STEELE JUSTICE

a novel

 

© 2018 by S. W. Blayde

All Rights Reserved

 

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Book cover image #132968385 (modified) by ipopba of AdobeStock.com

(model release held at Adobe Stock)

BOOKS by S.W. Blayde

Sexual Awakening

erotic romance murder-mystery

Steele Justice

erotic thriller (Lincoln Steele book 1)

High School Massacre

erotic thriller/mystery (Lincoln Steele book 2)

Death of a Hero

erotic thriller (Lincoln Steele book 3)

The Breeder

erotic western/romance

Conflicted Nun

erotic romance

Last Kiss

romance mystery

 

CHAPTER 1

Evening darkness veiled Lincoln Steele’s large frame as he crawled the last few yards through slimy mud. The camera bag strapped around his body was balanced on his back like a baby chimp clinging to his mother. Sludge oozed between his gloved fingers as they sought something solid to grab onto. Almost there, the full moon popped through the clouds. He dropped flat into the muck, all six foot three inches of muscle. With his masked face turned to the side, Steele held back a chuckle.

It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it, he thought.

Not that Steele meant being a private investigator, although many would think what he was about to do despicable. Mother Nature might have been one of them, making the job miserable by flooding the grassless backyard. She must have been laughing as he soldier-crawled the rest of the way through the muck and then wiped his muddy gloves on the side of the house before taking them off. As an Army Ranger, Steele had often crawled through mud. However, he had never expected to do it after being discharged. The surprises of life.

The rain had stopped a few hours earlier, leaving the air thick with steamy humidity and the ground slippery and yucky. Steele clambered onto his knees, wriggling until they sank past the layer of sludge onto a solid foundation. Only then did he unzip the upper portion of his mud-covered black nylon jumpsuit and fan the ends to cool himself. The sweat soaking through his black shirt reminded him of the jungles he had prowled, places he wasn't allowed to talk about, places he didn't want to talk about. Much of Steele's life was classified, so choosing a profession requiring secrecy was inevitable. Especially since there wasn't much need in civilian life for the skills he had amassed, such as putting a bullet through a man's head from two hundred yards or snapping his neck without a sound. No jobs on the right side of the law, anyway.

Steele peeked through the window to make sure he was in the right place before opening the camera bag. The black Leica S-2P digital camera fit as comfortable in his hands as his Glock 19 pistol. One paid the rent, the other kept him alive.

On his knees, Steele had a clear view inside the bedroom. With the room light on and the darkness outside, he was invisible in his black clothing, black wool cap pulled down over his eyebrows, and black bandana tied across the bridge of his nose with the pointed end hanging below his chin. It reminded him of the banditos in the Western novels he enjoyed reading. Walking around with camouflage paint on his face wouldn't do in public, so Steele elected to wear the bandana. The coating of mud on it made it stiff and heavy. If only the moon would remain hidden to keep him invisible. Damn the games Mother Nature played with his life.

The woman wasn't in the bedroom, only the country club's young tennis pro. He was lounging on the bed, leaning against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him, wearing nothing but white shorts. His good looks and tan firm body were like a magnet to the middle-aged, bored wives of rich husbands.

Mrs. Walters stepped into the room wrapped in a bath towel. As she swept her damp hair behind her ears, Steele steadied the camera to zoom in on her face. She had taken the time after her shower to replace the heavy make-up, attempting to recapture her youth. Although still pretty, in her forties she was nothing like the photos Steele had seen taken of her twenty years earlier when she had been her lover’s age.

The tennis pro looked bored, but when her eyes met his he flashed a huge smile. "Feel better?" he asked.

"You got me all sweaty," Mrs. Walters said. "You worked me hard today."

"Just doing my job."

"Will you work me just as hard in bed?"

"That I do for pleasure." He gave her his toothy smile.

"You do it so well."

"Tennis lessons or fucking?"

"Both."

Steele snapped a picture, capturing both her profile and the tennis pro's full body stretched out on the bed. It probably wouldn't be needed, but his camera could take one thousand pictures on a single battery charge. Nothing like having the right equipment.

"Aren't you going to take your shorts off?" Mrs. Walters asked.

"I was waiting for you."

"Well, I'm here now."

"I meant I was waiting for you to take them off."

With a sultry smile, Mrs. Walters took a step. She froze when the tennis pro raised his hand.

"Lose the towel."

She unraveled the towel, pulling the ends out to her sides. From Steele's position he didn't see anything, but her young lover saw all, not that he looked impressed. The towel dropped to the floor. For middle age, she had a good body, toned from hours in the fitness center and, Steele guessed, the tennis court. And maybe fucking. Her belly had a little paunch, but her legs were thin and her ass firm. Steele wondered if her hair color was natural. Her shaved pubes kept that a mystery. He snapped another photo.

Mrs. Walters climbed onto the bed and reached for the tennis pro's shorts. He swatted her hands away.

"With your mouth," he said.

"Bobby, why do you act like that? I want to make love."

"Are you talking back to me?"

Mrs. Walters' face paled and she jumped back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." She was trembling.

"But you said it. What's fair?"

"Please, Bobby."

"I asked you a question."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Get out! I won't put up with your whining."

Mrs. Walters' bottom lip stuck out. It quivered. "Don't do this. I'm sorry."

"Then what's fair?"

She looked down and said softly, "A spanking."

"Then get in position."

Watching Mrs. Walters crawl on her hands and knees, Steele remembered the party at her house. He had told her husband to invite him in order to observe her. She had been so bossy to her hired help, bordering on cruelty, yelling at them, demeaning them. With her guests, she had been uppity, gliding from person to person like royalty. Was this same woman now lying naked across the lap of a man half her age? Someone well beneath her social status.

His hand came down hard on her naked butt.

Slap.

Mrs. Walters yelped before clamping her jaw and squeezing her eyes shut.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

Her ass-cheeks jiggled with each stinging blow. Steele took several photos. When he zoomed in on Mrs. Walters' face, her eyes were shut tight with beads of tears clinging to the tips of her fake eyelashes. Steele lost count of how many times the tennis pro hit her, but when he finished, one set of cheeks were rosy and the other wet.

"What do you say?" the tennis pro asked.

"Thank you for punishing me. I was a bad girl and deserved it."

Mrs. Walters flinched when his hand came down on her ass, but relaxed when he caressed it with gentle strokes.

"I hate doing that to you," he said. One corner of his mouth curled up in a snicker she couldn't see. "But it's because I love you so much that I need to do it. Like a parent spanking a child."

"I know. I'll be good from now on. I learned my lesson."

The young tennis pro nudged the inside of her thigh. Mrs. Walters shifted that leg outward to provide space for his hand. Since she was lying across his lap, her side to Steele, the private investigator couldn't see between her legs, but the tennis pro must have touched the right spot because her hips jerked and she bit her lower lip. His hand continued to move. Mrs. Walters humped it, her ass rising and slamming back down with clenched butt-cheeks. The side of her face lay on the mattress facing Steele. A serene look. Remembering why he was there, Steele snapped photos until he caught her scrunched-up face in the throes of a climax.

"See how good it can be when you're good," the tennis pro said.

Mrs. Walters purred while grinding her lower body on his lap, sometimes up and down, sometimes in circles. The vicious tigress Steele had observed at the party was a pussycat in her lover's hands.

The tennis pro lifted her legs and flung them toward the foot of the bed like he was discarding something he didn't want. Mrs. Walters didn't care or seem to notice as she lazily rolled onto her back with her feet toward the foot of the bed, toward Steele, her legs apart. Long inner lips dangled from between her shaved labia, dark pink and glistening.

Mrs. Walters tilted her head back to look at her lover. "Only you make me come like that."

He held two shiny fingers above her face. "And you get wetter than any woman I know."

"And how many—?"

The tips of his wet fingers touched her mouth. She pressed her lips together before relaxing them to allow the fingers to slide between them, and then her cheeks hollowed as she sucked. It made a great photo. Taken from the foot of the bed, it captured her spread legs, wet pussy, and sucking mouth. And the young tennis pro's face.

He drew his fingers from her mouth with a smack. "Is that all you want to suck?"

Mrs. Walters scrambled onto her hands and knees. She snatched the elastic waistband of his shorts with her teeth and jerked her head back, pulling hard, but not making progress until he lifted his butt off the bed. Steele was amazed at how adept she was, snagging different parts of his shorts with her teeth, first one side, then the other, back to the first, sometimes the front, each time tugging the shorts a little lower. It wasn't her first time.

After Mrs. Walters dragged the shorts all the way down the tennis pro's legs and over his feet, she scurried back up the bed to seize the waistband at the front of his briefs with her teeth. She pulled them away from his body to clear his cock and then down, getting them to his thighs with one strong pull. Abandoning them there, she moved back to his groin and licked the length of his dick like the kitten she had turned into.

