0 comments/ 15421 views/ 4 favorites Russian Roulette Ch. 01 By: WifeWatchman Russian Roulette: The Rise of The Iron Crowbar The order of my stories to read is: Todd & Melina series, Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series. Russian Roulette series Case Of The Murdered Lovers series So.... let's see if soap-opera-police-dramas with sex are of interest to Literotica readers... This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above. Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas. -------------------------------------- The sex in this story is a bit limited, as the gritty police drama continues after the conclusion of the Sperm Wars series. There will be a lot more HOT sex in The Case of the Murdered Lovers and other fun crime stories for you to solve... Part 1 - Picking Up The Revolver The party was in full swing in the large conference room at Town Fitness Centers, Melina's gym. Officially it was a birthday celebration for a couple of the trainers that worked there, but it was also a St. Patrick's Day celebration. Winter had refused to release its grip upon us. We'd had a freak snowstorm, and now it was clear... but unseasonably cold. Cindy Ross, Hugh Hewitt and Tanya Perlman were there as well as Lt. Britt Maxwell, Dr. Laura Fredricson, and Myron Milton from IT/Data. Somewhat to our surprise, Chief Griswold and his wife had come, also. Of course just about everyone who worked at Melina's gym had come to the party, though the facility was officially open at this hour. It was just past 11:30pm, and there actually were three people working out in the co-ed side. The Vice Detectives had been invited, but Captain Harold Malone had called them in for a mission. Steven Ikea and his dingleberry Timothy Geiger would not have come anyway, but I suspected Teresa Croyle would rather have been here with us, despite her lousy attitude. I was brought out of my reverie by the chief walking up to me, his first chance to get away from his wife and others and speak with me privately. "How are you feeling, Don?" the chief asked. "Fully recovered?" "Absolutely." I said. "And cleared for field duty, as well." "Good. But your limited duty has exposed the fact that we're beginning to be short-staffed, especially in MCD. We've got to talk about hiring or promoting some more people." the chief said. Although no one likes to "talk shop" at a party, we both knew that this time and location, away from the "Clubhouse" (as Police Headquarters was called), was ideal to talk about this type of confidential stuff. "I agree, we're understaffed." I said. "And this would be a bigger party with some new people here." I added, grinning. The Chief gave a brief smile at my joke. "But I agree." I continued. "And some of these guys are ready to be promoted. Tanya Perlman would be great for--" *Bzzzzz... Brrriingggg* It was Chief Griswold's "official" cell phone, upon which only duty-related calls would come. He stepped outside into the hallway and talked for a few minutes. Stepping back inside, he called me and Cindy Ross to join him, and actually took us out the front door to the outside. The air was raw and cold, and our breath masked our faces. 

"That was Malone." the chief said. "Ikea just led a big drug bust. We've got several hundred pounds... yes, hundreds of pounds... of cocaine, but only managed to arrest two people." I understood. Ikea would hold back and let lower ranking officers risk themselves, then come in and take the glory. I also suspected, and the chief confirmed with his next sentence, that Ikea had bungled something, and bigger fish had gotten away while only two lower-level perps had been caught. After giving those couple of details, the chief continued. "There's more, though. Croyle was wounded. She's been taken to University Hospital." 
"Is she okay?" Cindy asked immediately, her face showing concern. "I don't know." the chief replied, "but the wound was apparently not life-threatening. I'm going to go to the hospital. Do you two want to go?" "Can I go with you?" Cindy again asked. "Why don't you go with Don, and I'll take my wife home first. Don, tell the other officers, but ask them not to come to the hospital yet... they may not want to anyway." Cindy's face remained blank at that backhanded slap at Teresa. "And Ross... don't annoy Croyle too much when you get there." the chief said. Part 2 - Loading The evolver Teresa Croyle, nicknamed "Teresa Cunt" behind her back, was not hurt badly. She'd been shot in the left hand and grazed on the shoulder, but fortunately no bones were broken. I noticed a few things. First, when I told my MCD team and Britt Maxwell what had happened, everyone wanted to go to the hospital immediately. Considering Teresa Cunt's reputation as a bitch, I was surprised not so much that they were concerned, but at their level of concern. Per the Chief's instructions, I told them to wait. Second, Cindy Ross did not wait, she was in the car with me driving to the hospital. Cindy Ross and Teresa were supposedly like oil and water, always arguing, but always seeming to work together. In fact, I had shocked the Chief, Captain Malone and Paulina Patterson (who did not like being in the same room with each other) by suggesting Ross & Croyle work together a lot more. I had observed something they hadn't: Cindy and Teresa's seemingly insulting arguments were actually backhanded compliments of each other. No one denied that they worked extremely well together, and even Captain Malone was surprisingly very agreeable with it. ------------------------- "You dumbass." Cindy was telling Teresa in the hospital room as the beautiful black woman Nurse Jones finished bandaging her hand. "Don't you know how to duck?" It sounded harsh, but both Teresa and I noted the deep concern in Cindy's voice. "Didn't duck enough, I guess." Teresa replied. "Of course if you had actually been there doing some police work, I might not've gotten hit at all." "Yeah, right. Always leading with your head in a gun battle." Cindy retorted. "But you're right: If I were there you'd be behind my hardbody ass." To most, that would've sounded like an insult, that Teresa would lag behind Cindy... but I realized that it was actually an admission that Cindy would go out of her way to protect Teresa, and I suspected I was the only one who caught it. Their banter triggered me to have a thought. I went into the hallway and began asking a couple of the patrolmen waiting there about what had happened. They were loyal to Malone, Ikea and Vice and did not want to talk to me, but I managed to elicit the story that a couple of patrolmen on the raid had been caught in a crossfire and Croyle had drawn their fire away and basically saved their asses. "Thanks, guys." I said. "If Ikea doesn't put Croyle in for a medal, I'm going to get statements from you and do it myself." The patrolmen looked at me a lot less harshly after I said that. ------------------------------ At 6:00am the next morning, Sunday, I walked into Police Headquarters as usual, and feeling very good. An hour before my throbbing cock was being deliciously sucked by my wife Melina. Her mouth was hot and wet and she was taking my length deep into her throat while