Read For Love or Vengeance for Free Online

understand a woman’s desire to “bobbit” a male who had violated her.
    Daly looked to Sanchez, who just shrugged and said, “Don’t want to rule anything out at this point, Detective.”
    With a shrug, Daly said, “You’re the profilers. Any more questions, or are you ready to view the other crime scenes?”
    “We’re ready,” Helene said, and glanced at Sanchez to make sure he was onboard, reminding herself to play well with her new partner. She didn’t want a repeat of what had happened in Philly.
    Or at least she told herself that was the reason for making nice.

    Miguel watched as Helene efficiently walked on those impractical three-inch heels from the table to the bulletin boards. When he had first noticed them this morning he had immediately thought two things.
    The first he had forced from his mind because he was her partner.
    The second was annoyance…because he was her partner. How was she ever going to keep up in those crazy-high, asking-for-all-kinds-of-trouble heels?
    But she had.
    All day long as Detective Daly had taken them from one crime scene to another, laying out the basics of how the victims had been found and describing the area roadways and issues to the New York newbies, she had been right there beside him, never faltering on those incredibly sexy heels that made her legs look—
    Damn . He shoved his mind back to the photos Helene was sticking up on the bulletin boards.
    “Four victims. Three men. One woman. Two white, one Hispanic, and one mixed race,” she said after she had pinned the last photo and stepped back to examine them, one hand resting on the curve of her hip.
    Miguel rose from his chair, grabbed a marker, and wrote down the name of each victim, their occupation, home residence, and location where their body had been found. Helene stepped to a large map of Manhattan and stuck pins in for each of the locations—green for residences, red for the crime scenes.
    When they were both done, they stood shoulder to shoulder and examined the map. With those incredible high heels, Helene stood just a few inches below his six-foot-plus height and, as close as they were, her fragrance wafted around him. Not quite flowery, but very refreshing, even after a day spent traipsing around Manhattan. He had to fight back the urge to press closer to that alluring scent.
    Focusing his attention back on the case, he peered at the pins on the map that delineated an area from the upper edges of Tribeca to a spot just around the start of Spanish Harlem.
    “Doesn’t tell us much, does it?” Miguel said, and rubbed his hand across his mouth.
    “Only that the victims had either enough money or roommates to stay out of the sketchier parts of the city. We’re assuming the money came from their day jobs?” she asked, heading to the narrow conference room table where they had laid out their notes.
    Miguel quickly answered and went to the left side of the first bulletin board. “This vic, Greg Thomas, had landed a few minor roles in off-off-Broadway plays.”
    On the right side of the board was Jim Middletown, victim number two. Helene said, “Middletown had one role on Broadway in the chorus several years ago. He’s been struggling ever since.”
    Miguel jotted down the notes and together they went through the remaining two victims, placing yellow pins on the map for each of the locations where they had worked. It demarcated a much smaller area, mostly in Midtown.
    Miguel motioned to the bulletin boards and map with the marker. “We have nothing that connects the victims. Right? Other than acting?”
    Helene flipped through her notes, her head tilted at an angle where the thick curls of her dark hair fell forward, hiding her face. He wanted to walk over and pull it back because he wanted to see her reaction to what she was reading. During the course of the day he had learned he could read many of her reactions from her expressive face. Anger. Annoyance. Satisfaction when something had seemed to