Rebound

I leaned over and starting licking her clit while I finger fucked her. The words stopped coming out. Now it was babble.

"Oh... uh... right there... no...OK..." she muttered under her breath.

I sucked hard on her clit and swirled my tongue around it. I felt the walls of her pussy pulsating on my fingers. Her ass clenched and I think she started swearing but it wasn't in English. She rocked her hips against my hand, forcing my fingers all the way inside her. Her body stiffened and then heaved more times than I could count. Then she stilled.

Sondra lay there gasping for breath. I went for seconds with my tongue and she blocked my head with her hand.

"No more... no more Max."

Her long, lanky frame stretched out on the bed. I could see the definition of the muscles in her torso, the skin stretched over her ribs, and her small breasts jutting out with long pink nipples.

God she was beautiful.

_|/_

Sondra didn't have to be to work until nine. I had to leave for the station, but didn't want to. I wanted to stay in the worst way. I was dressed and she was naked, under a thin white sheet, laying on her side with her head propped up on her hand.

"Leaving Max?" she said sleepily. Her hair and make-up was a mess, but she still looked terrific. She had forgotten her pajama top and was wearing a Reds t-shirt with "Votto" on the back. She was way sexier than Joey Votto.

"In a couple minutes," I said, sadly.

"Where're you going?"

"Donut shop, then the police station," I answered.

"Donuts? I'd love to have one with a cup of coffee."

What a gal. She was gorgeous, rich, and loved donuts.

"Want to go?" I asked hopefully.

She thought for a moment. "Sure," she said to my surprise.

"All right, I'll wait till you get dressed."

I waited for Sondra to put on a blouse and jeans she'd brought with her and finish a quick make-up job in the bathroom. She looked fabulous. She followed my ancient Honda Civic to Happy Donut in her shiny new Jaguar.

_|/_

I walked into Happy Donut with Sondra. Lesley was leaving, holding a white wax paper bag.

"Max!" my partner said to me. "Introduce me."

I watched Lesley's eyes. She was checking out Sondra.

"Sondra, this is Lesley Groesbeck, my partner," I said.

Sondra extended her hand. "Ah, Lesley. Max has told me so much about you."

Lesley gave Sondra a friendly handshake instead of engaging in a grip contest (which she would do if she didn't like who I had with me).

"It was all bad, sorry Lesley," I told my partner.

"Don't listen to her," said Sondra. "Max loves you."

Lesley gave me a knowing smile. She knew that I loved her.

"I've seen you on television," said Lesley. "I think when you were representing Maureen McCormick in that hit and run. I've got to say you're even prettier in person."

We stepped aside as customers entered the store.

"Thank you Lesley. You're as nice and pretty as Max said you'd be."

Sondra's compliment delighted Lesley. "Max, see you back at the station."

_|/_

We stepped inside the shop. Bea, the owner, was finishing up with a customer.

"Hey Queen Bea, how are you?" I asked her. I'd been going to her shop since I was a cadet. Bea was the heart and soul of that West End institution. Her husband, who always seemed to be reading the newspaper, was doing so at a corner table.

"Hi Officer Max," she said to me, but staring at Sondra. "You bring movie star with you?"

Sondra blushed. It was cute. "No, I'm an attorney," she answered.

Bea frowned. "You too good looking to be failure."

Sondra was taken aback but kept her composure. "I think practicing law is an honorable profession."

"That's what my daughter tell me."

"Oh right," said Sondra. "Max mentioned to me that your daughter is going to law school and is looking for a summer internship with a criminal law practice."

"You with respectable law firm?" Bea asked.

Actually Sondra was with the most prestigious law firm in Cincinnati.

"I think so," Sondra answered.

"Tan!" Bea called to the back room. Her daughter came out from the back.

Tan stood by her mother, the daughter a good six inches taller. Tan was a beautiful young woman, dark eyes, soft facial features and shiny jet black hair to the middle of her back.

"She studying. This is my daughter Tan," Bea said, and then pointed to Sondra. "This is Max's lawyer friend."

"Sondra," she said, completing Bea's sentence.

"Pleased to meet you Sondra," said Tan. There was no hint of an accent.

Sondra retrieved a business card from her purse and handed it to Tan. "Call me if you'd like to interview for a clerkship. By the way, where are you going to law school?"

"Harvard," Tan said proudly.

"Never heard of it," Sondra said with a straight face.

