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A Crooked Chase (18+, Private, SapphireD910 & rarcoryn)


SapphireD910
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Trip was quite amused with this turn from his new partner. "Well you're my partner, not my boss. Mutual respect and boundaries need to be laid out." He said with snark following Brad into the elevator. Without giving the other man even a side glance he continued. "I'm professional buddy, promise, snake handler need only be recruited after the job." He even urged the addressed appendage down with thoughts of the investigation ahead, though it took quite some effort. He feared his new partner would know just how to turn the tables on him. Too much back and forth of denial and promises would lead to the worst blue balls. Worst still he might test him to fail and shut the whole proposition down.

 

He listened further to Bradley in the car, reviewing some jotted notes in front of him of details pulled from the file. "Victim B, male, young, average health as could be determined. Cause of death determined to be a heart attack despite all that." They parked, Trip being on the quiet side as they got to the spot indicated in the file. Once they arrived He located a spot near a dumpster where the man was said to be found. "He was said to have ejaculated recently and his shoes were extremely scuffed in the front. Nice shoes too... almost new, aside from the scratching." He scoped the pages further.

 

"The brothel and Victim C are not too far, though different directions. She, not as young as him, but same cause of death. The two almost make a V from a pretty poorly hidden basement brothel under a local restaurant." He tucked the notebook into the back pocket of his pants and between the belt. "I'm a little hungry... you?"

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Bradley eyed Trip as he rambled on about the case. It made him smile, even if it was only for a few seconds. It was refreshing. Rick was more like he was; straight to the point, no quips, facts up front. Trip was the opposite. He could tell the younger officer still had the upmost respect for his job and it wasn’t all a joke to him like he sometimes portrayed it to be. It was most probably how he dealt with the boring paperwork and policies.

 

Maybe he was just too old-fashioned compared to Trip.

 

“Just a little,” he said as he stepped up to the establishment in question. He looked up to the dimly lit sign, some of the lettering unlit due to hold old it was and lack of repair it had. “Why are most dinner’s always just first names,” he muttered under his breath, looking at the restaurant’s name: ‘Bobby’s’. “They always seem to be the ones causing trouble.” Before entering, he noticed the lower entrance, an unmarked black door with what looked like a slot for the person to view who was outside before letting them in. He motioned his head to grab Trip’s attention, using his eyes to point toward the door. He almost wanted to say ‘You like back doors’ to the man, to try and get on Trip’s conversation level, but he choose not to stoop that low.

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"Just like killers and three names. Especially all first names. Stick to fucking two names." Trip was only half joking as he couldn't argue with either of their observations. "Must be how generic the names are. How many Bobby's are there and if you overhear that, what Bobby's are they talking about? Definitely caused some confusion in my past."

 

He watched his partner signal towards a small tucked away entrance. For its discrete location its design was all too obvious for shadier business. "Tsk tsk. A little food or drink and standard questioning before we try the back door." He kept his voice even and eyes forward to resist a teasing look or tone. The younger officer pushed the door open holding it for the other man. "After you."

 

Walking in he instantly felt some darker eyes set on them. A decent cloud of smoke bellowed around them. One of the few places allowing it or just patrons they wouldn't say no to. Trip stepped up to the counter leaning against it and casually scoping around the place. "Go fish, partner. I see more than a pair of Jacks around here. Or we can try for the king or queen of the joint. What's your preference?"

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  • 10 months later...

"Small fry first. Don't want to bite more than we can chew." He kept his voice low and and casual as not to attracted too much attention to themselves, more than they already did. They didn't exactly fit in with the style of the joint with their own outfits. The restaurant wasn't large but it was spacious enough to allow them to split up yet still be able to see each other clearly. A couple of eyes scanned over them and there was some movement from the tables, a few clearly uncomfortable with their presence. Or disturbed by it.

 

Bradley scanned the room, taking in as many details as he could. If there was one thing he was exceptionally good at, it was his visual memory. Seeing something once, he had an almost picture perfect memory that he could easily recall later. It had it's pros and cons though. It was good for work, but it was a bad influence at night, and he knew it would equally be as bad if he unfilled Trip's naked body from the back of his mind. And now was definitely not that time for him to be thinking that.

 

It was too late.

 

Now, all he could see, was his partner's bare flash as he looked over to him. Conveniently the room's furniture hide everything fro, the waist down but that didn't stop his mind. Trip's skin glistened in the dim light, a light layer of perspiration covering his body, just like how he remembered from the first night they had sex.

 

"Not now," he muttered, adding a couple of quiet curses under his breath in an attempt to regain his focus. Was it just because of the location? Was it because of the brothel? Was it because Trip was just the most hottest man he had had in years?

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