In Too Deep, Book 3, Part 2

 [image: VitalikRadko]

Couple more chapters (one short, one long) for this fine Tuesday!

Chapter 20: Planning

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Ty said. “You have known who the drug lord of the current jazz epidemic is this whole time and didn’t pick him up. Why not?”

We were sitting around the kitchen table in Ty’s apartment, beers cracked open despite the fact that it was only 11. The pretense was easy—we were old friends with him from Columbia, back when they called us the Three Musketeers. This visit had nothing to do with Ty being LAPD, even though it kind of did.

“You know better than anyone how this works,” Amanda said. She was back in casual clothing—leggings, a loose blouse—but something had changed about her. There was an alluring quality in everything that she did now, and as I watched my old friend and my wife discuss shop, I couldn’t help but think about them fucking. And it turned me on. 

Amanda was going on with analogies of roots and weeds and infections, and Ty countered with ones that involved beheading snakes and hot irons.

“Okay, I get it,” Ty finally conceded. “If you’d picked him up, someone else would have filled the vacuum that he’d left. But there’s more going on here. You know where he is now.”

“Not exactly,” Amanda said. “But sure, we could probably figure it out.”

We’d been in contact with him since last night, when he sent his message. 

I must see you, solntse. I can’t trust anyone else.

But he had yet to reveal where he was actually hiding—if he could be believed at all.

“So what’s the whole story here?” Ty pressed. He regarded the two of us together, his expression as eager as a hungry lion’s.

Amanda looked at me, so I answered. “She thinks there’s something going on in the FBI. There have been some… red flags.”

“Like what?” he asked, leaning in.

I checked on Amanda, who was actually blushing. When our eyes met, she shrugged. “Go ahead. You’ve already told him some of it.”

There was a little anger there, but in the end she understood why I’d confided in Ty about her stripper assignment. She was mostly embarrassed.

“It seems like everything about it was set up to fail,” I said, piecing together some of what we’d talked about earlier this morning, on the way over here. “They sent her home to me after I saw her dancing at the club.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t seem normal,” Ty agreed.

“Exactly,” I said. “Not normal. There’s a shocking lack of protocol all over the place. Julia being somehow both Amanda’s handler and establishing her own cover that involves going to the club. And then there’s the way the operation was run.” I turned to Amanda for help with that one.

“There was never a ‘command post.’ When we were running the Miami show, we had a base of operations. Here, it kind of moves around. Feels very impromptu. All of our traffic reports—if they could be called that—were written out by Julia first for us to sign. She didn’t really make anything up, but she left a lot out. It was for our protection, she explained, since a lot of what was going on was pretty…”

“Incriminating,” I helped her out. Amanda winced. “That’s probably the real kicker there. This operation went way beyond the pale.”

“I went way beyond the pale, he means,” Amanda said.

“And I get it now,” I said, squeezing her hand. “But they should have pulled you out either way.”

“The weirdest thing was that Hirsch has always been a real stickler for procedure. It was almost like Julia was shielding him from the truth.”

“The few conversations that were being logged were in other languages. Russian or Ukrainian or Chechen,” Amanda said. “Some Uzbek, I think. And we had no direct translator on the team.”

“Huh,” Ty said, scratching his beard. “Literally ‘off the books.’”

“So you can see why we’re hesitant to take this to them,” I said. 

“Okay,” Ty said. “So it seems like you’ve got several things going on here. You may have a bad actor inside the FBI, who may or may not be working with Kozlov. And then you’ve got the network behind Kozlov, waiting in the wings, ready to fill the vacuum. This brings up a lot of questions.”

He ticked them off, raising a finger after each. “First, does Kozlov know that you’re FBI, and if he does, is that text a trap? Second, if there’s a bad actor trying to sabotage the operation, why? Third, provided that he doesn’t know Amanda’s FBI, why isn’t Kozlov contacting his network if he’s in trouble rather than his stripper girlfriend?” Ty couldn’t hide the grin before asking the next question. “Fourth, if I help, do I get a free lap dance?”