her hand massaged my balls. In addition to being our normal morning blowjob, this was Melina's "thank you" for the party as well as the expensive pearl necklace I'd given her. Our marriage had been a bit strained since the Christmas attack by Elizabeth and Ned. On the surface, she seemed fine, but beneath the surface there was an edge to my wife that I'd not seen since just before our marriage. I was hoping the necklace would return some of the warmth to our relationship and that things would get much better. The good news was that her pregnancy seemed to be going well in the early stages. I knew it was weird and perverted, but it really excited me to think that my wedded wife had been impregnated by another man and that she was carrying his child. And as Melina's was going to town on my meat with unusual intensity, I sure wasn't complaining. My nut began to rise as I thought of how lovely Laura had looked at the party the night before. As my thoughts drifted to my baby growing inside Laura's magnificent, womanly body, I groaned as my climax overtook me. Despite my warning, Melina slid her mouth down my shaft and took my pulsing spurts of semen into her throat, greedily swallowing my entire load. That memory was good, but once inside the police headquarters building, my lassitude vanished. There was some tremendous tension in the air, undefined but clearly there. I went down to the patrolmen's break room to get coffee, to see if I could overhear anything, but the murmurs of the officers got even quieter when they saw me there. Things began to get clearer when I wandered over to the interrogation rooms. These rooms were constructed so that there was not and never could be an unlocked passageway from the jail and booking side of headquarters to other parts of the building. One door had to be secured for the other one to open. There was a rather large crowd of officers watching through the mirrored glass. Inside the interrogation room, Detective Steven Ikea was interrogating one of the arrested perps. The perp was young, in his early 20s, with dark hair and a hard face. I was relieved to see two uniformed patrolmen also in the room: Detective Ikea was well-known for getting physical with drug punks to extract information on who they were working for. His methods were often effective but bordered upon police brutality. As I walked up to the window, Captain Harold Malone looked balefully at me, unable to hide his sheer hatred of me. "What are you doing here?" he snarled. "This is not your case." "How's Croyle?" I asked in reply, and everyone listening instantly became attentive. "She's fine." Malone replied. The tension in the room was still there, and I was gaining the sense that it wasn't a me-vs-Malone or Vice-vs-MCD issue. At that moment, everyone's attention was diverted to the interrogation room. Ikea was trying to browbeat the perp, and was making a show of shouting at him. 

"Great job on the bust." I said, hoping that might get Malone to speak a bit. "Who's Ikea's toy in there?" "He's a Russian punk. We think he's been working for a drug ring syndicate around here. We interdicted a shipment last night." I suppressed a smile at Malone's use of the word "we", as if he'd personally been a part of it. "Senior Detective Ikea led the raid, did a great job." Malone continued, and I felt the tension in the room tangibly rise again. Meanwhile, in the interrogation room, Ikea thrust his face close to the Russian perp's face and began screaming at him some more. In reply, the Russian hawked and spat straight into Ikea's face. "You fucking bastard!" Ikea yelled, then moved forward and punched the Russian hard in the mouth. The Russian, whose hands were handcuffed behind him, fell to the floor. One of the uniformed officers restrained Ikea while the other wrestled the Russian up and back into his chair. "Get him out of there." Malone ordered. He meant Ikea. A Vice detective pressed a button, setting off a buzzer. Ikea instantly came to the door and into our hallway room. "Not a word out of you." Malone said to me, his finger pointing at my face, then grabbed Ikea's elbow and rapidly led him down the hall and toward the Vice room. "Listen you, you know better than that shit..." I overheard the Captain admonishing the Detective. I had no plans to say anything, as I would've done the same thing to a perp that spit in my face, and I was by no means alone in my thinking. I headed back to MCD, carrying a now empty coffee cup in my hand. As I turned into the room I started, shocked at the sight in front of me: Cindy Ross was pouring coffee for herself... and Detective Teresa Croyle. "She won't go home." Cindy said when she saw me, clearly exasperated. "She insisted on coming in." "I understand how she feels." I said. I had endured the same admonitions to rest while I was recovering from being shot. "Well, Croyle, are you okay for duty?" I asked. Teresa scowled at me. "Hell yes. I'm just fine." She took her coffee cup and stalked out, heading back to the Vice office. ------------------------------- "I'm going to go hide in the IT office." I announced an hour later. As if on cue, Chief Griswold entered the room. "No, stay the hell out of the basement. The evidence room is going crazy over last night's haul. In fact, that's why I came to get you. Come to my office." In the Chief's office were Paula Patterson and the Evidence Dept. Supervisor, an older man named Charlie who really could no longer serve any physically active position due to previous injuries, but also heavy drinking. He was clean now and did his job well. He always wore a gray baseball cap, indoors or outdoors, hot or cold, rain or shine. "Our problem," Chief Griswold growled, his white mustache twitching, "is what the hell to do with all these drugs we confiscated. We don't have room in the entire basement, much less the evidence rooms, to keep the stuff." "We don't have any secure warehouses? Nothing where we keep cars or weapons?" I asked. "No." Charlie said. "We never expected a haul this large." "Won't the DEA be coming into this, won't they take this shit off our hands?" I asked. "I'm expecting their call any minute now." the chief replied. "But we will still have the burden of storing the evidence. Any ideas?" "Just one." I said. "Hire a few semi trucks and park the the trailers in the restricted parking lot here at headquarters, and load the shit into them until we can destroy it." "Yeah, that's one idea." the chief said. "Any others?" "We can rent a fenced warehouse somewhere in the city." Paula said. "It'll have to be constantly guarded, though." "Either way, we're talking a big expenditure of manpower." the chief said, more as a growl than anything else. "Alright, Charlie, come up with a solution for me." --------------------------------- Tuesday morning, 7:30am. After listening to the morning news on the TV, I asked the team "Guys, is it just me or is there a lot of tension around the place today?" "It's not just you." Hugh replied. "Nobody's saying anything to anybody. The patrolmen aren't saying much whenever I speak to them, either." "I think I know what it is," Tanya said, "but I'm not sure. Ikea has been gloating about the bust. Around here and