Chapter 8

 

The knock had Rye setting down his fork, chewing as he ambled to the front entryway. Brie looked up, a questioning expression on her face. Peeking out, he quickly opened the door.

"Now that was quick."

The redheaded man snorted in response, his frame just a touch shorter than Rye's. Old worn jeans with tears at the knees, and a plain white T-shirt spoke of either downtime or undercover. Rye would bet on the former. "Like I don't have enough to do besides run errands for you." The grin on his face belied his gruff tone.

Pushing the door back, Rye waved him in. "Yeah, yeah." Closing the door behind their guest, Rye gestured toward Brie.

"Gary, this is Brie. Brie, this is Gary. He's on the force."

Taking a sip of her water, Brie looked over the newcomer before walking over, hand extended.

"Hello, Gary. Nice to meet you." They shook hands, appraising one another. "You work with Rye?"

"Yeah. Some days." He smirked, pulling a folder out from behind his back.

Brie's head tilted, mirroring her confusion. "Some days?"

"You don't want to know, squirrel." Rye swiped the file out of Gary's hands.

Shifting his feet, Gary's crisp green eyes flicked between Rye and Brie. A small grin appeared. "You didn't tell me she was a cute little rodent. Nice tail, too." He nudged the other man in the ribs, grin widening at Brie's rapidly coloring complexion.

"Careful, buddy. This one has teeth." Rye smiled at Brie's obvious huffing over such a comment. He had no intentions of allowing Gary to play cat and mouse with Brie. Protective and possessive instincts rose to the fore when it came to Brie.

I'm just looking out for her. Yeah, right.

Recalling his manners, he quickly asked, "You wanna come in? Dinner is on the table if you want to join us."

"Nah, but thanks anyway. Can't stay long. Got an appointment soon."

Nodding, Rye didn't pursue further, noting Brie return to her seat at the table. "This all we have on Gomez and his buddies?"

Gary bobbed his head, his expression serious once more, attention focused on his co-worker. "Yeah, not much. Told you they were slimy. Nothing sticks."

Nodding, Rye glanced over the pages, considering the possibilities of how this time they would actually catch them with their hands in the cookie jar. Certainly, it wasn't going to be an easy task. Damn near impossible, if he was honest.

The nervous shifting of weight by Gary caught his attention. Even though Gary happened to be a few months younger, he'd been at the force for a year longer. Third generation cop. As far as he knew, the younger man never prickled with nervousness.

"Okay. Spill it. What has you so antsy?"

A sheepish look crossed Gary's face as his eyes sought the floor. "Davis."

Putting the folder aside, Rye crossed his arms over his chest. Davis was their immediate supervisor, a man with special ops military background who ran the precinct like an anal obsessive. He flirted with the line of legality more than once, always claiming that it all washed out in the end. He ran roughshod over slackers and anyone he considered not getting their job done in a timely fashion. More than one officer cussed him behind his back, but no one dared question him within his hearing. For being a tough ass, he made a fairly good boss.

"What now?"

Shrugging, Gary sighed. "You know that Wino Street Ripper case?" Rye nodded, noting Brie's head jerk up from where she sat. He cussed to himself. She was far too curious for her own good.

"Yeah. It's your baby, I take it?" Rye stepped a bit closer, putting his body between Gary's and Brie's. The media hadn't had the chance to latch onto the story yet. Some modern Jack the Ripper wanna-be causing death everywhere he touched. So far he seemed to be fixated on the city's hooker population. Though that was bad enough, heaven help them if he decided to move up in class.

"You know Davis and his short fuse. Seems he is sick of hearing about another hoo…errrr, lady murdered every night." His gaze darted in the direction of Brie.

She got back up from the table, moving to stand beside Rye.

"Go on." Rye ignored Brie's proximity and the fact that she was overhearing things she shouldn't be. He'd swear her to secrecy afterward. No biggie.

Gary's body tensed once more as he shuffled a step. "Well, I was told basically I had until tonight or I'm off the case."

Rye whistled. Davis was stern and strict, but that was asking a bit much for any cop, detective or undercover. No one wanted to hear of nightly murders. But, cases took time. Leads sometimes were few and far between. Hell, the far north corner office at the precinct contained nothing but files and files of unsolved cases.

Gary's head bowed once more. "That's not all." He paused, taking in a deep breath, his brown pullover expanding to allot for the effort. "I have to get a mike on one of the working girls or…"

"Or?" Brie asked this time, clenching her hands at her sides.

Patience never was one of her strong points Rye recalled.

"Or I have to go undercover myself…" He looked up and swallowed loudly. "In drag."

Brie's mouth fell open in surprise. Rye simply threw his head back and laughed, deep and hard. Gary's eyebrows furrowed in agitation, his breath puffing. Holding his hands up, Rye managed to get his amusement in check. The image of Gary in stiletto heels came to mind. His knobby knees were sure to draw attention. He could almost picture Gary standing by the tub in an attempt to shave the overgrown jungle he called legs. Those red freckles would stand out, stark against a wild, hot pink wig.

"Sorry, buddy. But…" He managed to stifle another round. "But, the idea of you in drag is downright hilarious. Not even a blind john would pick you up."

Obviously, not catching how ridiculous the situation was, Brie reached out, patting Gary on the arm. "What are you going to do?" Sincerity filled her voice.

For a long moment Gary stood there, shaking his head, his face reflecting impending doom. Slowly, a small grin appeared, his eyes flashed with a newfound idea.

Picking up on the other man's thoughts Rye quickly ran interference. "Oh, no. No way, man. Not happening."

