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“I know you will.” I end the call, annoyed by the tension in my neck. It’s been a long time since I had to worry over an operation.
My lips tilt into a smile as I realize I’m rather enjoying the competition, though. It keeps a person sharp. And honestly, prevents boredom. Feeling frisky by this enlightenment, I stalk toward my little whore writhing on the floor.
Beads of sweat dot her face, her body slick with pent-up need. I kneel beside her and grab one of the toys. “Are you ready to perform, lovely?”
I sink my fingers into her hair and yank her head back as I drive the vibrator into her ass. She bucks at the pain, but soon she’s undulating her hips with the urge to come. “Yes,” she breathes.
“That’s a good whore.”
For the right price, we’re all whores.
7
Ally
Quinn
A thick smog rolls in off the river, blotting out the afternoon sun and covering the city in a wary mood. It’s an odd occurrence for this time of day. As if the atmosphere senses an impending shift.
The scent of fall in the air usually puts me at ease. It’s crisp and clean, and denotes a settling for the usually chaotic flow of summer. I like it. My OCD nature relaxes against the calm.
But it’s not the cleansing breeze I smell as I approach the crime scene. The hazy fog clings to my skin, stinking of rot and death. Always a fucking Dumpster. Just once, I wish a perp could be more imaginative with their dumpsites.
“Sir, you can’t—” The uniform cuts his reprimand short. “Oh. Sorry, Detective Quinn.” He looks uncomfortable as he rubs the back of his neck. “We were given orders not to let you—”
“It’s all right.” I wave it off. “I’m not crossing any tape.” I point to the strip of yellow crime scene tape a few feet ahead of us.
He seems relieved as he nods. “Better get back at it. You wouldn’t believe…” He trails off, realizing he’s about to let some vital piece of information slip. He leaves before he can blunder another word.
I sigh out a painful breath from my tight lungs. The fact that Wexler hasn’t lifted my suspension fucking grates. Granted, it hasn’t been a full twenty-four hours yet, but I had this imagined scenario in my head that he’d come to his senses by now. It’s what’s kept my ego from being completely destroyed.
And seeing how Avery is invested in the case, not replying to my messages, my ego is taking a beating.
Just how needed am I?
I get the answer to that question when my phone beeps with a message. I release a tense breath. Finally.
Avery: Sorry—been caught up. I’m okay. Everything’s fine. A. King? I think I talked to them once on the forum. I thought he was another scientist. Who is he? Do you think he’s one of them? Is that how they found me?
I can feel her panic coming through the message.
Me: You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll look into it—just stay with your officer detail.
I gaze across the taped-off crime scene. The press is stalking the scene, too, their vans stationed just feet away, reporters craning their necks to get a glimpse of the victim.
I spot Carson talking with another detective, and he looks…good. Unrattled. In control. “Nice. Real nice.” The rookie is suddenly the top dog. I’m needed here about as much as a traffic cop.
When Carson notices me pacing the scene, he heads my way. “You here to get a whiff before the Feds push us out?” At my puzzled expression, he adds, “Two more bodies—” he looks around, dropping his voice “—two more were discovered, but the Feds scooped them. They’ve already got their team and techs at the scenes, and the precinct is crawling with black suits.”
This hits me like a punch to my gut. Three bodies. In one day. Fucking hell. I weave my head, trying to locate Avery. “Same MO?” I ask. If the recent killings are tied to our case, then I can only imagine the survivor’s guilt Avery is suffering right now. She escaped; those other women didn’t.
I go to send her a text, but Carson says, “Hard to say. The vic’s fucking skin was flayed off.” I lower my phone and look up at him. “Either it’s one sadistic perp,” he says, “or someone wants us to think so.”
Fuck. I scrub a hand down my face. “There’s no way this is one offender. Depending on time of death, it would take at least two to dispose of the vics across the city.” I pocket my phone and brace my hands against the back of my neck.
I need more information. TOD for all vics. Method of murder. But more than anything, I need Avery. In more ways than one.
Carson raises his eyebrows. “Gives credence to the crime ring theory.”
