She caught Captain Charles Richards coming out of a briefing, nearly knocking his morning coffee out of his hands. His mug missed her face by inches when he rounded the corner.

"Jesus." He muttered, hot coffee sloshing dangerously out of the cup towards his black t-shirt. Erica held her breath as the brown drink hit the floor and not his chest. His eyes met hers with reluctance. "Delaney, watch where you're…" He eyeballed her uniform and sighed. "…standing. What are ya doin' here anyway?" She stuck out like a sore thumb in Narcotics, dressed in her full blues when all the other officers were wandering around in hoodies and t-shirts. Only a few of them had their regulation vests on, the words "POLICE" plastered across their shoulder blades. It made her envious.

"Sorry, sir. I wanted to come by…"

"Delaney, I told ya a month ago, when you've completed your PT we'll talk about ya comin' back ta work. But we're full up right now and don't need…"

"My therapy ended weeks ago, sir." She flinched as he lifted an eyebrow. She'd clipped him off mid-sentence. "Sorry, Captain. I just…" Erica took a breath and steadied herself. I have a drug lord feeding me intel and I'm stupid enough to use it because I want my fucking job back. "I have some information I thought I should disclose to you."

Captain Richards took a sip of his coffee and gestured down the hall, Erica falling into step beside him as they started walking.

"I don't know if I ever told you, but I was raised in Southie…"

"You and half of the Narcotics department, Delaney." He murmured. "If this is some dinner table gossip your old man drunkenly told you over a couple of burgers, I'm afraid we don't have anything to talk about."

Erica hid a shiver at the mention of her father.

"Sir, my father's been dead for a decade." Richards grimaced and took another slurp of coffee. "It's not like that, sir. I live in Stokely, so it's not really—"

"Listen." Richards stopped and looked Erica in the eye. "Stokely is a rough neighborhood, but in Southie I've got dickholes cookin' meth while their kids play in the next room. I've got crack dens up ta my armpits. Stokely is a shithole, but it's a poor shithole. Only a few idiots sellin' but nothing—"

"There's a house full of ecstasy with a bunch of jackasses waiting to be arrested in it." Erica didn't flinch that time. She was tired of being written off. Hell, she'd stayed late three hours after her shift because she knew Richards would be long gone if she waited until her next one. She'd poked around the house on E street for days, making sure there were actually people there and Billy hadn't sent her on a wild goose chase to make her look stupid. "They have children living there, with at least five adults."

Richards raised an eyebrow and gave her a long stare. When she didn't offer any more information, he sighed.

"And, lemme guess, you'd like to tell me where it is, but you're having trouble remembering the address."

She straightened, lifting her chin.

"I've completed my physical therapy, sir. I passed my physical two weeks ago."

"Delaney."

"My jacket is clean, sir. There's no reason to keep from reinstating me."

He made a face, his lips forming a thin line.

"My office."

They walked in silence around the corner to the main Narcotics room. The "pit" was a shoddy collection of cubicles, some of them relics of the 80's. Only a few had been replaced since then, and only when they'd been practically falling apart. The cube walls only reached waist high, so everyone was instantly staring as Erica followed the Captain through the room. Narcotics was organized in five squads: eight officers to a squad. A, B, C, D, and E. Forty officers for all of South Boston's drugs. It was a losing battle but one they lived for. She'd been a part of squad C, the only woman in a squad of seven men.

A few people smiled and Erica felt her nerves slip away. These were her friends. This was where she belonged.

"Evans, I want that report on my desk in ten." Richards barked at Keith Evans as they moved past. Keith was stuffing a bagel with pink cream cheese into his mouth, a grin forming over his bulging cheeks. Unable to reply, he simply waved. When his eyes found Erica, he froze, his hand hovering in mid-air. She returned the stale wave with a level stare. Keith had been in her class at the academy: the designated pretty boy with blue blood dating back to the 60's. At the academy he'd been a nightmare to be around. Always spouting off stories about his grandfather taking down bank robbers, or his dad collaring mobsters. He'd been a brass kisser too, so it didn't surprise her that he had ended up here. Probably swooped in on her spot before her seat had gotten cold.

Asshole.

Captain Richards pointed to a chair in his office, the command "sit" going unsaid. He rounded his desk and sat behind it with a sigh, settling his coffee on the glass surface.

