Free Bound by Blood (The Contract Book 3) by Suzanne Steele Page B

right by his ear as he pushes into me. “Come on, baby, tell me.”
    “I fucking hate you,” I groan, as my body betrays me, clenching around his hard cock as if it’s hanging on for dear life. I know, in that moment, I will never be the same sexually. I realize that the way he enjoys me fighting off his advances, is the same way I enjoy fighting him and ultimately being taken.
    Oh yes, I love hating Miller…



Chapter Eleven
    Agent Turner
    It’s abundantly clear my partner isn’t happy about hoofing our way through the neighborhood to once again question people about the missing woman, Melanie. I simply don’t care. Rene might be in control in the bedroom but at work, she is my subordinate. As pissed off as she can get at me sometimes, there is still a level of respect warranted by the results I get. I couldn’t give up on this case if I wanted to. It isn’t in my DNA to let anything go, at least not when it comes to a case I’m working.
    We make our way up to the stoop to talk to a group of men seated there.
    “Wha’s up, five-o?”
    “The lady who lives upstairs, have any of you guys seen her?”
    “Don’t live there no more,” one of the men casually answers. Before I have time to respond with another question, one of the others chimes in, “Yeah, she gotta sugah daddy. Must be nice to have the equipment to live the high life. Born with the right thang between yo legs, you can have it all.” He eyes Rene accusingly, insinuating she falls under the same category. The last thing on my mind is protecting her. If anything, this guy may need protection from her if he keeps running his mouth.
    “Have you seen said sugar daddy? ” I ask.
    “Nope, just saw a black Cadillac pull up and whisk her away like she was royalty or sump’n. After that, rent man went up there and took what he could sell and the neighborhood got the rest that was thrown out back at the dumpster. One thang fo sure, she ain’t comin’ back.”
    The group laughs as another sarcastically adds his two cents, “I can’t imagine anyone wantin’ to leave all this.” He waves his arm for emphasis, referring to the neighborhood.
    Though no one is listening, we say thank you and make our way back down to the sidewalk to start heading towards the car. Rene waits until we get in before she speaks.
    “As badly as I hate to admit it, you might be on to something. It’s too coincidental that she got rescued the same night that man got shot.”
    “Well, let me play the devil’s advocate for a minute. If she had a boyfriend or a family member who heard about the murder, they could have decided to move her out of the neighborhood.”
    “Why not step forward before now? It doesn’t take a murder to realize this isn’t the best neighborhood for a single mother.”
    “There are plenty of single mothers here who do a great job of raising their kids.”
    “Their parenting abilities are not in question; the quality of the neighborhood is. If I had a sister living here, I would be moving her in with me and I wouldn’t wait until there was a murder to do it.”
    I chuckle when it hits me that we are now arguing opposite views. We have both changed our points of argument from what we initially believed. It’s important to keep personal opinions out of our work. We have to be able to argue both sides of any case. Much like a debate team in college will have to argue both sides of an issue, we have to be able to do the same.
    One thing remains true in all of this and that is that there is a serial killer on the loose and we’re no closer to catching him. Somewhere out there, there is a man or a woman who has taken it upon themselves to exact judgment. In my world, that can’t happen because it isn’t their place to do so… that’s my job.
    We’ve got to find this guy. The nagging in my gut is relentless. It’s like the more I find out, the less I know and the less I know, the more I need to find out. It is just the nature of the beast.