“Do you believe her?” I ask Dr. Brinkley as I eye him from across the cafeteria table where we’re seated having lunch. “Do you believe men think in a more basic, primal manner rather than in an emotional sense?”
“It doesn’t really matter what I believe; she believes it and it’s enough to make her kill.”
“And…it doesn’t take a profiler to know you’re avoiding my question.” I arch an eyebrow, challenging him to deny it.
“Okay, yes…as I’m sure your mother told you, there are times we as men think with our cocks.” I look at her expression and I’m surprised when she doesn’t wince at my crude reference. “There are other times when a man is intrigued with a woman because she is the type to draw him into something that goes much deeper than sex.”
“And what type would that be?”
“An intellectual connection of two minds that think alike, whether they recognize it or not. You and I have much more in common than you realize and one day you’re going to see it just as clearly as I do.”
I deliberately don’t respond to his jab, and try to keep the conversation on a professional matter. “I’d like to study her more.”
“That’s why I introduced you to her. She’s an excellent test subject for your research. But be very careful, she has a way of pulling you in and then shutting you down. I’ve seen her bring grown men to their knees. In fact, I think that’s part of her fascination with me; I haven’t fallen for her tricks. Regardless, she’s adept at reading people and won’t hesitate to use her findings against you.”
“I’m certain it’s a form of entertainment for her. Knowing she’s left her mark on a victim gives her a sense of control.”
“Yes, she’s an emotional sadist. It will be interesting to see what approach she uses against you.”
“Always the profiler, aren’t you?” I retort curtly, tiring of his perpetual analysis of me, as if I’m the subject of his research instead of the crazy woman who’s locked up downstairs.
“Absolutely, it’s just another thing we have in common. You need to hear what I’m saying…She’s been gentle with you up to this point. One day when you least expect it, she’ll go for your jugular – figuratively through an emotional attack, or quite literally. I can promise you she wants to see you cry, she wants to see you confused, and she’s probably already fantasizing about killing you. If she ever has the opportunity to do so, she will.”
Chapter Thirty Four
Windy
I pull my car over when I notice the package sitting at the front entrance of the women’s shelter. I know if I don’t pick it up someone else will—anything left outside in this neighborhood is fair game. I’m surprised when I look down and see it’s addressed to me. Probably a care package from my mother is my first thought as I toss it onto the seat next to me and continue to the private entrance that leads to the apartment.
Thorn’s truck is parked in the garage – and so is Harley’s bike. That’s odd; maybe he’s more interested in Melissa than Thorn and I initially thought.
“Hey guys, what’s up?” I notice Melissa is sitting on the counter in denim cut-off shorts. Harley is standing close to her, leaning a hip against the counter as they talk quietly. Yeah…he’s interested.
I’m surprised that Harley can drag his eyes away from my best friend’s gorgeous legs long enough to notice how full my hands are. He takes the package from me, looking it over curiously.
He eyes me skeptically, “Where did you get this?”
“It was sitting out front when I pulled up. It’s probably just a care package from my mom.”
“No…it isn’t.” He starts to grin when he sees the return address label. “This is definitely not from your mother.”
He makes his way over to the wooded knife holder and grabs one of the steak knives, cutting through the brown packing tape sealing the now ominous box.
I’m shocked when I look down in the box and I see a diamond dog collar. “What is it?”
“I don’t know, ask your old man.”
I turn to see Thorn holding a German Shepherd puppy and I run over, taking it from his arms and laughing when I’m immediately greeted by warm, wet puppy kisses. “I didn’t think you were serious about getting me a dog. She’s beautiful; though I doubt she’s a killer,” I finish speaking in pure baby talk as I rub noses with my new fuzzy baby.
“By the time she gets done with the training school I signed you two up for, she’ll be as dangerous as I am when it comes to protecting you.”
“Does she have a name?” I ask as I rub her fur behind her ears.
