“Me vuelves loca,” he moaned. “Such a feast for a man.” With one long warm swipe, he devoured her juices. Looking up at her, her head thrown back, hands pinching her own nipples – it was almost too much for his straining cock. He needed inside her soon, or he would be in jeopardy of finding his release in his boxers.
Mila began gyrating, encouraging him to thrust his tongue deep inside her, to taste every inch. The sounds she was making assured him she was enjoying this as much as he was. Her essence on his tongue was intoxicating, he couldn’t get enough. Adding a finger, he chased her G-spot, teasing it and simultaneously stroking her clit softly with his thumb. “Give it to me, mami, come on my fucking face.” His dirty talk and sinfully thick accent were all it took to have her going off, coating his tongue with her pleasure. He sucked greedily, grabbing his cock and rubbing it—getting primed for her pussy.
Sliding down his body, she raised his t-shirt and planted kisses down his chest, admiring the black tattoos crisscrossing over his finely chiseled body. Taking his cock in her hand, she slowly licked the tip, savoring the salty taste of his pre-cum. Mila was a woman who loved sucking cock. The power was like a drug. She got off on the ability to control a man and get what she wanted more than anything else. Never one to be rejected, she had to remind herself what she was made of, and that Brady would be putty in her hands once again.
Taking him all the way in until he hit the back of her throat she slowly fucked him with her mouth. Slipping him totally out and then running her tongue around him in a fast pace was driving him crazy. She could feel it in the way his hands gripped her hair, trying to force her into a consistent rhythm. They battled for control, to dominate, but she won the war when she ever so lightly caressed just the tip of him while her small hands fondled his balls.
The sensation must have been too much as he blew his massive load with a yell.
With a sigh and a stretch, Mila climbed off his lap and smirked down at him. The pleasure in his eyes faded as he took in her expression. Laying there, covered in his own seed, he felt exposed.
“Hermosa, you did not want my cock?” Confusion played over his features, as he sat up. Giggling, she graced him with a real smile.
“Alejandro. Please. Do you really think I would let your cock inside me? You’re the help,” she replied, as if it was the most logical explanation in the world. Alejandro’s neck went red at her words, anger replacing his confusion at her actions.
With a yawn, she tossed her dark waves and strolled out of the room, at ease with her nudity. “You can see yourself out right?” Embarrassed and angry at being used, he had to bite his lip firmly to keep his harsh retort inside. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Great, I think I’ll take a nap. Tootles.” At the top of the stairs, she stopped and turned back to look at him, hastily gathering up his clothes and heading for the sliding doors.
“Oh and Alejandro?” she called out.
“Si, mami?”
“You’re fired.”
CHAPTER THREE
At a few minutes before 9am, Sheriff Brady James pulled into the Durham Heights police station. Throwing the car into park, he rested his head on the seat, trying to wrap his head around the bullshit Mila had pulled at the diner that morning. Who the fuck did she think she was fooling with her “popping in for a chat” nonsense. The last place Mila would ever be caught dining was Earl’s Diner, and from the looks Joan had been shooting her, he knew she saw right through Mila’s act as well.
It wasn’t that he didn’t find Mila attractive, how could he not—she was a beautiful woman. With her long dark hair, round green eyes and a mouth that his cock begged to fuck, she was almost irresistible. When they had started out, keeping his hands off her was his last thought. Mila was a firecracker between the sheets, there was no denying that. But for something more permanent? No, she was not the woman for him. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t quite break through her walls. She carried herself like a soldier, armed and ready to defend her heart from anyone that tried to get close to it. Hell, he didn’t think the word love was in her vocabulary.
Sure, he kept things going for a while with her, he was no fool and a pussy like hers was hard to find. After a few months of regular—hotter than fuck hook-ups—he began to notice a calculating look in her eye. One that spoke of her becoming a more permanent fixture in his life. Her things began piling up at his house, a toothbrush mysteriously made its way into his cup into the bathroom. All signs that she was more attached than he was. While he was no saint, he wasn’t an asshole and stringing her along with the notion of something more, was not aces in his book.
