Copping an Attitude Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Totally Bound Publication

  Copping an Attitude

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-356-3

  ©Copyright Morticia Knight 2014

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright December 2014

  Edited by Sue Meadows

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 2.

  Sin City Uniforms

  COPPING AN ATTITUDE

  Morticia Knight

  Book two in the Sin City Uniform series

  Vegas is filled with human cast-offs, yet officer Parker McLean sees something special in hustler Slade Wolfgang. Unfortunately, so does Slade’s pimp who wants to sell him overseas in the sex trade.

  Hustler Slade Wolfgang has little choice over his fate. At the age of twenty, he’s had to survive any way he can since being thrown out of his home for being gay. As soon as he hit Vegas, Slade was lured into the hopeless world of prostitution where he’s become a virtual prisoner to his pimp, the ruthless Julio Estevez. His evil keeper has even threatened to sell Slade overseas as a sex slave.

  It’s another typical night on the Strip when Parker comes across Slade. His heart breaks every time he sees someone so young being exploited. Something in Slade’s eyes tells Parker the young man might be in real trouble though—especially after the recent spate of sex worker killings from a rival prostitution ring.

  The two men’s lives become intertwined when Slade is almost beaten to death. The danger grows, but so does the relationship between Parker and Slade. Parker helps Slade to heal from the horrific attack and their bond deepens. But the human traffickers are still out there—and they’re still looking for Slade.

  Dedication

  Many heartfelt thanks to the real Valeena for letting me steal her name and characteristics as well as allowing me to invent a completely different alternate reality for her!

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Bally’s: Caesars Entertainment Corporation

  Paris: Caesars Entertainment Corporation

  Planet Hollywood: Caesars Entertainment Corporation

  Jack Daniel’s: Brown-Forman Corporation

  Coke: The Coca-Cola Company

  Las Vegas Convention Center: Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority

  One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest: Ken Kesey, Viking Press and Signet Books

  The Stand: Stephen King, Doubleday

  Toyota: Toyota Motor Corporation

  Godzilla: Transworld Releasing Corp.

  Cheerios: General Mills, Inc.

  MasterChef: Shine America, One Potato, Two Potato

  Kevlar: DuPont

  Bellagio: MGM Resorts International

  Chapter One

  Slade rolled onto his side amidst the rumpled sheets of the dirty motel room in downtown Vegas, facing away from the man pulling his clothes back on. The john wasn’t anonymous the way most of them were, but he might as well have been. Slade had done his job—he didn’t have to bother pretending anymore that he gave a shit about the guy who’d just fucked him. The money had already been collected before Slade had even taken his dick out. He might only be twenty years old, but he’d been taught by the best pimp in Vegas. Of course, since his pimp was also the one who’d told him that, he could only assume that it was true.

  It didn’t matter. He had few choices. At least he wasn’t giving blow jobs for ten bucks behind the dumpster at the fast food joint he’d worked at back in Barstow.

  “Hey, kid, you hear me?”

  “Huh?” Slade looked up at the older pasty-faced businessman who sported what seemed to be an ever-growing paunch around his middle. The guy had requested Slade several times before. Even if he kinda turned Slade’s stomach a little, at least he wasn’t rough the way the others could be. He wasn’t dangerous to be alone with.

  Harold reached down and cupped Slade’s chin, tilting up his head. “I said, how would you like to be mine all the time? I could set you up in a studio apartment, give you some spending money. It won’t be much, I’m no Bill Gates.” He chuckled. “If you needed more cash, I could get you a few dates here and there with some of my friends, you know, to help out.” He rubbed Slade’s chin with his thumb, softly. It would’ve been a loving gesture in any other situation. “But I would always come first.” He laughed louder. “Literally.”

  Slade jerked his head away from him, fighting nausea at the idea of being kept by the smarmy man, being used at his will.

  How is it different from…?

  He pushed down the lump forming in his throat. “Julio owns me. He’d never let me go.”

  “I’ll buy you from him. Let me take care of it for you, Slade. Take care of you.”

  Harold leaned down to take a kiss and Slade rolled away.

  “Your time’s up, man. I gotta get back on the streets or Julio will beat the shit outta me.”

  Harold grabbed a fistful of Slade’s hair and yanked him hard, pushing his shoulders down forcefully until he was pinned to the bed by Harold’s body. He might be a middle-aged man who obviously didn’t know what the inside of a gym looked like, but he was bigger than Slade’s thin, hundred and forty pound frame.

  There was a disturbing glint in Harold’s eyes. The way he squashed him into the bed, the way he pressed his fingers painfully into the flesh of Slade’s arms was harsher than he’d ever experienced with him before.

