Chapter 17 My turn
Sergeant Peter had been held for nearly twelve hours, and by law he couldn't be held for more than 24hours.
Corporal Vance had been brought in, and kept in another room, he had told the same story; they had logged in forty crates and left together.
Maverick stood outside, eyes fixed on Peter through the one-way glass. The soldier sat there, motionless, shoulders relaxed too relaxed for a man under suspicion.
Maverick’s jaw tightened. Something wasn’t right. The calmness wasn’t innocence , it was control.
“Sir.”
John’s voice broke the silence. Maverick didn’t turn, only glanced sideways.
“Their quarters were searched. Nothing suspicious was found.” He hesitated, then handed over a file. “The military police confirmed there were no fingerprints on the broken crate. The only footprints matched Sergeant Peter’s shoe leaving, after signing the log.”
Maverick took the file without a word, flipped it open.
“There’s no CCTV directly inside the armory,” John continued. “But the exterior camera caught them leaving together. Unfortunately, the base lights go off at 21:45. The system reboots fifteen minutes later. That’s when the theft happened.”
Maverick stared at the paused footage on the monitor, Peter and Vance walking away, unaware of the gap that would hide a crime.
The evidence cleared them.
But his gut didn’t.
He exhaled slowly, his voice cold as steel. “Let them go.”
John hesitated. “Sir…”
“I said, let them go.”
Maverick turned sharply, leaving the observation room. His boots echoed down the corridor, each step steady, precise.
He headed back toward the armory, the weight of suspicion pressed harder on his shoulders.
If this wasn’t an isolated theft, then it was connected to the same missing ammunition case his brother had been investigating before he disappeared.
And Maverick intended to finish what his brother started.
When Maverick arrived at the armory, he didn’t go inside. Instead, he walked around the building, his cold eyes scanned the perimeter for possible clues.
His eyes moved to the abandoned houses surrounding the area. He frowned, wondering why an armory would be relocated to such an isolated part of the base.
He had noticed something earlier while checking the logbook, another record of missing ammunition that happened under Sergeant Peter’s duty shift. Was that a coincidence?
Just like now, there had been someone else whose story matched his someone to back him up. This time, it was Corporal Vance.
Maverick’s distant eyes swept over the deserted buildings again.
He heard footsteps approaching from behind but didn’t turn; he already knew it was John.
“Sir.”
“These buildings,” Maverick said quietly, still looking ahead, “what are they?”
“They used to be residential quarters for the Generals, sir. But that was before the move.”
Maverick’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Get me the blueprints of this place.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned and walked toward the car, his expression unreadable.
When he slid into the driver’s seat, he gripped the wheel, his mind a storm of questions and possibilities. He needed answers, fast.
But as the road stretched before him as he drove back to his office, the silence grew heavier, his thoughts shifted, his mind drifted to Heaven the memory of her skin, her breath, the softness of her skin, the peace he had felt inside her.
Fuck he missed her.
Heat stirred low in his body. His jaw tightened. He pressed down on the accelerator.
Maverick was trained to control himself, not like he hadn’t been trained with women before. But since he tasted her his brother’s wife he couldn’t. She fed his hunger, and he wanted more.
Heaven lay in her bed, after her duties at Boyle’s altar were done. She had freshened up, but her mind wouldn’t rest. Maverick, her brother-in-law, consumed her thoughts.
The things he had done to her.
The way he touched her, the places he claimed, sent a throb through her pussy. She squeezed her thighs, heat pooled between her legs, unable to sleep. The bed itself reminded her of begging him to fuck her.
Did her body miss him? It ached for him, filling the emptiness she felt in the Estate.
She pulled her nightdress down, her fingers brushed her nipple, pinching it like he had. Her hand slid lower, mimicking his touch on her clit, her eyes glazed over, her mouth fell open, her head rolled back.
She remembered his fingers sliding into her folds, her legs wrapped around him, his relentless thrusts. Her hand moved faster, fingers plunging into her slick pussy.
“Mm… ahhh,” she moaned, her voice soft but desperate.
“Ma…verick,” she gasped, his name a sin on her lips. It was wrong, but he made her feel alive, less alone. She rubbed harder, her back arched, toes curled as her orgasm built.
“Ahh, fuck ma…veri…ck,” she whimpered, her body shook as pleasure crashed through her.
“My turn,” a familiar voice growled, jolting her upright.