“Not yet. But I was thinking, since you’ll finally have your own little sidekick now, maybe…Wonder?”
I say nothing and swallow hard to get rid of the lump in my throat, and feel a single tear make its way down my face. “That’s the perfect name. Thank you for this…and for remembering.”
Thorn tilts my chin up and says solemnly, “Always, baby.”
I laugh as Wonder licks my face. “One thing’s for sure, she already loves me.”
“Of course she does,” he says softly as he cradles my jaw in one enormous hand. “How can she help but love you?”
Thorn
“She’s perfect for you, and I got the collar big enough for her to grow into it,” I say with pride.
What is it about giving my woman a puppy that makes me feel ten feet tall?
“She’s lovely, thank you, Thorn,” Windy says as she leans over to kiss me sweetly on my cheek. But the tender moment is brief. “Do you think it’s him? Do you think Dr. Brinkley killed that guy?” My girl’s distracted by dark thoughts of the man she works for. We’re sitting side by side at our desk; she’s working on her laptop and I’m reviewing an Undercover Elite report on the desktop PC. We work together well, and I can see this happening a lot in the future.
I lean back in my chair and walk her through the information we have so far, much of it she already knows, but sometimes it can be helpful to rehash the basics. “The evidence points to a gang, much more so than your boss. That kid was killed execution style. The only thing I don’t get is why gangbangers wouldn’t take those cars, especially a rival gang. It just doesn’t make sense.”
Windy nods in agreement, which makes her blonde hair cascade over one shoulder. Focus, Thorn.
“True,” she agrees. “That’s the typical M.O. of an organized crime syndicate, to send a message that way. I know groups like gangs and organized crime tend to send death threats or, when they catch the snitch, kill him with a bullet to the back of the head. What if his own gang killed him? Those guys working in the garage saw Johnnie and me talking to him that day.”
Damn. I’ve always appreciated intelligence in a woman but I’ve never actually found it sexy until now. Hearing her analyzing crime theories, though, has me sporting wood. Huh. Didn’t see that one coming. Could have something to do with the fact that she’s wearing one of my dress shirts and the tiniest panties I’ve ever seen.
“You know what, you make a good point,” I tell her, trying like hell to keep my eyes focused front and center and not on anything below her neck. Yeah, good luck with that, fucker. “It was a fluke that we found the body at all. Afterwards we called the cops, and between the evidence of the cars on the barge that were ready for transport, and the warrant they executed on the gang’s hangout, they had all the evidence they needed to bust the rest of the gang. But it still doesn’t answer the question of who killed that kid.”
Windy frowns and wrinkles her nose, deep in thought. Shit, she’s fucking cute. “The cars being left on the barge could point to his own gang killing him; maybe they thought he was snitching along with the parking attendant. I just don’t want to believe Dr. Brinkley would do something like that.”
“The gang doesn’t know we’ve been talking to the parking attendant; if they did, I can promise you he’d be dead, too.” I shut down the computer and stand, stretching my arms over my head. It feels good to loosen up after sitting f
or the last couple hours. “All you need to know is that, no matter what, I’ll keep you safe, baby. I promise you that.”
I pull her close for my kiss and tangle my fingers in her hair, tugging on her honey blonde mane harder than I probably should. My tongue swirls against hers as I taste her. My cock is bone-hard against her luscious curves. I don’t know where she got the idea that her curves aren’t the hottest thing on the planet, but I intend to convince her otherwise.
I slide my hands over her body, stroking and caressing as I unbutton the shirt and take a thorough inventory of all my favorite places…starting with firm, plump breasts that fill my hands perfectly. I knew her tits would be extraordinary even before I ever got her naked, but her nipples were a beautiful surprise. She has the most succulent nipples I’ve ever had the pleasure of having in my mouth: not your typical flat variety, but sort of puffy, and a mouth-watering rosy-pink color. I could write poems about these plump nipples, I think, as I raise one peak to my lips and feast, smiling against her taut flesh at her throaty moans of pleasure.