Pulling the string on their arrangement hadn’t been easy…Fuck, the scene she caused. He rubbed a hand over his face, thinking back to the epic destruction she wreaked in his living room that day. I still have to replace that painting of the New York skyline, he mused, recalling the way Mila had torn it from the wall and smashed it to pieces. He hadn’t seen or heard from her since that day a month ago. Her reappearance today was a worry he didn’t have time for.
With a heavy sigh, he pulled the keys from the ignition, grabbed his breakfast and headed into the station. The Durham Heights police station was a large brown brick building, the white and blue striped awnings made it appear more like a local pop shop than the offices of the law, but Brady loved the feel of the place. Moving to the small town 5 years earlier had been just the change he needed to escape the pressures of New York City, and his job there in homicide.
Landing in Durham Heights and taking the position of Sheriff allowed him to leave the demons of his past where they belonged, in the past. His resume had spoken for itself and helped him secure the Sheriff position, despite his young age. Recalling his days on the force in NYC wasn’t easy for him. He shuddered as a scene of blood and horror flashed before his eyes. Screams echoed in his mind before he shook his head, pushing the memories down—buried deep in his soul where he tried like hell to forget them.
Pulling open the main door, he stepped inside and was immediately met with the sounds of the hustle and bustle of the main floor of the station—or “the pen,” as it was affectionately referred to. Cubicles were set up haphazardly in the middle of the room, making up the workstation of the deputies. The town had eight deputies in total, although only half were useful. Moving through the desks, he nodded good morning to those already in for the day. His office was located in the back left corner, the only office in the station besides the interrogation rooms. A makeshift secretary’s desk was set up outside his door, a simple desk and chair the only furniture afforded to Sarah, the young college graduate that served as his assistant.
Since Sarah wasn’t in yet—she was chronically late, a fact he found both endearing and frustrating; he opened his office door and took a seat at his desk. Casting a quick glance at his phone told him he had no new messages, a disheartening fact as he was still no closer to cracking this case.
“Boss, you got a sec?” Deputy Sam Ridley asked from the doorway, causing Brady to look up. Sam was a Durham Heights native, born and bred. Only two years younger than him, they had struck up an immediate friendship. Sam was laid back in nature, except when it came to the law. He had a mind and eye as sharp as any cutthroat politician, a trait that was both amusing and admirable. His ability to get fired up over the tiniest infraction had the two bickering like little old ladies on more than one occasion.
“Sure, Sam. What’s up?” Taking a sip of his coffee, he inwardly sighed in pleasure. That Joan was a saint, her coffee could put the highest paid barista in New York to shame.
“Just wanted to give you an update on last night. Percy and Rims got called over to the Bartlett’s place – some sort of a disturbance. Turned out Mrs. Bartlett was threatening her husband with the shotgun again.” Brady swiped a hand over his face and sighed. Mrs. Bartlett had Alzheimer’s and was constantly mistaking her husband for a burglar, her threats got more imaginative with each incident. At least this time she hadn�
�t impaled him with a spatula. Every man on the force and in the town had felt sympathy for poor Mr. Bartlett after seeing him with the spatula protruding from where the sun didn’t shine.
“Percy and Rims handle it? Please tell me she didn’t shoot one of them,” he was only half serious. Deputies Dan Percy and Jed Rims weren’t the brightest and he wouldn’t have been surprised if one of them had walked away carrying a bullet.
“Yeah, boss, they managed to diffuse the situation without any injuries. Mr. Bartlett swore that this time he would see about getting her into a facility—someone, possibly him is going to get hurt unless she gets some help.” Sam finished his explanation and took a seat in the chair across from Brady.
“Good. Tell them to have the report on my desk before the end of the day. Today, not tomorrow,” he clarified. Opening the bag Joan had forced on him at the diner, he stuck his nose inside and inhaled deeply. If the breakfast was as good as it smelled, he would have to reconsider his routine of just coffee until dinner. Glancing up, he caught Sam eyeing the bag enviously.