With her leaning over his side, the photos showed all. Steele snapped away as she captured the hardening dick between her lips and sucked. Her hollowed cheeks made it crystal clear how hard she was working at it.

When the tennis pro’s dick was erect, Mrs. Walters bobbed her head up and down while blindly shoving his briefs down his legs with her hand. Obviously, the tennis pro didn't mind her not using her teeth since her mouth was serving a better purpose. He even helped by kicking them the rest of the way off when, with an outstretched arm, she managed to get them near his ankles.

Mrs. Walters' head became still with half his cock inside her mouth. That photo would be enough by itself, but Steele continued snapping. Her lips pursed and her cheeks caved in as if she were sucking a clogged straw. Then she slowly dragged her lips up his cock until it popped out of her mouth.

Mrs. Walters swung a leg over her young lover's body to guide his cock into her pussy. With her right leg in the air and her right hand on his dick, it made a great photo. Not that her face could be seen, but she supported herself with her left hand on the mattress. Her unique wedding ring was in the frame. As Mrs. Walters lowered onto his cock, Steele held his finger on the shutter button taking a series of sequential photos of the long dick disappearing inside her pussy.

Steele jumped and spun around at the sound of mud sloshing behind him. He looked up at the policewoman pointing her gun at him.

"Get your hands in the air!" she said. He raised his arms, his smile hidden behind the bandana. "Drop the gun."

"It's a camera."

"Drop it."

"It's a thirty thousand dollar camera. No way."

"I'm not gonna tell you again." She extended her right arm more, aiming the gun at Steele's chest.

In the dark, with her police hat sitting low, it was difficult to see her face, but Steele would recognize her voice anywhere. "Cherry, don't do anything stupid."

Her hand lowered a little before springing back up. Steele glanced through the window to see Mrs. Walters bouncing up and down on her lover's cock before turning back to the policewoman.

"It's not a gun," Steele said, holding the camera above his head and tugging the bandana down with his free hand.

The moon found a break in the clouds. Maybe Mother Nature didn't hate him.

"Steele, what the fuck are you doing here?" The policewoman dropped her arm to her side. "I should have known. And I told you not to call me Cherry. It's Officer Mulligan."

"Can I put my arms down?"

She nodded. Steele replaced his camera in the case while she asked, "What was that bullshit about thirty thousand dollars?"

Steele peeked into the window before saying in a soft voice, "Can we talk somewhere else?"

The policewoman came closer. She slipped on the mud, caught her balance with both arms waving out to the sides, and peered through the window. She jumped back. "Oh shit! Come with me."

Officer Cherry Mulligan holstered her pistol and slogged through the mud. Steele crawled away from the window, clambered to his feet, and followed her to her police car.

"I can arrest you, you know," she said.

"For doing my job?"

"For breaking the law. Do you know how many you broke? Trespassing. Filming someone without their consent. Peeping. You know, someone called the station to report a Peeping Tom."

"So they called Vice and here you are."

"Here I am. What were you taking pictures of?" She slapped a hand over her mouth. Under the streetlight, Steele saw her cheeks redden. She blushed a lot, a disadvantage of the fair complexion that accompanied her fiery red hair and green eyes. "I mean, why were you taking pictures of them?"

"Cheating wife. Her husband hired me. That's all."

Cherry Mulligan leaned on her police car with crossed arms. "Does your camera really cost thirty grand?"

"It does."

"Business must be good."

"I get by."

"Why in hell do you need a thirty thousand dollar camera?"

"It's water resistant. Never know when someone's going to tell me to drop it in the mud."

"I thought it was a gun."

"So why don't you want me to call you Cherry? It's your name."

She blushed again. "Never mind that. I'm not gonna write you up. For some reason Captain Wilks likes you."

"We served together."

"He doesn't talk about his time in the military."

"Then stop asking him."

"How 'bout you?"

"Don't ask me either."

"I can look up your records."

"You won't find anything."

"So tell me about it."

"Tell me why your mother named you Cherry. What was she thinking? I bet meeting boys in high school was fun. 'Hi, I'm Cherry.'"

She blushed again. "Shut up! Now I'm gonna take you in."

Cherry reached for the pistol in her hip holster. Steele's reaction was automatic. He snatched it. When her hand slapped leather, her jaw dropped as her eyes locked on the private investigator removing the magazine and sliding the rack to eject the cartridge in the chamber. Steele caught the brass in mid-air as it popped out of the weapon.

"Sorry," Steele said. He held both hands out to her, one with the pistol and one holding the cartridge and magazine. "Instinct."

Cherry plucked them from his hands and yelled, "Get out of here! I better not see you ever again."

Steele turned and strolled away, not bothering to slip out of the muddy, nylon jump suit that had protected his clothing. Not until he got to his car.

 

CHAPTER 2

Harry Walters sat at his big mahogany desk thumbing through the photographs Steele had handed him. He seemed pleased. Maybe "pleased" was the wrong word. He was satisfied with the private investigator's work. After studying ten photos and fanning some more, he looked up.

"Did you keep copies for yourself?" he asked.

"No, you have the only copies."

That was a strange question. Did he think I got off watching his wife have sex?

Steele held back a snicker remembering her being spanked. He did enjoy seeing that. Nothing like a stuck-up bitch being put in her place. This fat asshole deserved the same, but that wasn't Steele's job.

"Do you want to see her face when I show her the pictures?" Mr. Walters asked.

"No."

Stone-faced, Steele stared at the overweight, balding man whose reading glasses kept sliding down his nose. Another strange question. Lifting his hand to glance at his watch, Steele said, "I have another appointment."

Harry Walters nodded, opened the center desk drawer, took out a thick white envelope, and handed it to Steele. "Want to count it?"

With the same poker-face expression, Steele said, "No need."

"You trust me?"

"I know where to find you."

The smile vanished from Harry Walters' face as he jumped to his feet with an arm extended. Steele shook his offered hand and then wiped the wetness on his pants leg.

"You have another appointment," Harry Walters said, "better go."

Steele didn't want to be there longer than he had to, and now it seemed Harry Walters felt the same. Had the disgusting man believed they were co-conspirators? Buddies? Without saying another word, Steele placed his toe behind the heel of his other foot and did a crisp about-face. Hours of drills and marching had made that move automatic, like his other developed skills.

When Steele got back to his office, he counted the money in the envelope before locking it in the safe. Trust had to be earned and Harry Walters didn't have his. When Steele had been at the party at the Walters' house to observe his wife, he kept an eye on the fat man as well. Harry Walters had married a much younger woman, probably not for love.

At the party, Walters had flaunted his trophy wife, making a big production of squeezing her ass to the amusement of his guests and his wife's chagrin. One time he had snuck up behind Mrs. Walters while she was flirting with a group of men. Reaching around her, he whisked the bottom of her dress up to her chin.

"You guys lose," he had said over her shoulder.

When she wrenched the dress from his grasp and yanked it down, he whispered something in her ear. She shook her head. He whispered again. After glancing to her right and then left, she raised the front of her dress to expose everything below her waist.

"See," her husband had said, "no underwear. You guys owe me a hundred bucks each. She's a good wife, always ready for me." Reaching around her, he cupped her crotch and inserted a finger into her pussy. When he held his hand out in front of her, he said, "Anyone want a taste?"

Two men banged heads going for the finger which caused a burst of laughter. Mrs. Walters dropped her dress and looked around with red cheeks at the people who had turned her way to see what the ruckus was about.

Harry Walters was a scumbag.

Experience had taught Steele to spot anything out of the ordinary, so one couple at the party had caught his attention. Not only were they much younger than everyone else, just kids really, but the wife was stunning. And where the other women wore dresses in the thousand-dollar range, hers was bought off the rack. It was a sleek black dress with two spaghetti straps that came to just above her knees. The private investigator had learned from eavesdropping that her husband was a recent college graduate with a new job in an executive development program at Harry Walters' company.

Steele had watched Harry Walters' cronies come up to the young man, one at a time, to congratulate him with a pat on the back and a fresh drink. It didn't take long for the man to pass out on the couch. His poor wife shook him, whispered in his ear, kept trying to revive him with no luck. With a terrified look, she glanced around to see if anyone was watching and trembled when Harry Walters strolled up to her and asked if he could help.

"I don't know what happened," she had said. "Tommy doesn't drink much. I can't believe this happened. I hope you won't hold it against him. He loves his job and the opportunity you gave him. It's all he talks about. Do you think someone can help me get him to our car?"

"Let's take him to a back room where he can sleep it off. I'm sure he'll be up and about in no time."

Harry Walters grabbed the man's arm and tugged him off the couch. When the two almost toppled over, the young wife caught her husband's other arm to hold him up. They half carried, half dragged him to the back of the house. Disappearing into a room. Steele trailed, and when he peeked into the guest bedroom the husband was sprawled out on the floor. The wife was trying to lift him without any help from Harry Walters.

