What I really like about 'High Potential' (besides Kaitlin Olson getting the spotlight) is it's finally a "genius" and/or crime-solving character who doesn't act like a cold, rude asshole. Well, unless she's confronting a cold, rude asshole. She's affected by crime scenes and upset families instead of being apathetic or annoyed.
It's not that hard to escape the strict Sherlock model. It shouldn't be this rare.
Summary: Those handcuffs... they're not the ones Adam's used to seeing you in.
Handcuffs have always been your thing.
In bed, out of bed…
There’s a special set in the top drawer of Karadec’s nightstand that the two of you use when things get a little crazy. However, the ones around your wrists right now, they didn’t come from a sex shop, and they’re certainly not lined with leopard print fur.
They are attached to the hook on your side of a metal interrogation room table. It’s bolted to the floor, along with the seat you’re sitting in, the one that makes that short leather mini skirt ride up a few inches, revelling the tops of those black fishnet stockings.
“What they pick you up for this time?” Karadec asks, his elbows settling on the cold table as he surveys you from the chair across from you. You’re wearing a low-cut white shirt with a black lace bra that pushes up your breasts, the tattooed letter K standing out stark against the neckline. He wants to run his finger over it, to trace over his namesake, but he keeps his hands clasped together, his fingers digging into the grooves of his knuckles. “I’m going to guess solicitation.”
Your lips tip up into a malicious smile, one that he rarely gets to see. They’re accentuated with a red metallic lipstick, one that shimmers underneath the buzzing fluorescent light above.
Hollyberry, the shade is called.
He should know, it’s stained his skin often enough.
“Not giving a patrol officer a blowjob.” You respond raising your well-groomed eyebrows, feigning shock. There’s dark kohl lining your eyes, making them look wider, more doe like. Men, they pay good money for that, they like that wide eyed innocence on their whores. At least that’s what you’d told him this evening, when he watched you apply it at the dressing table in your bedroom.
“Not all men.” He’d reminded you, his hand tugging the end of your ponytail so that he could lean over and kiss the tip of your nose.
“No.” You’d smiled as he planted kisses on your cheeks too. “Not you, my love.”
“What did you tell them the tattoo stood for?” He asks, slipping out of his reverie, his fingertips tapping on the surface of the table.
“Kandy with a K.” You smirk before tugging at the cuffs a little, testing them. “He said he didn’t give a fuck about my name. He just wanted to know what my mouth felt like didn’t you Mark?”
You cast a glance at the two-way mirror, you know the patrol officer in question is standing behind, flanked by Oz and Daphne.
“Don’t bother lying.” You tut, anticipating the protest on the other side. “My bra has a microphone in it. We all heard that fun little threat about bashing my head in just like Jeannie if I didn’t comply. In fact, that’s the reason we’re here.”
Your reflection doesn’t respond, and you don’t expect it too. These older stations are breezeblocks and concrete down here in the interrogation rooms. They can hear you through the intercom, but you can’t hear them unless they push the button.
“I’m in Vice asshole. When a sex worker on my beat goes missing, I take notice, especially when they’ve been feeding me information about a gang of patrol officers who like to take turns when they get a working girl back to the station. Three on one hardly seems fair, does it?” You say as Karadec removes a key from his pocket, unfastening the cuffs. The metal bracelets click open, releasing your wrists.
You pull them away quickly, but Karadec can still see the purple indentations etched into your skin. It sends a flash of indignation vibrating through his body as he twists his head towards the mirror, his eyes filled with molten rage.
The intercom hisses and the two of you sit quietly as Oz’s voice comes over the speaker. “We’ve read him his rights, and the other two have been taken into custody. You’re free to stand down.”
You raise to your feet, hiking up the skirt to the garter that resides just above the hem of the stocking. You remove the small battery pack transmitter, flicking it off with your thumb before setting it down on the table so that you and Karadec won’t be overheard.
“You alright?” Karadec asks, standing up. He shifts around the corner of his table, his ass leaning against it as you pace. After being chained up like that you need to move, to remind yourself you’re not a prisoner despite the fact that’s exactly what you have been over the past hour and a half.
“I’ll be better when I get some pants on.” You say, with a smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes.
Tonight, it’s been a lot, he knows. He’d been listening to the damn thing from his car before he made his entrance. All that horrible shit Mark Delany was spitting out on the ride over here; it was enough to put acid on his tongue. The goal of putting you in this room with Karadec was to make sure you were safe, that those assholes didn’t try anything when you were locked away in a cell as per their MO.
Karadec shrugs out of his suit jacket before draping it around your shoulders. The warmth of his body, the cedarwood scent, it settles something deep inside of you as he lingers close. “You know this was a pretty ballsy thing you did here.”
“I know.” You murmur, your head coming to rest on his shoulder. “It’s almost like your wife is a badass cop.”
“The most badass cop, I know.” He chuckles as his lips brush over your hairline. “You wanna get out of here? Let me run you a bath, get you into some real clothes?”
“Fuck yes.” You murmur, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.
The left side of his mouth quirks up into a half smile as his expressions softens. His thumb ghosts over the blush of your cheek and you nuzzle into his palm, your lips brushing the hollow of his wrist. “I mean it baby, you did really good tonight.”
“Jeannie deserved justice.” You say, thinking back to those other girls, the ones that couldn’t speak up about what happened to them here in this station. “They all did.”
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