Deep Inside by Polly Frost Page A

you?” Fuller had roared.
    â€œWhat makes you think you’ve got any claim on me?” I barked. I looked down at the farm boy beneath me. “Why’d you stop?” I yelled at him. “Keep fucking.”
    Because of that Fuller is now going to make me pay. But I won’t let him see me squirm.
    â€œHow’s it feel to sit behind a desk while some of us take bullets in the fight against Serzan?” I ask.
    Fuller’s eyes narrow. I hit my target. Then he puffs up and gives me a triumphant look.
    â€œAre you that out of it? That’s not like the Rachel I once knew. Top of the class at Quantico. You didn’t even suspect you were being watched?”
    I remember now…Two gray cars, one car on alternate days. A glint in the sun that might have been a camera.
    â€œNothing personal, Rachel. Just hard-assed orders from above—time to clean up the Serzan Unit,” Fuller says. “Your numbers are way, way down, and the new chief of police isn’t happy. To say the least.”
    Word was that the new chief was a tough son of a bitch, and deadly serious about his job.
    Fuller gives me a pitying look. “Wanna tell me about this bust you did a few hours ago? The chief wants to know why you didn’t bring the aliens in.”
    I wince, hope they haven’t been taping what they saw. “You don’t know how it works out on the street,” I growl. “You worry about rules and regs, but I have to deal with the real world.”
    Fuller leans over his desk, his face in mine. “I hear that you even had a Serzan tentacle up your ass out there,” he says.
    My pussy gives a throb as I recall the moment. That insistent, sweet tentacle winding its way around my thigh, tickling tender spots I’d lost track of and bringing them back to life…The feeling of its slick, perfect size making love so tenderly, then pounding me happily senseless into the tarmac.
    â€œHow is it, Rachel? How do you feel, knowing people call you an ‘alien-fucker’?” Fuller’s saying. Despite the air-conditioning, there’s sweat on his brow. “What’s it like to feel Serzan inside you?”
    â€œI wouldn’t know,” I say unconvincingly. “Probably not as good as that farm boy.”
    He slaps me. “I’ve owed you that for years,” he says.
    Something snaps in me and I punch him in the gut.
    Doubled over, Fuller hits a buzzer.
    â€œBring in backup,” he gasps. Then he slowly straightens. “Rachel, you’re under arrest. You know the routine. Give me the badge. Then the revolver. Then the Exploder. And do it slowly.”
    I’ve got mere seconds to act.
    â€œFuck you,” I say, pulling my guns out, training them on him.
    Armed and uniformed men and women burst into the room. I collar Fuller and wrap a strong arm around his neck, and level the Exploder at the uniforms in the doorway.
    â€œDon’t do it, Rachel,” Fuller says. “You’re washed up already. Do this, and you’ll never get out alive. Cooperate, I’ll see to it that you’re treated nicely in jail.”
    Jail? That means life without Serzan. I apply pressure to his windpipe and squeeze a trigger. I don’t care which trigger. A bullet grazes Fuller’s leg. “Any more of that and you’re a dead man. Who needs a career? Who needs you?”
    The uniforms in the doorway part, their guns trained on me, as I drag Fuller into the corridor. People emerge from offices, but I back out quickly enough to the stairwell, then throw Fuller down and spring out of the building.
    I hear a fast, pounding clatter behind me.
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    I burst onto the street in front of headquarters. It’s hot and humid even for Miami. There are dozens of cops only seconds behind me.
    I spot a man getting into his car. I run over, yank him out, get in, and pull the door shut behind me. The engine roars as I kick it into gear. There’s a