The Only Game in Town

By Delilah Devlin

A Dominant policewoman, fresh from the mean city streets, finds her perfect match in a curvy small-town, bicycle cop...

Note: This original 5100-word short story may be short in length, but it's not short in passion!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Delilah Devlin
• Release date: May 9, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533725738

Delilah Devlin

Always a risk taker, Delilah Devlin lived in the Saudi Peninsula during the Gulf War, thwarted an attempted abduction by white slave traders, and survived her children’s juvenile delinquency. In addition to Saudi Arabia, she has lived in Germany and Ireland, but calls Arkansas home for now.

Book preview

The Only Game in Town

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I wondered why I’d bothered changing out of my uniform before hitting the bar. Back in the city, the department had strict rules about drinking in uniform. However here in little ole Canaan, Louisiana, a circle of black uniforms sat crowded around a table in the far corner, cold beers sweating on the scarred wood.

Lonny James caught sight of me and waved me over. Make room, guys.

He said guys but there was another female among them—Officer Brown, the bicycle cop, who patrolled up and down Main Street in little butt-hugging, black bike shorts during shopping hours.

I gave her a nod then glanced around the table. Lonny pulled out the chair beside him without rising. I sank into it gratefully and accepted the beer he slid my way.

So how was your first day? he asked with his trademark smirk.

I shrugged. Boring might sound rude, like a big-city cop was telling the rest of them their jobs were cakewalks. It was okay, I guess.

Get any looks?

I frowned. What do you mean?

We aren’t used to female cops here.

My glance swung toward Office Brown whose lips pressed into a thin line. Her pretty, golden brown gaze narrowed.

You’ve already got one, I murmured.

Yeah, but… Lonny wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, and apparently had to think a minute about how to respond when he thought everyone should already know exactly what he’d meant. Um, she’s on a bike.

What an idiot.

I gave a soft laugh, rolled my eyes at Brown, and sucked down foam as the men on my shift began to talk about their interesting day.

Lonny’s story was the best. He’d intervened between two yard-archrivals over a dispute about a sycamore that dropped its pods on the wrong side of a fence. Lonny might not have been all that sharp, but his drawling recounting of how he’d faced off against men armed with a chain saw and a rake had