When Walters knelt beside her, Steele thought he was going to assist, but he cupped the woman's face between his two hands and plastered his lips to hers. She wrenched free, staring at him with eyes wide and mouth gaping.

"What are you doing?" she had asked.

"I like Tommy and think he has a great future in my company. If he does his job right he'll move up quickly. But this…" He pointed to the passed-out man. "What happened here is a black mark on his record. I'm willing to overlook it, but I want something in return."

Harry Walters grabbed the front of the woman's dress with his fat fingers and tugged it down, ripping both shoulder straps. She slapped his face and yanked it back up to cover her bare breasts, two orange-size orbs with small nipples.

"You bitch!" he said while rubbing his cheek.

Walters lunged at the woman half his weight and hurled her onto the bed. She frantically kicked at him as he attempted to grab her legs. The hem of the dress slid to her waist, exposing bright yellow panties covered in sequins that shimmered when the light hit them. Walters caught her legs and held them straight up.

"I knew you were a fuckin' slut," he said. "Those are slut panties."

Steele marched into the room. "Is there a problem?"

The woman shoved the bottom of her dress between her legs and pressed it to her crotch before flinging her free arm over her bare breasts. She turned toward Steele. Tears flowed down both cheeks, dragging the black eye makeup with it. Harry Walters glared at Steele before backing away. The young wife's legs dropped. She tugged the dress down with one hand to cover as much as possible.

"Her husband passed out," Walters said. "I was trying to help."

Steele walked to where the husband was lying, stooped, and slung him over his shoulder like a fireman rescuing someone from a burning building. Although the man wasn't small and was dead weight, it took no effort.

Looking at the woman, Steele said, "Let's go. I'll take him to your car."

"He can sleep it off here," Harry Walters had said with his hands on his hips.

"I’m leaving and taking him with me. Do you have a problem with that?"

"You work for me."

"My business relationship with you has nothing to do with this. If you wish, we can end that relationship right now."

"No, no, that won't be necessary." Harry Walters pressed his lips together. "Take him and get the fuck out of my house."

"Are you coming?" Steele asked the young wife.

Holding the torn dress up, she sidestepped Harry Walters as she rushed to Steele's side. As they walked past the staring eyes of the guests, the trembling wife locked her free arm around Steele's, plastering her shoulder against him, and clutching the top of her dress to her chest while keeping her eyes and head down. She remained like that until they were at her car where Steele laid her husband in the back seat. The woman's tears started again. He held her to him with a hand on the back of her head and her face buried in his chest.

When the sobbing stopped, she looked up at Steele. Mascara formed two black trails under her eyes. "Who are you?"

"Just someone who was in the right place at the right time."

When she backed up, Steele placed his hands on her shoulders. She tensed, clutching her tattered dress to her chest even tighter.

"I'm not a slut. No matter what that bastard said."

"I know."

"I'm not. It's just that Tommy…" Her eyes dropped and she lowered her voice. "My husband likes me to wear them. He's such a child."

With his hands still on her shoulders, Steele held her at arm's length. She must have just graduated high school and she was calling her husband a child.

"What am I going to do?" she asked. "I probably cost my husband his job."

"I know men like Harry Walters. He would have used your husband to have his way with you. Your husband didn't have a future at that company. Trust me, your husband will be better off somewhere else. You too. Especially you."

When Steele dropped his hands to his sides, the woman, still clutching the front of her dress over her bare breasts, stepped up to him and, on her tiptoes, kissed his cheek.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. You're a saint."

"I'm not a saint, but you're welcome. Take your husband home. If you don't know how to explain what happened, have him call me."

Steele had handed her a business card and watched her drive away. Only then did he leave. Harry Walters had never mentioned the incident and neither had Lincoln Steele. In his line of work, he couldn't be picky who his customers were, but could choose to do what was right.

Now that the job was over, Steele had no customers. That was okay with him. With a safe full of money, he was free to do what he wanted. At the moment, that was to read a book slumped in his big leather chair with his legs crossed at the ankles and heels propped up on the office desk. A classic Western novel. Steele liked them because it was easy to tell the difference between the good guys and bad guys. They wore different color hats, white for the good guy and black for the bad guy. Steele missed that clarity in the real world. Some of the things he had done for his country weren't so, well, black and white.

 

CHAPTER 3

With the Walters' assignment behind him, Lincoln Steele had plenty of time to read. Nearing the end of his current Western novel, he hunched over his office desk flipping pages as fast as he could read them. The damsel was in danger and the cowboy, the one in the white hat, was sneaking up on the house where she was being held captive. Engrossed in every word, he wasn't happy with the three soft knocks on his office door. When the door opened, his annoyance turned to interest as the young woman sashayed into his office.

"Mr. Steele?" she asked in a petite voice that complemented her size.

The private investigator laid the open paperback face down on his desk and leaned back as he studied the curvy woman walking toward him. With each step, her wavy blonde hair bounced on her shoulders and her hips swayed beneath the short, flowery dress.

Steele rested his chin on his steepled fingers. "That's the name on the door."

"I'd like to see Mr. Steele."

"I'm Lincoln Steele. I don't remember having an appointment today."

"I, um, well I thought I'd just drop by. Is that okay? I mean I know I should have—"

"Who sent you?"

"No one sent me. I want to hire you."

"I mean, how'd you get my name?"

"From someone at the Lucky Leprechaun."

"Shane?"

"Who's Shane?"

"The bar's owner."

"Oh. No, it was just someone I met there."

"Who?"

"Don't remember his name."

"How'd you meet him?"

"He picked me up and we had a few drinks."

Steele glanced at the gold band on her left ring finger before returning to her face. The woman's hands hung in front of her thighs, gripping the material of her short dress, gathering it, raising the hem even more.

"Please have a seat, Mrs.…?"

"Johnson, Barbara Johnson."

The young woman dragged one visitor's chair backwards away from Steele's desk. That was odd. Most people wanted to be as close to the private investigator as possible, leaning over the desk, speaking softly as if they were conspirators or the room was bugged. But Steele wasn't complaining. When she sat, her short dress rode up more.

"So, Mrs. Johnson, what can I do for you?"

The woman placed both hands in her lap and fidgeted with her fingers while looking down. "I need to ask you something?"

"Shoot."

Her eyes shot up before dropping back down. "Have you ever killed someone?"

When Steele didn't reply, she looked up. His stare caused her eyes to return to her lap.

"Why do you want to know?" Steele asked.

"The man in the bar said you have."

"This mystery man seems to know a lot about me."

The woman raised her eyes to meet Steele's. "So you have?"

"Mrs. Johnson, what's this all about?"

"He said you were in the military."

"I was."

"And you're discreet."

"I am."

She wringed her hands. "And you do stuff others won't." She looked up with pleading eyes.

"Mrs. Johnson, why don't you get to the point? How can I help you?"

"I'm in a marriage I want to get out of."

"I'm not a divorce attorney."

"I don't need a lawyer. I want to take care of it a different way."

"And how's that?"

"I want my husband gone."

"But not with a divorce?"

"No."

"So you want me to scare him off?"

She looked down again. In her sheepish voice, she said, "No."

Steele stretched his legs out under the desk and crossed his arms as he slumped down in his chair. He waited, sizing up the woman. He was intrigued now, plus a lot of her bare legs showed even though her knees were pressed together. This was better than his novel.

The woman glanced up before looking back down. Her eyelashes fluttered as her eyes darted from Steele to the hands in her lap and back to Steele. They settled on the open paperback lying face down on his desk.

"If you don't want me to scare him off," Steele said, "and you don't want to divorce him, what do you want?"

Her eyes shot up. "I want him dead!"

Steele studied the woman. Her eyes were now pleading.

"Why?"

"I hate him!"

"Does he hit you?"

"No. Well, sometimes when he's mad. Like when he wants sex and I don't. He doesn’t hit me, but he's rough with me. He forces me. He treats me like shit. I hate the asshole!"

"Sounds like you should divorce him."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"I wouldn't get the money."

Steele sat up straight and laid his palms flat on the desktop. "So you want me to kill him."

"Yes."

"And the man at the bar said I would do that."

She nodded. The pleading returned to her eyes.

"What's in it for me?"

"A lot of money."

"Anything else?"

The woman smiled for the first time. It lit up her eyes and displayed dimples that brought out a childish innocence. She smoothed the dress over the top of her thighs which drew Steele's attention to her lap. He glanced up to see her watching him, her eyes now bold, but he returned to her legs when her knees parted. Not much, just enough to show a gap between them for the first time.

"I'm sure we can come to an arrangement we'll both enjoy," she said as the space between her knees widened.