Tan broke out in a big smile. "I'll call you."

_|/_

Sondra and I went our separate ways. Sondra was a glazed donut fan and took a dozen to her office. I packed away two chocolate old fashioneds, one for my morning coffee, one for my afternoon snack. Lesley was waiting for me in the break room.

"So that's Sondra," she said.

"Uh huh."

"My God Max, she's gorgeous."

"Don't I know it."

"How are you going to not mess this up?" Lesley asked, displaying the usual level of confidence she had in her partner on matters of the heart.

"I'm not sure," I answered. "But I'm not going down without a fight."

"With someone like that, you'll be lucky if it gets to that point. Like with Sky. You never gave her the chance for her, or you, to fight for the relationship."

She was right. Sky was a young detective in Homicide who I was in love with. In predictable fashion, I stepped out on Sky with Lily Chao, the drug lord of the West End. I confessed this to her. That didn't leave many options for Sky, so it was understandable she ended our relationship then and there.

"You're right Les," I said. "I'll be lucky to get it to that point. I hope I am this time."

_|/_

Lesley and I carried our coffee into the morning briefing. Lieutenant Billie Odette called a special meeting to discuss the recent murders of Lily Chao and the release of Jumbo Williams.

"All right, settle down," said Billie, assuming her place at the front podium. Billie was an attractive African-American woman, twenty years on the force and the leader of Vice for the past year. She knew my gig and rightfully didn't trust me. I did make her look good with her superiors with big name busts so she tolerated some of the shit I threw at her.

"All of you know about Lily Chao's execution style murder last week and also Jumbo Williams's early release from prison. Since Lily's information put Jumbo in jail, and she took over the West End drug trade from him, Homicide is treating Jumbo as the prime suspect. We're not sure if there are others in Lily's organization to backfill, and perhaps seek revenge. We need to know who's providing the drugs now."

She called on me and I wasn't ready.

"Max, you've got your ear to the ground in the West End. What're you hearing?"

I took a sip of coffee to collect my thoughts.

"Nothing yet. I've got a lot of feelers out. I should know soon. I do want to mention that it might be Bratva."

I'd mentioned Lily's dying words to Odette, but she pushed me off pending confirmation of their presence in Cincinnati. I wasn't sure she'd be thrilled with the public airing of my theory, so I said it because you couldn't unhear it. I wanted anyone on our team to come to me if there was any scuttlebutt about Bratva.

Billie made sure to smack me down. "Max, it's not the time to put forward unfounded theories. Bratva hasn't been spotted in Cincinnati."

"I know Lieutenant, but if anyone hears word of them..."

I accomplished what I wanted to, but also used some of the credibility I had with Billie.

Billy went on to make assignments to gather information on Jumbo's activities and to add surveillance on the locations of Lily's operation. There was no additional mention of Bratva and no resources were offered to me. After the meeting wound up, Emil Martinez, who also worked in the West End, came up to me.

"Max, Bratva? That's not good."

"The last word out of Lily's mouth."

"I'll be on the lookout."

"Thanks Emil."

We West Enders stuck together.

_|/_

While I was in the briefing I got a text from Eddie. He wanted to meet with me in the liquor store parking lot. Lesley drove me in the cruiser. His Escalade was parked in his usual spot when we arrived. I went up to the driver's side window. Lesley was standing behind me. He rolled it down. A toothpick was dangling from his lip.

"Hey Max. Got some intel for you," he said. The distinct odor of marijuana floated out of his window.

"Great," I said. "And...?"

"We're even now, right?" he asked. His words were slurred a bit. He was really stoned, which made me question the quality of what I was about to hear.

"Tell me first," I said. I wasn't going to give him shit until he gave me something good.

"The coke is coming from New York."

That was interesting. Different source.

"New York? It was coming from Florida, right?" I asked.

"That's right."

"Any information on the change?"

"I heard the supplier was a guy named Mike. So we even?" he asked.

That was more than I expected. My strong suspicion was that this "Mike" was Bratva. Now I had a name.

"We are. You take care of those girls. I'll be watching," I said.

"I know you are Max."

His window rolled up.

_|/_

At least I had a lead, a toehold, into Lily's Bratva claim. A new supplier. The Russians ran a lot of their drugs through New York. I needed to find out if this "Mike" guy was also dealing heroin, and the best bet was a CI I'd cultivated a while ago when I was going after Jumbo. I gathered up Lesley and we went for a drive in the West End, to one of the housing projects, Belvedere Terrace, that supported a thriving drug trade.

