Book: Bang Switch

Previous: Chapter 4
Next: Chapter 5


Six hours later I found myself just getting home.

Miller and Foster had gone straight home, but I’d gone to meet my contractor who’d agreed to come later in the day.

Luckily, the ‘hold-off’ that’d been suspected had actually been a man holding a woman hostage with a sausage.

Yes, you heard correctly. A sausage.

After James, the sniper on the SWAT team, let us know what it was, the rest of the op was easy.

We went in, arrested the suspect, ridiculously easily, and got home within an hour.

That was the majority of SWAT calls. But there were always the ones that weren’t stupid, like being held at ‘gun point’ not with a sausage. There were ones that could literally mean life or death.

Death of yourself. Death of another living being, a person.

That’s what I loved about SWAT, though.


It was what I wanted to do…who I wanted to be.

I made it up the stairs to find the hallway dark still.

Mocha’s claws clicked on the wooden floor underneath our feet, and kept clicking even after I stopped at our door.

She didn’t go far, though, stopping about halfway between my place and my neighbor’s place.

“Kind of weird to be hanging out in a darkened hallway,” I mused as I put the key into the door on the first try.

“You jipped me a tip today,” Memphis said from the darkness. “In fact, it was two tips.”

I snorted and pushed the door open, hitting the lights just inside the door.

The lone light hanging in the entranceway burned bright, illuminating a small part of the hallway, and only the tips of Memphis’ boots.

I turned and studied what I could see of her.

She wasn’t in the same clothes she’d been wearing earlier at the diner, but a pair of worn looking jeans, a long sleeved white t-shirt, and boots.

“Do you ever wear comfortable pants?” I asked.

She crossed her arms over her chest, and though I couldn’t see her face, I knew she was glaring at me.

The woman was good at glaring.

“Yes. When I’m at home,” she conceded.

I shook my head. “You are at home.”

“True, but I’m not inside my home. I was going to go for a walk,” she explained.

“How old are you? You act like you’re some fifty year old prude,” I said in exasperation.

She smiled. “Twenty.”

I blinked. Twenty?

What the fuck?

My dick was hot for a twenty-fucking year old?

What the fuck?

I really needed to get my head on straight. Jesus, I was fourteen years older than her.

I should be stepping far, far away from her. Not encouraging this.

But God did I want her.

I couldn’t help myself.

I took my keys and shoved them back in my pocket, waving at Miller who was on my couch, and closed the door. “Let’s do it.”

“Let’s do what?” She asked.

I found her hand in the darkness and urged her towards the stairs.

“Why are you going on a walk in the middle of the night?” I asked.

I could hear her boots click on each step, the dogs’ collars jingle, and the slightly elevated breathing of not just Memphis, but me as well.

“It’s eleven o’clock. Not the middle of the night. And we live in an apartment; I can’t just let Peter outside to do his business by himself. Not with how everyone’s dogs are disappearing lately,” she explained

I agreed.

She’d never get the dog back. There’d been a rash of dog thefts lately. Especially, the bigger ones. “No, I don’t think it’d be a good idea,” I agreed.

“Did you have anything to do with the investigation into the humane society’s break in last week?” She asked as we stepped outside.

I shook my head. “No. I’m not a detective. Although, I’ve been asked to patrol the area a little more heavily while I’m on watch.”

She hummed in understanding. “That’s the way my father is, too. I ask him how such and such investigation is and he shrugs. He just says, ‘Baby, I’m not a detective. That’s not in my job description.’”

I looked at her sharply. “Your dad is a cop?”

She nodded. “Yes. He’s in Alabama, though. Mooresville, to be exact.”

I was surprised, to be honest. The ‘fuck the cops’ vibe she’d been giving off during the class the other day must’ve just been special for me. How nice of her.

“How long has he been a cop?” I asked.

“Years. I think he gets his forty year pin next year.” She pursed her lips. “Or maybe the year after. I can’t really tell you, to be truthful.”