"Delaney…" Rubbing a large hand over his jaw, the scruff of hair against his skin rasped in the silence. "…your spot has been filled."

Her heart skittered to a stop in her chest.

"You had a nasty accident and I needed someone. I don't have the luxury of letting a hole sit unfilled in my division when people are gettin' shot up with bad dope and givin' kids LSD."

She didn't dare open her mouth, because the mix of hurt and rage festering in her ribs threatened to burst out.

"A lunatic ran ya off the road during a routine bust, Erica." Richards' face had softened and Erica realized her expression had given her away. Good poker face, Delaney. "When they pulled ya out of that car, half the boys in your squad thought you'd be a mangled mess. It's a fuckin' miracle ya weren't."

"That doesn't have jack ta do with my performance as an officer." She spat, tears testing her will power.

"It does." Richards said, frowning over his coffee. "Ya dodged death by an inch, Delaney. You know it, I know it, and -more importantly- those men know it." She didn't dare glance over her shoulder through the large glass window that looked out into the pit. They'd all be watching, trying to gauge her reaction to the conversation. Never let 'em see you flinch. "Workin' with someone you're constantly worrying about is how people get shot around here."

She couldn't speak. Worrying about? Like she was a little kid. No, a girl. He and all of the men in that pit thought of her as the little girl who'd been mashed up in car stew. Damaged goods that would only malfunction out in the field.

"Delaney?"

He'd said something else, but she wasn't listening anymore. It'd be more of the same. The same shit. She stood without letting him finish another word.

"Delaney!" She stopped before turning the doorknob to his office. "Sit and let me finish."

"I've got a shift comin' up, sir." Erica murmured, squeezing the doorknob until her knuckles were white. "Thanks for your time."

She didn't give him the chance to reply. Out in the pit, everyone was pretending to have important things to do while she marched to the hall. No one said a word to her; only lowered voices broke the awkward silence of the room.

It took her five minutes to walk back to her car and another twenty to drive home. The whole time seemed to pass in a matter of seconds. She didn't blink, breathe, or even think. Walking into the house, she didn't bother to turn on lights. Her mind was replaying the same phrase on a loop. Workin' with someone you're constantly worrying about is how people get shot around here.

It was only when she'd stripped out of her uniform and turned on the shower that her emotions started to catch up. Staring at her reflection, she saw her dull green eyes, heart-shaped face, and little mouth. She'd looked the same ever since she'd gone through puberty. Boring. Plain. Her mother had always called her a "nice looking person". Not in the sense that she was pretty or attractive. But nice. Like she would offer to run out for coffee even though she didn't drink it.

They'd seen her getting cut out of her car. They'd seen the blood from her leg soaking through her pants and all over her hands and face from her frantic attempts to free herself. They'd seen a helpless little girl. A nice, little, helpless girl.

"FUCK!" She slapped the countertop with both palms, the skin ringing in pain. The tears fell in droves, flying everywhere as she beat on the hard sink top. Broken little Erica. Glass shattered and she opened her eyes. The mirror was cracked in a spread like a spider web, her left fist throbbing as blood dripped down the glass.

"I'll show you all." She hissed to herself, tears mixing with spit as she glared into the shattered mirror. "You'll see."

"Billy! Phone for you." Sammy called from the front of the bar a little after 11pm. The night was slower than usual and Billy was about ready to call it a night and get some sleep. With a grunt, he hauled himself out of the booth, his ribs still a little tender. Sam left the phone on the bar and went back to watching whatever was on the TV when Billy picked up the receiver and hissed a mouthful of smoke into the air.

"What."

"Hey baby. Wanna party?" The woman's voice on the phone made him smile, and he smirked back at the table before turning his back to his friends.

"Depends on who this is, sweetheart."

"I'm a bad girl, and I need a chaperone." Billy gave a low chuckle and rubbed his hand over his mouth. Whoever it was on the phone, she was the most interesting thing to happen to him all day.

"Oh yeah? Need someone to take you home?"

"No, baby. I need someone to take me out. Keep me from getting killed at a rave while I try to get pictures of an ecstasy deal."

Billy's spine straightened like he'd been slapped. Erica.

"Holy shit." He grumbled. "What the fuck—"

"I'm going in that house in twenty minutes. If you want your competitors taken out, you'll be here to cover my ass."

"Fuck you." He snapped. "That wasn't the deal."

"Deal's changed. I need more than an address, big boy. I need reasonable cause for a warrant."

