Beautiful Prey: The Storm Series

by Daniels, Phoenix

  Acknowledgements

  I dedicate this book to my wonderful daughter and best friend, Jasmine Marie McMorris. She was taken from me too fast. May she rest in peace. She was the absolute love of my life and always picked me up if ever I should fall. I wrote this book in her legacy because she died while in the process of writing her own novel. I decided to pick up where she left off. I also need to thank my super intelligent fourteen-year-old daughter, NiYah, who expertly pre-edited everything that wasn't erotic. I'd also like to thank my wonderful publisher, Femistry Press, for believing in me and providing an abundance of encouragement. I'm thankful for my other editors and family for giving me space to write. Also, my man, Bernard (AKA Jack) for helping me to understand the pleasures of a man.

  In Memory Of:

  Jasmine Marie McMorris

  September 1, 1990 May 19, 2013

  Beautiful Prey

  a Femistry novel

  by Phoenix Daniels

  Copyright @2014 by Femistry Press Publications. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except by reviewer, who may quote brief passages to be printing online, in a newspaper, or magazine.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be assumed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  VICTORIA

  Victoria sashayed over to the curbed black Escalade. She was sure that she had seen the truck before. She already knew that the driver wanted her. After all, she was wearing a tiny little pink tennis skirt that barely landed over her ass cheeks and a white t-shirt that was cut to show her impressive midsection.

  The six-inch pink and blue stilettos were going to seal the deal.

  “Hey, baby,” Victoria whispered as she leaned into the driver’s side window.

  He’s cute, she thought to herself.

  Actually, he was too good looking to be trolling Madison Avenue for a street whore. Victoria took a closer look at the handsome man. He had the most intense grey eyes, a strong jaw line, and sandy blonde hair.

  He actually looked familiar.

  Leaning further into the window seal, exposing her large breasts, she asked, “Do we know each other?”

  “No.”

  His response was too quick for Victoria, so she narrowed her eyes in response. She wasn’t convinced. Yet, she knew that Steve was nearby and he wouldn’t be happy if she had a long conversation with a John without sealing the deal. So, she got on with it.

  “You lookin’ to party, Handsome?”

  “Get in,” the John ordered. He was cold and barely looked at her as he spoke.

  “Hold on, baby. We haven’t made a deal yet.”

  His irate attitude was now exasperating silence, so Victoria attempted to turn and walk away. Before she could escape, the John reached out of the window and grabbed her by the arm. She turned around, ready to unleash her wrath. Victoria didn’t like being manhandled.

  However, before she could get a word out, he snatched half of her body through the driver’s side window and hit the gas. Victoria was filled with terror as her body was dragged along the burning hot asphalt.

  She struggled to get free as her feet hit the street so violently that her stilettos were knocked off. She really didn’t care if she fell from the speeding vehicle because at that very moment she realized that she was being abducted by the infamous prostitute serial killer that the police had been hunting diligently.

  She heard the screeching tires of a vehicle in pursuit that was coming to her rescue. She became thankful that Steve was nearby. Yet, as soon as the relief came, it left her body when she felt a needle pierce her soft brown skin.

  Instantly, everything went black.

  Four months ago…

  CHAPTER 1

  VICTORIA

  Hot! That was the only word to describe July in Chicago. Victoria Price took a deep breath and stepped out of her car. Since becoming an officer with the Chicago Police Department ten years ago, Victoria equated heat with violence.

  She shrugged and muttered to herself, “It’s gonna be a busy day.”

  For the past five years, Victoria had been working as an undercover Vice officer. She walked into the station and thought about her fellow officers. Cops came in all types. There are good, hardworking, and honest cops. Oh, but let’s not forget the wimp turned bully with a gun, the bully turned monster, and, of course, the lady turned butch that has to prove that she’s just as tough as the guys.

  She laughed to herself and headed to the locker room. Shedding her clothes and weapon, Victoria took a deep breath and walked over to the floor length mirror. She stared at her long dark hair and her caramel colored skin. She lowered her eyes to her large breasts, small waist, and long legs and realized that she didn’t make it to this elite unit in the Organized Crime Division because she had done her time working the beat, had worked for years running and gunning on the tactical team, or was considered the best female undercover in her unit.

  No, Victoria knew that she only got to this so-called elite unit because of the way she looked. At thirty-one, she was still considered to be quite beautiful.

  Victoria looked into her mirrored eyes and muttered, “How long are you gonna keep doing this?”

  She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and walked over to her locker to get dressed. She finished dressing and walked back to the mirror to make sure she looked the part. She did. She was sporting a very tight pink top that rested slightly above her belly button, which showed off her flat stomach, belly ring, and way too much cleavage. She turned around and glared at the half of her ass cheeks that weren’t covered by her skin-tight blue jean shorts. She took the journey down her long legs and eyed the bright red six-inch hidden platforms; shoes that she adored.

  After another deep breath, Victoria “top model” stomped out of the locker room in just in the nick of time for roll call. Upon entering the roll call room, Victoria got the usual cat calls from her co-workers.

  “Fuck y’all,” she mouthed as she took her seat.