The darkness under her dress lighted as her knees moved outward, showing more of her inner thighs. Mrs. Johnson's short stature, however, foiled Steele's attempt to see the color of her panties. With her feet barely reaching the floor, the upper portion of her legs pressed flat against the seat causing the flesh to bulge together, blocking the view. That changed when she placed her heels on the chair rung. Steele had wondered what color panties he'd see. His breath caught when the shaved pubes and the cleft between them came into the light.

"So, Mr. Steele, will you help me?" The innocence was gone, her timid voice now sultry, her eyes seductive.

Mrs. Johnson smoothed her dress before pinching the material between her fingers. She dragged it up her thighs. An inch at a time. When the hem was where her stocking tops would have been if she had been wearing nylons, she fanned the dress as if it were a hot day and she was cooling what lay beneath. With her legs parted and the light now illuminating her pussy, Steele wondered how hot it was. Just then she snapped her knees together and flung her dress down, but left her feet on the chair rung.

"Is your dick hard, Mr. Steele? Will you help me out? If you take care of my problem, I'll take care of yours."

"Did the man at the bar tell you I was expensive?"

"I will have a lot of money when it's over."

"Are we only talking about money?"

The smile returned. "What I'm offering is not cheap. My husband spent a small fortune to get it. That's what I'm offering you, Mr. Steele. Plus the money, of course. You'll be a rich man, and get some of this too."

Mrs. Johnson drew the bottom of her dress to her waist and flung her legs over the chair arms. Nothing was hidden as her pussy lips parted to show the pink gash. She put her middle finger inside her mouth with the look of a little girl sucking a lollipop and then placed it between her legs, wedging it between her folds at the bottom of her slit. She ran the finger all the way up to her clitoris before sticking it into her hole. Pumping the finger in and out, she rubbed her clit with the index finger of her other hand. Her eyes closed and her head fell back, masturbating as if she were alone. Her pumping finger sped up before suddenly stopping. Mrs. Johnson lifted her head upright and gazed at Steele with glassy eyes. She pulled the finger out of her pussy and held it up. It was shiny.

"I get wet for the right man," Mrs. Johnson said in a breathy voice. "And I'm sure you noticed I'm small in stature. Yes, I have small tits, but I'm small down here too." She thrust her finger back into her pussy. "I'm tight, you know. I know you're expensive, Mr. Steele. I'm not offering you hamburger. I'm offering caviar."

Mrs. Johnson brought her wet finger to her mouth, holding it an inch from her lips. "Would you like a taste of caviar or shall I do it myself?"

Steele rolled his chair back from his desk and strolled up to Mrs. Johnson. Her eyes shot to his groin. The smile returned, this time showing satisfaction. He was hard. When Steele leaned down, she pushed her wet finger into his mouth. He sucked it clean while their eyes were locked on each other's.

"Caviar or hamburger?" Mrs. Johnson asked.

"Hard to say. Better taste it from the source."

With her legs still slung over the chair arms, Mrs. Johnson shimmied to the edge of the seat. "I'd be disappointed if you didn't want to."

Steele dropped to his knees in front of her and stroked the inside of her right thigh. It was as silky as it looked. His fingers traced higher, stopping at the crease where the leg met her groin. Extending his pinky, he brushed it over her pubic mound and labia. Smooth as a baby. Was this planned or did she shave every day? Or was the hair removed professionally? He didn't care.

Parting her smooth labia with his thumb and index finger, the pink inner lips shone with moisture. She couldn't fake that; she was aroused. Was it him or did she simply enjoy masturbating? He didn't care.

When he leaned in, the faint scent of expensive perfume titillated his senses. This woman lived a life of pampered luxury. He licked inside the slit several times, capturing her essence on his tongue before swishing it inside his mouth like a connoisseur tasting a fine wine. Steele drilled his tongue into her hole and wiggled it.

"Oh god!" Mrs. Johnson cried out.

She grabbed the back of Steele's head and crushed his mouth to her pussy. Her legs snapped around his neck as she humped his tongue. When Steele raised his eyes to look at her, her head was once again thrown back. He ducked under her legs and stood up. Mrs. Johnson's hand flew to her groin and mashed her clitoris with two fingers. Steele yanked her hand away and held her forearm firmly, preventing its return.

Mrs. Johnson glared at him. "Why'd you stop?" Her eyebrows narrowed.

"I thought your offer was to please me."

Mrs. Johnson could have been an actress the way her expression changed back to her lustful look, but Lincoln Steele was trained to observe and noticed she hadn't mastered hiding her emotions from her eyes when surprised. She was not happy. He doubted anyone had ever said no to her. But soon the sultry eyes returned as she reached for Steele's belt. For a moment, Mrs. Walters came to mind and he thought about pushing her hands away and ordering her to use her teeth, but that was too much, even for this conniving bitch. When his pants dropped to his ankles, Steele removed the rest of his clothing himself.

Mrs. Johnson gazed at his erection. "If my husband had a prick like that maybe things would be different."

"Not too big for your tight pussy?"

She jumped off the chair and yanked her dress over her head in one motion. That left her nude except for the diamond necklace and matching earrings. The dress slipped to the floor before she placed a finger on the little round scar on Steele's left shoulder.

"How'd you get this?" she asked.

"Bullet."

"I didn't know it would be so small."

It makes a bigger hole when it comes out." He turned to show her his back.

"My god!" She ran a finger over another scar near his waist. "And this?"

"Knife wound." Steele turned to face her. "Are we here to talk about my scars?"

Mrs. Johnson looked around the room. "The couch or floor?"

"First things first."

Steele placed a hand on the top of her head and forced her to her knees. She glared up at him, once again her eyes momentarily giving her away.

"Don't you want to fuck me?" she asked with her sexy eyes and a little girl's voice. She was adept at mixing innocence with seductiveness.

Steele guided his cock to her mouth. When she turned her head, he slapped her cheek with it.

"C'mon, I'm sure you do this for your husband."

"No! Never! Even when he gets rough."

"What about before you were married? When you were seducing him?"

The hatred in her eyes lasted a split second. "Who said I seduced him?"

"Fair enough. When you two were, um, dating."

"We didn't have sex. Just some petting."

So that's how she had trapped him.

"Well, as I said before, I'm expensive," Steele said. "Even if your husband settles for hamburger, I'm expecting caviar."

Mrs. Johnson looked up from her knees and batted her eyelashes. "I'm a really good fuck."

"We'll find out after you suck my dick."

Her eyes flashed hatred. She didn't even try to suppress it this time while glowering up at Steele. This woman expected to get things her way. Probably had her entire life. Steele stared down at her with his poker face as if it didn't matter to him if she did it or not. That was on the outside. Admiring her beautiful face and soft, succulent lips, his heart pounded and his dick throbbed.

Mrs. Johnson gingerly took his hard dick between the tips of her index finger and thumb and guided it to her mouth. She glanced up at him.

"You're going to fuck me after I do this, right?"

"Of course. Can't wait to feel your tight pussy."

Mrs. Johnson parted her lips, placing just the head of his cock between them. Her tongue flicked the underside and then swirled around the side. Another inch of Steele's cock disappeared inside her mouth when she moved her head forward. No more happened until she swallowed the saliva pooling inside her mouth.

"Have you ever done this before?" Steele asked.

With her bright red lips stretched around his cock, Mrs. Johnson raised her eyes and shook her head. Her eyes gave her away. Contempt. Disgust.

"How can that be?"

She shrugged and swallowed again. Steele imagined all the boys and men in her life being teased without getting satisfaction. It was fitting that she was on her knees. He wanted to shove his long cock down her throat, but Steele wouldn't do that, even to someone as deserving of it as her. Mrs. Johnson didn't know it, and the man she had met in the bar didn't either, whoever he was, but Lincoln Steele had principles.

Steele took a step backwards. His cock popped out of Mrs. Johnson's mouth. The look in her eyes was of surprise followed by triumph. And then a smirk appeared for an instant before she controlled it. He walked over to the pile of clothing and picked up his briefs.

"What are you doing?" Mrs. Johnson asked. Confusion filled her eyes.

"This isn't going to work out. You better find someone else."

Now panic. She scurried over to Steele on her hands and knees, the diamond necklace swinging side to side. Snatching his underwear out of his hands, she tossed it aside. Mrs. Johnson stuffed his cock into her mouth and sucked several times before moving her head back and forth. She wasn't good at it and her teeth scraped the head of Steele's dick from time to time, but the effort was there. Desperate, she frantically sucked while dragging her lips up and down the shaft. In her haste, she gagged several times, but never stopped.

Steele placed his hands on both sides of her head and tilted it back. She didn't stop sucking while staring up at him, her eyes a window to her feelings. Embarrassment. Humiliation. He gently rocked back and forth while holding her head, and then his fingers tightened in her hair when his cock tingled. He forced his eyes to remain open as he fired a load of sperm into her mouth.