to the Media. He hasn't said a word about Teresa Cunt getting shot, though. A lot of guys are really upset about the way he's acting and taking the credit, some guys are saying he actually fucked it up and let some people get away, and some are saying Teresa's wound was his, Ikea's, fault." "Well, I can do something about all that right now." I said, grinning. I stalked out the side entrance of the room and turned immediately into the Vice office next door, my team discreetly following. Sure enough, when I entered the Vice room, Steven Ikea was in there bragging loudly about his role in leading the bust. The rest of the room was filled by detectives either bored with the story or glaring at Ikea. Teresa was not in the room. "De-tec-tive Ikea." I said, interrupting his story. He scowled when he saw who it was. "Are you going to put Croyle in for a citation?" Looking puzzled, Ikea sneered "Why?" "Well for openers, she got shot saving two officers from getting blown away." I replied with alacrity. "She did her job." Ikea said, his voice sneering and condescending. "She did what I expected her to do when I brought her on the mission, nothing more." "Okay, just wanted to make sure. I'll put her in for it myself." I said, then walked out before anyone could say a word, leaving behind a wake of shifting emotions. ----------------------- "What in the fuck are you doing?" Captain Harold Malone demanded. I was in the empty office next to Paula's, typing up the citation report for Teresa, having formally interviewed and received written statements from several officers at the scene. "Writing up a citation for Detective Croyle, doing Ikea's job since he said he wasn't going to." I replied. "That's my fucking job, dipshit." Malone growled. He was visibly angry, and not just at me doing the job, but the trap I'd sprung on Ikea. "Give me those goddamned affidavits." I handed him the folder containing all the information. Paula and Cindy Ross were in the anteroom, watching. "I'll get Croyle her damned citation. You stay the fuck out of my business." Malone ordered, then strode out of the room. Paula and Cindy returned my grin as I came out of the office. We knew Malone would keep his word and get Teresa the citation, and we knew even more about the shifting morale and loyalty situation. As the story spread around the building like wildfire, the atmosphere around the headquarters building improved tremendously. As did my stature. Part 3 - An Offer To Be Refused It was noon the next day, Wednesday. It was overcast and cold, and it looked like bad weather was trying to decide whether or not to come in and dump on us. "Board of Regents weather." Laura like to call it. "Can't decide what it wants to do." I was sitting outside on the patio of a sandwich shop near the park in the center of town, having been at the nearby Courthouse complex during the morning. I wanted to feel the cold to help myself think more clearly. There was a lot to think about: -- Neither the DEA, FBI nor the State had contacted our police department about the drug bust. This was disturbing, especially in light of the size of the haul. -- Thinking of the size of the haul, it was clear that a junction point for a huge distribution network had been established. -- The storage of the haul was not a solution that appealed to me: it was being stored in a rented warehouse, and while the facility was fenced, secured and guarded, it could still become a target. -- Why doesn't our Police Department have a SWAT team? -- Was Ikea and the Vice squad just lucky in interdicting a haul this size? Was this legitimate police work? Did someone tip off the cops, to get the police to do the dirty work of removing competition? Are there dirty cops in on all this? Since beginning work with the Town & County Police, I'd begun to see the merest glimmers that something was not right about some of the drug busts that had gone down, but there was nothing I could point my finger at, at least not yet-- Just at that moment, my "spidey sense" told me to come back to the present. Just in time, too. I recognized the swarthy, overweight man who was approaching me, wearing sunglasses despite the overcast day. The eight men guarding him were trying to be unobtrusive, but were failing. He came up to me and sat down at my table, not awaiting invitation. My hand was in my pocket... gripping my backup gun. I knew who he was. His name was Sergei Molotov. He was a Russian gangster, a higher-up in a big-time Russian-connected drug cartel... and one of the most brutal criminals known to law enforcement authorities. 

 "I would speak with you, Detective." he said, his accent thick. I noted that despite the appearance of being overweight, Molotov was in good shape underneath the belly. "So it would appear." I replied dryly. What about?" Russian Roulette Ch. 01 "Your police department is holding two of my men." Molotov intoned. "I... would like them back." "I'm sure you do." I said. "You can always post their bail." I knew that bail had been denied for these perps the day before, despite the stature and very high price of the lawyers representing the perps. "You fill me with humor, Detective." Molotov said with joviality that fooled no one present. "However... I do not think you fully understand the gravity of the situation." "Au contraire." I replied. "One of my fellow Detectives was shot by your perps. And the amount of cocaine seized could kill every person in this entire county, much less make them addicts. The DEA is going to be all over that haul, and wonder where it came from. Oh yes, Mr. Molotov, I fully understand." "I will not waste any more of your immensely valuable time, nor mine." Molotov said, his voice lowering slightly. "I want to know the location where you are hiding those drugs, and I want my men freed and returned to me. I want you to tell me... now." "You have got to be kidding." I said. "I never make jokes." said Molotov. "I am offering you the opportunity to make a lot of money. This is a new police department for you; you have no loyalty to them, and they will never pay you what you can earn working with me on small occasions. Just some... advice, some information here and there, from time to time." "You didn't hear me: You have got to be kidding." Molotov frowned. "I was hoping to keep the conversation friendly. It appears that won't be possible. I leave the offer on the table, but I also will add that there will be much blood shed in this town if I do not get my drugs and my men back. And some of that blood might belong to people that you care for." I stood up. "Get out of here, shit stain." I said, taking my gun out of my pocket and levelling it at him. "If I ever see you again, you will regret it... while you remain breathing, that is." Molotov's eyes burned through his sunglasses. "I am sure that a detective with your powers of observation did not fail to notice that I did not come here alone." "Yes, but can they kill me before I kill you? I'm willing to find out. Are you?" I said, completely unafraid, a surreal calm overtaking me. Molotov got up slowly, making sure to not get any nearer to me. "You will regret the actions you have taken today." He began to walk away. 