Amanda chuckled and shook her head. “Good to know that you haven’t changed at all, Ty.”

I looked between them, wondering if I was just imagining the sexual tension. They’d always played this game, but now that I knew they’d slept with one another, it changed my perspective. And again, I found my pants tightening.

“And of course my fifth question—what do we do first?”

“First,” Amanda said, “we need to establish whether Nikolai Kozlov is working with someone in the FBI. Then we go from there.”

“How do you propose we do that?”

Amanda set the burner phone on the table. “We’ve been chatting. He’s paranoid and alone, laying low. Says that I’m the only one that he trusts, but I’m not sure that I can fully trust that.”

“Okay,” Ty said. “Not much to go on there.”

“He wants her to get him some coke,” I said.

Ty chuckled. “Yeah, that’ll help with the paranoia.”

“I think it’s a test,” I said, rubbing Amanda’s back reassuringly.

“Or a trap,” Ty said.

Amanda turned the burner phone in her fingers. “Either way, we have to check this out, and we could use some backup.”

“You’ve got a plan, I take it?”

“Sort of.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Amanda and I exchanged looks. She nodded at me, then turned to Ty. “Well, it’s time to be Raven again.”

Chapter 21: Muscle

“You doing okay, buddy?” Ty asked me.

“You know…” I said vaguely. We weren’t the only white guys at the bar, but we were definitely in the minority. Not that anyone paid us much mind.

“I’m actually pretty sure that I don’t know,” Ty said with a good natured smile. “Last I checked, you were torn between being disgusted by what your wife was up to, and turned on by it.”

“Still torn,” I said. “But doing better now. We’ve had a few heart-to-hearts, and we’re learning more and more about one another.”

“Turns out she’s not the girl you thought you were marrying?” Ty asked.

I shook my head. “More like she’s a lot more complex than that girl. Also, a lot wilder.”

It was at that moment that Amanda made her entrance as Raven. The lounge was crowded enough that I could see the ripple of attention she created as she slithered through it.

“I’m piecing that together,” Ty said as he checked her out. “Never thought I’d see her in a dress like that.”

The dress was a brownish, snake-skin bodycon, short, extremely tight, and cut so low in front that her big breasts were exposed nearly to her nipples. She wore a garrish amount of eyeliner and had the left side of her head braided in tight cornrows. The rest of her dark hair flowed freely. 

As she settled into an open spot at the bar and waved the bartender over, I said, “Take right now. If she were forced to do this—to put that dress on and do what she may need to do later,” my heart and my dick lept as I glided past that thought; “if she had to do it all and was just acting, it’s a fucked-up situation.”

“Made worse because you’re kind of into it,” Ty said.

“Yeah. One of my many existential struggles.”

The bartender went right to Amanda, who leaned over the bar to whisper something to him. He nodded, his eyes unable to escape the draw of her chest, and poured her something fruity looking. She thanked him, brushing her fingers over his hand as she took the drink.

“But she’s not just acting,” I went on. “There is a part of her that is Raven. She enjoys the way men look at her, the way they objectify her. She likes getting to be bad. And that kind of gives me permission to enjoy it, too.”

“You are so funny, David. You didn’t need permission, you needed an excuse. But I’m glad that you found it.”

All around her, guys were sizing her up, working up the courage to move in. I could see them eyeing one another, as if determining who was the most alpha.

The bar was something between a club and lounge. Hip hop had people bouncing and grinding on a dance floor, and booths around the perimeter featured bottle service, pretty women, and young, tough looking men.

The man who finally did approach was the one we were hoping for—Sammy, one of the guys from the Living Room. It was a little hard to recognize him with his clothes on—a lighter skinned black man with closely cropped hair and a mustache-less goatee—but Amanda immediately did, throwing her arms around him.

I could imagine how that must have felt, for Amanda to push those pillowy tits into him. Ty actually grunted, obviously imagining the same.

The jackals around them retreated. Sammy, it turned out, really was some big shot. Amanda and Sammy fell into a flirty conversation as Ty turned back to me.

