They panted in rhythm and soon their breathing returned to normal. She couldn't believe how intense her orgasm was; she'd never experienced one of such magnitude before. He rolled to his side and moved her to her back. Smiling, he kissed her deeply. "How was it?" he asked as he nuzzled her neck.
"Fucking awesome. The butt plug rules."
He laughed and mussed her hair. She reached to take off the clamps but he grabbed her hand. "You can't just take them off because you'll be in a lot of pain as the blood rushes back in. Let me do it. It'll hurt for a second, but then it'll be okay." He gently took off the first clamp and a searing pain stabbed her nipple and she yelled out, but it went away as he sucked it in his mouth, licking it. He did the same with the second clamp. "Do you wanna take out the butt plug?"
"No. I'll leave it in until tomorrow. I like the way it feels."
He kissed her. "Good girl."
She turned toward him, kissed his chin, and hooked her arm around his waist. That night was perfect; they'd been connected through passion, understanding, respect, and love … at least for her. Kimber still wasn't sure if Throttle was in love with her, but the way they connected that night made her suspect he was. If only he'd tell her.
She leaned over and turned off the lamp, then snuggled back against him. The moonlight lit up his face. Even with the swelling, bruising, and cuts, he was still the most handsome man she'd ever met. She couldn't lose him-she'd waited thirty years to have him in her life. He'd fallen asleep right away, and she'd presumed it was from the long trip and their intense lovemaking.
She closed her eyes, happy he was back and she was in his arms-exactly where she belonged.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Detective McCue chewed his gum as he looked at his board listing the similarities of the women who'd been killed. He was stumped; they all appeared to be random. The glaring inconsistency was that two of the women who'd been murdered had been out of the killer's usual area. There had to be a clue in that. It's probably staring at me, ready to bite me in the ass. Damnit! I know there's something here that links some of the victims. He sat on his desk staring at the board, willing the murdered victims to tell him something.
The women who had been raped or sexually molested had not proved to be much help in aiding the artist in drawing a composite of the perpetrator. The attacks had been at night, usually moonless ones, and the women had been so terrified that all they could remember was that he was about five eleven and had a soothing voice. Not a whole lot to go on. He poured another cup of coffee and went over the facts of each case again.
The evidence they'd collected-a couple footprints and some semen-didn't pan out either. The DNA results were plugged into CODIS-the National DNA Index System-but there wasn't a hit, indicating the murderer wasn't in the criminal justice system, which stumped him more. How could someone burst onto the crime scene with that level of depravity and never have come in contact with law enforcement?
McCue's gaze stopped on Deputy Manzik. Every time he looked at her picture, his chest would grow tight. She didn't deserve to die the way she did; none of the victims did.
"Find out anything?" a voice asked from behind him.
He craned his neck and his gaze fell on Sergeant Stichler-Sharon's nemesis. A knot of muscles on the side of his jaw pulsed. "Nope."
"The case stumping the big-city detective?" Stichler laughed, and McCue gripped the side of his desk to keep from punching him.
"You want something?"
"I had to talk to the chief about something. I knew being a police woman was going to get her in trouble." He pointed to Deputy Manzik's photo. "Men don't like it when women take on their roles. It's not natural, you know? Like that woman who works at Thunderbird Motorcycle Repair shop. She's a mechanic. Now that's just crazy."
He wanted the ignorant sergeant to get the hell away from him. "What's your point?"
"Men don't like that shit. It makes them feel like less than a man. You know. I can't think of the word I want to say."
"Emasculated?"
The sergeant's face lit up. "Yep, that's the word. I think women should stick to what they know and let the men do the hard, tough jobs. Like how can this woman mechanic be better at fixing Harleys than a man? It's all messed up. The place is owned by an Insurgent, so I'm surprised he's allowing that. Probably doing a favor for a buddy's daughter."
"I don't ride so I don't know the shop, but are you saying Deputy Manzik didn't do her job as well as the other deputies in the department?"
"I cut her a lot of slack because she was a woman. She was always leaning on the guys to do the tougher stuff. She didn't belong here." His eyes narrowed.
"That isn't what I heard from her colleagues."
"People feel funny talking shit about the dead."
"And you obviously don't." They locked gazes, both of the hard and steely variety. "I'm busy." McCue pushed away from the desk and went over to his filing cabinet to pull the robbery case he'd worked on the previous day.
"Okay. Just wondering what was new with the investigation." The sergeant picked up a muffin from the tray the clerical staff had brought to the investigators, unwrapped it and took a large bite, then ambled out of the office.
Sparks burned through McCue as he watched the sexist man leave. It was people like Stichler who gave the department a bad name. He shook his head and opened the robbery file. After many phone calls, computer searches, and reviews of the file, the detective believed he had a couple suspects in the rash of robberies at several gas stations in and on the outskirts of town.
"How're things going?" Carlos asked. Detective Ibuado and McCue worked well together, both of them bringing different perspectives to the cases that fell into their laps.
"Good on the gas stations robberies. I'm about to leave to interview one of the witnesses we spoke to the other day. Randy Hillman, remember him?"
"Oh, yeah. He was the one who was bending over backwards to be helpful. I never buy that shit."
"Me neither."
"Did you talk to Josh down in the evidence room?"
"Josh? No. Should I?"
"He's got a theory about the murders. Something he spotted when he was cataloguing all the evidence."
"Really? I could use all the help I can get. I know not all of these murders are random, especially the one outside his usual area. I've been obsessing so much about this case that I can't figure anything out."
"You need to take a break from it for one day. I can field anything that may come in. You'll have a fresher look in a day."
"Good advice. I'm going to visit Josh and then see what Randy has to say about the robberies. I think a day away from the Lingerie Bandit should give me a fresher perspective." He picked up his notepad and grabbed a poppy seed muffin. "By the way, how well do you know Sergeant Stichler?"
Carlos shook his head. "Not very well. Why?"
"The guy's a real asshole. How long has he worked for the department?
"Long time. Before I came, and I've been here for almost seventeen years. I think he came in when he was like eighteen or nineteen years old. What's going on with him?"
"I'm not sure. The gals brought muffins. Help yourself. Later."
McCue walked the four flights to the basement and flashed his identification to the clerk. "Josh Sender," he said to the woman. She buzzed him in, and he made his way down the narrow hallway until he stopped in front of the evidence room. He turned the doorknob and went in.
The room smelled dank and musty, and the overhead fluorescent lights flicked and hummed. A man in his late twenties with a mop of dark hair came out. "May I help you?"
"I'm looking for Josh Sender." McCue shoved a stick of gum in his mouth.
"I'm Josh."
"I'm Detective McCue. My colleague, Detective Ibuado, said you got some theory or something about these murders?"
Josh's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yes, the Lingerie Bandit murders. Don't you just hate that, when the press comes up with these names? It trivializes the victims."
"Agreed. So, what've you got?"
Josh motioned for McCue to sit down, and then he shared his ideas and findings.
An hour later, McCue rushed back up to his office, adrenaline coursing through him. He headed over to the board with all the victims on it. "I think I just got my first major lead in the case. If this pans out, we may catch this sonofabitch before he kills again."