R Rated for language
Remembering that hot night in Mississippi, Frankie gawked at Orrin, trying his best not to drool. Memories of Detective Daugherty’s milky white body pressed up against his sent shocks to his groin, leaving him pained.
If the man was any closer, he’d grab him by the collar and kiss him like no tomorrow. And since Vance and Kenina weren’t around, this would be the perfect opportunity to do so.
“Damn Orrin.” Frankie took two steps closer to him. It didn’t matter that everything was good with Kajika. They still had unfinished business and much like the case they went down there for, Frankie was determined to close it properly. “Orrin, you gotta calm down man. You’re looking a little tense.”
Orrin shrugged, “Yeah I am because this shit ain’t getting solved. Fucking Kenina and Vance are wearing my nerves, I mean−”
“You need a stress reliever.” Frankie reached out for Orrin and lightly caressed his broad shoulders through his long sleeve shirt. The man was solid all over. Frankie couldn’t wait to explore every inch with his hands and tongue.
Orrin pulled away. “No, no, damnit, Frankie. Stay the hell away from me! You gotta man. Go home to him!”
“Naw, Daugherty. I gotta be here with you to hold down the fort. We got a murderer to catch… together. All six of us. Quinn’s crew is what they’re calling us ‘round these parts.” Frankie yanked Orrin in again.
Orrin struggled to break free. “Shh… Damn you Frankie Choteau. I said, stop it. We can’t do this. We will not…”
“We will, Orrin. Now, let’s get over to my desk and look over some potentials. They let a couple of nutcases out of prison too early that might be responsible for this, ya know.”
“Or it’s a new one. Fu…” Orrin lazily ran his hands through his blondish brown locks. He’d traded in his semi pageboy look for an undercut hairstyle that suited him a lot better.
To Frankie, Orrin could have a mob on top of his head and it wouldn’t take anything away from his overall appearance. He loved Kajika Fortier, but he desired Orrin Daugherty something fierce.
“I’m tired, man. I can’t do this right now. I need to go home to my bed and sleep. I don’t wanna even think about these cases until tomorrow… I’m gone Frankie.”
“What?” Frankie frowned at Orrin. “You can’t just up and leave, man. Vance and Kenina are already gone. I need someone to go over shit with me at least until crazy Waylon comes back with Moto.”
“Yeah well, I can’t sit here with you and you already know why. I think Turley is on her way in. They’re still on the case too since they found the first two victims.” Orrin tore away from Frankie’s clutches and tossed his duffel over his shoulder. “Night Frankie.”
“Orrin, c’mon, you can’t go right now −”
Just as Frankie was about to finish, Vance ran in with a wild look in his eye huffing and puffing.
Damn. No time for a lip lock now.
“What’s up, Morain?”
“None of us are goin’ home tonight. They just found another freaking corpse, not too far away from the last crime scene. That damn dancer Kenina wanted to blame for the Miles murder has been strangled the exact same way.”
Orrin dropped his bag and his eyes bulged. “Are you fucking serious?”
Frankie rolled his eyes and dropped all the papers out his hand. “Well, this is the shit we signed up for, gents. We wanted something different than random kids killing one another in the streets and we got it.”
So much for the quiet night at the station with Orrin
Frankie sighed and fished for his keys in his pocket, following both his fellow officers out the door. Just when they all thought the killer might simmer down, he found yet another victim to make this case even harder to crack.