 "I don't think so." I said. "In fact, I look forward to our next meeting." Molotov looked at me curiously; I don't think he'd ever been challenged in quite that way. Only after Molotov and his men had left did I sit down, my quaking knees unable to hold me up any longer... Part 4 - Spinning The Revolver Cylinder I notified the Police Department of my encounter with Sergei Molotov. The chief called a meeting of the entire department in the large auditorium, where a briefing was given on Molotov, his known associates, and gave admonitions for everyone to be on full and heightened alert. "I've called the DEA and the FBI, since they haven't called us yet." the chief said as he met with me alone an hour later. "I can't seem to get anything out of anyone. They say they'll call back, but I can tell they're bullshitting me." "I may have an avenue into finding out why." I said. "But I really don't understand why they're not taking any interest in this at all." "The only thing I can think of is that they've got a mole on the inside of the Molotov organization." the chief replied, "and despite the size of our bust, they don't want to move in and possibly compromise him or her. So do be careful about any digging you do." ------------------------------- "Okay, I'll contact Fred Dixon." Laura said as we ate lunch together at a restaurant just across the street from Campus. "But he's just an FDA agent." "Yeah, right." I said, letting Laura know that I wasn't that dumb, and that Dixon was not just a food inspector. "I just want to know why there's been zero interest from the Feds or State on one of the biggest drug busts in this entire nation in 20 years." "I'll see what I can find out." Laura said. Her work with Dr. Heinz at the University brought her into contact with the FDA and Agent Dixon frequently... among others. If there was anything he or his fellow Federal agents knew, she was the only one in the County would be able to elicit anything. "Be careful yourself." I admonished. "Molotov directly threatened me and 'the people I care about'. That means you, too." "Gotcha." Laura replied. "But I can take care of myself. In the meantime..." she said, looking at her watch, "I've got to be getting back. We got up to leave, paying the bill. As we approached the street to cross it, my heightened sense of alert caused me to look more sharply down the road-- --and there it was! The car was bearing down on us at high speed! "Look out!" I yelled, grabbing Laura, tackling her, pulling her back almost into the restaurant. The car had swerved to hit us but missed by a couple of feet, taking out a couple of tables that fortunately were empty. I pulled out my gun as the driver screeched to a halt, and as he opened the door and aimed his gun I fired, striking him in the hand... which for me was a "miss." The gun fell to the ground and the driver pulled the door shut and screeched off. I could not get off another shot without risking the lives of others, but I did get the license plate. An eye for an eye. His hand wounded in reply for Teresa's. But I had been shooting to kill. Damn... I "missed." Fortunately, Laura was okay. I insisted upon escorting her to get checked out at University Hospital, and the report was that she and the baby were fine. Whew! ----------------------- 8:30pm. Hugh Hewitt and two buddies were walking out of the grocery store with items they had purchased for their party the next evening. The lot was about nearly full of cars, and Hugh had parked some distance away. As he approached his car, he noticed the van a few spaces down from it. Hugh Hewitt was a combat veteran and decorated hero. His instincts had never left him since returning home. He always kept everything in his vision and knew just where exits and cover points were, no matter where he was. It was these instincts that saved three lives. Out of the corner of his eye, Hugh saw the gun being aimed out of the driver's window of the van parked next to his car. "Gun!" he yelled, dropping down immediately. His friends, also combat veterans, hit the deck immediately, as well, and the shot fired over their heads. Hugh had his gun out and fired at the van, but it was already moving, backing out. The driver then floored it and came right at the three men, but they were moving and rolling out of the way in plenty of time. Hugh got a partial plate as the van screeched around a corner and was gone. ----------------------- 12:06 am, early Saturday morning. Town Fitness Centers had closed at midnight, and only the owners were still there. "Okay, any old business?" Melina asked, sitting behind her desk in her office at the gym. She was wearing a tank top, gym shorts and athletic shoes. And no bra. "No." replied Cindy Ross, sitting on the edge of the desk, wearing her dark blue police jumpsuit. And no bra. "Any new business?" Melina asked.
 "Just the financial report." Cindy said. Melina showed her the sheet of papers, filled with numbers. The club was doing well. "I move we enter this financial report into the minutes." Cindy said. "So done. Any other business?" "I move we adjourn." "Seconded and passed. This quarterly meeting of Town Fitness Centers LLC is hereby adjourned." said Melina. "Okay, that's out of the way. So what are you doing tomorrow night?" She meant that night, Saturday, not realizing the day change. "I'm going to Hugh's party. Aren't you and Don coming?" Cindy asked. "Yes, I think so." Melina said. "Think you're going to get a shot at me at midnight?" Her gray eyes were glowing. There was going to be the kissing ritual at midnight, as if it were New Year's Eve. "I might have to get in line." Cindy said, getting off the desk. "So I guess I'd better get what I can right now." Melina swung her legs out from under the desk as Cindy approached her. The muscular blonde straddled the beautiful brunette's legs then eased down, sitting lightly on top of her. Cindy lowered her mouth to Melina's as the women shared a gentle kiss, followed by a much deeper one. Melina's hands slid up the sides of Cindy's uniform until they were cupping her breasts as Cindy's hands explored Melina's large melons under her tank top. "Mmm, you know what?" Cindy whispered as she nuzzled Melina's neck and earlobe. "I can't believe that your husband is the best detective I've ever seen... but he still doesn't know you're a lesbian." "Bi." Melina answered as their mouths met in another wet, smacking kiss. "I go both ways." "Nobody's perfect." Cindy smiled, then mashed her mouth to Melina's. The two women made out hotly, their hands exploring each other more fiercely. "You think maybe your husband does know?" "Who knows?" Melina said. "But if he does, he's never said a word about it. Now shut the fuck up and kiss me!" The women kissed deeply for long seconds as Cindy began working Melina's shirt up, and beginning to remove it. *CLINK!* "What the fuck?" Cindy said, hearing the noise outside in the main gym area. "Is anyone here?" "Not supposed to be." Melina replied. Cindy got up as Melina opened the drawer to her desk and pulled out a .45 caliber pistol. Cindy already had her .40 caliber service weapon ready to go. The women swiftly went to the door and out on the balcony overlooking the gym. Four men in masks were walking across the floor towards the stairs, guns drawn. One of them looked up and saw the women just as the women saw them. "There they are!" the masked man shouted as he pointed his weapon at Cindy and fired. Cindy and Melina began firing back as the gunmen began pumping rounds out of their semi-automatic pistols. Cindy was crouching, but began moving forward as Melina stood stock still, firing. "Unnh!" Cindy cried out as she was hit in the left shoulder. By this time, two men were falling dead and the other two had less than two seconds to live. Melina fired unerringly and then it was eerily quiet in the room, except for Cindy's groaning. It all had happened in less than six seconds. "Cindy! Are you okay?" Melina asked, rushing over to her business partner's side. "Yeah, I think so." Cindy replied. She had her police radio out already, and was calling for paramedics and police. ----------------------------- "So," Teresa said sarcastically, "who is the dumbass who can't duck now? Hmm?" They were in the same room at the University Hospital where Cindy had trash-talked her. Cindy was sitting on the bed, her shoulder bandaged. "That would be me." Cindy said. "And where were you when all this excitement was going on? Hmmm?" "Obviously not behind your hardbody butt, much less in front of you where I needed to be." Teresa said. "Damn good thing Melina was, though. From what I saw at the scene, I've never seen shooting like that before." It was 3:00am, and Cindy had been extremely fortunate that her wound was superficial and didn't hit any bones or major blood vessels. She also seemed determined to one-up Teresa by getting up and getting back to work, but her wound was more serious than Teresa's. "Easy, girl." Teresa said, helping Cindy up. I piped in at that time. "Take it easy, Cindy. And you are off duty as of right now, whether your like it or not. So you relax." Teresa had arrived nearly instantly at the gym after Cindy's call for help, had assisted Tanya in the investigation until C.S.I. arrived, then rode with Cindy and Melina in the ambulance to the hospital. I'd visited the crime scene, where Tanya Perlman was overseeing the investigation and collection of evidence, then came over to the hospital to check up on my detective and my wife. "How is Melina?" Cindy said. "She wasn't hurt, was she?"
