AN: I hope you are all still with me. Thank you for the reviews and story/ author follows. I never imagined I would receive them. It is always nice to hear readers like your story.

A special thanks to the ones who helped me remember why I should continue to post this story. You lovelies know who you are! I didn't have the time to update really, but I made time as a thank you :)

Sorry if there are still some spelling mistakes, because of my busy schedule I had to edit this on my mobile.

This story is still rated M.

Chapter twenty-one

Andy rubbed his neck, as he woke up on the couch. For a moment he tried to figure out, why he woke up on his couch, looking at the mess surrounding him. He felt stiff. He must have fallen asleep on the couch waiting for an answer back from Sharon.

Last night he called her, several times. Left messages on her answering machine, as she wouldn't pick up. He sighed, looking at the files surrounding him. It was chaos. Sharon was the neat and tidy one of the two of them. The one who could create order in the chaos. The one who took notes. Seeing the mess surrounding him, he wished he had as well. His mind was clouded over, like he'd just woken up with an enormous hangover. Not an empty beer bottle in sight though.

How long ago had it been since that last drop? He was always unable to tell. It didn't matter, as the reason why he stopped drinking was still very vivid in his mind. He shook his head trying to will the image of Sharon away.

What had it been again, he wanted her to ask? Something he read, somewhere in these files. Andy looked over at his answering machine. No blinking lights there. Sharon must have chosen to stay at her parent's house. She told him she'd go to the funeral, of the victim of their last murder case, together. It was her weekend off. She liked spending time with her parents.

Now her relationship with Raydor had ended, her parents were her safety net. Although Sharon had been the one ending the engagement, Andy knew the break up, didn't leave her unaffected. Anyone who didn't really know her, would laugh at him, if he'd tell them Sharon was a very emotional human being.

She was considered to be a bitch to most of the people. A little rich girl, who was used to getting her way. Posh, cold and aloof. They were all prejudiced. The fact that she was a woman, came from the East-Coast, from a good home, her elegance, all that made them form an opinion about her, that just wasn't her.

He himself was guilty of the same thing. He judged her, before even meeting her. He couldn't have been more wrong about her. In fact she was incredibly loving, caring. She had done so many things for him. Saved him many times and in many ways. She didn't deserve to be mistreated.

All those guys with their big mouths. Sharon was a ten times better cop than anyone of them. She was smart, she was determined, she worked harder than anyone. He knew about the prejudice against women on the force, like they were the weakest link or something, but women like Sharon definitely weren't, there were men who made it to Detectives, who were. At least he noticed it in time, turned around, showed her he respected her. They were good partners.

A smile appeared on his lips as Sharon's face popped in his mind. The cute way she nervously bit her lower lip. The way her brows wrinkled in utter surprise, the naivety, the innocence in her eyes, reached right into his chest and grabbed his heart. How the corner of her lip curled in satisfaction, the sparkle that briefly wavered in her eyes. How she'd quirk her eyebrow, her eyes keeping you hostage until you'd give in. She was simply irresistible. Her voice almost hypnotic.

He wondered at what moment he'd fallen in love with her? At what moment she'd crept into his mind and never left again? He remembered the first time he'd seen her though. He had been instantly attracted to her. His eyes had wandered over her body, that day she stood next to his desk, took in every curve, the creamy like skin, the rich auburn hair, the emerald green eyes. Who was he kidding? He'd been captured by her the moment he had laid eyes on her.

As time passed his feelings for her only grew stronger. Sometimes it worried him. Would he be able to control his feelings? They worked together closely. What if she'd find out one day, managed to read it in his eyes? What if one day he wouldn't be able to resist her anymore? What if his hand would linger too long on the small of her back, over her cheek, when he'd brush a strand of hair from her face? Hold her too long in his arms? What if he'd be so close to her that he couldn't keep himself from kissing her?

He could lose her then. He could lose his partner, his best friend. He did not want to lose her because of his own stupidity, because he couldn't' control himself, his lust. He would just have to find a way. He had managed to resist his urge to take a drink. He must be able to resist his romantic feelings for her as well.

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Finally no more looking over his shoulder. No more worrying about someone being out to get him. For the first time in months he'd been able to sleep, really sleep. For all those years he'd been so careful. Patience had been his motto. The only way to make no one suspicious. Not his colleagues at Narcotics and not the Los Angeles drug lords. If the LAPD would know what he'd been doing, he'd been kicked from the force, probably prosecuted. If the drug dealers would find out, he'd end up somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, or captured in cement. He was always treading on thin ice, but he made sure he never slipped. Now he'd just have to be a bit more patient again. Resist being greedy. It wasn't always easy, but he had no other choice, they'd come too close.

