This is the eight story in this series. I have tried to put enough information into it so that if you have never read any of the others you can still enjoy this one by itself.
The woman circled slowly around her intended prey. She carefully kept her weight balanced, sliding one foot after the other. She narrowed her circle, closing in on the man before her. He looked around wildly. Since she had the door blocked, he attempted to scramble over the bed. She lunged when he was midway through his attempt and pulled him down.
In spite of his struggles, she pinned him under her. Giving him a feral grin she declared, "You're mine, my pretty. And your little dog too!"
"No, no, a thousand times no," responded her victim in a high falsetto.
The woman threw back her head and gave an evil chuckle of triumph. However, in doing so her attention wavered and he suddenly flipped her off him. Before she could recover, he had smothered her under his much larger body. Trapping a wrist firmly in each big hand, he leaned down and licked the side of her neck.
"He who laughs last, laughs best," he murmured just before his teeth grazed her throat. He sucked the soft skin and began to bite gently.
"Michael Thomas Gibson, don't you dare! I am not going out today with a hickey!" She locked her legs around him and twisted her petite yet strong body. As she did, he abandoned her throat and rolled with her. He locked his mouth to hers and wrapped his arms around her. Still kissing her deeply, he ended on his back, pulling her on top of him.
"Much," she giggled. She slipped down her husband's body, feeling his hard cock slide over her stomach and then between her breasts. She dipped her head and took him into her mouth, sliding her lips over his shaft until she had completely engulfed him. She felt him throbbing in her warm, wet mouth. She began to suck him, her lips moving up and down on him, until he was so hard it felt like his cock was iron.
She released him. She kissed his ball sack and then ran her tongue up the underside of his cock until she reached the head. Lapping it, she looked up towards him and winked.
With that he suddenly reached down and caught her under her arms. Pulled up by his powerful hands, she spread her legs until her pussy was right over his raging cock. She rose onto her knees and in one motion brought herself down onto him, driving him all the way up inside her.
"Oh yeah, Pat," Mike sighed with deep contentment. His hands grasped her hips and held her firmly as she began to flex her knees, bouncing rapidly up and down on him. Her hands cupped her breasts, her fingers playing with her nipples.
Pat felt herself building rapidly. "Nothing like a nice pre-work tumble to start the day right," she thought to herself. Her strong firm legs sped up their contractions. She brought herself higher and higher each time she rose up, until only the head of Mike's cock was in her. Then she dropped herself all the way down, ramming him up her, his cock head slamming into her g-spot.
"Michaellllllllll," her husband's name came out in one long, deep moan as she locked her herself down onto him. His only response was to pull her down onto his up thrust and empty himself into her.
Pat leaned forward, snuggling on his still broad chest. Her arms went around his neck and his around her back. They held each other in comfortable silence, until the alarm clock by the bed started its infernal racket.
"Daylight's a'wasting, Honey," Pat commented as she leapt from the bed and scampered for the bathroom. 30 minutes later they were showered and getting dressed.
"Hold on, Mike." Pat unpinned the left pair of silver bars identifying him as a Captain and adjusted them. Stepping back she smiled, "Now you look ready to meet the world as the responsible senior police official you are." She finished dressing in her favorite jeans and a blouse. Finally she threaded her pancake style holster through her belt and loaded and holstered her service weapon. He had swung his equipment belt on at the same time, putting his S&W in the breakfront holster he favored.
"So what are you and Stephanie going to do today?"
Pat smiled as she pulled her jacket on. "Mostly girl things. Its so nice to have a day off together. We're going shopping, eat lunch and run all those accumulated errands you always beg off."
"Me?" Mike attempted to put on an indignant face but couldn't hold it and began to laugh. "Well, I know there's some reason I keep you around."
"Just one?" Pat said innocently as her fingers brushed over the front of his uniform trousers. With a wink she slipped out of their bedroom, calling for their younger daughter.
After a very happy morning of shopping, Pat and Stephanie settled in at one of their favorite Italian restaurants for lunch. Pat contented herself with a salad, enviously watching her daughter devour an entire plate of pasta. She sighed, remembering when she could do that too.
