Controlling the Detectives (The Magic Remote Book 3) by Nadia Nightside Page B
Authors: Nadia Nightside
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on a case, she was dreadfully depressed. As she progressed in her career, she could feel herself drawing out cases more and more, collecting as much evidence as possible. There was no way she could fall into the deep spiral of depression while she was working, so she tried to work until she knew she had another case lined up.
When this didn't happen, Heather was a mess. She felt something essential was missing from her life, though she could never identify what.
So, when she felt like she was getting a bad vibe from the house, she had to take this feeling with a grain of salt, especially when she couldn't originate the source of the bad vibe to begin with. Perhaps it was how Carmen were dressed.
Both girls were positively gorgeous. But Carmen dressed in a thick gray dress that covered her bodies from the neck to her ankles, just like every other beauty that Heather had seen enter or exit the house.
Mr. Russell hadn't mentioned anything like that. Perhaps they had joined some kind of cult?
The girl who Carmen had brought home with her was stunningly attractive, much like Monica and Carmen. She had beautifully young tanned skin, long dark hair, and a beautifully elongated torso with perfect abs, shown off by the tiny white cut-off tee shirt she wore. Her jeans rode low on her lovely hips, enhancing the effect of her long curves.
Watching the girl go inside the house raised Heather's hackles. If it was some kind of cult, if there was some kind of indoctrination to go on, Heather needed to stop it before it went too far.
She sighed, putting her binoculars down on the seat behind her. They crumpled the empty plastic packaging of the soy health food snacks she and Sandra had brought with them.
There was no way she would live with herself if something happened to that girl—she needed to get a better look.
“Stay over here,” she said to Sandra. “I'm going to sneak up for a better look.”
“Should I come?” asked Sandra. “You know, for back-up?”
Heather got the distinct impression that Sandra only wanted to stay close to her. If they had to hide—and they almost certainly would—then Heather and Sandra would be forced to share a very small amount of space. Sandra's firm breasts would be riding up on Heather's back, or vice versa, or Heather's lips would have nowhere to go but Sandra's ear . . .
. . . This is what Heather imagined Sandra imagined, at any rate.
“No,” said Heather. “I need you watching the front. Radio me if anybody sees me, or starts coming my way.”
She picked up her camera—they would need evidence, after all, and got out of the car. Hopefully, nobody would bother to look outside of the house in the twenty seconds it took her to cross the street and gracefully climb up the wooden fence of the large estate.
She landed in bushes, and crouched down, making sure she had her radio ready.
Heather lived for caution over anything else, these days. She was an old veteran now, with over seven years of service as a detective. But years ago, she had been kidnapped and shot in the line of duty during her very first few months of service.
It was a dumb thing. She had rushed inside of a room without back-up, and got knocked out from someone hiding around the corner of the door. Thirty minutes later, she was tied up, hoping for rescue. Six hours later, she had been rescued in a rather bullet-filled operation.
Those six hours had completely rearranged everything Heather had ever felt about sex. But of course, she let no one know about this. Her feelings on sex were her own, and no one else's.
She moved up through the bushes, coming to a long line of hedges sprouting beautiful lavender flowers. The house had been constructed with enormous windows in front of the living room without curtains or shades. Heather didn't want to even imagine what the heating bill must have been like in the winter.
Through the large collection of windows, she could see Monica and Carmen talking with the tan girl who
When this didn't happen, Heather was a mess. She felt something essential was missing from her life, though she could never identify what.
So, when she felt like she was getting a bad vibe from the house, she had to take this feeling with a grain of salt, especially when she couldn't originate the source of the bad vibe to begin with. Perhaps it was how Carmen were dressed.
Both girls were positively gorgeous. But Carmen dressed in a thick gray dress that covered her bodies from the neck to her ankles, just like every other beauty that Heather had seen enter or exit the house.
Mr. Russell hadn't mentioned anything like that. Perhaps they had joined some kind of cult?
The girl who Carmen had brought home with her was stunningly attractive, much like Monica and Carmen. She had beautifully young tanned skin, long dark hair, and a beautifully elongated torso with perfect abs, shown off by the tiny white cut-off tee shirt she wore. Her jeans rode low on her lovely hips, enhancing the effect of her long curves.
Watching the girl go inside the house raised Heather's hackles. If it was some kind of cult, if there was some kind of indoctrination to go on, Heather needed to stop it before it went too far.
She sighed, putting her binoculars down on the seat behind her. They crumpled the empty plastic packaging of the soy health food snacks she and Sandra had brought with them.
There was no way she would live with herself if something happened to that girl—she needed to get a better look.
“Stay over here,” she said to Sandra. “I'm going to sneak up for a better look.”
“Should I come?” asked Sandra. “You know, for back-up?”
Heather got the distinct impression that Sandra only wanted to stay close to her. If they had to hide—and they almost certainly would—then Heather and Sandra would be forced to share a very small amount of space. Sandra's firm breasts would be riding up on Heather's back, or vice versa, or Heather's lips would have nowhere to go but Sandra's ear . . .
. . . This is what Heather imagined Sandra imagined, at any rate.
“No,” said Heather. “I need you watching the front. Radio me if anybody sees me, or starts coming my way.”
She picked up her camera—they would need evidence, after all, and got out of the car. Hopefully, nobody would bother to look outside of the house in the twenty seconds it took her to cross the street and gracefully climb up the wooden fence of the large estate.
She landed in bushes, and crouched down, making sure she had her radio ready.
Heather lived for caution over anything else, these days. She was an old veteran now, with over seven years of service as a detective. But years ago, she had been kidnapped and shot in the line of duty during her very first few months of service.
It was a dumb thing. She had rushed inside of a room without back-up, and got knocked out from someone hiding around the corner of the door. Thirty minutes later, she was tied up, hoping for rescue. Six hours later, she had been rescued in a rather bullet-filled operation.
Those six hours had completely rearranged everything Heather had ever felt about sex. But of course, she let no one know about this. Her feelings on sex were her own, and no one else's.
She moved up through the bushes, coming to a long line of hedges sprouting beautiful lavender flowers. The house had been constructed with enormous windows in front of the living room without curtains or shades. Heather didn't want to even imagine what the heating bill must have been like in the winter.
Through the large collection of windows, she could see Monica and Carmen talking with the tan girl who
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