Damn those women. He didn't even know how Candace Brennan found out what he'd been doing. Her mistake had been greed. She had been too eager to get herself a big piece of the pie. She had been too confident. He hated that in women.

Willy DeSantos had been a big pushover. His fault, his ambitions. That's why he'd picked him out. The bigger drug moguls weren't even bothered by him, he was a small fish in the pond. He wouldn't have wondered, if they hadn't even heard of Willy DeSantos. He'd been the one to make him big.

Landry knew who were the most powerful drug lords. He knew they had to be eliminated, as they could be his biggest threats. They were smart. One by one he'd picked them up. First only making small busts. Getting his hands at a small portion of the find. To someone else it must have seemed like forever, but there was no other way. Small portions added up, bringing in money. With each new bust more members of a drug ring would get arrested, destroying an organization. Slowly not only his money increased, but Willy De Santos became a bigger fish. The bigger he got, the more he paid him for his protection.

There was no way out for him. As long as Willy remembered who put him at the top, it had been fine. Candace must have felt neglected, thought that the money going to him, should better be spend on her. At one point she must have believed she didn't need Willy anymore. That she could make her own deal with him.

A man must lose his mind to get into a deal with a woman like that. It would only be a matter of time before you'd be sold out. He didn't need strong partners.

She told him she knew what he'd been doing. That he could find her at his next bust. He'd been keeping an eye on this abandoned warehouse for several weeks. He'd do as always, find the load of drugs first, take his pick and then make the bust official. She must have followed him somehow. How could he not have noticed her? The possible threat she could form. He'd thought of her as Willy's dumb blond girlfriend of the day. He'd been blind for her greed and ambition.

He'd met her there, listened to her. She wanted in on the deal. He'd made her clear that she didn't have anything to offer him. He could still see that coy smile on her lips. She'd walked towards him, like a cat would at her prey. Her fingers slowly stroke his cheek. He'd backed away. He was a police officer, he knew better than to leave any trace of himself on her. There'd been a surprised look in her eyes. This had been a woman, who was used in getting her way as long as she displayed her womanhood and lust. Men like Willy DeSantos only thought with the lower parts of their bodies, but he couldn't afford that. There was too much at stake for him. He wouldn't let her get to him like that.

As soon as she realized she wasn't going to get her way like that, her coy smile disappeared, a tight line forming on her face. Her eyes cold and hard, showing him exactly how dangerous she was. She was a threat and the only way to deal with those was eliminate them.

When she knew she wasn't going to get her way, she blackmailed him. He had laughed at her, he couldn't possibly imagine, what she'd be able to offer him. He didn't need her, he didn't even need her boyfriend anymore. She came with the predictable, she would go and tell his bosses. He'd already turned around unimpressively, until her voice had stopped him from walking away. She had prove. She had the key of one of his storage places.

All kinds of thoughts shot through his mind at that moment. She was lying. She was bluffing. What if she wasn't? Could it be? Had he been so careless she could get hold on his key? Was she smart enough to pull it off? He'd had no idea. In the end it hadn't been worth taking the risk.

That day he had to make important decisions in a matter of seconds. There had been no time to think it over. He had acted on impulse. Strangled her in a blind fury, because of the idea of her destroying everything, he'd worked so hard on.

Only after she laid lifeless on the floor he realized he hadn't thought it over. There was the cocaine, that would make it his bust, but a dead body would make it Homicide's as well. He could move her, but where would he go with her? He'd have to find a way to get rid of her body fast and unseen. There was no time. He'd let homicide get rid of the body. There was no trace to him, a bullet or a knife, just his gloved hands. Who would care about a dead hooker anyway? His fingers had slightly smeared her makeup, ripped holes in her stockings. Searched in a frenzy for that key. He knew she had it on her. She was the kind of woman who'd rub the evidence in his face.

Eventually he'd found the key in her shoe. Made the needle marks between her fingers, hoping that would work out. No one really cared about addicts. Wrapped a scarf around her neck and hoped those Homicide Detectives assigned to the case wouldn't be the sharpest pair. The huge drug bust would put him in charge anyway. He would get that storage locker cleared out, before they could even figure out the imprint of the key in that shoe. Everything that would point in his direction would be gone.

