EXTRACT FOR
Disarmed
(Author Unknown)

Chapter One

    

    When you go through the NYPD police academy, they tell you to always be prepared for anything. Human nature is not up to that, however. Any job, however varied, becomes routine after a while. And no one can be completely alert and prepared for sudden violence for long periods of time.

    Being a plainclothes cop made that even harder. Jamie didn't have to worry about suddenly being attacked by people who hated cops, and since she was with the precinct's anti-crime team, she didn't have to answer routine calls.

    That meant whenever she had to actually intervene in a situation she had time to assess the situation and decide how to do so. Plus, of course, she generally rode with Sergeant Al Mueller, who at six foot seven, tended to be both the main target and main point of resistance to any violence.

    Of course, the way surveillance worked, she and Mueller were not always side by side, as in this morning. They were at the Lexton building on Seventh Avenue in midtown Manhattan. There were storefronts across from it, and one of those was a cut-rate jewelry store which specialized in buying back gold jewelry from people who didn't want it. 

    The store advertised heavily, and paid in cash. Not only did that make it a great place for thieves to offload some of their recent thefts, but a number of customers had been mugged recently. She was sitting on the edge of a fountain ostensibly surfing the internet on her smart phone. Mueller was on the other side of the road window-shopping at a sportswear store.

    Her head was bowed enough that the thick red bangs across her forehead had fallen downward to shade her green eyes. But though it appeared she was intent on her phone they only flicked down occasionally. It wouldn't do to have something happen and miss it.

    When she got an email from her boyfriend Danny she felt the usual little rush of emotion, part lust, part affection, and part wariness. He seemed to be forever trying to batter away at her inhibitions, and had no qualms about doing so over a distance.

    No one was sitting close to her, though, so she called up the email. It said A goddess any man could worship. And there was an attachment. She made a face, but wasn't entirely displeased since she thought she had a fair idea of what the attached picture would show.

    Her. He had told her often enough that she had the body of a goddess. And even if that was bullshit flattery she didn't exactly mind hearing it. She flicked her eyes up and across at the storefront across the street, then back down.

    She opened the attached picture, and, as she'd suspected, it was of her. It was, at least, not particularly graphic or obscene this time. It was simply a candid picture of her taken in his kitchen. She wasn't wearing anything but a thong, and the picture showed her from behind and to the right, reaching up for something in the cupboard.

    That, of course, meant most of her right breast was visible from the side, and given her position, and her naturally athletic, tightly toned body, her breast looked almost unnaturally firm. Her nipple was just visible, barely, but the gold ring dangling from it was fairly obvious.

    Since she was standing on the balls of her feet reaching up, and leaning forward a little, her ass was in the perfect position for a flattering picture, too. Her dark red hair was hanging loose and thick down her back, since her head was turned upward, and looked very lush and silken. 

    Really, for a picture she hadn't posed for, it was a pretty good one, she had to admit, and was about to congratulate him on his expert, if furtive camera skills, when someone snatched the phone out of her hand and gave her a push which sent her falling back into the fountain.

    She was startled, to say the least, to find herself underwater, but the realization of what had happened took very little time, and she exploded up and out of the water in time to see a lanky black kid running north on Seventh Avenue.

    The people around her were still gaping at what had happened, some of them still holding hot dogs before open mouths, when she jumped out of the pond and took off after him. Anger lent her speed, but so too did anxiety. 

    Danny would have to send her those damn pictures of herself! She kept deleting them but he kept sending them! 

    She'd been a track star in high school and college. She knew how to breathe properly and how to put herself into the right stride for distance or sprinting. She was very fast, and in excellent physical condition. But there were a lot of people around this morning, getting in her way.

    "AC4B in foot pursuit northbound on Seventh Avenue at 50th!" she called into the radio. "Suspect black male late teens early twenties, six feet tall wearing jeans and green t-shirt!"

    Making the call robbed her of breath, and she had to try and get her breath control back as she ran down the sidewalk, dodging in and out and around people who stared at her in startled surprise. She was soaking wet and angry, and people who saw her moved aside quickly.

    Especially when they saw the gun on her hip. She was wearing jeans, a tank top and a loose gray shirt which hung down over her hips to hide her gun, cuffs, and other tools of the trade. It was held together by only one button in the front so she could quickly get at them at need, but now as she ran the wind had blown the shirt back.

    The black kid turned and saw her, then picked up speed, and Jamie thought of all the things she was going to do to him when she caught him. After, of course, getting her phone back. 

    He turned onto 52nd street, and she lost sight of him briefly, but then caught him crossing the street and turning up Sixth. She followed, gaining on him. He turned and saw her, and changed course, sprinting out into the traffic, causing cars to veer violently aside and brake heavily.