"Mother?" Stephanie interrupted Pat's thoughts. Although Pat was not her birth mother, she and her older sister had called and thought of Pat as their mother for many years.
"You and Daddy aren't upset by my not wanting to be a cop are you?"
"Good lord, no Honey, not at all. You want to be a doctor for goodness sake. We think its fantastic."
"Well," Stephanie squirmed a bit, "Its just with Carol on the department and all, I wondered if you wanted me to do that too."
Pat reached over and took her daughter's hands. "You follow your dreams. Your father and I are thrilled. Besides, it will be nice having a doctor in the family when we get old and gray. You will give family discounts won't you?" Pat's eyes twinkled.
"Twenty-five percent right off the top," Stephanie answered with a straight face.
"I just wish you could be going full time to college right now. I know," Pat raised her hand, forestalling Stephanie. "I know you like being an EMT. Its good experience and heaven knows your brothers get into enough scrapes and situations that its very good you are."
"Okay, Mom. Now what would you like for dessert?" Amusement danced in Stephanie's eyes as her mother groaned.
After lunch, Pat and Stephanie ran their errands one by one. The next to the last stop on their checklist was a visit to the bank to cash an expense check Pat had received from the department. That would allow them to avoid writing a check at the grocery store and still leave some money left over for a family evening out.
Although she had not mentioned it to her younger daughter, Pat had an ulterior motive for the bank visit. Knowing the fulfillment of Stephanie's dream to be a doctor was going to be expensive, Pat intended to chat quickly with a friend who was one of the loan officers. While money was not a problem yet, it wouldn't hurt to explore some of the financing options open to them.
"Honey, would you cash this with Mrs. Johnson?" Pat fished the check out of her jacket. She waved to one of the tellers, who smiled back. "I've already signed it. I need to talk to Mrs. Rabinowitz for a minute."
"Sure, Momma." Stephanie got in line and Pat headed to the loan her friend's office.
"Hi Pat, how are you this morning?"
"Just fine Sarah." Pat answered. "Sarah, sometime when you have a little spare time, could you rough up some figures and costs for different loans? I guess an equity line of credit or perhaps a new mortgage would be best."
"Sure, Pat," Sarah replied in surprise. "Its none of my business, but can I ask why? Your house is paid for and you don't have any outstanding loans." She laughed, "Although you might if you could ever persuade Mike to buy a new truck."
Pat laughed along with Sarah and explained. "So we've saved some money," she concluded, "But hardly enough to put five kids through college, much less pay for medical school too. But I don't want her to have to work and go to school at the same time. I did and Mike did, but not to get grades like they want for med school."
"Oi vay," Sarah put on a mock Yiddish accent. "So instead your daughter marrying a nice doctor she's going to be one?" Pat burst out laughing. Although Sarah and her husband were two prominent members of the local Conservative Temple, they both had deep Southern accents and the attempt at speaking otherwise fell flat on its face.
The mirth was brought to an immediate halt as two masked men burst through the bank front doors. They carried drawn handguns.
"Nobody move!" Shouted one of the men. "Do as I say and no one will get hurt."
For an instant Pat debated drawing. They were both in front of her and she had clear shots. Then two more masked figures slipped through the door. The last one locked the bank doors behind him and then sprinted to the side door and secured it too.
"Oh great." Pat thought swiftly, holding her hands in plain view. Four holdup men. No, she corrected herself, one was female. Far too many to take any chances with. It was better to simply wait the situation out and gather as much information as she could. They were only after money, and that could always be replaced. She started taking mental notes as the holdup crew fanned across the floor. One remained at the door. The second, the spokesman, moved into the middle of the room. The other two fanned out to the cashier windows, vaulted the railings and started scooping up the money.
She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. A heavy set man near the far end of the room slipped a hand inside his coat and then withdrew it. Pat caught the flash of what might be a gun butt.
"Don't do it, don't do it," she tried to plead silently with the man. It seemed to work. He relaxed and held his hands away from his body.
Everything was going quickly. As perverse as it sounded, in one way Pat was very glad it was. Out of the corner of her eye, she had seen some confusion getting behind the counter but that was it. She was certain someone had tripped the silent alarm and deputies would be responding. The last thing she wanted was a hostage situation, especially with her daughter involved.