Belvedere Terrace was controlled by Lily's gang, but with Lily's death, I wondered if that was still the case. The corner guys still seemed the same, but that was the front line, the expendable soldiers. I wanted to know who was one and two layers above them. My CI, a guy I knew as Bear, lived on the sixth floor of the building. Bear was a heroin addict who I rescued off the street, getting him into rehab. He was in tough shape when I found him, but had managed to pull himself out of the abyss. He also had a bit of trouble when he dropped out of his motorcycle club and got into a fracas on his way out. Another favor for him.

We went into the "lobby." I used that term loosely because it looked more like a garbage dump. Of course the two elevators were out of order, which meant a brisk climb up the stairs. I instantly regretted all of the drinking and smoking I'd done, which left me huffing and puffing after four flights. Lesley was a floor ahead of me and arrived at the sixth floor a full minute before me.

"You're out of shape Max," said Lesley, barely breaking a sweat, and patting the beginnings of a jelly roll on my tummy. After kicking her Oxy addiction, she was in the workout room four days a week. She was buffed and I wasn't.

"I need a smoke," I said.

"Typical Max," Lesley said to me, shaking her head.

"What apartment?" she asked me.

"It's the last door on the right. I don't know the number."

We walked down the graffiti covered hallway. Half the overhead lights were either burned out or broken. I could hear crying babies and couples arguing behind closed doors. Someone was using a charcoal barbeque inside their apartment. We finally arrived at Bear's apartment and I knocked on the door, still out of breath.

A minute later a Caucasian woman answered, cracking the door open with the security chain still intact. She was wearing a baggy t-shirt and sweat pants. Her rheumy eyes and sallow complexion told me she was strung out.

"Whaddya want?" she asked, revealing yellowed teeth. She may be been an attractive woman at one time, but that time passed long ago.

"Bear," I said.

She leaned against the door jamb. "He in trouble?" she asked, eyeing our uniforms.

"Nope, just need information."

She scratched her arm. "You paying?"

"Cash money," I said.

She unlatched the door and opened it. It was hard to look past the squalid conditions. The carpeting was heavily stained and the coffee table and sofa were littered with beer bottles, empty take-out cartons, and overflowing ashtrays. It made my room at the Royal Palms look like the Taj Mahal.

"Bear's in the bedroom." She cleared the debris off the sofa and onto the floor so we could sit.

"We'll stand, thanks," said Lesley. There was no way she was going to park her cute little butt and clean uniform on that sofa.

"Bear!" the woman called out, walking towards the bedroom. Her saggy (and braless) tits swayed in her threadbare t-shirt.

Bear came ambling into the living room. He was African-American, about three hundred pounds, and sporting a bushy beard. His arm bore the tattoo of a local motorcycle gang.

"Hey Max," he said, giving me a toothsome smile. "What brings you to these parts, and who have you got with you?"

Bear's eyes were focused on Lesley. Her body was tight, and her breasts strained against the fabric of her shirt.

"Lesley, and don't get any ideas," I said to the man mountain.

"Just looking Max. She's some fine looking police officer."

His companion was rummaging through a drawer, holding a lighter and looking for a cigarette. She found a crumpled pack and pulled one out that was bent. She cussed and lit it anyway, shuffling back into the bedroom.

"I assume you've heard about Lily," I said to him.

"Yeah, that was some fucked up shit. Heard it from some guys in Lily's crew."

"I'm trying to find out who took her place at these towers," I said.

"You paying?"

"Uh huh."

"How much?"

"Fifty if you can tell me where the heroin is coming from now. A hundred if you can give me a name."

"I can live with that."

"You still using?" I asked.

"Naw... but my old lady still is."

"Still in touch with Frankie?" Frankie was Bear's cell mate. Frankie was my CI until he got a twenty year sentence.

"You didn't hear?" he asked me.

"Nope."

"Got shanked last year. Didn't make it."

"Shit."

"Yeah. I gotta stay out of jail."

I handed him my card. "Call me when you know something."

"Right Max."

_|/_

There was a message on my phone to contact Ray in ballistics. Ray Burnside headed up the lab for the past thirty years. He had been analyzing the slugs left at Lily's crime scene and promised to get back to me as soon as he had the results. I was eager to meet with him, and the minute we got to the station we went to see him.