  Victoria looked around at the group of men that she spent most of her time with. Among them were Miguel, the very sweet Puerto Rican that always lent her an ear or a shoulder to cry on, Frankie, the hilarious Italian that could make her laugh during the worst situation, and Steve, her extremely muscular ex-Marine partner that would dive on a grenade to save her. Last but not least, Deon was her very fit and charismatic friend. Deon was an extremely handsome ladies’ man. Between her tall and handsome friend and her muscle-bound tattooed partner, who most women considered super sexy, no one would believe that there was nothing sexual with either of them. Victoria had a strict motto, “don’t shit where you eat”, and she stuck to it. Not because she was so moral, but because she’d had a horrible experience when she got involved with a cop where she was previously assigned. Lance had showed his ass and put her personal affairs on display. He was her one sexual liaison on the job because, unfortunately, there was a serious double standard. Male cops could bed as many female cops as they pleased and be a “player,” but, if a female cop had sex with more than one cop, she was a whore. If she were to ever get promoted, it would be because she was sleeping with someone powerful, not because she deserved it.

  Because of this, and the fact that she spent so much time on the street as an undercover prostitute, Victoria was very single.

  Lost in her thoughts, Victoria almost missed her sergeant’s speech in roll call. Apparently someone was killing prostitutes on the West Side. Somehow the “higher up
s” came up with the brilliant idea to increase Victoria’s presence on the street as an undercover prostitute in hopes to catch the killer.

  Victoria decided that her superiors could give less than a fuck whether she lived or died.

  Oh, well. I’m a cop, she thought to herself while thanking God for her team.

  Roll call ended, and the team exited the room.

  A grinning Deon walked over to Victoria. “You’re gonna kill ‘em tonight in that getup, Baby Girl.”

  “Better than them killing me.” Victoria laughed at her own cynical humor as she hustled over to a waiting Steve and followed him out of the door.

  Steve was the strong silent type. He didn’t do much talking to anyone other than Victoria. It was Steve’s responsibility to keep an eye on Victoria at all times. His job was to hide in the shadows and make sure that she was completely safe while she posed as a street prostitute. If Steve saw anything remotely out of order, he would alert the team to rush in and do damage. Victoria had complete confidence in her team, and she put her life in their hands on a daily basis.

  Steve and Victoria made their way out the door and to their assigned vehicle, a covert Toyota Sequoia.

  Steve looked over at Victoria and the seriousness in his expression startled her. “What?”

  “Be careful tonight, Vic.”

  Victoria ran her hand across his back. “I’m always careful.”

  That seemed to comfort him, so they took off and headed to the West Side.

  Three hours, fifteen Johns, and no killer meant it was time to call it a night. Three hours of walking the street and negotiating the price of a blowjob with scum exhausted Victoria.

  “Good job,” Steve acknowledged while navigating their way back to the station.

  “Yeah, thanks. Guess I make an excellent whore,” Victoria said with a chuckle.

  They made it back to the station and headed to the roll call room for debriefing. The team trickled in and took their seats.

  Sergeant Banner staggered to his feet slurring. “Good job, Price.”

  At this point it was clear to the entire room that the sergeant was good and drunk. He spoke over the chatter and giggles at his expense and continued with, “We still have a killer to catch.” In between hiccups, he slurred, “Price, you’ll be shaking your ass on the street every day until we catch him.”

  Victoria was irritated beyond belief. She wanted to tell that drunken bastard to go shake his ass on the street. She was on the street risking her life while he was somewhere getting drunk.

  Victoria stood and asked the sergeant, “Don’t we have a Homicide Division?”

  “Yeah,” he mumbled. “But they ain’t got your, umm, assets,” he said with a sick drunken smirk.

  Victoria rolled her eyes and returned to her seat.

  When the sergeant was done with his drunken debriefing, she hopped up hurriedly. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than a hot shower and her warm bed.

  She was headed to the locker room when Deon cut her off. “You know we’ll never let anything happen to you.”

  Victoria exhaled. “I know, Deon. I just feel like the department is really pimping me.”

  Deon smiled sympathetically and said, “Because they are. But the truth is you are the best at what you do.” He shrugged as he continued, “Sorry, Baby Girl.”

  Deon planted a quick kiss on her forehead and headed out the door. Victoria headed into the locker room to change. She sat and stared at her locker and decided she was too tired to change. She grabbed her weapon and clothes, stuffed them into her gym bag, and headed out.

  On the drive home, she thought of how much she loved her job. She had wanted to be a cop ever since she was a little girl. She was sold after she saw her first rerun of Cagney and Lacey. She smiled to herself as the memories played in her mind.

  “I won’t be a CPD whore forever,” she convinced herself with a smile.

  Once arriving at her apartment building, Victoria pulled into her assigned parking space and jumped out of her car like it was on fire. She couldn’t wait to get into her apartment and out of her shoes. She entered her building and headed up the stairs to her second-floor apartment. Stairs and six-inch platforms were a painful combination. When she made it to the top of the stairs, she sighed with relief. As she fumbled with her keys, the door directly across from her apartment opened. Victoria turned to see Mrs. O’Malley.