The leader had been taking quick glances at a stop watch. "That's it, time's up," he announced suddenly. Stuffing the watch in his pocket he waved to the two figures scooping from the cash drawers. One turned and rushed out while the other, seemingly too excited to pay attention to the command, moved further to another cashier.
"I said, MOVE!" shouted the leader. The second bandit lifted his head. Startled, he attempted to vault over the counter through the window. There was a ripping noise and suddenly money went flying all over the floor. The robber sprawled out and then began to frantically pick up the bills next to him.
A distant electronic wail seemed to galvanize everyone. "Cops are coming," the leader shouted. "Leave it, lets go," he directed the man on his knees trying to grab the flying currency. The man rose and started towards the door. The another siren answered the call of the first one. Then a third one, closer than the first two.
The closing sirens seemed to trigger a reaction in the heavy set man. Suddenly his hand darted inside his coat and he brought out a heavy automatic. "FBI!" he shouted. "Nobody move!"
"Well, that's torn it," Pat thought. Flipping her jacket back with a practiced move, she drew her Glock 9 mil. She thumbed the safety off, her free hand speeding to meet her gun hand. Her body turned to one side, moving slightly to distance herself from Sarah and angling to cover the two gunmen nearest her. "Sheriff's Department!" she shouted.
Trying to keep the two holdup men focused she spared a glance at the other side of the room. The lead criminal's pistol had started moving towards her. "Why doesn't the FBI guy shoot? Can't he see the guy drawing down on me?" flashed through her mind. "Its almost as if..."
"OH SHIT." All FIVE weapons were turning towards her. The FBI man was a fake, rung in to, to what? Expose any plainclothes officers in the bank? That didn't make sense. Part of her mind screamed at her to drop her weapon, but the cop was in full control and it was too late as she shot twice at the farthest gunman. She swung her weapon towards the next one, feeling like it was dragging through cold molasses. The sights swept over the fake agent and the pistol bucked twice more. She saw the gun muzzles steadying on her and she braced herself. Then two hammer blows threw her backwards and all she could see was the white ceiling and all she could feel was the cold, marble floor under her.
"Oh MY GOD!" Frank Colbert almost numbly lowered the muzzle of his gun. This wasn't supposed to happen. No one ever got hurt in their robberies, they planned them too carefully, with a host of safeguards and backup plans.
Today had been no exception. Everything had been carefully scouted and mapped. Not just the escape routes from the bank either. Casing the inside had involved the use of mini-cams and the drawing out on an old warehouse floor a full scale outline of the bank's interior. They knew just how long it would take to do their business and practiced it against the expected arrival time of the police.
Everything had been going according to plan until Murphy struck. The door at the far end of the tellers had been locked and they had wasted precious seconds getting it opened. Of all ridiculous things, the bag Sam was using caught on a sharp projection on the last cash drawer he visited and the money spilled everywhere.
They all remained calm. Someone had hit the silent alarm, as expected and the police were coming. He had given Brian the nod and Plan B had gone into operation. Pretending to be an FBI agent, he would heroically arrest the robbers. The other three members would arrive, making up the rest of the "FBI Task Force" and take away the gang members and the money, as evidence.
What the plan didn't take into effect was the petite woman by the loan office turning out to be a cop and apparently deciding to back up the supposed Federal Officer. The unexpected shout and appearance of her firearm had startled everyone, including Brian, into turning their weapons towards her. She reacted by shooting, first Charles and then Brian. And he, Frank Colbert, had just shot a cop.
The screaming that had rung through the bank during the gunfire stopped. There was only a second's pause though before a young woman at one of the windows screamed "Mother!" and scrambled towards the fallen police officer. In reflex his gun swung towards her but he was able to hold his fire and command her "Stop!"
She halted. Looking frantically at him she pleaded, "Please. I'm an EMT. PLEASE, let me see to my mother." She looked sharply at him. "You don't want a dead cop in here. They don't like it much." He hesitated and she added, "Much better a live hostage than a dead heroine, damnit."
"Okay," Frank granted. "But you see to my people too." He reached down and picked up Pat's fallen service weapon.
