Wow, she thought, he was pretty well hidden. The car had appeared out of nowhere, lights already flashing, the siren going, catching up to her at rapid speed. She was not actually going all that fast, just over seventy, but then again, it was a forty-five (for no good reason, by the way), and that meant she was flirting with thirty miles per hour of speeding, and that was never a good thing.
Pulling over to the side of the road, she turned the radio down and tilted the power mirror a bit so she could watch the cop car. He seemed to just sit there for a while, but she knew that he was actually working on the MDT, or Mobile Data Terminal, running her license plate, and seeing if there were any warrants for the owner of the car, or if the plate itself was stolen.
She hoped all that came back negative, regarding getting pulled over as a sort of free background check, which sometimes defused the tension of the moment. Finally the door of the unmarked cruiser opened, and she watched the uniformed officer slowly approach her.
To her, the Ford Interceptors were a model of ugly American car design, which was why she was in a BMW. It's gray color made it pretty clear that despite the fact that it lacked all the paint and lights on the outside, this was something used by the government in pursuit of those that break the law, function over form, as her teachers would have said in college. Totally not true of the man it held.
She could see in the mirror as he came closer that he was tall next to the car, over six feet she figured. His shaved head glistened in the sun, the dark skin seemingly flawless. His black uniform sat on a well-muscled frame, the bulky bulletproof vest sticking out of the shirt, which had short sleeves sleeves. She liked short sleeves, and again it was demonstrated why. The man had bulging biceps and massive forearms, the kind that made her mouth water as he approached and leaned down, his mirrored sunglasses throwing back a reflection of self.
"Good afternoon, ma'am. Do you know why I pulled you over today?"
"Not really." She grinned, not known as a smart ass for nothing.
"You were speeding 30 miles per hour over in a forty five. Can I please ask you to step out of the car?"
"What?"
"Step out of the car, ma'am." He stepped back, pulling open the door for her. She gave him another look, and then killed the car, dumping her keys in her purse, and grabbing it as she climbed out.
She made a show of it, rotating in her seat so that he could see the short skirt slide up, slowly placing her legs on the ground, letting the gravel crunch under her high heels, then propelling herself upwards out of the convertible, her green eyes flashing at him as her auburn hair came lose in the wind.
He pointed to his car, pushing the door shut as he followed, and she could hear him saying something into his radio, not really sure what it was. She got to the door of his car, but he pointed to the trunk, and so she walked around, dropping her purse down onto the ugly gray paint. Wow, that paint was hideous.
"License, registration, and proof of insurance please." He stayed at least one arms distance from her at all times, his hands loosely by his sides, never far from the baton, the OC spray, or his gun. She gave him another smile, and then started digging in her purse, finding her license and placing it on the metal. Her registration proved more difficult.
Finally she came up with, and looked at him, as if expecting some resolution. He looked right back, and finally mouthed the word painfully slow. "Innnssssuuuurrraaannnncccceeeee."
Her look was pure venom, as she commenced to digging again, finally dropping the mangled piece of paper on the trunk next to the other two. He picked them up, walked back to the driver seat of his car, and typed something in as he watched her through the glass. Two or three minutes later he was back, but without her license.
"Ma'am, if I could please get you to place your hands on the trunk, and spread your ankles."
"What?"
"Ma'am, please put your hands on the trunk." His hand was on the baton now, and he took a half step back, as if he was preparing to beat her into submission.
"What forโฆ"
"Don't get an attitude! Do it now." His hand closed around the weapon, her eyes fixating on it, suddenly realizing that her mouth was dry as she palmed the hot metal, watching him disappear from sight as he moved around behind her.