Prompt: There are numerous obstacles in the way of love. Especially when a brave young cop falls for the mischevious daughter of a notorious gang lord. 

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Officer Bryant closed his eyes straining to make out the don's low voice between the background noise of shuffling feet and papers moving. 

"I want Keith eliminated after Tuesday's shipment arrives..." Movement and static made the next few words almost impossible to hear, "...so meet him with Chuck at the Coleman dock at 2 am, Wednesday." 

"Yes!" whispered Bryant to himself, taking off the sweaty headphones. His legs ached from crouching for hours in the abandoned building across the street from the gangsters' hideout. He winced, unfolding one long limb across the floor.

"No," came a soft, confident voice from the doorway. Bryant fumbled to get to his feet but his legs wouldn't work properly. And, like always, she was quicker. In two strides she crossed the room and snatched the recording device from where it lay on the floor. He lunged at her ankles as she hurdled out through the broken window, but he was too slow.

Bryant sprang up and followed her, landing heavily and cursing under his breath. Mirages of shimmery liquid danced across the hot black rooftop under the late afternoon sun. A lithe dark figure slid effortlessly down the fire escape at the far end of the dilapidated building. He raced after her. She's going to be the death of me. 

He shook the rusted ladder, looking down its three flights, dubious it would hold his weight. It would have to if he hoped to catch her. The top bolts separated from the building as he hefted his weight onto it. Halfway down it gave way completely and, still anchored at the bottom, the ladder fell backward from the tenement. Bryant managed to hang on as it crashed against a dumpster. He dropped down to the cobblestones below and looked up to see her smile wryly over her shoulder as she gunned the engine to her Ducati Macchia Nera before pealing out of the alley.   

Bryant mounted his own motorcycle and took off after her. They zig-zagged through deserted streets lined with abandoned warehouses, zooming past the empty stadium. She wouldn't? Leaving a trail of charred pavement, she entered the subway tunnel. He sucked in a breath, gunned his engine, and followed her. To his relief, she quickly veered off into a new tunnel under construction. They sped past a work crew and barely hearing their shouts of protest.  In a flash, they were alone again in the dark tunnel. He gained on her. His heartrate quickened. Just toying with him, she let out a laugh and shout of the dark onto the bridge across Lake Washington. Tall gray whitecaps blew across the water. Bryant gripped the handles tighter counterbalancing the wind. Please don't let her jump. Losing that gorgeous bike would be such a shame, and he would never catch her swimming.

Quickly they crossed the span of the bridge and were back underground again. Reaching an empty station, she jumped her motorcycle up to the platform but lost control. Sparks flew as the bike skidded across the cement floor before coming to a stop next to a ticket booth. It provided him just enough time. She sprang up but Bryant was already upon her. He slammed her to the ground and straddled her torso, pinning her to the floor.

"I guess this is it for you, Blue." Her chest heaved as she gasped for air under the full weight of his body. He reached over her head and snapped one handcuff onto her left wrist, trying not to notice the ample cleavage bulging from beneath the zipper of her tight leather jacket. 

"Hardly," she panted. She shifted her hips. Caught off balance, he pitched forward. With lightning speed, she had wrapped her muscular thighs around his shoulders, twisted, and thrown him off. Before he could pull himself upright she was sprinting towards the stairs to the exit. 

"Blue." 

She halted, heeding the mocking tone in his voice. Her back stiffened.

"Forget something?" Bryant held up the recorder grinning. Slowly she turned. Anger and the promise of danger sparkled in her eyes. This time it was his turn to run. He jumped onto the track and sprinted back into the tunnel. It took her little time to catch him. He didn't really stand a chance. A small athletic frame collided with his much larger one. Bryant stumbled but didn't fall.

A shot rang out, reverberating down the subway tunnel.

Silence.

From the city above, a muffled church bell struck five. Bryant collapsed onto the track, taking Blue with him. 

"Good job officer. You almost got me today," whispered Blue. She lay on top of Bryant's body, her hand splayed across his sweaty chest, fingers slowly opened the buttons of his shirt. She placed her cheek against the coarse hair.

Bryant, still out of breath from the chase, picked his head up and looked at the smoldering recorder in his hand. "You could have killed me. Thank God it's quitting time." He let his head drop back to the ground and let out a long sigh. 

"Ironic if I rubbed you out with the Glock 43 you got me for my 43rd birthday," said Blue, smiling.  She removed the burnt plastic from his hand and threw it away. "Evidence destroyed. Daddy's safe for another day." 

"I love you," said Bryant and pulled her into a kiss.

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A/N: Shoutout to @johnnedwill for introducing me to the concept of the punchclock villian and by extension inspiring my punchclock hero.