Ray was in a white coat, glasses perched on the end of his nose. He waved Lesley and me into the lab.

"Max, glad you can make it," he said. "We've found that the murder weapon was an unusual one. I'm familiar with most handguns, but this is one I had to research. It's a RSh-12. Fifty caliber rounds. That's why the victims had such extensive wounds."

"I've never heard of it. Where does it come from?" Lesley asked, beating me to the punch.

"It's of Russian manufacture."

Russian. Bingo.

"Did they recover any shell casings?" Lesley asked.

"They found one. It was Russian in manufacture as well. It could bring down an elephant."

Lesley followed up. "Are these rounds available in Cincinnati?"

"Not sure," Ray answered. "They're certainly not available at your garden variety guns and ammo store. By the way Max, here's a copy of the ballistics report."

I took the report copy. "Thanks for the intel Ray."

"You be careful Max. The folks who are toting these guns can blow your head off."

Fair warning. I saw what they did first hand.

_|/_

I'd been calling and texting Sondra for the past two days to no avail. Janet, her assistant, was of no help, always telling me she was in a meeting. I finally got through to her, though she was slightly frantic when she answered.

"Max, you've been calling me... repeatedly. I've only got a minute."

"Have you been avoiding me?" I asked.

"Of course not. I told you two weeks ago that I was going into trial on this embezzlement case. I'm getting the case ready right now. You just don't remember, do you?"

Between the fantastic sex and the alcohol, there wasn't a lot more to remember. I had no recollection of her telling me, but of course that meant nothing as I'm sure she did.

"Not exactly," I admitted.

"Well I am. Sixteen hour days for the next two weeks. So I'm sorry I don't have time for you right now. It's the price you pay for dating an attorney. Now you know why it's been so hard for me to meet anyone, or to keep them."

Sounded like my line. Cops fared no better at the love lottery.

I looked at my calendar on my phone. "So I'll see you on what, the 29^th then?" I asked.

There was a pause. "That's about right. Two weeks from today. I should be done by then."

"What am I going to do without you?" I asked.

"Max, I don't think you've ever had a problem being by yourself."

That was true. "But idle hands are the devil's workshop," I warned her.

"Should I be worried?" she asked me.

"No you shouldn't," I said. "I know how to be a good girl too."

"You do?"

"Not really, but it's what you wanted to hear."

"Goodbye Max."

_|/_

There was no fucking way I could stay away from Sondra for two weeks. She was at the office. I'd visit her at the office. I killed time at the Royal Palms and then the liquor store, waiting until it was late. I picked up a bottle of Blanton's and drove to her downtown office.

Her building was one of the tallest in downtown Cincinnati, a steel and glass structure circa 2000. She was on the 37^th floor, and enjoyed a panoramic view of the Cincinnati riverfront and the Ohio river. It was 10 p.m., and the elevators needed a magnetic card to get to the upper floors. There was a security guard manning the front desk. I was dressed in my civvies. He looked bored.

"I'm here to visit Sondra Karlsson - - Saylor, Browning and Bair," I told him.

"Is she expecting you?" he asked, trying not to stare at my tits.

Of course she wasn't expecting me. I pulled out my badge. "Official business," I said. Official monkey business.

He examined the badge carefully, not having anything better to do. "You a real cop? You're not dressed like one."

I had on my usual tight fitting black tee, jeans and boots. I wasn't.

I pulled out my police association card. "Look, I don't want to make a scene here. Just let me up to floor 37, OK?"

He took a glance at the card, but more at my aggressive posture. He rightly figured it wasn't worth a fight.

"Fine," he said. He went over with me to the elevator, put his card against the reader and punched the button for the 37^th floor.

"Have a good evening officer," he said.

_|/_

The reception area was dark. The conference rooms were dark. I went down the hall to Sondra's office. Her light was on and I could see her poring over a stack of files. She didn't notice me approaching. I knocked on the open door. I walked into her office and shut the door behind me.

She stood up and almost spilled her cup of coffee all over her desk. She was wearing a Reds cap with her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail that was threaded through the back of the cap. She had on a tight fitting white Dri-Fit long sleeve shirt and black yoga pants that hugged her hips. She couldn't help but look great.

"My God Max, what are you doing here?"

I went over to her bookshelf and picked up her antique Viking battle axe.