“Don’t want to be too obvious staring. She’s been claimed, friend. Staring will only offend.”

“Right. Got it.” I gave them one last look, felt that tight excitement, and turned away. “You know him?”

“I do, actually. Samuel Leondré Bates, A.K.A. Sammy 9Pole, as in ‘stripper pole,’ not as in ‘Dude can pull,’ yeah?” He grinned at me.

I’d seen Sammy’s equipment. “Subtle,” I said.

“Double entendre,” Ty said. “Guy lives for ‘em. ‘Pole’ is what the corner boys call a gun these days. ‘9’ refers to a Glock 9mm, Sammy’s preferred tool of the trade.”

“Quite a connected guy. Guns, mostly, but enough drugs to get Narco’s attention. I get why our buddy Nick was cultivating a relationship here.” He patted my shoulder. “You better get in position. This is heating up quickly.”

Across the room, Sammy was whispering something in Amanda’s ear that made her laugh as his hand crawled up her thigh.

My breath caught.

“I’ll be eyes in here should something go sideways. Unless you want me to be the driver. Happy to—”

“No, I’ve got it.”

Ty grinned. “Don’t forget the hat.”

“Right.”

I exited the bar on legs that felt like they were entirely constructed of rubber. I swore I drew more than a few glances at my herky-jerky gait before I was back out on the street, headed for a black Lincoln Navigator that Ty had “borrowed” from the impound lot. We’d already fixed a Lyft light on the back window. 

I climbed into the driver seat and grabbed the “hat.” I think Ty and Amanda just wanted me to wear this ridiculous thing, even though we all agreed that Sammy probably wouldn’t remember me. It was a black hat with long, fake hair streaming out below it. I looked ridiculous in it, like I should be driving a truck rather than a Premium Rideshare vehicle. Amanda had done her best to hide her laugh. Ty didn’t bother. I could still hear his booming laugh as I fitted the hat on and slipped a bud into my ear. At least the wig covered that.

“Okay, I’m in position,” I said. 

Ty’s voice arrived amidst the clamor of the club. “Check. I can hear you.” Then, just before the mic cut out, I heard him say, “Damn, that’s hot—“

“What?” I pressed. It was awfully quiet in the car. I switched it on and drove a few blocks away, so that I could simulate a pickup.

“Just that I keep waiting for your wife to drop kick this guy or something. His hands are all over her.”

I stiffened, suddenly wishing that I had switched roles with Ty. “Jealous?” I asked.

“Hell, yeah, I am. You?”

“Always. But I’m also good.”

I swapped over to the audio coming from Amanda’s purse bug, just in time to pick up the thread.

‘Why you here, Raven.’ Their voices were even harder to hear than Ty’s. I turned up the audio, wincing at the hiss of feedback.

‘Nicky sent me.’

‘Did he? Why’s that?’

‘Said he needs a favor.’

‘How big a favor?’

‘He wants some coke, and he needs some muscle.’

‘And what do I get?’

‘For the blow, you get me. For the muscle, he said something about stakes in his next enterprise.’

‘Yes to the first. Baby, you so fine. For number two, I need to speak with my colleagues.’

‘Of course.’

Ty came in over top of them.

“Get ready,’ he said. ‘They’re coming out.”

My phone blipped. It was Amanda, summoning a fake Lyft ride, along with an address. It wasn’t a sophisticated setup, but it would be enough for something cobbled together in less than a day.

As I pulled the SUV up in front of the bar, Amanda was there, draped all over Sammy. They were deep in a kiss as I pulled up. My heart sang. I adjusted myself, took a deep breath, and got out of the car to open the door.

Sammy broke the kiss as Amanda climbed in, flashing me a mischievous smile. Now I actually could see the top half of her nipples as she ducked low. She didn’t bother fixing the dress. Sammy followed, eyes on her ass, not even acknowledging me.

I shut the door, took yet another deep breath, and went back to the driver’s seat. 

Sammy was laughing at something Amanda said as I pulled the door shut. “He’s generous, you right about that,” Sammy said. “Although I think he gets off on sharing his sluts, rather than having a warm and open heart.”