My hands wander to her slender waist before sliding down to cup her ass. I knead her warm, smooth flesh, then slide a hand between her legs and groan when I find the silky moisture that’s always waiting for me. When I’ve got her primed and ready, I reach around and stroke between her ass cheeks, pressing a slick finger gently against the tiny rosette there. She stiffens in surprise so I rain kisses down the side of her neck and whisper a long, dirty list of things I want to do to her. I increase the pressure until the tip of my finger slides inside. My finger pumps in and out as her muscles pull me in deeper with each stroke, until I slide all the way in to my knuckle. “Who do you belong to?” I rasp against the shell of her ear as I slide my other hand down to stroke her clit, varying the pressure and speed of my strokes the way I know she likes it.
“You,” she gasps as I work her with both hands, “I belong…to you. Oh…Oh, fuck, Thorn!” she cries as the flood of new sensations triggers an orgasm that buckles her knees.
I growl in her ear, “Someday soon, I’m going to have you there, Windy, because it’s part of you and there’s not an inch of you that doesn’t belong to me, not an inch of you that I won’t have.”
I kneel between her legs and push her knees apart so I can nuzzle her through her panties. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy, baby,” I whisper, “I could go down on you for hours – hell, more like days.”
I peel her out of her dainty underwear and lift her to sit on the edge of the desk. I dip my tongue into her slit, savoring her sweet, tangy taste and the desperate sounds that pour out of her. Knowing it’s me making her lose her mind like that sends me into overdrive and I slide my finger inside her pussy once more to stroke that sweet little bundle of nerves. I look up long enough to see her lost in the pleasure I’m giving her and it fills me with fierce satisfaction. Knowing I’m the man who put that look on her face sends primal, masculine pride roaring through me. I own this pussy. It’s mine. God help me, I want to drag her into my cave and never let her leave.
I bear down hard on her clit with my lips and my tongue, groaning against her skin as her body is wracked by another orgasm. Her pussy floods my mouth with her cream and I lap it up like a dying man in the desert, savoring her taste and her musky scent as my tongue slides through her silky folds. I give her mound a sweet kiss before I stand and remove my clothes. I lift her off the desk with my hands gripping her ass, which is one of their favorite places to be these days. I grin into the side of her neck when I feel her wrap all four limbs around me. She hangs onto me like a little monkey as I carry her across the room, and I look down at her with a laugh because I love that shit.
She gives me a sultry smile as I lay her down on the bed. There’s no joking around now as she spreads her legs wide, showing me what’s mine, inviting me in. I cover her with my body and thrust powerfully inside her on the first stroke. As I always do, I try to stay still long enough to gather some control and make this good for her. It gets harder to hold back every time, as the urge to claim her fires down the length of my spine to my aching cock. All I have to do is look into those eyes, and I’m overwhelmed by the urge to mate. So I start moving inside her, thrusting hard and fast; I’ll go slow later. Pure instinct takes over as my back bows so I can press the length of my cock as deep as it will go. As I pound into her relentlessly, she cries out, making those throaty sounds of pleasure/pain that she can’t hold back. It’s all I need to find my own release and I pour myself into her with one final thrust of my hips.
I roll over onto my back and pull her with me so she’s lying on my chest. Neither of us can find words after that intense session, we just let hands and lips move easily, stroking and soothing. I stare at the ceiling as my breathing slowly returns to normal. I know I’m sinking deeper and deeper every time we come together. And, yeah, that’s fine with me because I know without question that I’m exactly where I need to be. And so is my woman.
Chapter Thirty five
Thorn
Windy eyes me from her side of the desk where we’re seated working. “Georgia is under lock and key at Our Lady. Do you think she’s still dangerous?” she asks solemnly.
I know Windy well enough to know she’ll continue to question me until she’s looked at every angle. Rather than being perturbed by it, I’m actually flattered. I want her looking to me for answers.