Billy's stomach fluttered at her forcefulness, and being called 'big boy'. He put his mouth very close to the phone.

"Are you drunk?"

"Show up and find out." Billy massaged the spot between his eyebrows and swore under his breath.

"Fuck, Delaney."

"Fuck, Darley."

"One hour."

"Twenty minutes, baby."

She was wearing a dress she'd bought to impress a college boyfriend. It was far too short for her tastes, and it was tight. All over. Maybe that's why she'd started drinking, because she didn't want to see herself clearly in the mirror. She wasn't as thin as she'd been in college, and she wasn't in the kind of shape she'd been in then either. That, and there was a large scar on her leg.

The fabric was some kind of spandex mix in bright blue. The top plunged a little lower than polite and it wrapped up around her neck like a halter. She was braless because everything in her underwear drawer was made of polyester and made for running.

Standing in front of the mirror, she downed her third glass of wine. She was wearing makeup for the first time in months, the mascara on her eyes weighing her eyelids down. She had managed to apply everything and drink almost a half bottle of wine in the process. In her mind, that was a success.

Oh, and she'd coerced Billy Darley into helping her.

She let out a small giggle when she thought about that conversation. She'd been playing the ditzy bimbo to get his attention, but then part of her had run wild. Toying with him had made her feel powerful and she was high off of that feeling.

She'd dug that dress out of her closet because of that feeling. She was wearing no bra and her highest heels because of that feeling.

Gathering herself together, she checked the clock. It had been almost fifteen minutes since she'd called Billy at the Four Roses.

"Shit."

She was going to be late.

Billy tossed another cigarette on the ground and debated leaving. He never waited for anyone. Never. He was the one people waited for, hung around to see. He didn't do the waiting. He crunched the cigarette with the heel of his boot in anger. He checked the time again. She was almost five minutes late. If it made it to ten, he was gone.

"Let's go."

Her voice startled him on the sidewalk and he snapped his head around. Erica Delaney wasn't even looking at him as she moved past. Reaching out, he grabbed one of her arms and brought her to an abrupt stop.

"Let g—"

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" He snarled, pulling her back to his hiding spot around the corner from the house. "Ya keep me waitin' and then you…" His voice trailed off when he got an eyeful of her outfit. He almost forgot what he was saying. "..what the fuck took so long?"

"I lost track of time." She muttered, pulling her arm away. "I needed a bit to drink before I left." He could smell the wine on her; she'd had the majority of a bottle if he had to guess. And by the way she was standing in those heels, she didn't drink that much very often.

"For courage?" He joked, eyeing her body unabashedly. "That's a…nice dress."

"Fuck off." She started towards the house and he grabbed her wrist, reeling her back in. Reaching around her, he wrapped her shoulders with one of his arms. When she tried to wriggle away, he leaned into her to whisper in her ear.

"If we're doin' this, we're doin' it my way." He purred. "And if I'm with a girl wearing a dress like this, she's mine." Erica pushed against him but he held her in place with a flex of his arm.

"Get off of me."

"You want your warrant? You're my girl, you gotta act like it. Got me?" She relaxed and they started forward on the sidewalk.

Erica was roaring with adrenaline. Her pulse was probably sky-high, and yet she was calmly slinking her way up the front steps of a dilapidated house with Billy Darley's body pressed against hers.

He was warm, despite the chilly night, and he smelled like cigarettes and cologne. She knew she shouldn't like the combination, but it was dark and familiar. And it felt like a shield as she looked up at the party. The lights were flashing inside certain windows, but no one lingered on the porch. It wasn't an open invitation kind of gig. You needed to know someone to get in to this X party, and Billy was her in.

"Breathe." He muttered in her ear. She exhaled, her ears ringing from her pulse. Apparently she hadn't been breathing all the way up the stairs. "What's the plan?"

"I need pictures." She whispered, pulling her phone out of the little clutch handbag she was carrying. "Just enough to prove they're dealing out of this house. Then I can take it to my Captain." Billy was silent, which she took as understanding or agreement. And then they were at the door.

Billy's hand slid to her hip and she glared at him. He didn't even look down to meet her gaze.

"Knock." He ordered. Erica snorted.

"Are your arms broken?" Billy sighed. Then with the toe of his boot, he kicked the door three times. When the door opened, a man with too many piercings stood leaning in the frame.