“And you know I love being shared.”

“Hell yeah, I do.”

I pulled the car out and began to follow the directions on the GPS. It was hard to keep focus on that little screen and the road in front of me. The sounds of kissing, of the rich leather seats crunching, of my wife sighing with pleasure, were all too distracting. But it was the unmistakable sound of Sammy’s zipper that drew me back.

“Time to start earning it,” he said as he pulled his very large dick out. He grabbed Amanda’s head and pushed her into his lap. She didn’t need to be forced, but seemed to get off on it.

With her hair braided on one side, there was nothing to obstruct the view of Amanda’s lips wrapped around that thick dick. Despite Sammy’s hand in her hair, guiding her bobbing head, she seemed to be the one in control. She pumped him with both hands, her slender, white fingers wringing and jerking his dark girth, as she throated his head.

Sammy’s other hand caressed down her body, pulling up the snakeskin dress to reveal a black g-string. He plunged his fingers along her ass crack and down between her legs. She moaned as his fingers entered her, each digit fatter and no doubt rougher than mine.

Sammy lounged back in the spacious interior of the Lincoln, a contented smile on his face as my hot wife worked his lap. “You’ve got a nice booty for a white girl,” he said. “Although if you worked for me, you’d need a li’l bit more meat.”

Amanda’s blowjob intensified as Sammy fingered her. He started to thrust up, forcing her to gag and choke on his meat. Amanda was rolling her hips back into his hand, close herself, her moans leaking out around all that dick flesh.

I saw it all in vibrant, raunchy bursts, stolen in the rearview mirror, the street lamps strobing over their undulating bodies. Once, as the lights blazed across her face, I saw Amanda staring right at me, alight and full of lust in the reflection. I choked. I was so hard, my chest so tight. I had to make myself breathe as I drove, and nearly missed my turn.

Sammy noticed. “Our driver’s lookin’,” he chuckled. To me, he said, “This one’s for real.”

Amanda slurped free of his dick long enough to say, “You know I love an audience.”

“Then get the fuck up here and give him a better show,” he said. “I know you want my black cock.” He removed a condom wrapper from his pocket. “But put this on, first. With a boyfriend like yours, I have no fuckin’ idea where you’ve been.”

She tore it open and started to roll it on with her hands when he stopped her. “Do it with your mouth.”

Amanda didn’t balk, and her grin was devilish. She looked one last time at me as she lifted the condom to her lips and bit the nipple at one end. Holding it hands-free in her mouth, she dipped back down into Sammy’s lap and slowly rolled the latex down his shaft.

“Now this is the sign of a true pro,” he said to me. “You better get driving, though, before someone honks at us.”

Finished with the condom, Amanda said, “Do you want to watch me fuck this guy’s big fucking dick?”

“Get the fuck up here,” Sammy said. “He wants it, I can tell. Don’t waste your words.”

I nodded to her anyway, watching as she slipped out of her panties and crawled into Sammy’s lap, facing forward—facing me.

We were at a light when she positioned his cock against her smoothly shaved mound. Her hand looked so small, gripping him, and when she started to sink over him, I gunned the engine. The two groaned as the momentum drove him all the way into her.

“This fucker knows what’s what!” Sammy crooned as he started fucking her. He pulled her dress down, baring her breasts and erect nipples. “Look at these titties, man. Watch as they bounce as I fuck the shit out of her.”

I did watch. I couldn’t stop myself from watching. It wasn’t tender or sweet. It was a hard fuck in the backseat. Amanda squeezed her eyes shut as a true orgasm rolled through her. She leaned forward, gripping the headrests of the seats to stabilize herself as she churned her hips against Sammy’s like the stripper that she’d been. Secretly, she played her fingers along the back of my neck, under my fake wig of hair. She was still Amanda, despite this, and we were still together.

“Fuck! Fuck! Your dick is so… so fucking big, Baby!”

“For a cuck drug-dealer’s bitch, you’re so fuckin’ tight!” He fucked her harder. “I love this shit.”