Mrs. Johnson's eyes got wide. She struggled to pull away, but Steele held on tight. When he ejaculated again, Mrs. Johnson coughed around his cock. Semen spewed from both sides of her mouth. Another ejaculation. She coughed again, this time with the white stuff coming out of both nostrils. Steele dribbled the rest of his cum onto her tongue before releasing her and pulling out.

On her knees, Mrs. Johnson dropped forward onto her hands with her head hanging, coughing and sputtering, trying to catch her breath, spitting out what she could. Not much so she must have swallowed most of it. When she controlled her breathing, she glared up at Steele.

"You bastard!" she shouted. "You said you wouldn't come."

"I never said that."

"You said you were going to fuck me."

"I am."

"But you came. How can you—?" She stared at his still hard cock and then back up at his face.

"I'm privileged that way," Steele said. "I can still fuck you."

A string of semen dangled from one nostril while the white goo inside the other one ballooned and burst with her next breath. A mixture of semen and saliva dribbled over her chin.

"After you wash up, that is," Steele said. He pointed to a door. "The bathroom's in there. That is if you still want to continue with our arrangement."

Mrs. Johnson stopped trying to mask her anger. She glowered at Steele, eyes filled with contempt. But she scrambled to her feet and snatched her pocketbook off the floor where she had left it at the side of the visitor's chair. She disappeared into the bathroom.

Mrs. Johnson cleaned up well, even reapplying her makeup. She looked the same as she had when she walked into the office, except she was naked. What she wore was her innocent sexy expression. She should have been an actress.

"So," she asked, "the floor or the couch?"

Steele held out his hand. Mrs. Johnson walked up to him with swaying hips and took it. He led her to the couch and sat down.

"I'm afraid you took longer than I expected," Steele said, pointing to his soft dick. "Will you please do the honors."

"Can't you do it?"

"Mrs. Johnson, I haven't jerked off since high school."

Her eyes narrowed and her lips formed a tight line, but the beautiful woman who was accustomed to getting her way wrapped her little fingers around Steele's dick.

"Use your mouth, Mrs. Johnson."

Surprise showed in her eyes, followed by anger, and then something Steele couldn't read. "Please don't do it again," she said.

"Just get me hard. And if you're as tight as you say, leave it wet."

When Steele spread his legs, Mrs. Johnson dropped to her knees between them and guided his soft dick into her mouth. She sucked it to a semi-hard state and then moved her lips up and down the shaft until his erection returned in full force. She pulled her mouth off his dick, but hesitated. Glancing up at Steele, her eyes returned to the cock. She grabbed the base between her fingertips and, hovering over it, released a glob of saliva onto the head. As it flowed down the side, she spread it around the shaft with the fingertip of her other hand.

"Satisfied?" she asked.

"We'll soon find out." Steele patted his thighs. "Climb on board, Mrs. Johnson."

When she stood, Steele brought his knees together and waited. Her dominance was gone as she placed her left knee on the couch on the outside of his right thigh. She swung her other leg over his lap and stuffed his cock into her pussy. With her knees sinking into the couch cushion and the shortness of her legs, half of Steele's cock entered her. Mrs. Johnson's face scrunched up.

"You are tight," Steele said. "Does it hurt?"

She remained silent with her eyes closed. They opened slowly with a glazed look. "It doesn't hurt. It, it… Just let me get used to it."

Mrs. Johnson closed her eyes and slowly sank down, her pussy swallowing inch by inch of Steele's dick. When she opened her eyes, they had a faraway look. She pressed her soft lips against Steele's. That was unexpected. He thought she'd fuck him to get what she wanted, but a kiss was so intimate. When he relaxed his lips, Mrs. Johnson smashed her mouth against his and thrust her tongue into his mouth. It whipped against his tongue with a passion he hadn't expected. At the same time, she rose up and sat back down, speeding up each time until she was bouncing on his long, hard cock. She grabbed the back of his head with both hands as she mashed her mouth to his, her tongue finding every inch of the inside of his mouth as her saliva dribbled onto his chin. She grunted. She moaned. Her butt slapped his thighs.

Mrs. Johnson pulled her mouth away from Steele's and placed her hands on his shoulders. With eyes closed, she bounced up and down. Her hair whipped across her now sweaty face, strands sticking to her forehead and cheeks. She flung her head back. Her eyes clamped into two slits. Her nails dug into Steele's skin. And then her mouth opened wide. She stopped moving, holding that position. Her body shuddered and her pussy clamped around Steele's dick.

Mrs. Johnson went limp with her hands still on Steele's shoulders and her head thrown back. Her eyelashes fluttered as her eyes opened slowly. She looked at Steele with a softness in her eyes he hadn't seen before.

"That was amazing," she said.

"So I'm not hamburger either?"

She squeezed his cock with her pussy. "Definitely caviar. Maybe when our business is done we can get together again. For fun."

Steele's normal poker face grimaced, but Barbara Johnson hadn't noticed. Her eyes were closed and her head rested in the crook between his shoulder and neck. Steele wrapped her in his arms as he stood up from the couch. Mrs. Johnson's legs hung limply, but she was still impaled on his hard cock. Steele took little steps as he carried her to the side of the couch. He lifted her off his cock and turned her around as he lowered her to the floor. With a hand on her upper back, he nudged her until she bent over with her hands on the couch's arm.

Steele reentered her, this time from behind. He held her hips, rocking back and forth, sliding his long dick in and out of her. Mrs. Johnson looked over her shoulder and smiled. Was it genuine? It seemed so, especially when she clenched her vagina muscles around his cock.

"You're in even deeper this way," she said. "I'm going to want more of your cock."

"Even if I'll expect you to suck it?"

"Yes, whatever you want. God it feels good." Her pussy squeezed his cock again.

Steele pounded her from behind, his thighs slamming into her butt as his cock drilled in and out of her tight, wet pussy. In and out, in and out. Faster and faster until he drove his cock all the way into her and released his scalding sperm. Panting hard, Steele lay on her back until his dick softened and slipped out.

When he stood up straight, Mrs. Johnson spun around and pulled his head down so that their lips were pressed together. Once again she thrust her tongue into his mouth and sought out his tongue. One hand pulled the back of his head, crushing his lips to hers, while the other clawed his back. He broke free and stepped away.

"Where were you my whole life?" Mrs. Johnson asked. "How privileged are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Can you do it three times?"

"I think we're done for today, Mrs. Johnson."

"Maybe you, but I could fuck you all day."

"Not today."

Mrs. Johnson pouted, but then smiled. Her face lit up. "So, will you take care of my husband?"

"I'll need some information."

"Oh shit! I'm leaking!" She slapped a hand on her crotch. "Need to use your restroom again."

With a hand cupping her pussy, Mrs. Johnson snatched her pocketbook and ran into the bathroom. Steele dressed and waited. When she came out, her hair was tidy and her makeup repaired. And she was wearing a pair of beige panties. So she had slipped them off before entering the office. It had been planned from the start.

"So what information do you need?" Mrs. Johnson asked.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"Of course."

"Killing someone is not to be taken lightly."

"I want him dead. I want his money. I thought I made that clear."

"Okay, I'll get the information while you dress."

Mrs. Johnson slipped on her dress in the time it took Steele to get behind his desk and get a pen and notepad out. He wrote down her contact information and some other minor details.

"I'll be in touch soon," Steele said.

"That's it?"

"For now. I have work to do. I'll be in touch."

 

CHAPTER 4

The Harbor Park police station was the third oldest in the city. From the outside, the blocks of gray stone construction looked more like a castle than a police station, but the inside was modernized. As much as the city's limited budget would permit. Lincoln Steele strolled through the lobby, admiring some of the original architectural features. With a simple nod, he passed the sergeant's desk that guarded the back rooms from the unauthorized. The six-foot-three private investigator headed toward Captain Wilks' office. Not a corner office like in corporate America, but the one in the middle of the back wall. Efficiency over status.

Police officers seated at their desks were on their phones or busy typing, except for two attempting to quiet a large man in a black leather jacket wearing a bandana around his forehead to keep his long, scruffy hair off his unshaven face. "A Gift From Hell" was written on the back of the jacket in red letters with reddish-yellow flames shooting up from the first letter of each word. Beneath the words, a picture of a motorcycle doing a wheelie. Steele thought it interesting that someone yelling like that would be normal for the officers. None even looked up. Not until the man kicked one of the officers in the balls and slugged the other in the face.

The policeman's nose broke.

With one policeman lying on the floor, bloodied and unconscious, and the other doubled over, the man in the motorcycle jacket bolted. Before anyone got out of their chairs, Steele charged. He whipped a leg into the running man's gut. Then man dropped to his knees gasping for air. Several policemen tackled the man and, after a brief tussle, pulled his arms behind his back and slapped on handcuffs.