“No doubt. She’s a calculating psychopath who’s developed a fixation on her doctor. She sees anyone who gets near the doctor as a threat. But it isn’t like you’re fucking the guy so you should be relatively safe.”
“That’s where things get weird with her; she doesn’t want anyone near him, be it physically, emotionally, or in a professional capacity. In her mind, he belongs to her and any outsider is seen as a threat.”
“Well, it’s a good thing she’s as good as behind bars then.” I look over at her when I speak, making my next statement. “Use it against her, use the fact she wants to remove you from the situation. Shake her up a little and get her to open up to you. Go balls to the wall, baby girl; come right out and ask her why she’s so enamored with that uptight asshole.” I shake my head, chuckling because my woman is still talking like she’s talking out loud to herself; it’s how she processes information.
“What’s odd about the whole thing is he seems to be in her grip. It’s like he wants her there with him. He won’t allow anyone else to counsel her or interview with her, except me. I’m actually shocked he lets me do that.”
“Hey, no offense, but I’ve seen pictures of the chick—she’s beautiful. What guy wouldn’t be caught up in that? Isn’t it every guy’s dream to be the object of a beautiful crazy woman’s obsession?” I’m being facetious but in a sense it’s true.
“Fuck you, Thorn.”
“Just did, but I’ll get with you a little later.”
“You’re such an ass.”
“And you, little girl, are jealous.”
“Maybe a little,” she admits.
I say more seriously, “The obsessive, psychological bullshit? It’s her weapon of choice. Look, Windy, your line of work is bound to wear on a person over time. You can’t be subjected to the dark side without it creeping into your soul. As innocent as you are, there must be some darkness there or you wouldn’t crave studying serial killers the way you do. We all have a dark side; some of us are just better at hiding it from people than others are. Don’t let him fool you; he’s just as crazy as the rest of us. It goes with the job title.”
I look up as Harley enters the bedroom.
“You’re hanging around a lot lately,” she teases him.
“Yeah, maybe your little friend is rubbing off on me. I think it’s pretty cool how she comes from money but chose to make her life here helping these women make a fresh start.”
“Yeah, she could be doing what so many other trust fund babies do, spending her days being self-absorbed.”
“That’s no fun when you can be working with us,” he
says with a grin. “That’s much more exciting.”
“Yeah,” I deadpan, “between my job and working with you all, my world’s just full of shits and giggles.”
Chapter Thirty Six
Dr. Brinkley
“How did you do it, Georgia? How did you get that man to kill himself?” The previous night’s video feeds had been an unprecedented sensory experience for me. After I’d enjoyed, quite thoroughly, the unexpected show put on by my assistant and her beau via her laptop spyware, I had watched a patient kill himself on my computer. Now, Miss Fairchild’s nocturnal activities -- I had joined in on those from the privacy of my home office; the dead patient, I hadn’t been able to do a damn thing about that. The hospital has no idea I have the security feed patched through to my home computer, but I’m beginning to wonder if Georgia does. It would be just like her to do this, knowing I would see it.
“You give me too much credit, love. You assume I’m powerful enough to convince a man to hang himself.” She leans in, smirking, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you might have some surveillance going on in that multi-million dollar home of yours.”
“Is that why you did it? You knew I’d see it and be helpless to do anything about it?” I’d used the guise of saying I’d come in to do some work and found him. To outsiders it was the perfect explanation, but somehow she knows the truth. I don’t know how she does it but she always knows.
I ignore her act of deflecting; answering my question with a question to try and throw me off. “I just can’t figure out how you managed to talk a man – especially one so close to being released -- into taking his own life.”
“I’m not the villain here, you are, dear. To think you’d release a man guilty of trying to kill his twins,” she continues, as if convincing herself she isn’t guilty of his murder. I have no proof but we both know what she’s done. It’s in her DNA, death, vengeance, the need to make others suffer.
Undercover Elite (Undercover Elite Book 2) Page 14