"Of course I will." Stephanie reassured him. Kneeling beside her mother she assessed the wounds, while thinking to herself. "His PEOPLE, eh? Then I wasn't wrong. That so-called FBI agent is in on this too. This is pretty deep. I need to let someone know. How? Think, Stephanie, think."
Captain Mike Gibson was sitting in the office of Captain Linda Shannon, Commander of the Narcotics and Alcohol Enforcement Section. In his position as Commander of Tactical Response, which included his beloved SWAT as well as the Bomb Squad and K-9, he was discussing various possible upcoming raids with her. They were eagerly comparing ideas, each hoping for a chance to get back out in the field. While they had settled in to the desk bound administrative positions their ranks compelled, they both missed street police work.
They had left the door open and the scanner on Linda's administrative assistant's desk was crackling with the stream of routine calls a law-enforcement agency always had to deal with. Both their heads turned slightly towards the sound of the dispatcher sending two units to investigate the report of a silent alarm at the Planter's Trust Bank.
"Hope that's another false one," Mike commented. "Pat and Steph were supposed to run by there."
"Well, it would be the fourth one this month," Linda replied. "Wish the commissioners would pass that resolution levying a surcharge after a certain number of false alarms."
They resumed their conversation only to be interrupted by the "Beep, beep, beep" signaling an all units call. "All available units, we have an armed robbery in progress at the Planter's Trust at 1427 Walnut Street." The dispatcher took a deep breath and continued. "We have a report of shots fired and an officer down. Repeat, shots fired and an officer down at the Planter's Trust."
Linda shot an immediate look at her oldest friend. Mike had turned completely white. "Hold on," she said as she tried to remain calm. She picked up the phone and called the dispatcher's office on the intercom. She identified herself, spoke rapidly and listened before hanging up. She turned to him and took a deep breath.
"Its Pat, isn't it?"
"Yes. Bob Johnson called from inside the bank. Apparently there was a shootout involving her, an FBI agent and the bandits. Its pretty confusing, but he saw her get hit. He's not sure who else might be hurt."
He nodded as he walked to her phone. He picked it up and punched an intercom number. "Saddle up," was all he said. They left the office together.
"Mister," Stephanie said as calmly as she could manage. "There's a first aid kit in the lounge. May I get it?"
"No. I can't afford to let you out of my sight." The leader waved to the robber standing by the door. "You go. Pick an employee to show you where it is."
"I'll show him," Sarah Rabinowitz offered, her face white.
"Thank you, Ms. Sarah," Stephanie said.
Moments later Steph had the well stocked emergency kit in her hands. Using the scissors provided she carefully cut away her mother's shirt. One round had taken her in the stomach, the other in her chest. Checking behind Pat with exquisite care, Stephanie discovered the bullets had lodged in her mother's body. Working quickly to stem the blood loss, she bandaged the wounds and turned her mother on her side to keep the good lung from being flooded.
After finishing with Pat, Stephanie checked both the other gunshot victims. Fortunately neither was wounded as seriously as Pat. She bandaged one's shoulder and arm. Then she approached the FBI agent. She quickly took care of him. One bullet had creased his side and the other had hit the fleshy part of his thigh. He was awake and cussing a blue streak about "That Bitch" who had shot him.
Steph added it up in her mind. Four empty shell casings by her mother. Four wounds. That FBI agent was definitely in on it. Her mother didn't make mistakes like shooting the wrong person. Saying nothing she finished her first aid and returned to Pat's side as the bank phone rang.
Outside, Detective Josh Williams from the Intelligence Division set up. He was the Department's trained negotiator. His first step was to call the bank. He was calm and collected, talking quietly to the man he figured was the main suspect.
Before Mike could do much more than establish the perimeter, two vehicles painted in monotone dark colors with blackwall tires pulled up. One was a standard Ford LTD, the other was a panel van. Three men exited them. One waved a folder in the air. "I'm Agent Fording of the FBI. Who's in charge here?"
"I am," Mike replied. "Captain Gibson, Tactical Response. This is Detective Williams who's our negotiator."
"Well, that's great, but we'll take over now. Bank Robbery is a Federal crime and falls under our jurisdiction."