"Here comes trouble," Captain Wilks said standing in the doorway to his office, smiling at Steele. Then his attention was redirected to the commotion. "Get that piece of shit into an interrogation room. Why the hell wasn't he cuffed? And take care of Joe and Roger."

Steele walked up to his old war buddy. "Busy?"

"Hmm, sounds serious. Guess this isn't a social call."

"Not this time."

"Come in, come in."

Captain Wilks plopped into the chair behind his gray metal desk. He resembled the Army Ranger Steele had served with, but his hair was thinner and his waist thicker, the potbelly the result of too many hours behind a desk and not enough in the gym. What the two had been through made them closer than brothers, and the scar on Steele's shoulder was a reminder of the time he had pushed Wilks out of the way and took the bullet.

When Steele sat down in a visitor's chair, Wilks stared at him. "Why the hell didn't you become a cop?"

"Too many rules."

"Rules are necessary."

"Not for me."

"Things are different in civilian life."

"Not for me. Scumbags are scumbags."

"Most people are good."

"They have nothing to worry about from me."

Wilks shook his head. "What can I do for you? Did you break a rule? Are you in trouble?"

"No." Steele glanced over his shoulder at Officer Mulligan's desk. She wasn't there.

Wilks chuckled. "When are you going to leave that poor girl alone? She's trying hard to be a good cop."

"What did she tell you?"

"Nothing, but the way you're acting I think she should have. I'll ask her about it when I see her."

"I wish you wouldn't."

"You like her, don't you?"

"Cherry? She's a pain in the ass."

"She's young. Everything's black and white to her."

"Nothing's black and white."

"Not to us. Not after what we've seen and done. But it is to her. She follows the rules."

"Did you ever ask her why her parents named her Cherry?"

"Never thought to. Why?"

"Whenever I ask her she blushes and gets mad."

"Then stop asking."

"Where is she, anyway?"

"Undercover."

"What! She's not a detective. She doesn't do undercover."

"We needed her."

"For what?"

"Can't say."

"You mean you won't say."

"However you want to put it."

Steele studied his old friend. There weren't many secrets between them, but they both knew when to keep one. "Look, I'm here to report a murder."

Captain Wilks' chair rolled back as he sat up straight. "Where's the body?"

"He's not dead yet."

"When did you become clairvoyant?"

"Very funny. Ha ha. His wife hired me to kill him."

"Are you going to do it?"

"You know me better than that?"

"So tell me about it."

Steele relayed his encounter with Mrs. Johnson, leaving out the sex. He handed Wilks the paper he had written her information on. With his photographic memory, it was the only reason he wrote it down.

Captain Wilks read Steele's notes and then leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. "If I get a judge to sign a court order, will you wear a wire? I can't do anything without proof. We don't even have a body."

"Sure."

"Don't be so quick. If it gets out you snitched on a client you'll be out of business."

"She's not a client."

"But she hired you."

"She offered. I didn't accept."

"She told you stuff in confidence."

"I'm not her priest. Look, she's going to kill her husband if someone doesn't do something."

"Fair enough. Just wanted to bring it up. But why'd you come to me? Why didn't you go to Homicide?"

"You know Wagner doesn't like me. And since you run the station, and he works for you, well…"

"Lieutenant Wagner's a good cop."

"He's a pain in the ass."

"That's what you said about Officer Mulligan. Everyone's a pain in the ass to you."

"You know Wagner wouldn't take me seriously. He'd rather throw me in jail."

"You do make it hard on me to keep you out of prison."

"I can't help it if people try to kill me. That rap he tried to pin on me was bullshit."

"When Lt. Wagner got there you were standing over three dead men."

"Who tried to kill me."

"That's why you're not in prison." Captain Wilks' face turned serious. "Don't worry, I have your back, but give my guys a chance. If they weren't good cops they wouldn't be here."

"And Cherry?"

"She's learning."

"Why Vice? She seems too innocent for that."

"That's what she wanted. Something to do with a friend of hers when she was a kid. That's why she joined the force."

"What happened?"

"You'll have to ask her. So how's business."

"I eat."

"Three squares a day?"

"I don't go hungry."

"Are you working on anything now?"

"Only the Johnson case. That would have made me rich."

"If you're interested, I might have something for you."

"Something the police won't do?"

"Yes."

"I'm interested."

Wilks leaned forward with his forearms on the desktop. "Do you know the Chinese cleaners on Third Street?"

"I don't have my clothing laundered, but yeah."

"I think they're being harassed."

"Isn't that something the police would investigate?"

"Only when there's a complaint."

"And they're not complaining?"

"Nope." Wilks sat back in his chair. "But we hear things. And they're good people just trying to make a living."

"I think I'll stop by and have a chat with them."

 

CHAPTER 5

The faded paint on the walls and worn linoleum floors showed the age of the Third Street Diner. It was a dump. But the scent of cooking food wafting from the kitchen brought in the regular customers, not that Lincoln Steele was one of them. He sat in a window booth with no interest of breakfast as he cradled a steaming cup of coffee in both hands. He peered over the top of the cup at the Yum Soo Cleaners directly across the street. His eyes were actually focused on the Chinese girl whose thick black hair reached her waist. She was scraping painted graffiti off the large window with a razorblade which caused her hair to sway back and forth. And when she got onto her tiptoes to reach high, her tight blue jeans didn't hide her curved calves and clenched buttocks. When she bent forward to clean a low section of the window, she thrust her cute little butt out.

Steele tore his eyes off the girl to scrutinize the area. In addition to the large window, there was a single door for entry into the store. Cardboard was taped to the wood frame where glass had been. Drapes, with a Chinese pattern, covered the second story windows so Steele assumed the family lived above the store. The businesses on both sides of the Yum Soo Cleaners were a butcher store and a shoe store. Neither one showed signs of damage.

Steele finished his coffee and strolled across the street. The girl stopped working when he opened the door. A glare returned his smile, and a tremble. He continued inside.

"Are you the owner?" he asked the old Chinese man behind the counter.

"Yes. Can help you?"

"I hear you're having a problem."

"No. Business good."

"I mean with— Look, I'm a private investigator and I might be able to help."

The bell jingling above the door announced the girl's entrance. She stood just inside the store with her hand gripping the doorknob.

"No need help," the old man said.

Steele turned back to face him. "If you're afraid—"

"No need help."

"Papa, what's the matter?" the girl asked.

"Go back work. Clean window."

The girl's damp, black bangs stuck to her forehead and her olive skin was flawless except for the few beads of sweat on her upper lip.

Steele turned to the girl. "I was offering your father my services."

"No need help," the old man said.

With Steele's eyes still on the girl, he said, "I think you do. How'd the glass break?"

"Accident."

Steele spun around. "I bet."

The girl said, "Are you the police?"

"No, a private investigator."

"Then how can you help?"

Her father slammed his hand on the countertop. "No need help!"

Steele looked back and forth between the girl and old man before taking a business card out of his wallet. He held it out to the old man who stared at the card, but didn't take it. Steele turned and walked to the door. The girl jumped out of the way, pressing her back to the wall. She cringed when he shoved the business card into her front pocket.

"If your father changes his mind, have him call me."

Steele returned to the Third Street Diner, this time ordering an omelet. He took the same seat he had before and watched the girl go back to removing the graffiti from the window while he ate. A few people went in and came out of the cleaners with an armful of clothing, but nothing to distract him from the great tasting breakfast.

He was done eating and on his third cup of coffee when a black Cadillac Escalade pulled up to the front of the Yum Soo Cleaners. Two large men emerged from the vehicle. Neither carried laundry. They could have been picking up, but Steele noticed the girl had stopped scraping the window and stood stiff. She even backed up a few steps. One of the men said something to the girl who, even from Steele's distance, looked petrified. Both men chuckled and went inside the cleaners.

The girl wrung her hands as she watched through the store window. Then she shrieked with her hands clamped on both sides of her face and bolted for the door. Steele flipped a ten-dollar bill onto the table and rushed outside, but the girl was already inside the cleaners. When the blinds on the big window dropped and snapped closed, Steele jogged across the street.

Steele entered the store and shut the door behind him. He sized up the situation. One man held the old man by the front of his ripped shirt, his fist poised to throw a punch. The bruised and bloodied face made it clear it wouldn’t be the first. The other man restrained the daughter, one hand clamped over her mouth, the other shoved inside the front of her jeans. Her fingers were locked around the man's forearm, tugging, trying to pull his hand out of her pants. Her kicking feet were almost a foot off the floor.

"You better leave," the man holding the girl up by her crotch said to Steele in a heavy Russian accent.

"Looks like I better stay."

"If you know what's good for you, get the fuck out of here."

"Believe me, you don't want to get on my bad side," Steele said.

The man snickered and threw the girl to the floor. "Egor, this asshole's threatening us."

The man called Egor punched the father in the belly. The old Chinese man collapsed to his knees, finding it difficult to breathe.