“Hailey didn’t feed you this morning, I’m guessing,” he commented, amused. Hailey and Sam had been high school sweethearts, Sam told everyone that would listen that they were soulmates, that it had been love at first sight. Married since the day after they graduated, Brady knew they were trying for their first child—a fact that he teased Sam about relentlessly. Studying him, he took in his dark curly hair, thick black glasses and rigidly pressed uniform. His appearance gave off a clear nerd vibe and Brady found himself wondering not for the first time how he had landed a beauty such as Hailey. Having seen them together on more than one occasion, he knew they were made for each other and both would make spectacular parents when the time came, despite Sam’s quirks.
“She had an early morning meeting at the school,” Sam replied, sulking when he realized Brady wasn’t going to share. “Something about new curriculum.” Hailey was a teacher at the local elementary school, a fact that was both a blessing and a curse as she and Sam struggled with conceiving their own child.
Brady opened the Styrofoam container and dug into his breakfast with enthusiasm. Moaning for extra effect around a mouthful of eggs, he mumbled, “Damn, these eggs are killer.” Grabbing a piece of crisp bacon he took a huge bite, crunching loudly.
“Dude.” Sam complained, sounding exasperated. Rolling his eyes, Brady reached in the bag and grabbed a biscuit, tossing it to Sam. Shaking his head at Sam’s huge grin, he gulped down the last chug of his coffee and turned the conversation to business.
“Where are we at with forensics? Anything come back yet?” With Durham Heights being as small as it was, there was no lab in town. This Ava Marshall case was the first murder the town had seen in decades, a fact that had the citizens quaking in fear and demanding answers as to who was responsible for such a brutal crime.
“I called over to Shreveport’s station this morning, no info yet,” Sam replied. Shreveport was the closest major city and with Durham Height’s population of only 7,000, they were restricted to using outside sources to help conduct the investigation.
Glancing up at his murder board, Ava’s lifeless eyes stared back at him. The horror he saw depicted there was gut-wrenching. The girl was covered in multiple stab wounds, some superficial, and others so deep he cringed thinking of the pain she must have felt. The abuse she suffered, both physical and sexual—was evident just from the few photos he had posted up. Seeing her remains up close was a nightmare he wouldn’t soon forget.
Clenching his jaw, he returned his attention to Sam. “That’s not good enough,” he said angrily. “We need answers on any evidence they were able to recover from her body.” Being in the dark was not something that sat well with him; he was used to being in the middle of the action and badgering the lab staff until he got results. Standing, he walked over to the window to peer out at the pen, giving himself a minute to push his anger aside.
“I know, Brady.” Sam used his first name in a soft tone. The murder of such a bright, beautiful girl had left them all reeling. “I’ll keep pushing for the report, I’ve got a buddy that can hook me up with some Saints or Pelicans tickets that I can use as a bribe to get us some answers.” Resorting to bribery to get cases pushed to the top was a sad but necessary act at times, and Brady was grateful for Sam’s connections. If it was one thing these Southern boys took seriously, it was their sports, he couldn’t blame them—it was the same in NYC when it came to the Knicks or the Yankees. He nodded, giving Sam the okay to make the deal.
Turning back to the pen, he watched in amusement as Sarah tried to sneak to her desk unnoticed. She was unsuccessful in her attempt as she ran straight into Deputy Percy who snagged her coffee out of her hands. “Thanks darlin’,” he told her with a wink. “I sure could use a pick me up this morning.” Sarah snatched her coffee back in annoyance and was about to open her mouth and give him what was sure to be a scathing reply when she caught the Sheriff watching their encounter with interest.
“Buzz off,” she hissed under her breath and proceeded to hurry to her desk, ignoring Percy’s chuckling behind her. Waving a good morning to her boss, and tossing him an apologetic smile for her lateness, she busied herself with starting up her computer and playing the waiting messages blinking on her phone.