    Jamie grimly followed, cursing under her breath as he reached the other side and turned down 53rd. She cut the corner and came closer, and he stopped suddenly, turning and swinging at her as she ran up. She jumped, letting both feet fly out in front of her and hit him mid-chest, sending him flying backwards and to the side, into a patio table and chairs set out by a restaurant.

    The table, umbrella and chairs were scattered in multiple directions as he cried out and fell to the ground and Jamie landed half atop him, her knee in his groin. He cried out, his eyes bugging out as she slapped his hands away from her and then quickly drew back.

    "On your face, you motherfucker!" she snarled.

    There were sirens closing in from more than one direction, which lent her a certain urgency.

    "Where's the phone?"

    "I-I don't know nothing about no phone! You're crazy, lady!"

    She grabbed him by the balls and he squealed again.

    "On your face!"

    He swiped his hand at her and she got him in a wrist block, then twisted it roughly in and around so that he cried out again, forced to roll over as she moved back a little.

    She pulled his arm up sharply behind his back, grabbed his collar, and leaned in close.

    "Give me my phone or I'll fucking castrate you!" she snarled in a voice too low for the people who were standing around gaping to hear.

    Sirens were getting closer now, and she caught at his earlobe and pinched nastily.

    "Ow! Fuck! Get off me, bitch!"

    "My phone, asshole!"

    "I don't got it! I gave it to my friend!"

    A siren peaked then as a blue and white pulled up beside them. Jamie cursed at the interruption as the two cops jumped out and hurried over.

    "Man, this bitch is crazy! She attacked me for no reason!" the guy shouted to them.

    "Yeah, that happens all the time," one of the cops said. 

    They knelt and cuffed him while Jamie ran a quick hand over his body. She pulled out a phone, but it was his, not hers.

    "Where's the phone, shit-head?" she demanded. "Who did you pass it to?"

    "I don't know what she's talking about," he said to the uniforms.

    Jamie glowered as they pulled him to his feet.

    "I already advised him of his rights. He volunteered he passed the phone to his friend," she said.

    The black guy gaped at her, then saw the gun and badge. "I ... bullshit! I ain't said nothing!"

    "Tell it to the judge," one of the cops said.

    The other was grinning at Jamie, who glared at him and combed her hair out of her face as the other one chuckled in amusement.

    "What are you smirking at, Donovan?" she demanded.

    "Nothing, McCloud, nothing!" he said with a grin. "Cept your rings are showing."

    He and the other cop snickered as they led the black guy over to their patrol car and Jamie looked down, glowering. Wet, her clothes were plastered to her body, and the tiny round indentations her nipple rings produced were noticeable.

    Another blue and white pulled up, lights flashing, and another couple of uniforms got out. They grinned at Jamie too, and she glowered back at them as Mueller pulled up in his unmarked Tahoe.

    She defiantly refused to give in to impulse and cross her arms over her chest and went around them to the Tahoe as he started to get out.

    "We need to go check the CCTV for that area to find the guy he passed the phone to," she said.

    He eyed her doubtfully.

    "You mind telling me what happened? I was looking at a golf bag and next thing I hear your voice on the radio saying you were chasing someone a block away."

    "He pushed me in a fountain and stole my phone," she said, glowering.

    Mueller pursed his lips, which she knew meant he was trying not to smirk.

    "Well, at least you got him."

    "He doesn't have it. He said he passed it to his friend.  I need to know who the friend is."

    "Maybe the detectives will get it from him."

    "It's MY phone!"

    "You're all wet, McCloud," he said. "We'll go back to the precinct and you can change, and we can ask the detectives to see what they can get out of him. I don't know how much priority they're gonna put on a cell phone snatch, though."

    Jamie felt a surge of frustration. She knew exactly what he meant, but she was worried about that damned picture. She was going to kick Danny's ass when she saw him!

    She muttered a curse and got into the car, arms folded across her chest again.

    "It's just a phone. You can buy another one."

    There was no way she was going to tell Mueller, who was literally old enough to be her father, about the picture, or her concerns with it getting out. It was bad enough there were pictures of her in a bikini out there, making the rounds among some of the uniforms, courtesy of an undercover job she'd done months ago as a fashion model.

    In fact, it would be better if the detectives stayed out of it, she thought. If they actually got the phone they'd be likely to go through it, especially if they knew it was hers. At least the punk who had it would probably just admire her goddess-like body and then delete everything so he could sell the phone.

    And if it got on the internet? Well, there was probably ten billion pictures of half-naked girls on the internet. The odds of anyone she knew coming across hers was extremely low.

    At least it had been a good picture, she thought morosely, as Mueller pulled away from the curb. And at least it hadn't been one of the 'live action' ones he insisted on taking. Having that get out would be far worse.

    Not that she was particularly shy. At least, not anymore, not even about her body, given some of the things Danny had involved her in of late. But that didn't mean she wanted people she worked with every day learning about her torrid (and extremely kinky) sex life.