Strictly Yours: Hooded Pleasures, Book 3 by Sheryl Nantus Page A

long as he stayed focused.
    This was a concentrated effort for his senior as they circled the block on a late-night patrol, aiming a searchlight into the dark alleys to find the haphazard shacks and shelters built out of everything from discarded tarps to broken shopping carts.
    Nathan gestured to his right. “In there.”
    The spotlight swung over a huddled figure warming his hands over a garbage can fire.
    “Hey,” Nathan yelled. “You okay tonight?”
    The man froze for a second, then slowly raised a gloved hand and waved at the policemen. He gave the pair a thumbs-up before returning his focus on the fire.
    Nathan waved back and tapped the gas to move forward. “Stay sharp. Homeless people get robbed and hurt all the time. We’re here to protect everyone. You see something out of place, you speak up, and we’ll check it out,” Nathan said. “Remember the sleeper? If we could have gotten to him sooner, we might have been able to convince him to get inside. Say hello, wave, do whatever you do to get their attention and confirm they’re okay.”
    “Don’t some of them hate us?” Henry asked.
    “Some do. Some don’t. Doesn’t matter if they’re being victimized.” Nathan slowed as they came to another intersection. “Protect and serve. That includes everyone.”
    Henry fell silent and studied the narrow alleys.
    Is she safe?
    Nathan tightened his grip on the steering wheel and tried to push his mind back on track.
    He cleared his throat. “Watch when you get into these lanes. If you look down, you can see the cobblestones. I figure they used to be horse paths before—easy enough to snap off a side mirror or scrape up the doors if you’re not careful. You don’t want to turn the car in all banged up unless you’ve got a good story to go with it.”
    Henry hummed a response.
    Nathan tried to push his mind back on track and failed.
    All he could think about was Jennifer and how he had to do something more to protect her.
    It wasn’t only his job as a policeman, although it would be enough to justify his ongoing concern for her. It was part and parcel of what he felt as a submissive, his personal responsibility to keep her safe and sound during her time with him.
    In a perfect world, it would be twenty-four hours a day, but that wasn’t possible right now.
    He needed to make sure when she came to him, she felt comfortable and safe, secure enough so they could both let themselves go and enjoy their time together.
    He could give her that much. The dead bolt was strong and firmly set, almost impossible to break down with mere force.
    But that was all he could do. All she would allow him to do.
    Nathan didn’t know what else to do to help her when she drove away out of sight.
    He did know things had changed between them and would continue to change.
    Because as soon as he got the information he’d requested, he’d know more about her than any client of HP ever did about his Domme.
    And their relationship would change yet again.
    “They’re pretty interesting folks.” Henry waved at another street person wearing a series of sleeping bags.
    “Don’t let your guard down,” Nathan warned. “They can lash out at you at any time.”
    “Why would they?”
    Nathan rolled his head around, feeling the tension in his neck muscles. “Some of them might be sick. Hallucinations from a variety of sources—off their medication or maybe got some bad drugs from a pusher, ill from not seeking medical attention. A cut can get infected fast, and they’re afraid to go to the clinics or get any help.” He grunted. “And some of them plain don’t like cops. They get rousted too many times or harassed, they’re going to throw the first punch and damn the consequences. Watch yourself and be prepared for any situation. Most of them are okay, but there’s always the odd one out.”
    Henry turned his attention back to the streets.
    Nathan hoped Jen wouldn’t be too mad with him.
    You’re interfering , he imagined her