"Papa," the girl shouted and rushed to him on her hands and knees.

Egor slammed his foot into her shoulder. She flew backwards, landing splayed out on her back. He pinned her to the floor with a foot on her chest.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Steele said before taking a few steps toward the closest man.

That man threw a punch. Steele ducked and landed his own in the man's gut, followed by an uppercut to the underside of the chin. The Russian's head jerked back and he crumbled to the floor.

Egor charged. Steele spun around, whipping his leg through the air. His foot slammed into the man's cheek. With the man stunned, Steele grabbed his hand and bent the wrist backwards until he dropped to his knees in anguish.

"I did warn you," Steele said.

He brought his fist over his right shoulder and smashed it into the man's face. The Russian named Egor collapsed to the floor.

The girl cradled her father's head in her lap and stroked his bloodied face. She looked up at Steele.

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Now are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"No!" her father shouted. "It make trouble."

"Looks like you already have trouble."

"Make worse. Go."

"Papa, he helped us."

"He must go."

"What happens when they wake up?" Steele asked.

"Tell them you stranger. Don't know you."

Steele looked down at the girl. "You have my card. My offer stands."

When she didn't respond, he left.

 

CHAPTER 6

Lincoln Steele's exercise room separated the main house from his private investigator office in the rear. It contained the usual free weights, machines, and cardiovascular equipment one would expect, but also two unique areas. One corner was more like a boxer's gym, with bags for punching and kicking. What made the room so large, though, was the half-court basketball court.

A growth spurt in high school had left Steele a lanky six-foot-three-inch athlete with exceptional speed, reflexes, and eye-hand coordination. Perfect for a basketball shooting guard. The taller opponents couldn't match his quickness and he'd shoot over the smaller ones. If his tiny high school hadn't been in a town not on a map, he might have attracted a college scout, but he went unnoticed.

Steele's parents hadn't been able to afford his college tuition and expenses. That left him one option. The GI Bill. Thirty-six months of military service would qualify him for one hundred percent college funding. Just three years. Two if he settled for eighty percent. He had no idea he'd stay in for twelve.

The college scouts had overlooked Steele's abilities, but not the military. They had noticed his marksmanship and hand-to-hand skills in basic training and recruited him for the Army Ranger program. It had sounded exciting, so the eighteen-year-old became a Ranger where his lanky body was molded into muscle and his natural skills honed.

Unlike Captain Wilks, Lincoln Steele exercised regularly. His life depended on it. Lying on the padded bench, he gripped the steel bar with both fists, grunting with each heave of the barbell into the air. Sweat poured into his eyes, stinging them, but he couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. It was his last set. The end of his day's workout before an hour on the treadmill. He counted inside his head with each lift. Eighteen. Nineteen. The cold bar rested on his chest as his fingers tightened around the steel.

Just one more.

A woman's voice called out from the other side of the door. "Hello? Anyone here?"

Steele glanced at the monitor on the wall. The security camera in his office showed the woman looking around, fidgeting. He clenched his teeth as he forced the weights up with a mighty shove, and then guided the bar into the catches on the metal frame with a clang.

The treadmill would have to wait. He got off the bench, grabbed the towel he had been lying on, wiped his face, and then draped the towel over the back of his neck as he headed toward the door to his office.

Wearing only gym shorts, and with his sweaty skin glistening, he opened the door. The Chinese girl from the Yum Soo Cleaners turned his way.

Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought this was your office."

"It's also my house. The office is in the back of my house." Steele dabbed the sweat dripping into his eyes with the edge of the towel. "I was working out."

"I should have called. I'll leave."

"Nonsense. Just let me get a shirt. I'll be—"

"You don't have to. I don't want to be a bother."

"But it's not right. You're a teenage girl and—"

"I'm twenty-two. Almost twenty-three."

Steele studied the girl. With her hair tied back in a long ponytail, she appeared even younger than he had remembered. Her knee-length navy blue skirt, along with sneakers and calf-high white cotton socks, made her look like she had just come from a private school.

"I'm sorry," Steele said. "I thought— Well, since it's okay with you, I'll forgo the shirt. It'll save me having to wash it."

"If I caused it to get soiled I'd expect you to bring it to the cleaners and I'd clean it."

"I do my own laundry." Steele chuckled. "I guess that's not something someone who owns a cleaners wants to hear." He slid the towel off his neck and rubbed his sweaty face. "Miss— Is it Miss Yum or Miss Soo?"

"Zhenzhen. My name's Zhenzhen."

"That's beautiful. What's it mean?"

"Very precious."

"Your name fits."

The Chinese girl lowered her eyes and blushed.

"Have a seat," Steele said.

After she sat down, he leaned against the front of the desk with arms crossed. Having just worked his pectorals, they bulged. Steele noticed her looking at them and couldn't resist flexing the muscle.

"Zhenzhen, what can I do for you?"

"I want to talk to you about the trouble we're having."

"Did your father send you?"

Her eyes dropped again and she wrung her hands. "No. I came on my own."

"Unless your father—"

Her head shot up. "He's afraid. And he's a proud man. But we need your help."

Steele wiped the sweat dripping into his eyes. "Look, if you can wait, I need a shower. Do you mind waiting?"

"No, I'm sorry to bother you. I should have called."

"You're not bothering me. I simply need a shower. Then we can talk."

"I can wait."

"Be back in a jiffy."

Steele went through the door leading to the gym. On the other side of that room was another door that led to the main part of the house. He rushed to his bedroom where he tore off the scant amount of clothing he wore before turning on the shower. Once the water was warm, he stood under the spray with the water pounding his chest and upturned face.

The cool air caused Steele to jump out from under the water and stand with knees bent and hands in front of him ready to repel the attacker. His muscles relaxed when he saw Zhenzhen standing with her hand still on the handle of the open glass door. When his eyes roamed up and down her nude body, she flung an arm across her breasts and brought her right knee over her left thigh, but as soon as she had done that her arm dropped to her side and she returned her foot to the floor. Her nipples were dark and thick. Her pubic hairs straight and long, but trimmed for a bathing suit.

Steele's eyes traveled back to her face. "What are you doing?"

Zhenzhen entered the shower, pulling the door closed behind her. A few more steps brought her in front of Steele. She took the bar of soap from his hand and looked up into his eyes.

"Let me do this for you."

After lathering her hands, she placed one palm on Steele's broad chest. It moved up and down before changing to circles, first big ones and then more focused on the area of his nipple. Her eyes were no longer on Steele's. They were fixated on his chest. When her hand slid up to his shoulder, her eyes followed, but darted away when they met Steele's. He grabbed her forearm.

"Tell me, Zhenzhen, why are you doing this?"

"I want to."

"But why? Do you think you have to do this for me to help you?"

"Don't you like it?"

"Very much. But do you like it? Do you think you must do it for me to help you?"

"If I do this, will you help us?"

"I already offered my services. You don't have to do this."

"But my father said no and I don't have money."

"I didn't ask for money."

Zhenzhen's eyes opened wide. "I don't understand."

Steele pulled her arm down and brought her hands together with the soap between them. He grasped her hands within his large ones. They stared into each other's eyes.

"I kind of help people from time to time," Steele said.

"What does that mean?"

"When I see an injustice, I make it right. I live by a set of principles. I'm the guy in the white hat."

"Huh?"

Steele chuckled. "That's a private joke. Look, let me shower and we'll talk afterwards."

Zhenzhen pulled her hands free from Steele's and lathered them while looking up at him. She smiled. "I'm in the cleaning business and you need cleaning."

She soaped his chest and shoulders, this time scrubbing with a purpose, and then went behind him to do his back. When her hands slid over his buttocks, Steele's dick stirred. Zhenzhen dropped to her knees to do the back of his legs. Her hand slid up and down his inner thigh, the edge of her hand brushing his testicles. His dick stiffened more.

Zhenzhen scrubbed his other leg while knee-walking around to his front. She stopped with her hand on his thigh. From above, Steele looked down to see her staring at his hard dick while the shower spray soaked her ponytail and sent rivulets of water flowing down her back and over her small, round butt. Zhenzhen glanced up at Steele's face, but her eyes shot back down when their eyes met. She washed one of Steele's legs and then the other while staring at the tile floor. He assisted by lifted one foot at a time when she tapped it.

Zhenzhen stood up. Steele was about to step under the flowing water to rinse the soap off his body when her fingers encircled his hard dick. Both stood in silence, Steele staring down at her while Zhenzhen's eyes were locked on his chest. And then her soapy fist slid up and down his shaft.

With a finger under her chin, Steele tilted Zhenzhen's head back until their eyes met. Hers were glassy. Her lips parted. He leaned down and gave those lips a soft kiss. Her hand stopped moving, but remained on his cock.

"I think I'm clean now," Steele said.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Not at all. But I'm clean. Isn't that what you intended to do?"