"Who are you?"

Billy scowled. Erica couldn't see him since she was too busy pretending to be arm candy but the sudden fear on their pierced friend's face gave her an idea of the expression on Billy's.

"Does Darley ring a bell?" Billy snarled. The man in the door glanced inside, nodded to Billy, and let the door fall open entirely. Erica let out a giggle, partially because she was amazed. Bones Darley's reputation in combination with Billy's rising fame had made their name gold: A skeleton key to any nook and cranny of Southie's underbelly.

"Stay close." She whispered, the lights dimming to a minimum inside. The strobe lights came from a back room, the hall flashing. Music was muted, enough to keep neighbors from calling police yet there was enough sound to drown out the people. Some were in worse shape than others, sweating from the heat and high, their bodies tangled on couches and against walls. Billy gripped her a little closer to keep them from being separated by the sheer number of people in the entrance. Drinks were everywhere, passed around, cups littering the ground.

"Shit." Billy muttered, kicking aside trash to walk down the long hall towards the back of the house. "Get your pictures so we can fuckin' leave."

"Not your idea of a good time?"

"Whatever you think of me, I don't need to get high to get laid." His hand slid further to her ass, his fingers gripping her through the dress. Erica froze.

"Get. Off." Billy snorted and raised his hand to her waist, but not before leaning into her to whisper in her ear.

"You first, sweetheart." Her cheeks were hot in seconds. He was playing with her like she'd played with him. Together, they were toeing a dangerous line.

He wanted her. Since the moment they walked in that house, surrounded by sex and sweat, Billy wanted Erica in the most primitive way. He was aching to touch her and his hand was still itching to return to her ass, to feel the soft curve of her body. She was lean and curvy in all the right places and that dress made it easy to tell what he was missing. She tucked closer to his chest as they entered the main room of the party. She fit against him in a way that made him possessive. He wanted to cover her with his body, fill her, kiss her, devour her.

Jesus, the ecstasy was in the air.

He took a moment to get control of himself, looking around. The music was mostly bass and techno nonsense. No melody, just throbbing. Like his body, like his pulse. The dancing consisted of grinding bodies. Mindless rubbing of body parts in delirium. Erica nodded subtly to a group of men huddled against a wall.

"Them." She mouthed the words to him. He rolled his eyes. Duh.

Taking her hand, he dragged them out into the crowd, putting her closer to the group. They were all lanky and punk-looking, like the remnants of a washed-out garage band. Tattoos and piercings, dyed black hair. Billy moved Erica to his front, planting her back to his chest, eyeing her phone as if to say get your pictures.

She obeyed, pretending to take selfies of the two of them, posing stupidly for the camera. Billy ignored the phone, ignored the blurry pictures of men and women handing over bills for pills. He was looking down at her. Gently, he started to sway against her, bring her closer. Brushing her hair from her shoulder, he brought his face down to her neck to brush his lips over the skin. Her thumb continued to snap pictures on her phone as if he wasn't there. But he could see the goosebumps on her arms. His hands wandered down her hips to her thighs, pulling her closer.

"Shit." She swore, turning her head towards him. "I think they made me." Billy glanced quickly and saw three of the men watching them. He brought his mouth to her ear.

"Hold up your phone." He purred. She slowly raised it. "Look at me."

She knew what he was going to do. She could sense it, the way his hands had been softly moving on her, the way he was pressed to her back. Erica felt what he wanted, and knew what he'd do when she met his gaze.

But she did it anyway.

When she lifted her face to his, he kissed her. Not gently, and not rough. It was heated and passionate and wanting. She bloomed inside for him, the forbidden thoughts of his body and desperate, screaming sex roaring out of her brain in full force. He wasn't a good man, not even an okay one. But she was hungry for him. She'd been hungry for him since the day she'd seen him rip through puberty in high school.

When he released her, Erica lowered her phone and nearly dropped it on the floor. He caught her hand.

"Put it in your purse. We're leaving."

"Yeah."

They left out of a back door, Billy leading with a grip on her hand. The walk back to his car was quick and silent and over in an instant. And then she was standing on the sidewalk, Billy Darley holding his car door open and her mind reeling.

"I drove here." She murmured. He nodded.

"I know."

And with that, she stepped into the car.

Cliffhanger, sorry. I had fun writing this! It's been a while. :) I'll try to get the next chapter up soon.