Linstead

Pretty Boy

Erin's POV:

When we got to the meet-up place there was a black suburban waiting there, three guys with guns hopped out. Two of the guys were younger, about 17 or 18, they looked anxious, their eyes darting around as if they were expecting one of us to pull out a gun. The other one, though, was older and was probably their leader and of a higher rank than the other two. He looked Justin and I up and down and laughed.

"Some meth cooker we got here, boys."

They both let out a nervous laugh.

"Any weapons?" the leader asked.

I took my glock out of my coat pocket and slid it towards him on the ground, "That's it."

"What about you, pretty boy?"

Justin, realizing the question was being directed towards him, mumbled "Nothin' " He looked petrified.

"You," he motioned towards one of the guys, "pat him down, I got her."

The other guy began to pat-down Justin as the leader stepped towards me.

I stared straight ahead as groped my lower body. He pulled my waist against his and whispered in my ear, "You're the finest cook I've ever seen." What a pig.

He then proceeded to grope my breasts and ass again- Justin said nothing.

We were then told to get in the car. The the leader drove with one of the other in shotgun. Justin and I were in the back separated by the other young guy.

3rd person POV:

The rest of the intelligence unit was in an undercover van disguised as a plumbing company. Ruzek was driving with Atwater in shotgun. Voight, Halstead, Mouse, and Olinsky, were in the back listening to what was happening.

During the pat-down Halstead's face was visibly red, his fists clenched at his sides. He knew what that fucking sicko was doing go Erin and it made him sick.

"We'll get him," Voight muttered, "I'll get him."