Throttle's Seduction(Insurgents MC Romance Book 7)(20)

Sharon turned to Bryan. "The perp's been at it for eight months, and  we're no closer to catching him than we were when he first started. He  has to slip up sometime. The whole thing is degrading and humiliating.  As a woman, knowing a man broke in your home and took your bra or  panties, it would be awful. He violates the women each time he does it."                       
       
           



       

"Yeah. This time, the victim was damn lucky she wasn't home when he  broke in. The perp's a nut job. You going to the office picnic next  weekend?"

"Maybe. I wish I had a guy to bring. I'm so damn busy I never have time to meet anyone."

"What about Tyler? I've seen him checking you out when you weren't  looking." Bryan laughed and pulled up at Ruthie's Dinner. "Let's get  some lunch before we head back to finish up our reports."

"Okay. By the way, women always know when a man is giving her the  once-over, even if it looks like we're unaware." She slammed the car  door. "Tyler, like some of the other guys, resents me being in the  department."

"I don't."

"You did at first. Remember how pissed you were when the sergeant  assigned me to work with you? I thought you were going to burst a blood  vessel."

He chuckled. "I was an idiot. I didn't know you, and all the asshole  guys were razing me about it." Bryan smiled. "I wouldn't trade you for  any of the guys."

"Thanks, but you know me. No one else has wanted to really get to know  me in the five years I've been on the force. Don't think I care because I  don't. It's just the way it is. I've accepted it." She walked into the  diner.

Deputy Manzik was the only female police officer on the small force in  Pinewood Springs. Being a cop was something she had wanted to be ever  since she could remember. Her parents had been against it even though  her father had retired from the force, but she was determined and she  held steadfast.

For the most part, her colleagues accepted her with quiet indifference,  but there were a few who made it clear that they were not happy to have a  female officer among them. There was one man in particular who didn't  think women belonged on the force and hated like hell that she was under  his command-Sergeant Jay Stichler. She grimaced when she thought of  him. The sergeant always made sure to give Sharon a hard time, and he'd  made it very clear that he didn't want to have to depend on her if he  was in a jam. He'd sneer at her and say crude comments to her under his  breath. When her locker had pictures of naked women in vulgar positions,  and her picture was taped on their heads, she'd been positive that  Stichler was the instigator. Her friends told her to go to the captain  and report the incident, but she didn't want the assholes to think she  couldn't take it. So she ignored it like she did all the snide remarks,  the looks, and the occasional vulgar gestures. Sharon just let them roll  over her. She figured in time the frat-like mentality would wane, the  guys would grow bored of the game, and drop it. After time, the antics  seemed to let up, and only Stichler and a couple other hardcore  chauvinists bothered her.

They slid into the booth and Sharon ordered a large iced coffee; she was  beat and needed the jolt of caffeine. Bryan took out his phone and  called McCue to give him the heads-up on the victim. Sharon could hardly  wait until she returned to the station, turned in her report, and went  home. Her sixteen-hour shift was starting to get the best of her.

A few hours later, the dark-haired deputy unlocked her front door,  anxious to hit her comfy bed and sleep. The minute she stepped into her  air-conditioned house, she knew someone had been inside. Her body  tensed; she could sense he'd been there again. She drew her gun and  checked her three-bedroom home thoroughly. No one was there.

After making sure all her windows and doors were secured, she took a  quick shower, then went to her dresser to take out a nightshirt. And  that's when she noticed it-the top drawer wasn't closed all the way. She  grabbed a tissue and opened the drawer slowly, noticing her bras and  panties had been rifled through. She sucked in a deep breath, picked up  her cell phone, and placed a call to Detective McCue. She was positive  the Lingerie Bandit had been in her house. The hairs on the back of her  neck rose as a small tremor vibrated through her. Not wanting to touch  anything, she glanced quickly over the contents of the drawer, realizing  her fuchsia, laced boyshorts appeared to be missing.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, she sighed, knowing that her much-needed  sleep would have to be delayed for a few hours more. She crossed her  legs and waited for the detective and his team to arrive.

* * *

He breathed heavily as he looked at the pictures he'd taken of several  of his victims. Taking out all the underwear he'd stolen over the course  of eight months, he masturbated as he relived the moments of seeing the  women for the first time, touching their soft panties, and taking  pictures of some of them. The thrill he'd received when he broke into  his first house had begun to wane, and his fetish and urges had required  that he take it up a notch. So he made the women wear the soft French  cuts, thongs, and bikinis while he posed them and took their pictures.  Just thinking of pressing his erection against the lovely panties while  they were still on the women made him come hard.                       
       
           



       

He'd been peeping in women's windows since he was thirteen years old and  caught Mrs. Donner's silhouette against the white shade one breezy  summer night. He'd been fascinated by how high her breasts were and how  slim her waist was. She was nothing like his mother, aunts, and  grandmother. From that moment on, he'd been hooked. He hadn't done it  all the time but in the past eight months, his urges were no longer  satisfied by merely looking. He wanted to feel the silky panties between  his hands. The peeping in the shadows no longer filled his craving, so  he'd taken a bold step one autumn day and broken into the home of a  beautiful young woman he'd been watching for a few weeks. That day and  many weeks after, he'd slipped into the ladies' houses and played with  their sweet underthings, deeply breathing in their scent. He'd always  take souvenirs for when his wife and children would be tucked snuggly in  their beds upstairs, and he'd be alone in the basement in a locked  room.

For months he'd been on a perpetual high; then he'd grown restless  again, and his depravity required more stimulation. And he'd broken into  his first house when his target was home. The first time he'd done it  and ran his fingers down the soft skin of a luscious woman, he'd  climaxed harder than he had in a very long time. He was hooked.

Right then, as he carefully folded and placed his silky treasures in a  large trunk, he realized he needed more from his lovely victims. His  craving dictated it. After he locked the trunk and then the door, he  slowly climbed the stairs, his mind made up: when he went back out to  hunt, he'd push his fulfillment to a new level. He had to.

"You all done?" his wife asked as she bustled about in the kitchen. "Dinner's almost ready."

"It smells good. What're we having?"

"Roast chicken and mashed potatoes. Your favorite." She smiled wide at him.

He came beside her and kissed her on the lips quickly. "You spoil me."

"I know. Tell Aiden and Callie to wash up and come down. Dinner's going on the table now."

He shuffled out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs to round up the children for supper.





Chapter Fourteen





"Kimber, can you drop over to the clubhouse to pick up the work orders? I  fuckin' forgot ‘em when I left last night and I need them. I'd go, but  one of my good customers is coming by to bring his grandfather's old  Harley. I'm fuckin' excited to see it."

"What year is it?" she asked.

"He thinks it's a 1936 Knucklehead. He's had it for a few years and wants me to restore it."

"Wow. I've seen photos of the old bikes but never one up close and  personal. I'd like to check it out when I get back from the clubhouse.  If you need some help restoring it, I'd love to be a part of the team."  Kimber flushed when Hawk looked at her. Sometimes she wasn't sure if she  was overstepping the line between employer and employee. She wasn't  sure how Hawk really felt about a woman in his shop. She heard some of  the brothers giving him a hard time when they came in to shoot the shit  with him. Kimber suspected Hawk's old lady had a lot to do with her  getting the tech job, but she could be wrong. She just couldn't read her  boss; he usually had a scowl on his face, except when his old lady was  around. "Maybe I spoke out of turn," she mumbled. "I'll go get the work  papers. Be back soon."