  Grace O’Malley had to be the nosiest woman alive.

  She had never, not even once, given Victoria so much as a hello. Victoria was the only black person in the building, and Mrs. O’Malley was set in her old Irish ways. Since Victoria was an undercover officer, no one in the building knew that she was a cop. Grace O’Malley took in Victoria’s slutty appearance. She slowly looked Victoria up and down. Victoria smiled and greeted the nosy old lady. Mrs. O’Malley looked at Victoria like she smelled of garbage and slammed her door. Victoria laughed out loud and entered her apartment. A hot shower and two glasses of wine later, Victoria was out like a light for the rest of the evening.

  CHAPTER 2

  VICTORIA

  “We’ve been doing these prostitution missions for two weeks now, and nothing!”

  Sergeant Banner was supposed to be debriefing the team, but he was doing more yelling than debriefing.

  “Two more bodies on our watch!” He looked directly at Victoria, insinuating the obvious.

  Upon that implication, Victoria had had enough. “I have been out there, as you put it, shaking my ass! What do you want me to do? Put a sign on my ass saying, ‘killer come get me’?! Whenever you feel like you can walk the streets better than me, feel free to shake your ass!”

  The team looked over at Victoria, shocked that she stood up to the sergeant. Deon shot her a smile and nodded his head in approval. Surprisingly, the sergeant ignored her, ended the debriefing, and dismissed the team.

  Victoria was relieved that he didn’t respond. She was even more relieved that her shift was over. It was Friday, and she had the weekend off. She was ready to unwind.

  Victoria’s mood was improving, so she bounced over to Steve and Deon. “Hey, guys. Me and my girl Tracy are going out tonight.” She smiled at them both and asked, “Wanna come out and be our bodyguards?”

  Deon laughed. “I wish I could. I got plans.” He looked over at Steve and said, “They’re gonna need a bodyguard. You should see the ass on Tracy. That chick is fine coming and going.”

  Tracy was Victoria’s best friend. She was a model turned account executive with a body to die for. With her perfect hourglass figure, super long weave, and consistently flawless makeup, she was a beast. It was as if an artist had drawn Tracy. Victoria believed that it was unreal for a body to be that perfect. That is until Victoria met Tracy’s mother and realized that Tracy’s body was inherited.

  Victoria looked over at Steve. He nodded and said, “I’m in. I need a drink. Where at and what time?”

  Victoria gave Steve the details and headed to the locker room to change. On the way home Victoria found herself singing along with Alicia Keys & Maxwell’s “Fire We Make” and realized that she was way overdue for some hot sweaty sex. After all, it had been damn near a year since she collided with a warm body.

  Lord have mercy, she thought to herself. She had to change the station before she started rubbing herself in the car.

  Victoria pulled into the parking lot, parked, and ran upstairs to her apartment. She entered and threw her bag on the floor by the front door. A neat freak she was not. She headed to her closet and picked out her best “I need to have sex but I’m no whore outfit”. She settled on a skin-tight little black dress that landed right above the knee. Black patent leather peep-toed pumps made her legs look even longer. She placed her iPod on the dock and pressed play before dancing toward her adjoining bathroom, shedding her clothes along the way. She prepared the shower, ensuring that the water was just right. She turned and faced the mirror and assessed her naked body while stuffing her hair in
to a shower cap. Victoria knew that she was no supermodel, but she was confident that she was considered by most to be attractive.

  She stepped into the shower and sighed as the hot water caressed her skin. She applied a generous amount of peppermint almond scented body wash and slowly massaged the soap into her relaxing muscles. That damn Alicia Keys and Maxwell song started to play again, igniting Victoria’s sensations. Alicia Keys was singing about getting hotter and hotter. Victoria’s hand instantly migrated south. Her senses were heightened. Between the song, the fragrance of her body wash, and the wetness of her skin as her hand caressed her generous breasts, she was in need of a release. Her nipples tightened almost painfully as she teased them.

  She closed her eyes and envisioned strong masculine hands. She glided her hand slowly down her stomach while the other continued to massage her aching nipples. She reached her aching core and started rubbing circles into her swollen bud. A soft moan escaped her lips. She envisioned a masculine tongue licking and sucking her wet hot pussy, and her fingers became possessed by that masculine tongue. Moans became pants, as she got closer to the release that she desperately needed. She leaned her back against the shower wall and imagined holding a masculine head as he swiped his tongue along her pussy and sucked her clit.

  “Oh my God,” she gasped as she pinched her aching nipples with one hand. She then inserted two fingers in her pussy with the other. She pulled some of the hot juice from her pussy and resumed her assault on her clit. She was climbing to her release. Her possessed fingers were fucking her well as the hot water ran down her body.

  “Ohhhh God,” she yelled as she reached an explosive orgasm. She slid down the shower wall and attempted to slow her racing heart. As she slid, she gently rubbed her jumping pussy.

  Smiling pleasingly, she thought to herself, who needs a man?

  Then she laughed out loud at her own thoughts. “Shit, I do!”