Page 184 of Avenging Angel

He then grunted before he groaned through his finishing strokes, “Fuck, Raye.”

He took his time coming down before pulling out, rolling me to my back, then settling on top.

“For future reference, you can be bossy like that anytime you want,” I told him.

With both hands, Cap smoothed the hair away from my face, and to share he accepted my offer, he kissed me.

* * *

I was frantically multi-tasking,eating Cap’s eggs, bacon and toast (he even made scrambled eggs seem gourmet), putting on makeup and sorting through the police notices on theRepublic’swebsite, at the same time thinking we needed to change the alarm from 5:00 to 4:30 (no, 4:00) to accommodate our morning frolics, when Cap took the opportunity afforded him of me filling in my brows to turn my laptop his way.

“I thought you were letting this go,” he said.

“I saidI thinkwe’re letting it go.”

He had no reply, so I looked from my brows in the mirror to him. “We found out another woman is missing last night, Cap.”

“Chief of Police of Phoenix used to be uniform in Denver. Jorge Alvarez,” he announced.

“Okay,” I said, not sure why he was telling me this.

“He’s the guy that came in while we were being interviewed about Elsie Faye,” he explained.

“Right.”

“He’s a good man, Raye.”

Oh.

Now I knew why he was telling me this.

I went back to my brows. “I didn’t say he wasn’t.”

“Don’t get pissed at me,” he warned.

Oh shit.

I abandoned my brows and looked at him again.

“Mace and I went in, talked to him, ran those names on your wall by him. Every single one of those women has a history, Raye. Drugs. Solicitation. Petty theft. Stints in juvie. Domestic altercations, with her being the assaulter. Rough upbringings.”

I didn’t like where this was going.

What I knew was, it wasn’t usually the girl with the upper-middle class upbringing, whose parents groomed her to look forward only to that day where she’d wear a beautiful dress and cut a cake then make babies, parents who had the money to pay for her college so she could be somewhere to find the right man to give her that life, who hit the streets.

And he knew this too.

So I didn’t know why he was saying this stuff to me.

“So?” I asked sharply.

“They’re known not to be real stable, and it’s not their profession saying that,” he said the last firmly, because I’d opened my mouth to retort. “I know sex workers and strippers and a lot of women in similar positions who are completely solid. Pay their mortgages or rent, pay their bills, look after their kids, got a good thing going with their men or women. Jorge says some of them burned so many bridges and pissed off so many people, or owed so much to their dealers, it’s highly likely they left town.”

I was still dubious.

And I was so because, to me, this made all of them even better marks to disappear for nefarious reasons.

Cap should know that too.

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