“Boss?” Sam called Brady’s attention back to him, he was pointing to one of the crime scene photos of Ava. “Do you think those are bite marks?” Sam voiced a question that had been running through Brady’s mind since he first saw the body. Walking over to stand next to his friend, he studied the photos in silence for a few moments.
“Yeah. Those are bite marks, and right there is where they cut her so deep I can see her fucking bone, and there, on her wrists? Those bruises and scrapes are from her yanking on handcuffs. Oh, and let’s not forget the sexual assault, from the state of her—this sick fuck really got his fill.” Punching the board in fury, he watched the photos drift to the floor, his breathing heavy.
“I’m sorry, boss.” Sam’s hand came down on his shoulder. Nodding, he cast Sam a wry smile. Taking the hint, the younger officer turned and left, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.
With a sigh, Brady gathered the photos up from the floor and re-pinned them to his murder board. Looking at them again, something caught his attention. Ava’s face. It was completely untouched, which was a stark contrast to the rest of her battered body. Stunned, he stared closer at the photo. It was true, not a mark on her face at all, not even the tiniest scratch.
Ripping the close-up photo from the board, he rounded his desk and started tapping keys on his computer in rapid succession. Finally, he had some sort of a clue in this otherwise dead-end case.
Once he had the computer database running a search on similar crimes, he sat back and linked his hands behind his head. Fuck, how did I miss that? It must have some significance. Leaving her face untouched when the rest of her was pretty much ripped to shreds—it held meaning to the killer. He knew it.
To commit these kinds of acts, the person responsible was truly evil. Ava had been missing for weeks before her body was discovered, and Brady knew enough from his days on the force to tell that she hadn’t been dead for very long. The torture she had endured was sickening. To be capable of those kinds of acts of cruelty on another human being spoke volumes of the type of man he was looking for. One without a conscience—without a soul, a dark being that so far, was proving to be a worthy adversary.
The further he dug into the case, the more he came up empty-handed. Failure was not an option, Ava was counting on him for justice; the town he had sworn to protect was looking to him for protection and reassurance that this monster would be apprehended. It was up to him to catch this elusive sadistic killer. No matter what the cost.
His computer pinged, alerting him to incoming data. The search had returned hundreds of hits in the surrounding area—not all exact matches but with enough similarities to warrant looking into. With a firm set of his jaw, he
rolled up his sleeves and got to work.
Hours passed in a blink of an eye, he blearily looked up at the soft knock at his door, calling an absentminded “Yeah,” in response. “Um, Sheriff?” Sarah poked her head in tentatively. “Just wanted to apologize about this morning. Percy, well you know, he gets under my skin sometimes.” Sarah offered a smile and a shrug in apology.
“Don’t worry about it,” Brady let her off the hook with a wave of his hand. Percy was a douchebag that didn’t know his dick from the end of a broomstick. Anyone with eyes could see that he was interested in Sarah, but instead of manning up and asking her out, he played the schoolyard game of treating her like shit to get her attention.
Lecturing the petite redhead on the importance of punctuality wasn’t something he had time for, and he wanted her out of his office before she attempted to flirt with him. While she was pretty enough, getting involved with his assistant was just far too cliché for him. Plus, the added drama wasn’t something he needed. He had enough on his plate with Mila as it was.
Sarah couldn’t help but study the Sheriff as he sat glued to his computer screen. His shirt collar was ruffled as though he had been tugging on it impatiently, his empty coffee cup knocked over and long forgotten. The man had these piercing blue eyes that could stop traffic on a dime. There was no mistaking it, Sheriff Brady James was one yummy man in uniform. When he didn’t say anything further, she sighed, took one last look and turned to leave.
“Sarah, hang on.” Secretly thrilled at hearing her name on his lips, she looked back at him expectantly. With a small sigh, she clasped her hands together. If only Percy would look at her like that.
“Remember a few months back, you asked me for help with your friend that was in an abusive relationship?” Sarah’s best friend, Brooke had found herself trapped with a boyfriend whose priority was to use her as target practice for his fists. Sarah had pleaded with Brady to intervene and help her get away from him before she was seriously hurt.
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