Free Men Out of Uniform: Three Novellas of Erotic Surrender by Maya Banks, Sylvia Day, Karin Tabke

“Tomorrow, I want you to go to your apartment and get all your stuff. You’re moving in with me until this is all over with.”
    “But I can’t do that. I don’t even have a job,” Jessie protested.
    “Exactly. You can’t pay rent if you don’t have a job and if you don’t stay with me, you’ll be out on the streets. That is so not going to happen. You can take me to work then take my car to get your stuff and pick me up after my shift.”
    “I love you,” Jessie said fiercely.
    Kirsten smiled. “I love you too. We’re going to kick some cop ass. Now let me go call Daddy. He’s going to be pissed. We’ll get you through this, Jess. I promise.”

Chapter 8
     
    E ven after seeing countless dead bodies in his years on the force, Truitt still had to turn away from the sight of the young woman sprawled on the ground, half covered in leaves, dirt and mud caking her body, mixing with blood from numerous cuts. The killer had been right. The victim hadn’t been hard to find at all because the arrogant asshole had left her for the police to find in the area they always staged in when they searched the woods.
    The utter callousness, the fact that the killing was sport for some son of a bitch who got a thrill from hunting down a defenseless woman, filled him with rage.
    The girl’s final moments had been filled with pain, terror, and the helpless realization that she was going to die. This time the shot wasn’t from a distance. No, judging by the marks on her knees and the position of the entry wound, the bastard had caught up to his captive, made her kneel, and then shot her execution style.
    Or maybe he’d never turned her out for the hunt. Maybe he was changing his game up. But then he’d complained in his phone call to Rick that the woman hadn’t been a challenge. Maybe she’d refused to run. Maybe she’d realized the futility. Or maybe she’d simply given up.
    The crime lab had marked off a wide perimeter, and beyond it, other police officers searched meticulously for something, anything, the killer could have left behind. Sooner or later he had to fuck up.
    But the bastard even picked up his shell casings, and the bitch of it was, he either had the lightest feet known to man or he covered his tracks extremely well, because they could find absolutely no disturbance in the soil or the forest floor. Only blood and footprints and disturbance from the victim.
    She was a pretty girl. Looked like a college student. A good twenty years younger than the last victim. Her blue eyes were glassy and fixed in death, her hair smeared with blood. Truitt shook his head and heaved out a frustrated sigh. Sometimes his job sucked.
    Soon she was packed in a body bag and carried to where the coroner’s van waited. The scene was wrapped up, and as dusk settled over the woods, Rick and Truitt dragged themselves along with the other volunteers toward their vehicles.
    They were dirty, tired, and disheartened.
    Truitt’s mood only got blacker when he saw the news vans parked around their vehicles. The chief was already fielding questions and it looked well on its way to becoming a circus.
    “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Rick muttered. “Pick up a six pack or five and get wasted.”
    Truitt didn’t argue.
    As they climbed into Rick’s truck, Truitt’s cell phone rang. When he glanced down he recognized the number and his gut tightened.
    “It’s Bull,” he muttered to Rick. Hell, he had probably arrested Jessie. Just what they needed to cap an already stellar day.
    “Cavanaugh,” Truitt barked into the phone.
    “Truitt, it’s Bull. Look man, I think you should come by the station. I know you’ve had a long day but I think you’ll be interested in knowing this.”
    Truitt sighed. “All right. We’ll be there ASAP.”
    He shoved the phone back into his pocket.
    “He wants us to come to the station.”
    Rick ’s lips thinned. “Great. Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse.”
    They rode back