 "Not a scratch." Melina replied, walking up to us. "Can't say the same for the bastards that walked in on us, though. Who did I kill tonight, Don?" She asked the question impassively, as if having killed four evil men, leaving the world no poorer, had simply been the next item on her LLC meeting agenda. The four dead men had already been identified as Russians, and underlings of Sergei Molotov. "Good thing those Russian pricks can't shoot worth a damn." I said. "Okay, Croyle, take her home." I told Teresa. "Make damn sure she gets some sleep, too." Teresa said she would. Melina and I left the hospital, walking arm in arm. Back at home, Melina was in my arms as soon as we walked in the door. "I don't want to be alone tonight." she said, and I was definitely going to make sure she wasn't. We made out hotly for several minutes, but instead of taking her to the floor or couch, I picked up my wife and carried her upstairs to bed. As we shared deep kisses, I didn't know it but I was about to experience fully what Cindy had hoped to have a few hours before. And this time there were no interruptions as Melina and I made love, working ourselves out of most of our clothes as we groped and kissed each other. Some minutes later, as I thrust my condom-sheathed cock deeply into Melina with hard strokes, feeling her legs wrapped tightly around me, I began feeling angry. These Russian thugs of Molotov's had tried to murder my wife Melina, my lover Laura and one of my detectives today. I was less than appreciative. And I was going to get revenge. "Ohhh, yeah baby, fuck me just like that... fuck me hard!" Melina gasped as I relentlessly pounded her, driving my meat into her with increasingly fierce anger. It wasn't long before my balls tightened and my cock exploded as I climaxed simultaneously with my wife's orgasm. "Ooooh, that was so wonderful, baby." Melina whispered as we cuddled. As she drifted off to sleep, my mind was working. I had a plan and I was going to let Sergei Molotov know that he'd fucked with the wrong police detective. And what I had planned would hurt him far more than he would be able to hurt me... To be continued Russian Roulette Ch. 02 Russian Roulette: The Rise of The Iron Crowbar The order of my stories to read is: Todd & Melina series, Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series, Russian Roulette series. This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above. Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas. There is very little sex in this story, just some flirtations and making out, as the gritty police drama reaches its exciting conclusion. There will be a lot more HOT sex in future editions of these continuing stories... Part 5 - Putting The Gun To The Head "Amazing." Tanya said the next morning as she handed me her report. Cindy was sitting next to me in the MCD room, officially off duty pending the investigation of the incident. There was no question that it was a good shoot, but procedures took time, and besides: I wanted Cindy to be sitting on her lovely, hardbody butt and resting if she wouldn't take good advice and go back home to bed for a while. "Wow, you're right." I said. The expedited report said that the four men had fired at least sixteen shots, only one of which had connected, that being to Cindy's shoulder. Cindy's weapon had been fired four times, two hitting two perps with non-fatal wounds and two missing hitting anyone. Melina had also fired four shots... and all four had found their marks unerringly and delivered immediate death to the four Russian perps. "Cindy, you know what this means, don't you?" I said. "Range time, my friend." "I hear ya." Cindy replied. "But good God, Melina's shooting was incredible. Can we recruit her onto the Force?" "I suspect not." I said drily. My beeper went off; the chief was ready to see me for my requested private conversation in his office. "Is this office bugged?" I asked as I sat down in his office, letting the chief know that I was not going to be explicit about what I was going to talk about. "Probably." the chief replied, knowing that Internal Affairs very likely had bugged every room in the building. We just didn't know if and when they were listening in at any particular point in time. "But don't worry about it. What do you have for me?" "So where did we put the evidence from the bust?" I asked. 

"In three warehouses. Most of it is in two of them, one has just a little bit. We are hoping that if anything leaks, it'll be the one that has the small amount." the chief replied. "Who knows the locations?" "Me, the Evidence Supervisor, Captain Charles, and ADA Patterson." "Why Charles?" I asked. "He has to assign patrolmen to guard the locations." Captain Leslie Charles was the captain of patrolmen and uniformed officers. He'd been a patrolman for years, eschewing promotions that would take him out of uniformed service. When the Town and County services had merged, the Captain of Patrolmen position had been created just for him. He was loved by his officers, tough but definitely keeping their interests and safety in his every thought. He was of direct English descent and had gray hair. He would look at me balefully whenever I talked to him, and I knew he wasn't particularly happy with someone like me coming in as a Detective from the outside instead of working my way through the ranks. I'd worked hard to get in as good graces with him as possible, and made sure to ask his opinion of officers that were candidates for Detective and Supervisory positions so that we could monitor them for promotion. I think he appreciated that. "Good enough." I said. "What I want to do is perhaps leak the third location, where there is not much stuff." "To whom?" the chief asked. "Malone and Ikea." I said. "Maybe even put them in charge of checking up on the security arrangements. If they don't leak it, someone in Vice will." Chief Griswold looked hard at me, then smiled. "So you think we've got a leak in Vice, do you now?" I just nodded, but not saying that I suspected we had much, much more. "Then I want to--" I told the chief the rest of my plan, couched in careful terms, saying nothing directly but knowing the chief would figure it out. He was more than a little bit unhappy with it, as I expected, but agreed to let me do it. The plan was set for Sunday night. -------------------- "I talked to Dixon." Laura said Saturday afternoon when she stopped by Melina's house to dress for the party and go with us. "What did he say?" I asked. "Nothing." Laura replied. "In fact, he was very uncomfortable and evasive when I asked why the Feds haven't come in to clean up a huge drug bust. I've never seen him like that before." 
