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Bound Leather
By Maxx Strokum
Copyright 2011 by Maxx Strokum
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Published by Crescent Suns eBooks on Smashwords
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Maxx Strokum
Bound Leather
Chapter One
It was the dead of night and nah one seemed ta be anywhere around the cluster of office buildin's. Out behind the largest of the buildin's three men dressed in dark togs used a bolt cutter ta cut through the lock on the fence. The lock fell from its usual place and hit the ground, striking a stone sitting there and making a loud sound that split the quiet.
“Shhh, we can’t have anyone hear us, now can we, yoos flamin drongo,” said one of the men standin' by while the lock was bein' cut.
“You reckon I’m not doing a bonzer job, whyn’t yoos give it a bloody go?” the lock-cutter offered his tool ta the other, who batted it away and pulled the gate on the fence open.
“Cause the flamin’ thing’s already cut, that’s why,” he said and stormed through into the enclosure where various service vehicles and company cars were kept during the off-hours of the night.
The men made their way past the cars and ta the back door of the buildin'. The one that had objected ta the noise earlier pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and entered the code on it into the security system. A red light blinked to green and the door popped open with a small click. All the men crept quietly into the buildin' that was almost as dark as a donkey’s ass during a new moon. Only a few sparsely positioned lights offered any illumination at all.
“Right now, be quiet,” the first in said ta his mates. Suddenly the door behind them slammed, makin' them all jump so they almost hit the ceilin' high above their heads.
“What the fuck was that?” one of them said, his voice rattled in a loud whisper.
“How the hell should I know?’ the leader of the group snarled. “Go back and check. The door should’ve been closed behind us, less one of yoos drongos left it open when yoos came in.”
“Wasn’t me,” both of the others said, but the leader pushed them both away from him and the last in line left off from the others and went ta check on the door. The two remainin' continued on ahead and stopped when they heard what sounded like a muffled shout, though it was hard ta tell with all the turns they’d taken in the corridor.
Decidin' the drongo he’d sent ta check on the door had stumbled over his own feet the leader pulled a set of picks from his pocket and set about ta open the door now before him. This was the door they were lookin' for. Behind the door was a secret safe in the accountin' office and he knew for a fact the chief accountant had been skimmin' cash off from the proceeds and tuckin’ them away in his own private safe everyone else thought was just a cabinet. It took a moment, but the lock on the door finally gave and the door opened. The two men moved on inside, not the least wondering what had happened with the other.
“Look for a cabinet somewhere in these rooms,” the leader hissed his command. The other nodded and moved through the darkness, searchin' as much with his hands as his eyes for somethin' that might look like a free-standing cabinet.
“Over here,” the stooge called in a loud whisper. “I reckon I’ve found it.” The leader came over ta the far side of the room and used his mini torch ta shed enough light so he could see the face of the cabinet. With his pocketknife he pried at the face of the cabinet and the fake wood gave way, showing the old-fashioned combination lock that most safes had replaced with digital numbers. This accountant was himself old-fashioned and liked the feel of the dial as he turned it to get into his private safe.
“All right, now, here’s where yoos earn your keep,” he told his man. “See if this safe is as safe as the accountant reckons it is and here’s hopin' it’s not.” The other man moved ta the dial and pressed his left ear up close while he slowly turned the dial with his fin'ers. Beads of sweat began ta dribble down his face as the minutes passed. The leader, getting fidgety, noticed his other man hadn’t returned. He moved away from the safe cracker and opened the door to the office. He peered down the dark hall, but it was too black to see nothing, so after looking back at the man at the safe he began creeping back down the hall toward the outside door where they’d entered.
“Hssss,” he made the sound tryin' ta catch the attention of his cobber. “Martin! Where the flamin hell are yoos? Martin!” He hated usin' names during a criminal enterprise this way, but it was the only way he knew ta catch the attention of the man he was looking for. That damn, flamin’ drongo, he thought as he neared the last corner before the exit. Why couldn’t he have closed the fucking door behind him and where the fuck had he gone to? The leader peered around the corner, but all he saw was a closed door. Nah Martin.
A tap on his shoulder behind him made him jump and he whirled about, his fists up and ready ta blue. Without warnin' somethin' slammed into his face, catching him just beneath his jawline. Darkness engulfed him and the last thin' he thought he saw before losin' consciousness was a twin set of melons, though why he’d be seeing melons in the dark, at night, in an office building was beyond him.