We arrived at the destination—an upscale coffee shop named Perk. It was the kind of place that sold pour-over coffees that made Starbucks seem like a bargain. I wondered if I’d gotten the address wrong when Sammy said, “Pull around to the back. Quieter back there.”

The two were still fucking. I did as I was told, navigating to the back alley of the stripmall. Much less glamorous back here. Such was life. I found the door labeled Perk and idled the car as the two in the back neared their finish. Now I was free to watch openly.

Seeing me turned all the way around, Sammy pulled Amanda against him to give me a full and unadulterated view of her bucking body. Her tiny dress was no more than a wide belt, pushed up around her waist and down beneath her tits. Sammy’s dick drove like a dark spike into her smooth slit, stretching her as she bounced again and again on it. Nearing the end, she reached down and started rubbing her clit as Sammy kneaded her tits and pinched her nipples.

“Ngh!” she cried. “Oh, fuck me!”

“You got it, baby.”

“I’m so… haaa… so… fuuuuuck!”

She wasn’t faking it. This was a real orgasm, given to her by a real man, and I was there to watch it first hand. I couldn’t resist my own dick, rubbing myself through my pants as she arched back, shoving her tits to the ceiling, and screamed out her orgasm.

Sammy joined her, holding her by the hips and ramming his dick home. “Oh, hell yeah!” he grunted. “Hell, fuckin’ yeah. Ride it, baby. Ride my dick!”

It ended abruptly. This was all business for Sammy, and he practically shoved her off of him. Plucking the condom off, he dumped it on the floor of the Navigator and stuffed his softening dick into his pants. “You need to leave your old man. Come on back to the crib and see if we can do a whole lot more. I can even make sure Deion’s around.”

Amanda fixed her dress. “Tempting, but I’m spoken for.”

“For now,” he said without explanation. “Come on, let’s get you that stash. It’s inside.”

Amanda looked at me before slipping out to follow him. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” And then, because Sammy was out of sight, she mouthed, ‘I love you.’

I watched them go through the back door of Perk, where there was both a security code and a key card for entry—more security than your typical coffee shop.

I toggled over to Ty’s line. “Okay, we’re here. They’re… they’re going inside.”

“Everything okay?” he asked. I heard the concern.

That wasn’t an easy question to answer. Everything was and everything wasn't, much like before. Only this time, I could shut my eyes and remember the way she’d touched my neck in secret. She wasn’t doing this on her own anymore.

“Yeah, everything’s okay,” I said.

Inside, I could hear Amanda and Sammy through her hidden mic again.

“You’re hiding your coke in a place called Perk?” Amanda giggled.

I heard them start kissing again.

“Please tell me,” she said between kisses, “you make a special frappé and sprinkle this stuff in it.”

Sammy chuckled. “I’m sure it would be a hit with all the uppity LA moms, but no. We just stash it here. Employees have no fucking clue. Neither do the cops.”

Until now, I thought.

“Here’s enough blow for you and your man to find oblivion,” he said. “And here’s my number. Call me when… when things change with your man.”

“Sounds ominous.” Amanda did a good job sounding impressed with a hint of ditziness.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” Sammy said. “As for the muscle, we’re going to have to decline that one for now. The landscape has changed. We’re entertaining other offers.”

Other offers? I wanted to ask it, and I know Amanda did, too, but she knew her role. 

“Too bad. I was looking forward to working…” I heard her kiss him. “...closer…” Another smack. “...with you.” This time, a groan from Sammy, and a giggle from Amanda. ”Bye now.”

Amanda emerged a moment later, a spring in her step that she took all the way to the car. Slipping in, she put a hand on my shoulder, her grip urgent. “Drive somewhere secluded. I need to fuck you right now.”

“Going dark for a bit,” I told Ty. “We’ll regroup back at your place.”

My friend chuckled. “You don’t have to cut off the mics. I don’t mind listen—”

I switched things off. “Okay,” I said to Amanda as she crawled into the front seat. “Let’s go.”