Rules of Engagement chapter 1

"Why do you always stick us in these positions, Steve?" a young woman voiced, chewing lightly on a piece of gum. She stared up at the back door of the van she had been crammed into. A man with a machine gun across his chest nodded to her, an intolerable smirk across his face as he looked down at her bare legs. The girl smiled, setting her hand on her mini skirt, holding it firmly in place. "Are you going to use that gun?" she asked.

"Only if I have to, sugar," he answered. She smirked, shoving at the man beside her.

"Did you here that, Steve? He called me ‘sugar'. Why don't you ever call me nice names like that?" she whined.

"The van took a quick turn and the woman fell back as Steve fell over the top of her. He smiled down at her.

"I could call you some really nice names, Cassy, if you'd just give me a kiss every now and then," he answered, puckering his lips. Cassy's hand came hard across his face before she pushed him off of her.

"Pervert," she hissed. Steve shrugged.

"Aw, where's the love, baby?" he teased.

The door to the van slid open as the van came to an unexpected halt. A tall man in his early thirties stood at the open door, brandishing a machine gun. He motioned to Steve and Cassy.

"Come on out," he instructed. Before Cassy or Steve had a chance to move, they'd been grabbed by the arms and shoved out of the vehicle.

"Hey!" Cassy hissed, pulling herself up from the ground, brushing off the gravel on her bare legs and stomach.

"You hurt, baby?" Steve asked, gently setting his hand on her lower back. Cassy glared up at Steve in his wife-beater and bucket cap.

"I'll be fine if your hand doesn't go any lower," she growled. Steve chuckled, raising his hands in the air.

"You'll have to catch me first, Copper," he grinned. Cassy slugged him in the shoulder, before tossing her curly hair over her shoulder.

"Where's my gum?" she asked quickly. Steve glanced at her, his face momentarily shocked.

"Did you lose it?" he asked quickly. Noting the wary look on the men's faces as they got out of the van, he added, "heaven forbid." A few chuckles came from the men and a clapping noise came from in front of them.

Behind a pile of barrels in the junk yard surrounding them, a tall man stepped out clapping his hands slowly. His head was shaved clean with a tatoo of a flaming eagle on it. Below dark shades there was evidence of a scar on one eye.

"Very well spoken, Mr. Tripp. I think heaven tries to forbid everything we do in life and if God were looking down on us right now, he'd try to forbid what we're about to do here," he said, motioning up toward heaven. Steve laughed, grabbing Cassy by the hand as she picked up her gum from the gravel and put it in her mouth.

"Baby, go stick that to something. Don't put it in your mouth," he laughed, rolling his eyes to the man. "Women, they never learn. What'd they be without us?" he asked, giving her a playful slap. She turned around, her fist coming square with his jaw before turning on her heels and spitting her gum in the van.

"I could be a heck of a lot more without you," she hissed. Steve laughed, rubbing his jaw.

"You just keep thinking that, baby," he said, sticking his tongue out at her playfully. Cassy rolled her eyes, keeping a few paces between her and Steve.
"Let's get down to business," the man said at last. He snapped his fingers and a man came forward from the van with a briefcase. "Now, Mr Tripp, you see my side of the deal, where's yours?" Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

"I haven't seen your side of the deal, Burns. I've only seen a briefcase," Steve pointed out. Burns was motionless for a time, staring through his dark glasses before smiling a toothy grin.

"All right. Fair deal," he said, moving to the briefcase and flicking open the latches. Opening the case, he tilted it downward to reveal many white packages. "Satisfied?" he asked. Steve smirked.

"Most definitely," he answered, snapping his fingers to Cassy. "Get the money." Cassy just glared. "Please, baby." Cassy rolled her eyes, walking back to the van. "Thank you, Briggs," he said.

"Briggs?" Burns posed. Steve shrugged, laughing slightly.

"Her nickname. She's been busted so many times it's become her name," he explained quickly.

"No relation to Lindsey Briggs, then?" Burns asked cooly. Cassy set her leg up on the van floor, slowly moving her hands up her slender leg, well aware of the men watching her.

"Hey, baby, you related to a Lindsey Briggs?" Steve asked haltingly. Cassy beckoned two of the men closer to her as she sat on the van floor. They quickly obeyed, kneeling down before her to be level with her face. "Baby; Lindsey Briggs?" Steve asked timidly. Cassy smiled before knocking the two men's heads together with a quick chop of her legs. She fell down to the ground as the driver pulled out a hand gun and fired at her from the front seat. She rolled beneath the van, pulling two guns from beneath her miniskirt and throwing one out to Steve before pushing herself out from under the van and aiming her gun at the driver. The driver slowly lowered his gun, stepping out and around the van. Cassy pushed herself to her feet, motioning with her gun toward Burns. The driver complied, his hands over his head.