"Yes but…" She lowered her eyes.

Steele tilted her head back again. "But what?"

Her fingers tightened on his cock. "You're aroused."

"How can I not be? You're very pretty."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes, I noticed it when you were cleaning the window."

Her eyes widened. "You were watching me?"

"I was watching the store. You happened to be in front of it."

"Oh, so it wasn't me you were watching."

Zhenzhen's hand still grasped Steele's hard dick. When he thought back to her bending over to clean the bottom part of the store window, it throbbed. Her fingers tightened around it.

"I was watching you," Steele said. "I thought you were younger, but very pretty."

Her hand squeezed his cock and then slid back and forth. Steele pulled it off.

Zhenzhen yanked her hand from his and crossed her arms. "Then why don't you let me do this?"

"Because of the reason you're doing it. You don't have to. I said I'll help you and your father."

"But what if I want to?"

"For what reason?"

Zhenzhen lowered her head and stared at the shower floor. "I think you're sexy."

"Well, I think you're beautiful."

Zhenzhen's head shot up. "You do? You're not just saying that?"

"I really do."

"Then why? It's because you think I'm a little girl. That's why?"

Steele took the bar of soap from Zhenzhen's hand and rubbed it between his. The girl's eyes locked on his soapy hand when he placed it on her left shoulder, and then followed his hand as it slid down over her breast. The nipple hardened. She sighed. Without lifting his hand off her skin, it traveled toward and over her other breast. That nipple perked up as well.

Steele placed the soap in its holder and took Zhenzhen's face in both hands. When he leaned down, she closed her eyes. Their lips met. This kiss was different from the little peck he had given her moments before. He crushed his lips to hers and thrust his tongue into her mouth. Her tongue eagerly attacked his. Steele moved one hand to the back of her head, sealing her lips to his while his other soapy hand slid down her back onto the round buttocks he remembered admiring. He pulled her to him, pressing her belly against the length of his hard dick.

Breaking the kiss, Steele said, "Let's wash the soap off while we still have hot water."

The two took turns getting under the spray, giggling each time they collided. When they got out of the shower, Steele tossed Zhenzhen a towel and, after they dried themselves, he scooped her up in his arms. Her nude body was soft and still damp as it pressed against his. He carried her past the pile of clothes she had left on his bedroom floor and gently laid her on the bed.

Steele gazed down at the lovely girl. It had been easy to mistake Zhenzhen for a teenager. She was slim and short with two small cones for breasts. Goosebumps dotted the areolas around her still erect nipples. His eyes traveled over her flat belly and beyond. She slapped a hand over her groin.

"Don't look," she said.

"You're beautiful. Don't be embarrassed."

Steele climbed over her and lay on his side beside her. When he placed his lips on hers, her eyes closed and she sighed. Steele brushed her lips with his by moving his head side to side, until Zhenzhen's lips parted with another sigh. That's when he slid his tongue into her mouth. It was met with her energetic tongue flapping against it and a hand on the back of his head crushing his mouth to hers.

Before the kiss ended, Steele turned his head slightly to peek. One of her hands remained covering her crotch. That was odd. Nothing had been hidden in the shower.

Steele locked his lips around her right breast. She stiffened, but when he sucked the nipple she grabbed his hair and released a breath through an open mouth. While sucking and licking her nipple and fondled her other breast, Steele peeked again. Her free hand remained on her groin.

Steele lifted off the breast, kissing and licking her skin as he traveled lower. She sucked in air and her belly caved in when he wiggled his tongue inside her bellybutton. He continued downward, now kissing the back of the hand covering her groin. Steele kissed his way back up, over her belly, both tits, and finally nibbled the side of her neck.

He whispered, "Have you ever done this before?"

Zhenzhen's eyes opened. They darted away when they met his.

"You haven't, have you?"

She shook her head without looking at him.

"Are you sure you want to?"

She hesitated before nodding.

"Because you want my help?"

Zhenzhen studied Steele. "You said you'd help me anyway."

"I will."

"Then that's not why."

"Then why? Why haven't you done it before?"

Zhenzhen's eyes lowered. "My papa is old-fashioned. That's how he raised me."

"So why are you going against your father's wishes now?"

"Don't you want to make love to me?"

"Very much. But I want you to be sure."

Zhenzhen's eyes watered as she stared at Steele. Her bottom lip quivered. "Those men said they'd violate me if Papa didn't pay. They said they'd rape me in front of him. Both of them. They would take turns. I don't want them to be my first."

Steele stroked her cheek just as a tear rolled down and soaked into the pillow. "I'll protect you. They can't hurt you."

Tears flowed from both eyes. "They already did. I'm no longer a virgin."

"You said you were."

Zhenzhen covered her face. "I'm so ashamed."

"Tell me."

"He used his finger. He tore me down there as a warning. He made Papa watch."

"I should have killed them."

"I wish you had."

Steele dragged her hand off her face and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. And then one on her lips. "I think we should get dressed."

Zhenzhen rolled onto her side facing Steele. "You don't want to make love to me?"

"I don't want you to make a mistake."

"But I want to."

"Why?"

Zhenzhen blushed and lowered her eyes. "In the shower, I wanted you. I felt butterflies in my belly I never felt before. I want you to be my first."

"Are you sure?"

Zhenzhen cupped Steele's face with both hands and pressed her lips to his. When he felt the tip of her tongue poking his lips, he shoved his against it, pushing it backwards into her mouth. The weight of her upper body forced him onto his back as she lay partially on top of him. While they kissed, she wrapped her fingers around his soft dick and squeezed. It stiffened.

Steele pulled his head back. "I'll take that as a yes."

Zhenzhen smiled while fondling his dick.

Steele rolled Zhenzhen onto her back and traced a fingertip around and over her breast. The goosebumps returned, and when the thick nipple elongated, he covered the breast with his mouth and flicked the nipple with his tongue while glancing down her body. Her arms were at her sides. A tuft of black, silky pubic hair stood up from her pubes. While sucking her breast, his fingertips slid over her belly. When it neared the pubic hair, she slapped a hand over her groin. Ignoring it, Steele continued to stroke her soft skin and suck her breast.

Pulling away from her breast, Steele scooted down the bed and stroked one leg and then the other, from hip to ankle. More goosebumps. When he nudged the inside of her left leg, she shifted it outward, but her hand remained covering her groin. Steele pushed her legs further apart as he climbed between them. He laid a hand on top of hers and waited for Zhenzhen to lift her head to look at him.

"Trust me," he said.

With her staring down her body at him, Steele pulled her hand off her crotch. She strained to put it back, but after he pressed it against the mattress, she relented. The long, straight pubic hairs were as black as the hair on her head. Just as silky. With both hands, he prodded her legs further apart and kissed the inner thigh of her left leg. Zhenzhen sighed, but also slapped a hand onto her pussy.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Steele asked.

"I don't mean to. I just—"

Zhenzhen's mouth snapped shut when Steele pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed the palm. "You are beautiful, all of you. Don't be ashamed of any part of your body."

When he released her hand, she dropped it at her side, but she flinched and stiffened when his lips touched her inner thigh. Her legs snapped toward each other, banging into Steele's broad shoulders. The muscles on her arm strained as she tried to keep her arm still, and her fingers clenched into a tight fist as each kiss brought Steele's mouth closer to her pussy. When the pubic hairs tickled his cheek, her hand flew to cover her groin. This time it immediately returned to the mattress on its own.

The next kiss was directly on her pussy. Steele pressed his mouth to her slit, squishing her clitoris. Zhenzhen's legs flew into the air. Her thighs locked around his head. Heels slammed his back and dug into it as her lower body humped, her back arching off the mattress before crashing back down. Steele moved his head side to side, mashing her clit with his lips and the teeth behind them, her pubic hairs tickling his nose. The girl humped again and again. Thighs squeezed his head. Heels dug into his back. Fists pounded the mattress.

Steele snaked his hands between the mattress and her buttocks, cupping her ass with both hands. His spread fingers covered it all. Humping his mouth had parted the labia so Steele's lips now contacted her clitoris hood directly. Zhenzhen squealed. Her head rolled on the pillow. When Steele inserted a thumb into her pussy, the girl humped harder and faster. He didn't need to move his thumb; she fucked it. And then her thighs tightened around his ears, her pussy clenched his thumb, and she shrieked. Her body stiffened. Shook. Went limp.

Steele slowly slid his wet thumb out and untangled himself from her legs. Her eyes were closed, chest rising and falling, nostrils flaring with each breath. He rushed to his end table to retrieve a condom and ripped the cover off. After sliding it onto his hard cock, he climbed back between her legs. Hovering over her, he kissed Zhenzhen's forehead. Her eyes opened slowly as if she were waking from a dream.

"I assume you're not on the pill?" he asked.

That was a preview of Steele Justice. To read the rest purchase the book.

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