"F**k!"
Henry stared at the second suspect's body and scowled.
"Sh*t… now we're in for it."
"Let's just pray the LGBT folks don't get involved in this one."
In modern America, there were two absolute political taboos:
BLM and LGBT.
Even Elon Musk couldn't say a word when his son transitioned—just impotent rants on social media. Couldn't touch the rainbow.
That's how powerful—and untouchable—they were.
Ryan just shrugged.
He came from a red-blooded country, where he only recognized two genders:
Men and Women.
To hell with the rest.
"Still," Henry added, "he pulled a gun first. That's clean self-defense."
The two of them did a sweep of the apartment—and immediately turned green.
Nobody else inside.But the stench?Unreal.
No wonder the old lady next door had called it in.
There was literal crap smeared across the floor.
Like… everywhere.
"Jesus Christ…"
They staggered out, coughing and swearing, gasping for clean air.
Backup arrived soon after.
Car 14: Emily White and Charlotte Brown.Car 17: Daniel Gray and Francis Davis.Daniel was half-Black, half-white.
The moment they saw the weapons in the suspects' hands, everyone exhaled. If they were armed, the shooting was justified.
But when they realized one of the shooters identified as LGBT, all their expressions soured with sympathy and stress.
That group? A legal nightmare.
Like—if a male officer frisks a man, no problem.
But if the guy says he's a woman on the inside?
Suddenly it's sexual harassment.
Soon, forensics and the evidence unit arrived, along with their shift supervisor—Benjamin Black.
He already had the situation report.
He gave Ryan a look filled with tired understanding.
"Ryan. Hand over your sidearm."
"Congratulations. You're on administrative leave. Again."
Standard LAPD protocol.
Everything by the book.
Ryan just shrugged and handed over his TTI Combat Viper and his badge.
During admin leave, officers were stripped of enforcement authority.
Benjamin blinked when he saw the gun. That was no standard-issue piece.
Eight grand, minimum.
No rookie patrol officer could afford that.
"Boss, Taylor Swift gave it to him," Henry jumped in. "Two of them, actually."
Benjamin's eyes widened, then… sighed. In understanding.
In America, even the FBI feared the IRS.
Top 3 armed powers in the country?Mold. National Guard. IRS.
It didn't matter if you were a kingpin or terrorist—if you skipped taxes, the IRS would have you crawling.
Knowing it came from her, Benjamin's suspicion vanished.
What replaced it?
Pure envy.
Sure, a guy like him could buy a $8,000 Viper.
But why bother?A $600 Glock could still get the job done.
What stung was that a rookie—this handsome punk—was clearly sleeping with Taylor Swift.
Benjamin glanced at Ryan's face and muttered mentally:
"Sht. Why wasn't it me in that bed?"*
But if getting laid meant facing five armed suspects solo?
Yeah, no thanks.
Back at the station, Ryan changed into a crisp Armani suit.
Henry could only watch in envy as he stepped into the driver's seat of a Ford F-150 Raptor.
Fully loaded. Nearly $200,000.
In Taylor's garage, it was the cheapest thing she owned.
For Henry? Completely out of reach.
"Sh*t! She gave you this too?"
Ryan shook his head.
"Nah. Just grabbed it from her garage."
Henry's eyes popped.
"F**k. You seriously slept with her, didn't you?!"
Most American guys looked down on men who lived off women.
But Taylor Swift?
That's a whole different ballgame.
Ryan just grinned and drove off.
"Henry, find yourself a new partner. I'm off for the next 7 days."
Henry stood there, watching the Raptor disappear.
Muttering like a man who'd been shot.
"F**k. That bastard's worked less than three hours total!"
"Three hours on duty… FOURTEEN DAYS OFF?!"
"And it's f**king paid leave!"
"Sh*t!!"
At this point, even Henry wanted to shoot someone—just to get time off.
Meanwhile, back at Beverly Hills Manor, Taylor was mid full-body massage and skincare session.All female staff, of course.
When she heard the Raptor's engine growling outside, she blinked in surprise.
Then smiled—because there he was.
Ryan.Back again, barely two hours after leaving.
"Darling?" she called, surprised. "What are you doing back already?"
The LAPD ran three long shifts with four days off—or four short shifts with three off.
Even a short shift was eight hours.
It hadn't even been two.
"Can't help it. They gave me admin leave again."
Taylor sat up instantly.
"Oh my God! Are you hurt?!"
She threw her arms around him, checking him over anxiously.
"I'm fine," Ryan said with a smile, pulling her into his arms.
"And your gift?"
"Saved my life today."
Taylor's eyes lit up.
"That's wonderful!"
Ryan kissed her.
His adrenaline was still running high from the shootout. Muscles tight. Nerves sharp.
Now he needed release.
And the best way to do that… was exactly what you think.
Taylor waved the staff out without a word.
Season 3: America vs China—Round Two.
But this battle?Would be fought between silk sheets.