Gary argued. "It's perfect! You owe me." He gestured to the file sitting on the countertop. "Besides, she knows too much already." He sent a pleading look Rye's direction. "This guy has made all the plants we've tried. The regulars won't help us out, not trusting they won't be tossed into jail afterward." Taking a step forward, he crossed his arms over his chest. "We even tried to bring in plants from other stations. He's too slick. Makes a cop each and every time."

"No." Rye crossed his arms over his chest. There was no way in hell he was letting this happen.

"I'm sure she can borrow Marla's getup. You remember? The black leather bustier with the miniskirt split clean up to no man's land?" Gary's hands waved in excitement. "It's perfect. Stick a wire on her. Do the usual pick-up routine. He talks his way into a prison sentence and we're just behind the door so nothing will happen." His hopeful look fell on Rye. "Bet Marla even has a push up bra that would catch any man's attention and hold it for a good long time." He drew in a deep breath. "Please, buddy. I'm desperate here. She won't be in danger. We'll have so many cops covering her."

Rye paused, glancing over at Brie, then back to Gary. They were desperate. No lures had worked thus far, which left them at the bottom of the barrel to catch this guy. A plan began to formulate.

"Hmmmm. You know, this might work." Rye tapped his chin with a forefinger, busily picturing Brie in the getup that a female undercover officer wore when they ran stings on men who picked up prostitutes. Hell, just the image alone made him hard. Once she actually wore the thing, every man within ten miles would be burning.

Brie's eyes narrowed. Tapping her toes, she glared at them both. "You better not be thinking what I think you are." Her temper caught again.

"Don't worry about it. Piece of cake. And, think. You'll be doing a great community service." Gary's attention turned back to Rye. "I'll get Davis's approval. He'll growl, but he will give the okay, especially if you're on board, Rye. He can give her temporary deputy status or some shit. Legendary undercover master will sway him to our way of thinking." He nodded with confidence. "Word is the mayor is pulling all kinds of strings to keep this story out of the press. Can you imagine if the public found out there was a serial killer running amok?" He waved his hand. "Anyway, the mayor is breathing down Davis's neck on this one. I'm sure he'll grant permission on this. Anything to catch this guy, and get his ass out of the hot seat."

Brie snorted.

Rye leaned down, whispering in her ear. "I'll make a deal with you. You do this for Gary and I'll let you dye the rest of my underwear pink."

Eyebrows shot up in surprise as a wicked gleam flashed in her eyes. "What all does this entail?"

 

* * * *

 

An hour and a half later, Rye stood in the living room, impatiently waiting for Brie's appearance from the bathroom. Luckily, Marla lived close and was even home when Gary called. They had the whole outfit in hand within thirty minutes. The last hour was whittled away as Brie prepared. This isn't the prom. Not like the johns would care if her hair curled just right or not. He glanced at his watch for the tenth time.

"Brie. We have to go. Quit stalling." He couldn't help but grin wickedly to himself, even considering the situation. Knowing her, she would be busily fussing with the bustier top, pulling frantically to cover her Wonderbra supported breasts. Failing at that, she'd grumble and cuss as she tugged on the miniskirt, trying to get the split to lie in a safe area. No matter how much she worked at it, the results would be the same.

The door creaked open quietly as she poked her head out. Finding him, she scowled at him. "You laugh and it's the last thing you do." Biting her lip, she pulled at the top once more before stepping out into the hall.

Damn. Even without the heels on, she took his breath away. Leather clung to her curves like a wet bikini. The bra sure did wonders. Definitely a good two cup sizes bigger. Cleavage stood proud and apparent. No way could anyone miss that. In fact, if she breathed too hard, they might succeed at their bid for freedom. The miniskirt barely covered her ass, the slit along the side cut almost to the waist. In a stiff breeze, that flimsy piece would more than likely let every eye watching have their fill. Her blonde locks fell loosely down her back, curls pulled to the side with combs.

He felt his libido jump to attention. His mind raced through the possibilities. Her in that outfit, bent over the kitchen table…

Groaning, he fought for control. Two thoughts came to mind. One, he'd never forget the image before him. Two, he needed looser jeans.

"Well?" Brie stood before him, gnawing on her bottom lip. Her nervous habit he realized.

With one last sharp rein to his passion, he held up her shoes. "I think you'll attract every man in the county tonight." The words came out soft and gruff.

Unable to help herself, she jerked the bodice once more. "I still don't know how I let you talk me into this madness." She followed him to the entryway, taking the shoes from his hands, and setting them on the floor.

"Pink underwear."

"Oh, yeah." Bending over, she slipped her foot into the right heel.

Rye leaned down a bit, preparing to see a tiny bit of heaven on earth. "What in the hell? What kind of panties are those?"

Standing up quickly, Brie took exception. "Mine!" Her arms waved to keep balance with one shoe on. Her voice and face took on that expression of woman quickly barreling toward pissed off mode.

"Babe, you have to look the part. Those granny panties aren't it." He crossed his arms over his chest, frowning down at her. Here he expected some butt floss, not these ugly things.

Her back straightened, chest pushed out. "I can't help it."

Prying his eyes off her enhanced bosom, he tilted his head in question. "I know you have sexier panties. You aren't wearing those because…?"

The bright blossom of red spread rapidly over her face and down into her chest. He wondered if that same blushing would happen as she climaxed beneath him, his body hard and heavy, buried deeply.

The light bulb flickered on. "Oh, hell. No wonder you've been chewing my ass lately."

Bending over, she stuffed her left foot into the shoe, jerking the strap in frustration to fasten it. Having done that, she stood back up, pinning Rye with her icy glare. A false sweet smile crossed her lips. "Oh, that has nothing to do with it. You would drive the Pope to violence."

Watching her flounce out the door to the garage, Rye mumbled under his breath, "Those johns won't know what hit them." With a small head shake, he shut the door behind him.