 "Oh really." I said, thinking. "You think he knows something? That they have something planned? Or are they trying to hide something." "They're hiding something." Laura said. "I think so because Dixon normally would let me know if they're planning anything so that I can keep an eye on Dr. Heinz and his people and keep them out of the way of any... confusion." "Well," I said, "if we'd stumbled on some sting operation of theirs, they would at least let the chief know, wouldn't they?" "I don't know. But I have my own sources, babe, that normally tell me if something is going on anywhere around my 'turf'. But this time I am not hearing a damn thing." "I think we will in the next couple of days." I said. I volunteered nothing further, and Laura did not ask. Hmmm, I thought to myself.... ---------------------- The party was a hit. Hugh Hewitt and his roommates, both Army veterans, were throwing it in the rec room of their apartment complex. There was plenty of food, dancing, talk, and freely flowing drink. There were a lot of very pretty women there who were friends of Hugh and his buddies, and I suspected that their cocks had found their way into the pussies of some of those young women. To my surprise, there were also a number of older people there, couples in their 30s and 40s. Hugh and his buddies seemed to know many of these wives. I had arrived with Melina, but only saw her sporadically as a lot of men were vying to talk or dance with her. Laura was "officially" with my nephew Todd, but of course Laura became my partner for the evening while Todd worked the room, knowing many of the women there already (no surprise to me), and of course ultimately working his way into being Melina's date for the evening. A number of the older women flirted with me, sometimes even in front of Laura. A couple of these married women had had too much to drink, and I was shocked when both of them said a variation of "I've heard that you have a big, hard cock. Hard like... iron. I'd love to try it out sometime." I was rendered speechless, and as both women were good looking I wouldn't mind fulfilling their dreams... but how did they know about how hard my erect member was? Laura quickly asserted herself as my date before things could go further with any other women, though, and I didn't mind. As midnight approached, I wondered who would pair off and share a kiss at midnight... and maybe a lot more afterwards. As the moment arrived, we counted down the seconds, cheered, and then there was a lot of kissing. Laura and I shared a warm kiss. Hugh was kissing one of the older women; I wasn't sure if she was married or not. To my surprise Melina was not kissing Todd; in fact, she was kissing the younger brother of one of Hugh's roommates, a tall, handsome, well-built young man just a couple of years out of college. I never caught his name, but I heard someone call him "The Leader". Speaking of Todd, out of the corner of my eye I saw the handsome young man in a deep kiss with a woman with a fantastic body. To my shock, I realized that it was... Teresa Cunt! She had actually come to the party, and she had been talking to Todd, Cindy and Melina quite a bit. Still scowling as always, but present and socializing. And now she was sharing a deep, tongue-twining kiss with my young nephew! I knew Todd was good, but I to give him credit for being damn good if he could nail Teresa. I also felt a bit jealous, as I longed to deeply fuck her myself and it looked like my nephew was going to be the one to score with her. Oh well, I had Laura, and I deepened my kiss with her. Where Cindy had gone to, I didn't know for ten more minutes, until she came out of the kitchen with a very pretty girl that looked a bit flushed. I wondered what had transpired in the kitchen at midnight, my loins warming at the thought... and also the thought of the next few hours with Laura, Melina and Todd at Melina's house... --------------------- "Hugh, I need your help." I said. It was early Sunday morning. The first stage of the plan was in effect: the chief had just instructed Captain Malone and Detective Ikea to make sure the security at Warehouse #3 (as we called it) was good through the night. I fully expected Sergei Molotov to move quickly and try to recover some of his cocaine that very night. "Hell yeah, I want a shot at those slugs." Hugh readily agreed, knowing what I was about to say. I told him the plan and he said we needed more people to make sure it went off smoothly. He suggested his two roommates, both with military experience, both on the police auxiliary already (which took care of legal issues)... and both who had been shot at by Molotov's thug the other night. I didn't want to take this outside the Force, but it made sense to have their experience, and Hugh assured me that they could be trusted. I told Hugh that if they did well, I'd try to get them full-time jobs on the Force... in a new SWAT team I was trying to organize. We also were bringing along Tanya Perlman and two patrolmen that I'd come to trust, their names being Morton and Rudistan. I hoped they'd be acceptable for what we were doing. At 8:00pm, Cindy and Teresa suddenly appeared in the MCD room. "We want to go with you." Cindy said. Teresa nodded vigorously. "You're both wounded." I replied, "and I want them taken alive, which means I don't want any overreactions." 