Back in the office the cracker was intent on his business. He kept his ear ta the safe and finally he heard the last click. “Hah! ” he yelped, then slapped a hand over his laughin' gear and whirled his head about ta the door. Where was Ed? He’d been right here a minute ago, hadn’t he? Maybe Martin had come and got him and the two had gone to investigate somethin' out of place. But what could be so important they’d leave off when they were supposed to be stealing all this loot from a safe?
The cracker shrugged and turned back ta the business at hand. He pushed down on the recessed lever and then pulled back on the door with both hands. The heavy door creaked open slowly, and when he had it open he was amazed at the amount of cash inside.
“Holy Mother of God,” he gasped. “Look at the stash in here.” Once more he turned and looked behind him, but still there was nah Ed and nah Martin. After starin' at the mound of money inside the safe a few more moments he grabbed up one of the satchels they’d brought with them and began stuffin' cash inside. When he got it full, he grabbed the other and stuffed it likewise until it too was filled ta the brim and there was nothing left inside the safe.
He began ta turn away and remembered they were supposed ta leave the safe as they’d found it so that Monday, when the office opened for business once again, no one would be wiser. It would give them that much more time without being found out. Not that anyone would be likin’ to place the blame for this crime at their feet. He set the bags of loot down and pushed the door to the safe closed and turned the handle down. Then he set the false front panel back in place and made sure it stuck fast, sealin' the edges all around. Satisfied he picked up both bags and left the office, careful ta close the door, makin' certain it was locked before heading down the dark hallway. At each corner he slowed and looked around it, expectin' ta see his mates or whatever it was that had happened ta them to cause them to uteish the way they had. But when he’d made it all the way back to the door where they’d all entered and he’d seen none of the likes of his mates, he grinned, knowin' that whatever the reason was he’d been left alone to retrieve all this cash from the safe, it was he and he alone that had made the pinch and he determined he was going to keep it all to himself. It was he who had opened the safe and he who had filled the bags. What had the others done to deserve any of his cash, his hard-earned money?
He laughed and pushed the door opened and stepped out over the threshold. Somethin' came up as if from the bloody ground itself and smashed him in the jaw. Whatever it was it felt like someone’s boot and it sure as hell had a hefty kick ta it, because he saw the ground comin' up ta meet him in the face and meet him it did. Asphalt met skin and asphalt won. His chin and the right side of his jawline bashed open and blood spurted. He fell onto his right side and through eyes that were doin' their best ta close he noticed the most glorious vision of loveliness he had ever seen. It had long blond, freely-flowing hair, a comely fair dinkum figure with two gorgeous breasts spillin' out of the tightest black leather halter top and two bloody shapely legs encased in similar black leather boots that came up almost ta her knees.
The vision picked up the bags he’d filled with his money and turnin', began walkin' away. God, but that vision of loveliness had the tightest, firmest, roundest, black leather-clad ass he’d ever seen.
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Chapter Two
“How’s it hangin'? ” Officer Barbra Jennings walked into the locker room of the police station where she was assigned and greeted her partner, Sgt. Robert “Bull” Hardaway. Growin' up everyone called him “Bobby” and then “Bob”, though a sheila or two he’d fancied had called him “Rob” or “Robby”. Then in college he’d been on the football team, just like in high school, only one day durin' a game he’d gotten slammed in the face with one too many helmets and knew someone on that team had it out for him or he’d never be gettin’ hit the way he was. He’d begun ta see red for the first time in his life and his new outlook of enragement had made him crash through the opposin' football players like they were made of paper. That day his teammates had started callin' him “Bull” and it had stuck ever since.
Barbra Jennings ran her eyes over the large, bulky body of her partner while he changed into his policeman’s uniform. which meant he was down to his skivvies before he started gettin’ dressed, and her look said it all – she loved how his body was sculpted so finely in the large mass of muscles he’d made it into and she wanted him. Hang the fact he was her senior partner, she knew a choice piece of meat when she saw one and she was the type that fancied chewin' her meat slowly and thoroughly until she’d had the fullness of the savoury morsels down her gullet. His only problem was he had just recently broken off with a sheila he’d been close to after gettin' divorced from his wife of eleven years. He swore he hadn’t looked at a sheila since and as his partner, she knew it was fair dinkum. Plenty of sheilas crossed their path every day, some in the most provocative and skimpy outfits and all he did was glare at them the way he did anyone other bodgy bludger and never bat an eye.