Ecstasy- Rapper imagines

Ms officer- nba yb (prt 1)

"Detective Good, we need you in the interrogation room," an officer yells. I huff and walk towards the rooms in the back, that are filled with drug dealers and murders being asked about their crimes. Some are smart, knowing exactly what to say. Some are dumb, snitching on themselves. And some are selfish, enjoying McDonald's while they take theirselves out the crime and blame it on their friends.

Now you probably think I hate my job. I don't. Breaking these men and getting the answers I want are fun. They always break for me. Ms Good always gets what she wants.

I walk into the room I was told to go. A woman can't even finish a sandwich without somebody getting caught. Man. Y'all just needa stay out of trouble so I can finish my food.

I see a boy, with his head down on the table and Detective Morgan with a mental migraine. Obviously we have a tough one.

"What he in for," I ask and Morgan passes me his files. "Robbery, murder and sex with someone underaged? Wow. You something else."

The boy lifts up his head, straightening himself and smirking when he sees me. He licks his bottom lip and smiles.

"He barely been talking. Keep saying he don't know shit and that he ain't do shit."

"What's your name," I ask him.

"Ain't it in them files? Fuck y'all got me in here for if y'all don't know my name," he sasses. I snap my neck back, shocked. I know this nigga did not just have that tone with me. I wish a nigga would.

"Excuse you," I say, sitting on the table and folding my arms.

"My fault Ms officer," he responds.

"It's Detective to you sir," I correct him. "Detective Good."

"Oh, I know you are," he says biting his lips. I roll my eyes and look at Morgan.

"Kentrell Gaulden," he tells me.

"Don't be saying my government," Kentrell interrupts. Perfect opportunity to get something out of him. I get closer to him, sitting on the table. I notice there is no cuffs, which means he didn't resist arrest. But there are scars in the shape of handcuffs which means he's been cuffed before. He's probably been in and out of jail for a while.

"So what do you want me to call you then," I answer seductively. If he tells me what the streets call him, we can find ties using his name. I can't wait to go through his instagram and find all the stupid clues he gives us. See, these thugs are dumb. They post everything. That's how they get caught. Because they're not smart, they wanna flex. Get money. Real gangsters move in silence, I learn that from my pops.

My pops sold drugs my whole childhood. Not once did he get caught or even arrested. Police never suspected him. My pops killed people and no one questioned it was him. Because he kept his mouth shut and kept out the way. These thugs want praise more than money.

"Daddy," Kentrell responds with a smirk. I examine the dents on his face.

"Where are those from," I ask him, reaching out to them. I don't touch them, just simply point to them. He doesn't seem nervous about me almost touching him. In fact, it's like he wants me too.

"I was a bad ass lil kid," he responds chuckling.

"Bad how," I ask.

"Ask my grandmaw," he states, looking up at me. "You fine Ms officer, anybody ever told you that?"

Every freaking day. I got motherfuckers asking me to arrest them all the time. It's almost disgusting how many times I've been harassed. Matter of fact it is exactly that, just utterly disgusting. But I love my job. Protecting the people I can.

"Thank you, Kentrell. Can I call you that?"

"Yeah, that's my name ain't it," he sasses.

"But you just told Detective Morgan he couldn't-"

"I like when you say my name Ms officer. It make me feel important. That pig ass nigga don't need to even be in this room," Kentrell replies. I look back at Morgan who smacks his teeth. He's about ready to strangle Kentrell.

"Can I call you Kenny," I ask him, this time getting closer. I learned that flirting is the best way to get through to a suspect. Men can't think straight when their dicks are speaking more than them.

"I like that," he says in a soft gentle voice. "What's yo real name Ms Officer?"

"That's not something you need to know," I reply. "We need to be talking about what you're being accused of-"

"Why you so tense? Loosen up, ma." His words matched his eyes traveling down my shirt make me feel some kind of way. My body jolts at the feeling of his hand caressing my arm.

"Don't touch her," Morgan yells.

"Derek, I got it," I tell him. Kentrell leans forward and I lean in too.

"Tell that nigga leave and I'll talk."

"I can't do that-"

"I'll tell you what I know. Just tell him leave."

"Morgan. Go get him something to drink," I request, nervously.

"What? Ian getting shit for-"

"That's an order," I say sternly. I give him a firm look and he smacks his teeth as he exits. "Smack yo teeth one more time and imma smack you in the face."

"You sassy. I like that Ms Officer," Kentrell says, his hand traveling up my thigh.

"It's detective Good," I tell him, pushing his hand off of me. He smirks.

"You're pants a lil wet Ms Officer," he says and I gasp, looking down at my light blue jeans. There's indeed a wet stain around my private area.

"I apologize. That is so inappropriate. It must be discharge." I stand up from the table but he grabs my hand.

"Nah, we both know what it is," he smirks again. "Let me take care of it."

"You said you would tell me what you know. So tell me," I say, sitting across from him.

"Alright I'll tell you," he says and leans in. I lean in also. "Nothing."

His laughter erupts through the room. I sigh, frustrated. This is gonna be a long night.

I wanna turn this into a book. What y'all think?????