 "You're wounded, too. And we won't kill them." Cindy said. "We're professionals." she added sullenly. "No one is saying you're not." I said, then had an insight. "I'll tell you what: you can come along and stay outside, and warn us if anyone comes up once we're in, okay?" They agreed. "But you are NOT to engage anyone at any time, is that clear?" They weren't happy, but they agreed. I also took the opportunity to ask Teresa something. "I noticed you spending some time with my nephew Todd on New Years Eve." I said, not mentioning that their time together was a passionate kiss. "Is he charming you as much as he does everyone else?" To my surprise Teresa didn't scowl, but her face seemed to become a little sad. "He reminds of someone I used to know... reminds me a lot of him." "Your ex-husband?" I asked. The question might not be appropriate, but I felt this was the best chance I'd ever had of getting this woman to open up. "Oh no, not him." Teresa said, her voice trailing off. I left it alone, telling her to get a police radio and get ready for the mission. At 9:00pm, I assembled the team in the parking lot. Despite the bitter cold, they stood and listened as I explained the plan. If they were shocked, they totally hid it, and they were eager for action. We would not wear any police insignia nor openly show our badges; this operation was to be "unofficial." We would wear black jumpsuits with no name tags or insignia. We'd go in and nab any perps, but if Molotov himself showed up, we would not be making arrests. I ordered everyone not to kill anyone unless it was absolutely necessary, and I particularly wanted Molotov alive. We entered the grounds of the warehouse from the rear. The chief had ordered security pulled off the site, saying that we'd moved what little evidence was there, which was almost true. Around midnight, four large vans drove to the front of the warehouse, the perps having cut the chain to the front gate. As I hoped, Sergei Molotov had come personally. "What idiots the police here are." Molotov said as his six man team exited the vehicles. Perhaps he'd forgotten what Cindy and Melina had done to four of his men in their botched gym raid. Let the fatass keep thinking we were stupid, I thought to myself. They went inside. The lights were fully on, and there were a couple of pallets of evidence in the warehouse, but not much else... just a table and chair. The lights on and the lack of much stuff in the building should've been a dead giveaway. That's a clue, fuckheads! I thought to myself, but Molotov seemed oblivious that anything was wrong. His loss. At my signal, we sprang upon them! "GET YOUR HANDS UP!!!" Hugh screamed as we ran into the warehouse, guns drawn and levelled at the perps. We all started yelling "GET 'EM UP!" as the confused men complied. Within seconds they were all stripped of their weapons and were lying on the floor spread eagle, except Molotov. Part 6 - Pulling The Trigger I walked up to Molotov, wearing my favorite Tilley hat with my Airborne wings affixed to them. Normally I had my police badge on the hat as well, but had taken it off for this "extracurricular" exercise. I was carrying something else as well: a crowbar. It was a bit longer than normal, made of solid iron, and painted royal blue. "Well, Mr. Molotov, perhaps we are not the idiots here." I said, keeping my voice quiet and smooth. "You walked right into the trap. I really am shocked that such an obvious ploy would fool such brilliant men as yourselves. "Or maybe..." I added, using my words as a dagger, "maybe your best four men were the ones shot dead in my wife's gym the other night, yes?" Molotov's face switched from shock to furious anger. "You son of a bitch." Molotov said. "My lawyer will have me out of your puny jails in a very short time, and then you will find out who is going to be shot dead!" "Last time you said I didn't understand, Sergei." I said. Molotov's men were looking at us with unappeasable hatred in their eyes for me at the disrespect I'd just shown their leader in calling him by his first name, which he hated. And that was just the beginning. "But it is you who now apparently does not understand. You are not under arrest right now. Your high-priced lawyers are nowhere near here.... and you won't be shooting anyone once I'm done with you." "What, are you going to shoot me, here and now? And you call yourself a police officer?" Molotov said, but his voice was getting shakier. "Police?" I said, pretending naivety as I walked around until I was behind his left flank. "What police? I see no police here." The gravity of Molotov's situation began to dawn on him. "Why you..." Molotov said, beginning to turn to attack me. He was not fast enough. *Thwack!* I swung the crowbar as hard as I could and the length of it connected solidly with his back right at the shoulder blades. Molotov gasped and collapsed onto the table. As he tried to get up, Morton and Rudistan grabbed his arms and held him down. "Okay, asshole." I said. "You tried to bribe me, then threatened me. Then you tried to kill my family and fellow officers. I don't appreciate that one bit, you piece of dog shit. So it's time to teach your stupid fat ass an unforgettable lesson." *Thwack!* Again I swung the iron crowbar as hard as I could, connecting with Molotov's back below where I'd hit him before, but not too low. I knew that these blows would cause his back to seize up and spasm sometime in the next half hour, and I was looking forward to seeing him in pain. "I warned you before what would happen if I ever saw you again, shithead," I said, my voice measured, flat and level. "And you didn't listen, so I'll be more clear this time: if I ever do see you again, Sergei, you will either die fast when this crowbar connects with your head..." I gently laid the crowbar on his ear, letting the weight of it make the point, "... which will explode it like a ripe melon." "Or..." I lowered the bar and laid it gently right over Molotov's kidneys. "... you'll die slowly and very painfully when I bust your kidneys." I saw real fear in Molotov's face for the first time. I continued, letting the smoothness and quietness of my voice be as unnerving as the tapping of the crowbar on my palm as I spoke: "I suggest you get the hell out of town and never come back, Sergei. And if you even think of attacking my officers or any of our families again, I will rip your nuts out and feed them to you before I kill you. Capice?" Molotov said nothing. "Stand him up." I ordered. The two patrolman complied, still holding the Russian mobster firmly. "Just to make sure I have your attention, Sergei." *Thump!