I nodded. “They all seem to bleed from one year to the next once you’ve been doing it that long. Does he just not want to move up to detective or something?”

She shook her head. “My daddy’s a wild child at heart. He likes set hours, and he’s very fixed in his ways. Plus, he likes his personal time. He and my mom go all over the United States on short vacations throughout the year.”

I understood that completely. “Set hours would be nice.”

Just thinking about today and how I’d had to reschedule with the contractor was only one such instance when having predictable hours would’ve been more convenient.

Our shoulders bumped as we both stepped over a crack in the uneven walkway, causing her to look at me, and me to look at her.

“Sorry,” I muttered, trying as inconspicuously as I could to move my dick into a better position.

It was getting hard to walk with a semi-stiffy. Especially since I’d been fighting a losing battle with it all day long. I needed a good lay, and by the vibes pouring off of Memphis, I wouldn’t be getting it from her.

Not yet, anyway.

“Shouldn’t your dog be on a leash or something?” She asked suddenly.

I turned around to look for Mocha and laughed when she was nearly fifty yards back from where we were.

“Yes, probably. But she doesn’t like leashes,” I explained.

I could tell she rolled her eyes even though I couldn’t see her face.

“And your dog gets what she wants?” Memphis asked in surprise.

I nodded. “What my girl wants, my girl gets.”

I could practically see her mind whirling as something sat at the tip of her tongue, only waiting to be released.

She wanted to say something, but I could tell she didn’t want to say it. She lost the battle, though. Curiosity winning out over propriety.

“So what about your woman…does she gets what she wants?” Memphis asked suddenly.

I turned to look down at her, studying her facial features before saying, “My woman would get what she needs.”

She looked horrified, and I had to physically stop myself from smiling. She probably wouldn’t find her discomfort as funny as I did.

She looked discombobulated as she said, “I cannot believe you just said that!”

I snorted. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“What about what she wants?” Memphis exclaimed.

I did lose my battle with laughter at her offended tone.

She crossed her arms, refusing to say anything more.

We turned around and walked the half-mile back to the apartment complex in silence. I could practically feel her anger simmering

Peter was now walking between us, I’m sure put there by an angered Memphis.

Mocha was now in front of us, her eyes scanning our surroundings as she moved.

I held the door open to the apartment complex once we arrived, and she walked inside, not offering me a thank you.

I smiled as she disappeared up the barely lit stairs. I followed closely behind her, making sure she felt me at her back, causing her to move all the faster.

When she came to a stop in the hallway, I reached into my pocket and withdrew the money from earlier.

Leaning in close, I slid my hand around her hip, moving it until my fingers were at the top of her ass so I could put the tip into her back pocket.

Making sure she felt the movement, I pressed my hard body into hers, pressing her against the wall beside her door.

“Here’s your tip,” I said, wiggling the money in her jeans before taking a step away from her.

It was hard. Both the actual act of moving and the state of my dick.

Her eyes were hooded, and I knew I had her. Not all the way…not yet. But I would. Soon.

“Goodnight, Memphis,” I said against the side of her head. My breath rustling her hair.

Then, turning my back to her, I walked slowly away.

When I had the door unlocked once again, I turned back to see her walking woodenly into her apartment.

Right when she got to where she was closing the door, I called her name, “Memphis!”

She stopped and opened the door slightly, poking her head out of the opening to look at me.

“When you’re ready to get what you need, and not what you think you want, come see me,” I said before closing the door to my own apartment.

“Wow, that was deep,” Miller said from the couch.

I flipped him off and walked away, not bothering to conceal the steep rod tenting up the front of my tactical pants.

Apparently, they needed to make a new weapon holder to keep my dick in check.

I had a feeling I’d be needing it for the next couple of weeks before I could convince her to give me a try.

Previous: Chapter 4
Next: Chapter 5