It all worked out until Homicide came to the scene. Flynn was a good cop, a tenacious one and then that nosy little bitch. She fucked everything up. She'd been the one who noticed the strangulation. Had been the one who didn't want to accept her to be an addicted hooker, no she had dug deep and kept digging. Not even to mention the complaint she filed on him. Calling him a misogynist. He'd never even heard of the word. Hadn't she learned at the Academy, not to go against your superior officers? He believed he'd been clear enough. That she would take his warning serious. She kept crossing his way though.

After cleaning out the locker, he went there to check it out, see whether there'd been nothing he'd left by accident. It had been a bad surprise when he'd found her in that locker. Flynn had been too close. He could have sworn she'd dropped her gun. Instead the damn woman had poked it between his ribs. He had managed to talk his way out of being there.

Why were they all so protective over her? Flynn acting as her personal bodyguard. Their Commander protective as a father. They gave her opportunities she shouldn't get. Once again she had him cornered. He had lied about being there, a covert op. , uncomfortable questions followed. Who had he been surveilling and why? That's when he had to give up Willy De Santos, knowing he would have to make him shut up for good.

Willy had to die in an unfortunate accident. He knew they would link him to the dead of the woman. As long as it steered them in another direction.

It should have worked. Instead they came crossing his path. They were all over his territory. Still focusing on the drug world. He didn't want to think about what they were costing him. Trying to tell himself that he shouldn't be greedy, that he should have patience. That's how he had managed to achieve his goals in the first place.

What happened at the docks, hadn't been planned. Why did they have to be there? He hadn't meant to hit either of them, fired the gun as a warning shot. Stupid bitch, pushing Flynn out of the way. At least it had got them off his back for a while. Flynn at her bedside all day. It gave him the time to get his business in order, without him having to look over his shoulder all the time. Preparing himself for a time to lay low for a while. Eventually they'd give up. The case had been pulled from them. The next team all too happy to accept the assumption that Willy had killed Candace, case closed. He had so longed for those words. Things could have, no should have, gotten back to normal.

Just when he thought it did, he noticed someone was still poking in his life. He saw his files on her desk. She had pulled his files, for what? What was she expecting to find? What was she looking for? Was she already having her suspicions, or was this just her nosy nature?

It put him on edge. The not knowing keeping him from his sleep. Why didn't she just let go, let it rest? Why did she have to be such a pain in the ass? She owed this all to herself.

Days he'd spend thinking about a good way to get rid of her. What the best time would be. He needed that twenty-four hour advantage. Especially considering the people around her. Her parents influential. The ex-fiancé, who still loved her, a lawyer. Her partner stubborn and foolhardy. They wouldn't believe she'd simply gone out of town for a couple of days to clear her mind, without telling either of them. There would be a search party before he knew it and time was of the essence.

This weekend everything had come together. The opportunity more than perfect. She'd come home to be alone, she had just finished an argument with the lawyer. He wouldn't be calling and even when he did he wouldn't be surprised if she wouldn't answer his calls.

No one was missing her today. That rumor would have spread fast at the station, that's why he'd offered to work on his free Sunday, so he'd be the first to hear. He wondered what dirt would come up on the little bitch.

Someone might wake up tomorrow, get suspicious. Forty-eight hours would have passed. It would be too much. A smile curled on his lips. They would probably lose even more time. Camera's would show the argument she'd had with the lawyer. Her parents would attest she'd been the one ending it. Flynn would be suspicious of him, as he didn't like the guy very much to begin with. They would be at each other's throats, a dance between two jealous men.

What hold did that woman have on them? She was very pretty, but the arrogance, the nosiness, it instantly drove him up the wall. Raydor and Flynn were two hotheads, stubborn, real men, so why did they put up with her?

In the end they should be happy. Thank him for getting her to disappear from their lives. In time Sharon Elliot would only be a bad memory, especially to him. He had stopped her from ruining his life. In a few months from now he could continue his life and pretend she had never entered it.

note: sorry for this at the end for all of you who have let me know you enjoy reading this story so much, but I had to get this of my chest. That's why I'm doing this at the end and not in my AN. And I can't do it in a PM.

To the guest reviewer who wondered at chapter 20 why Sharon always had to be the damsel in distress in this story...

I hope you got your answer reading this chapter. ( if you are still around) Because in this case Sharon was the threat.

I didn't make her the ' damsel in distress' at purpose while writing this story. It just happened as a consequence to things happening in my plot.

Sometimes she will be the victim, in another part of the story someone else will be.

I can imagine why it might seem to you like that, but this is the way I wrote this story, not going to change it. There are lots of other stories around that might please you and your preferences more.

In the mean time I keep posting this story for all the lovely people who do enjoy this story.