* My army-boot kick to Molotov's balls was hard and vicious, and the steel-reinforced toe of the boot connected solidly. He collapsed in pain. Just then, my radio in my pocket came alive." "Red alert!" the voice on the radio said. "Vans approaching. Holy shit.... it looks like the FBI, guys!" It was Cindy's voice. "Let's go!" I ordered, directing my men out the back. Out back, we scooted to where we'd left our badges. I ordered everyone to put their badges back on, pinning my badge to my hat underneath the Airborne wings. Others put their badges back on or had them ready. We made our way around towards the front. The FBI agents had just rushed in (their jackets had "FBI" written in large letters on the back), then I led my guys in behind them. Although we got there quickly, the FBI men already had the Russians on the ground and in handcuffs. They had not attempted to flee when my team scrambled out the back door. Odd... "Freeze!" I ordered. The FBI agents turned their guns on us. "Whoa! Hold it guys!" I ordered, pretending surprise, raising my gun to point at the ceiling. My men followed my action. "FBI!" one agent said. "Drop your guns!" "We're the Town & County Police." I said, not dropping my gun but lowering it. I held up my badge and ID card that I carried in my leather wallet. The Agents relaxed. One of them, obviously the lead Agent, showed his I.D. and I caught the name "Muscone." "What are you guys doing here, Agent Muscone?" I asked. "We're busting this bastard and his men for a lot of drug charges." the lead FBI agent said, coming closer to me. Muscone had dark hair, looked slightly overweight but was in good shape, and he was the very picture of what one would expect an FBI officer to look like. "Why didn't you tell us about it?" I said, acting angry. "Like, er... we might have helped you instead of almost shooting you." "Sorry boys, but I had orders to move fast and we didn't have time to ask for your help. We're taking these guys with us, and this evidence, also." Agent Muscone said. "Ooooo-kay... Can we talk to them when you bring them to the station?" I asked, knowing that they weren't coming to the station. "We'll see. Meantime, you boys better go, this is our bust." Under normal circumstances, my detectives and men would've been shocked for me to acquiesce so willingly to the Feds' ordering us to leave like that. But I think my guys understood this time. "Okay guys, let's go." I ordered, with a wink as my back was turned to the FBI men. As my people turned to leave, I said to the lead Agent "We'll be glad to help you in any way we can when you get them down to the station." "Thank you." Agent Muscone said, then turned to his work as we left. "Geez, Sergei, what happened to you? You can't even stand up..." I heard him say as I exited the warehouse. Russian Roulette Ch. 02 Part 7 - Unloading The Gun (Epilogue) "Were those really FBI agents?" Morton asked. We were at the Irish Pub, which we called the Cop Bar, which the owner, a retired cop himself, had kept open for us upon a request from the chief. "Yes." I said. "And they were NOT expecting company tonight." "Are they going to bring those perps to the headquarters?" Hugh Hewitt asked. "I seriously doubt that we will ever see those perps again, including Molotov." I replied. "And just so you know, the FBI was not in on our deal tonight." I continued, a bit of anger in my voice as I mused. "Bunch of shitheads... they didn't contact us for a week, then thought they could sneak in, bust Molotov, and get out of town before we were any the wiser." "Why?" Tanya Perlman asked. "Why not cooperate with us? Why all the secrecy?" "I don't know." I said, "but I suspect one of two things. One is that they had a sting going or a mole inside Molotov's operation, and we accidentally stumbled on it. The other is that they're working with Molotov and again-- we stepped on their toes. Don't ask me which is right, as I have no clue at this time." "What about the two guys we have?" Hugh asked. "Oh, they're lawyered up." I said. "Ikea couldn't scare or beat a confession out of them; they're way too tough for him. I expect that the judge will be leaned upon to set bail for them, which will be paid... and then they'll be out and they also will disappear, never to be seen in this County again." "I'm worried for you, though." Tanya said. "If the FBI lets Sergei go, even for a minute, he is really going to come after your ass after what you did to him tonight." "We'll see." I said, smiling and brandishing the crowbar I'd used upon the Russian mobster's back. "There's plenty more where that came from for him. And next time I won't try to miss his kidneys. But I think we won't have to worry about Sergei Molotov or his gang again." "I hope you're right." Tanya said. Then to my surprise, she took the crowbar from me. "But in the meantime, I think we have Don's nickname, boys." She tapped me on the shoulder with the crowbar. "From henceforth, I dub thee 'The Iron Crowbar', and ye shall be known by that title forever.... the Crowbar for your expert use of this weapon..." "And the 'iron' part?" Hugh's roommate's younger brother, the guy called "The Leader, asked with a grin. "Oh, from what I hear from Professor Fredricson and some other ladies, the 'iron' part comes from being 'iron hard' where it counts the most." Tanya said, her cheeks a bit rosy. Everyone laughed, and I knew I'd been tagged.

"Oh boy....." I said, and endured a few more moments of banter from the team. "Now I want to talk to you guys about what this Police Force really needs... a SWAT team." Turning to Hugh and his friends, I asked "Are you Army combat vets interested in this?" ------------------------ I didn't tell anyone else all that I knew or had observed, to wit: -- there was still the issue of the original bust. Tip? Insider? -- I had guessed that the FBI would show up; my leak was for them just as much as for Molotov as bait. So who tipped off the Feds? And what was going on with their involvement? -- The State authorities, from the Narcotics Task Force (the State-level version of the DEA) to the SBI, had yet to speak to us and it appeared they were still completely out of the loop. Were they really that incompetent? Or are they so damn good that they're bamboozling even me, if I do say so myself? -- Would Molotov be back, wanting revenge for the crowbar welts I'd laid across his back? I suspected not, but I knew I'd just played a form of Russian Roulette... and that I would forever have to be on my guard against potential retaliation. However, it appeared that my suppositions had been correct: Sergei Molotov disappeared off the face of the earth. In reply to the chief's inquiries, the formal reply came from the FBI office in the City, which was 90 minutes away... not our local Fed building office and not Washington, DC. It was an apology for the non-notice of the jurisdiction breach, and a comment that Molotov would be taken care of by the Feds. Laura also got nothing from her contacts. Myron Milton's investigations through his computer wizardry had come up only with information that Molotov had asked for political asylum and was fully cooperating with Federal drug authorities after they threatened to deport him back to the Russian Federation. I didn't blame him; if he thought a crowbar across the back was bad, I'm sure he had even less desire to be on the business end of Vladimir Putin's brand of "justice"... not to mention what his fellow Russian mobsters might do to him. The FBI came and picked up the rest of the cocaine from the bust, making the case Federal and telling us to close our involvement in it. I was wrong about one thing: the FBI also took custody of the two men we had arrested; they were never released on bail. Meanwhile, the Media stopped reporting on the entire story, which had the pleasant side effect of robbing Steven Ikea of his glory in the continuing story. Cindy Ross and Teresa Croyle healed quickly and never lost work time, and they got their medals at the February 1st "Payday Activities" gathering of the entire Force in the large auditorium. They both received the Purple Order for being wounded in the line of duty (sort of a local version of a Purple Heart; I had one too), and Teresa received the heroism citation I'd nudged Malone into putting her in for. Of course Malone fucked it up somewhat by putting in Ikea for an even higher award, which was dispensed at the same time. Jeez... And me... I had a lot more respect around the "clubhouse"... but I was not going to shake the nickname of the "Iron Crowbar" anytime soon, especially when it spread to the University campus thanks to their Campus Police Lieutenant... and of course one lovely Professor of Psychology who was carrying my baby... Finis