she gasped. “Good girl,” he whispered then put his fingers to work. “Come for me, Lorna. I wanna see how good this can be. Come on, baby.”

She relaxed and let her eyes close. This man was not what she anticipated. He was more than she expected and she would do anything he asked. Fire sparked then flared in her belly. It grew until it encompassed every nerve in her body and when she released it seemed to tear every fear and pain she had from her being. Lorna cried out and struggled, she arched and shook then hissed his name. “Mio Dios! Bud! My God!” she cried and he moved like lightening.

Seeing her strain and stiffen Bud had only one intention … to feel that tremble all around him. He pushed hard, forcing himself to his depth in one massive thrust. Again Lorna cried out but she received him with a tremendous welcome, her arms tight around his neck and she struggled with yet another explosion that threatened to make her unconscious.

Bud was lost in it, lost in her. Giving this damaged woman everything he had to help her heal. Make her his. But it wasn’t until his final grunt, until the last of his ejaculation spurted deep inside her belly that Bud thought of those words again … make her his … make her his.

This was gonna take a lot of planning, a lot of real careful planning. He’d never let her return to the streets. Never let her anywhere near Leroy Belkner as long as she lived. He could never let anyone at the station know she was with him, safe at his apartment. Fuck, he could get his sorry ass fired for this.

But in his heart Bud White knew two things for sure. Number one, Lorna was destined to become a part of his life from the moment Calloway chose her for the damn study. And number two … he really should have gotten a damn cat instead. It was too late for that and a saucer of milk wasn’t gonna take care of Lorna Rodriguez. Bud was gonna take care of her. Period.

w

Exley gone, Calloway could get on with his weekend. He had tentative plans, the kind he always had with the lovely and talented Francine Foster. Hell, any plans with the movie star had to be tentative. It wasn’t like the studio would be thrilled she was fucking a cop. They had their own plans for her, and gifted as Franny was, she was playing the roll beautifully. The press and her adoring public actually believed that there was a budding romance between her and her handsome (and secretly swish) co-star, Benton Kirk.

Yeah, she loved Kirk, said she always had, since before she got off the bus in Hollywood. But Carson knew the man wasn’t satisfying her. He knew it because he did his damn best to make sure he satisfied her … each and every time. He knew it was going to end, knew she’d marry the faggot. Knew she’d be unhappy too … but that wasn’t his problem. He was getting his and pleased with the pleasure that came with that package.

A fleeting thought slipped through his mind as he entered the long driveway to her Bel Air house. He knew Vincennes was married, but could see in the man’s eyes he wasn’t the storybook kind of married. Chances were, Hollywood Jack was fighting instead of fucking tonight. Stensland was married too, but hopefully his wife kept the ogre at arms length. Exley? Exley was a bit of a pretty boy, probably had trouble getting a girl or beating off the swishes who would find him attractive. But Calloway wasn’t about to second think Edmond Exley. He actually grinned, thinking it would be damn nice if the kid got laid, especially after getting his ass stuck with this detail. A little sweet ass might soothe the sting. It was going to take time for the kid to see the benefits right in front of his nose.

Then there were the benefits. Worrisome benefits for one of the guys on the detail for sure. He’d seen a hundred Bud Whites in his career. Men with so much compassion for the battered fairer sex it practically choked them. Yeah, Bud White had his secrets, the problem was that this Saturday project put his secrets right out there for everyone to see. Luckily no one was looking for it. They still thought White was nothing worth attention. Carson Calloway knew better.

Before he clacked the brass knocker on Franny’s door he smiled. Maybe … just maybe … Dudley Smith had fucked himself. Maybe the special detail really was going to change these detectives, make them better. Calloway knew that already he was using the tools. It was definitely going to make him a more efficient detective and a fucking great Captain one day.

“You’re very late,” Franny gave a bored sigh as she opened the door. He swept her into his arms and sucked a kiss from her lips to the tip of a hard nipple, his fingers forcefully tugging thin fabric away. “Oh … my …” Franny was no longer bored.

w

“If you won’t leave then at least turn off the goddamn light. I’m exhausted and gotta work tomorrow.”

Linda Vincennes lay in the bed that she once sheared with her husband, staring at the thin beam of light that bounced off the dresser mirror and splayed across the ceiling of their once communal bedroom. “I don’t know why you even bother coming back here. You don’t pay rent, you help yourself to the food that I buy and you leave the toilet seat up.”

Jack Vincennes barely heard her as sat on the couch in his living room looking through the case folder once again. He knew that he was onto something big, and an evening that would have been better served following leads was spent interviewing a frightened prostitute in a dirty rat’s nest of an abandoned hotel, all for some golden boy’s attempts to impress the brass.  

Running his hand through his hair in frustration, he tossed the manila folder onto the coffee table and reached over to turn off the end table lamp.

“Good night, Linda.” He would have given anything for one night of uninterrupted sleep.

“Do me a favor tomorrow – find someplace else to stay.” For a woman who was suffering from exhaustion, she sure didn’t know when to shut the hell up. “I’m sick of looking at you.”

Jack rolled over to face the back of the sofa. Once again, he’d forgotten to purchase some earplugs. “Sweet dreams, honey.”