  “That’s why you need me, Slade.” He growled it out before his voice gentled. He carded his fingers through Slade’s shaggy dark hair. “Love this. Keep it longer, past your ears.” Harold clutched it again, just enough that there was the bite of a sting. “Such a pretty thing. So sweet. You need me to protect you from him. I’ll set you up somewhere secretly. Just stay inside and he won’t ever find you.”

  Great. A prisoner.

  �
��Harold, please. You’re hurting me.”

  After crushing his mouth to Slade’s, Harold took what he wanted and there was nothing Slade could do. Even when he shoved his limp cock into Slade’s mouth, Harold still hadn’t been able to get it up again. He ended up rolling Slade onto his stomach instead and had stabbed into him with his fingers. Harold told Slade that he knew he loved it, that Slade was only faking by resisting. As soon as Slade gave in, told Harold how he thought about getting fucked by him all the time, how he jacked off dreaming about him, Harold stopped.

  “That’s better baby.” Harold kissed his temple, his cheeks, brushed over his lips. Slade shuddered in revulsion. “Mmm, see? You tremble under my touch. I know you want me. Just be honest and we’ll get along fine.”

  Blessedly, he let Slade go then stood, adjusting his pants then refastening his belt. “Here’s another fifty.” He tossed the bill on the bed next to Slade. “I can’t get back here for a couple weeks or my wife will get suspicious. We’ll work it out, though. You’ll see.”

  Slade nodded, fighting back the tears. There was no use in crying. He’d figured that out three years before when his staunchly religious parents had kicked him out once they’d caught him kissing his boyfriend. They’d been terrified he would turn his younger brother gay. He’d been seventeen and still had three months to go before he graduated, so he’d taken a job at a fast-food place to try to survive. One free burger a day and a few bucks to put in his pocket—but not enough to even rent a motel room every night.

  He sat on the bed, not daring to move in case Harold started up with him again. After he’d left, Slade went back to his thoughts about those days. The first offer to suck a guy’s dick had been one night when he’d been sleeping out on the streets. He hadn’t been able to afford a room for the previous three nights and he’d been freezing. The ten dollars the guy had tempted him with added to what else he’d scrounged together had been just enough for him to get a place to stay.

  Eventually, he’d learned through some of the other kids on the streets that Vegas was the place to go, that there was plenty of really good money to be made there. No one mentioned that he’d get the ever-loving shit beaten out of him for working an area that belonged to an established pimp. After Julio had taught him a lesson, he’d fucked him raw for days to ‘erase his debt’ for stealing clients in Julio’s territory. Then he’d set him loose on the streets.

  He sighed with the same resignation as always.

  Time to get back to work.

  * * * *

  Parker tossed his empty coffee cup across the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department’s break room, missing the garbage bin by several feet.

  “Dammit.”

  “That was pathetic, McLean.”

  His patrol partner, Darren, scooped up the runaway trash then disposed of it before dropping into a chair next to Parker. He leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head.

  “I saw Shawn today. He’s home from his getaway with Trent. He should be on foot patrol tonight.”

  “Oh yeah? Cool.”

  His fellow officer had snagged a wonderful man. Firefighter Trent Marshall had suffered through some difficult times after he’d lost his previous lover and partner—another cop—in the line of fire. Shawn had been the special person to bring Trent out of the darkness that had enveloped him for over two years.

  “I don’t know how thrilled he’ll be about going back on shift this weekend.”

  “Please. I was attempting to forget it existed.”

  ‘It’ was Halloween. The Strip was out of control under the best of circumstances. All year round tourists dressed up, drank copious amounts of alcohol, got into fights, committed lewd acts in public, pissed on casino walls and paid for sex—but Halloween? It was like an open air mental institution. Every public servant in the Convention Center Area Command would be on call and pulling longer shifts than normal.

  Darren shook his head. “You’ve been on the force almost ten years, Parker. It’s not like you don’t know the drill.”

  “Knowing it and loving it aren’t the same thing.”

  Darren leaned in. “You don’t have to love it. Just plan ahead on how you’re gonna unwind after it’s all over.” Darren winked.

  Parker raised his eyebrows. “Lisa, Ashley or… Milly? Muffy…?

  “Misty, you ass. What about you? Brett gonna be in town? It’ll be the first week of the month.”

  Parker couldn’t restrain the curl at the edge of his mouth.

  “Ah-ha! He is.” Darren schooled his expression, a tone of seriousness. “So… You’ve been seeing each other exclusively for over a year now, right?”

  The curl turned to a smirk and he huffed. “No.”

