“Anything else?” Alpha asked, keeping their conversation on track.
Jasmine shook her head and left. Hector entered, followed by his wife. She looked tired. He didn’t like that, and he didn’t like that he didn’t like that. She hesitated on the threshold, uncertainty in her eyes as she wondered how things might have changed after last night, and Alpha wondered how a woman who wore everything on her face could be hiding something from him.
Hector raised his eyebrows at her, looking between them, clearly sending some kind of tension. That spurred her into pasting a fake smile on her face, one he absolutely didn't like, and coming to his side. She perched on the arm of his chair, and not on his lap like she’d been doing every evening for the last few weeks, and fuck he did not like that.
He scowled, but he doubted she would see with the scarred side of his face toward her.
“We need to put this asshole down, boss.” Hector grit out, folding his arms across his chest. “Girls haven’t been this terrified in a long time.”
It was terrifying. With the speed with which bodies were dropping, the entire city had gone on alert. The police had finally started working the cases seriously, his guys in the department keeping him up-to-date on everything they discovered, which wasn’t anything he hadn’t found out on his own. The press was blowing it up, calling the perpetrator everything from Street Slasher to Fortis Finisher to the Red Ripper. Fear entrenched his streets, and now, he had been pulled down from observer to smack in the middle of it. The killer needed to be found, fast.
“You think he’s a… house cleaner?” Zephyr surmised from his side, referring to the common theory the police had cooked up about the guy being someone cleaning up the streets and ridding them of the high-risk individuals. The media had run with that theory, splashing it all over newspapers and channels. And they were all wrong.
“No. There’s a pattern to his kills,” he mused out loud. “He’s not killing people on the streets randomly. His victims, at least those we know of so far, have all been girls who wanted out of the streets.”
“So he’s keeping them in the business?” Zephyr’s voice was incredulous. “But why?”
“I think it’s bigger than that,” Hector looked at him pointedly. “They are his victims, but you are his target. He's coming after what he knows is important to you and setting you up for it. The question is why. Why you? And why now? If he's been actively killing for over two years, why just begin to frame you and plant false evidence at the crime scenes now? Something must have set him off. And we need to catch him before he does more harm.”
Alpha agreed with every word. “Take Jasmine and Victor with you to the last scene. Go check it out yourself. Ask around. I want to know anything anyone could’ve seen. And I want to know how to contact the man leaving me messages.”
Hector gave a nod and left, closing the door behind him.
Alpha woke his computer screen, clicking on the voice icon in the corner that had been specifically designed for his voice. “Bring up the security feed from 8PM yesterday.”
The icon whirred as his command registered, and in a few seconds, he had the split screens showing different angles of the building last night. Everything looked as it should have been. He clicked on the screen with his office, and it zoomed in.
He heard Zephyr’s breath catch as she watched them on the black-and-white feed, her body entirely hidden from the view as he covered her, his jeans low as he pumped into her, only her shapely leg visible as he held it up.
Blood rushed to his cock, the audio from the speakers recalling his heavy breathing and her whimpers. He was big, and his cock was big, and he didn’t know how she’d taken him but fuck if the feel of her wet pussy tightening around him hadn’t been the best thing he’d felt in a long time.
He unzipped his jeans, taking his cock out, and felt her eyes swivel to him as he ran his hand over it. It was like the dam inside him had a crack. It hadn’t broken free completely but more and more seeped out, and he wanted more.
“Yes or no?” he asked her the same question he’d asked before, keeping to his decision to simply keep it physical now. The tension between them was too much. He’d tried to resist it as much as he could, but the moment she’d called him a beast, something inside him had snapped. Thankfully, he’d still retained enough control to not let his actual beast out. As long as he kept it under control, it could work and it would be a lot less dangerous for her.
The hesitation in her response made him look up to the side at her, where she was perched on the arm of his chair.
Her beautiful, chameleon eyes were watching him, the green in the hazel disappearing as her pupils blew up, her stare on his face, not his cock. She leaned closer, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth, right over the scar, in a kiss that went to his chest, making something rumble inside.
He wanted to turn his head and catch her lips entirely, taste her again and revel in the way she responded to him with such abundance. But kissing her was dangerous.
Thankfully, she pulled back before he could.
“Yes,” she breathed softly, arousal clear in her voice.
Before she could take it back or rethink, he tugged her down on his lap, keeping her back to himself and making her face the monitor. Thanking whoever was up there that she wore dresses, he pushed her panties aside. He had the ones he’d ripped yesterday, tucked in his drawer after he’d jerked off to it before bed.
She was wet, but not as much as she usually got.
“Watch yourself be a little slut for me. Just for me,” he said in a low voice against her ear, and felt her slicken, with his words or with the visual or the memory, he didn’t know and didn’t care. She was lubricated enough, and he angled himself, sliding in, keeping his hands on her hips.
Her curvy ass fell plush against his pelvis, her back bowing with the pleasure as he went deep, her hands falling to the desk in front of her. Landing her feet on the ground, he sat as she worked herself up and down on his cock, her pussy walls milking him and fuck, the pleasure shot up his spine. He wanted to impale her hard, push deep into her, and fill her in her womb. He imagined what she’d be like, round with his seed, gushing with his touch, and it fucking did something to his brain.
He grabbed her hips as she slowed, and helped her move, leaning his head back against his chair as she flexed.
A knock on the door had her stilling over him.
He paused the video and pushed his chair closer to the desk, her walls fluttering around him with the motion, and kept her seated on his lap, the table covering their lower bodies.