Burns laughed slightly, shaking his head. "Lindsey Briggs, I had a feeling it was you," he smiled. Lindsey tilted her head, shrugging slightly.

"What gave it away?" she smiled at her partner, knowing full well what gave her away.

"Only you can wear an outfit so ugly and yet look so beautiful," he smiled. Lindsey smirked, a strained smile in her eyes.

"Have you ever hear the term ‘flattery will get you no where'?" she asked. Burns nodded. "This is when that term comes into effect." Burns shrugged, moving slowly toward Lindsey.

"I think I will be going somewhere soon. I'll be leaving," he said, taking a step closer to her. Lindsey's partner's arms shook as he watched Burns draw closer and closer.

"Briggs," he warned.

"Shut up, Atwood," Lindsey replied softly. Burns stopped, looking from Chris Atwood to Lindsey.

"Where's Krest?" he asked.

"He's busy," she replied curtly. Burns looked Chris up and down for a moment before turning skeptically to Lindsey.

"Babysitting duty doesn't seem your type of thing," he smirked.

"I'm not a baby," Chris hissed.

"Atwood, stay out of this. Cuff them or something," she said, waving her gun toward the two men behind Burns. Chris reluctantly complied. Burns smiled at Lindsey, taking another step toward her. Lindsey aimed her gun threateningly.

"Are you going to shoot me?" he asked.

"If you take one more step I will," she threatened. Burns raised his foot to step forward.

"Then you'll have to shoot me, because, like it or not, I'm going to leave, Lindsey," he smiled. Lindsey aimed her gun, her finger closing over the trigger and the shot rang through the junk yard. Burns clasped his hand to his shoulder as he fell to his knees, cursing loudly. "I didn't step closer," he grimaced.

"You called me the ‘L' name," she smiled, pulling a pair of cuffs from her skirt.

"You haven't even arrested me yet," he pointed out.

"You're under attest for illegal dealing and consuming of drugs. You have a right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. How's that?" she answered, locking the cuffs over his arms and pulling him to his feet.

"Are we going to walk to the station in the middle of the night? We could be mugged," he stated. Lindsey smiled, the sound of sirens breaking through the calm of night.

"No, you're riding in style," she answered as the first police vehicle pulled up.

The door opened and an old man stepped out, tipping his cap to Lindsey. He whistled, smiling at her.

"I never thought I'd see my niece wearing something like that," he laughed. Lindsey rolled her eyes, passing Burns off to another cop and watching as he was pushed into the vehicle. "How'd it go?" he asked.

"It was a success. We busted Burns, so, I guess it went well," she shrugged, pulling off the curly blonde wig, he copper hair spilling free. Her uncle shook his head.

"No, I meant with Chris," he said, motioning to Chris as he stared at Lindsey. Lindsey looked away from him, walking with her uncle toward one of the junk piles.

"Besides him nearly blowing my cover twice and nearly sexually assaulting me," she shrugged, "fine I guess."

The screech of tires alerted them to the black van barreling down the street, the two previously unconscious men driving away. Almost immediately another car was on the chase, red and blue lights spinning, siren on.

"The tracker's in there already," Lindsey said, stopping her uncle before he called backup.

"How did you manage to get it in there?" he asked.

"I spit it. I must admit, uncle. I didn't think a piece of gum would work. Let's hope I didn't bite down too hard," she smirked. Static suddenly sounded over her uncle's radio before a familiar voice broke in.

"This is 55 Baker requesting assis..." the voice broke off.

"It's Rob," Lindsey stated quickly, checking glances with Chris, realizing he'd heard the same transmission. Lindsey looked to her uncle, who handed her his transmitter without question.

"Krest are you ok? Rob..." Lindsey let up on the transmitter listening intently. She heard the familiar click of the radio. Her heart was pounding. It was Krest. She knew he was alright.

"Don't worry, Rob's just fine, Rookie," came a deep and raspy voice. "He's in good hands." Lindsey looked to her uncle, her hands shaking. Her uncle quickly took charge, taking the transmitter from Lindsey's hands and holding it to his mouth.

"Who..." before he could finish, a deafening squeal sounded over the radio. Lindsey's uncle dropped the transmitter, but the squealing didn't stop. Faintly, in the back of her mind, Lindsey knew what that squealing sound meant. The radio was gone and so was Krest. As her uncle flicked off the radio on his shoulder, Lindsey could hear the distinct squealing coming from most of the squad cars. Everyone in the force had heard everything and by the solemn faces around her, they had come to the same conclusion; Robert Krest was dead.