  “Longer?”

  “Not exclusively.”

  Not that they hadn’t tossed the idea around once or twice. They got together whenever Brett came into town on business, which was usually the first week of every month. However, the reality was that Brett would never be more than a fuck buddy. There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with the guy, he just wasn’t the one.

  “Huh. The couple times I’ve seen you with him, you both seemed happy.”

  “Darren, do you mind?”

  He was rewarded with a hostile stare. “What? I answered your questions about Muffy.”

  “Misty.”

  “Whatever.”

  Shawn’s partner Vicki stuck her head in the room.

  “Come on, studs, briefing with Lieutenant Campos and the dudes from both Vice-Narcotics and Homicide-Robbery in ten.”

  Darren and Parker groaned simultaneously.

  Vicki shook her head with a frown. “You guys are around each other too much.”

  Darren punched Parker in the arm lightly then Parker gave him a playful slug back. They both stood and Parker noted the cranky expression on Vicki’s face.

  Parker wondered why Vicki seemed so irritated. “What?”

  Parker looked at Darren and Darren shrugged.

  “Let’s go, boys.”

  She turned on her heel and strode purposefully down the hall.

  Darren patted him on the shoulder. “I bet I know what it is. She’s been stuck with Carson the last couple weeks while Shawn was gone with Trent.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Parker cringed. “You think that kid’s gonna make it?”

  “We need new recruits.”

  “You mean better recruits.”

  Darren let out an inelegant snort. “Yeah. Or that.” He lowered his voice. “He just doesn’t know how to interact with the public, especially out there on the sidewalk, face-to-face like that. I don’t think he can figure out what to do about some of the weird shit that happens on any given night.”

  Parker nodded. “Yeah. This beat isn’t for everyone, that’s for sure.” He indicated to the hall with a jerk of his head. “We’d better get going. Don’t want Campos having a fit.”

  Darren chuckled then led the way. Parker trailed after him, his thoughts drifting elsewhere. Something about the way Darren had assumed that he and Brett were an item bothered him. He’d always imagined that someday—a day that had seemed so far away until he’d realized he was about to turn thirty—he would have someone by his side to share everything with. Not just to share a fuck or a beer or a movie, but to enjoy those things with someone who was a permanent part of his life.

  Brett wasn’t that person and Parker knew he never would be. So what was he doing by seeing him on a regular basis? It wasn’t fair to either one of them. He grimaced at his own selfishness. The sex had always been enjoyable and he hated to give that up. They were compatible in the sense that they both liked to switch—neither one of them was strictly top or bottom.

  Speaking of sex.

  Parker hadn’t been surprised when Vicki had told them that there would be a briefing that included Vice. There had been an even stronger presence of sex workers than normal and the pimps were getting increasingly more violent, competitors killing or maiming the other guy’s me
rchandise to get a message across. Even johns were increasingly at risk.

  “You wanna grab a bite after this? We’ll still have more than an hour before our shift starts.” Darren patted his stomach as they entered the noisy and crowded briefing room.

  Parker glanced around the crammed area and frowned. “A bite might be all we have time for. I doubt we’re getting out of here any time soon.”

  Darren crossed his arms and appeared to survey the situation. Lieutenant Campos stepped up to the front and no less than seven detectives from both Homicide and Vice gathered near him. They held stacks of notes in their hands. Darren leaned close to whisper in Parker’s ear.

  “I hear the new vending machine in the detective’s break area has sandwiches.”

  Parker whispered back. “Stay away from the egg salad. It’s nasty.”

  Darren made a gagging sound. “Duly noted.”

  * * * *

  Slade let Valeena examine the purpling bruises on his arms. He didn’t think he would’ve lasted a month in the Vegas sex trade if it hadn’t been for her guidance. She’d helped him from the beginning, warned him about some of the dangers, gave him tips of the trade and was generally there as a friend. She was only a few years older than him, but she still had the look of a teen. She was tiny with a pixie haircut and freckles that danced across her nose. Her dark brown hair was highlighted with various bright shades that were ever-changing. The current one was a royal blue.

  “I still can’t believe that boring old businessman Harold did this.”

  They were seated cross-legged across from one another on one of the beds in the room they shared with Julio’s other workers.

  Or slaves.

  Their sleeping quarters were in a crappy house south of downtown in an equally crappy area. It was almost dawn and they’d both just returned. Julio would be by later that morning to collect. He expected a certain take and if they didn’t hand over the purported amount, there would be hell to pay. Beatings were common, but many times it would be something worse. Something involving his friends and things that Slade didn’t want to contemplate. He shuddered.