by A. P. Eisen
“Thanks, Arnie.”
Rob’s phone rang, and Paul saw his partner’s face fall. “Kraft,” he said and picked up the phone. “Yes, Lieutenant.” He listened, and Paul’s heart kicked up. “Right away, sir.” He hung up the phone. “He wants to see us.”
Sympathy creased Stubbs’s face. “Good luck, guys.”
Feeling like he was walking into his own sentencing, Paul trudged to Kraft’s office. The door was open.
“Come inside and close the door behind you.”
They did as asked and stood, hands clasped behind their backs.
“That was quite a show you put on at the Ulriches’, Detectives. Care to explain?”
Before Rob could take a breath, Paul jumped in. “Lieutenant, we strongly believed that Josie Warner was the one who hit Dr. Ulrich, causing him to strike his head and die, but all we had was circumstantial evidence. I thought—”
“We both thought, sir,” Rob cut in, glaring at Paul.
“The only way to force her to admit her guilt was to make her feel like Catherine Ulrich was threatened.”
“So you used her nineteen-year-old son.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Despite being warned to handle the case with care.”
“Not at the expense of letting a murderer go free, sir. We knew she did it. Her story didn’t add up. I took a chance, yes, but I’d do it all again if it meant catching a killer.”
“You’re walking a fine line, Detective.”
“I’d rather walk those lines, sir, than play inside them and not do the victim justice.”
Kraft drummed his thick fingers on the desktop. “Catherine Ulrich called me and told me what happened. I could have you both suspended. Take your badge, Monroe. You know better.”
That, more than anything, got to him. To lose the job he loved would hurt, but he remained stoic. “I’m willing to accept whatever you decide is best.”
“Me too, Lieutenant. Paul didn’t make this decision alone.”
Kraft pressed his lips tight. “Dammit. You two are the best I have. I can’t afford to lose you both. But I also can’t have my detectives going out there like cowboys, with half-cocked schemes that could backfire and turn real ugly if you’re wrong.”
“I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been certain, sir.”
Defiant, he held Kraft’s stare until the lieutenant shook his head and allowed a flicker of a smile to cross his lips. “Bulldog, you’ve got balls of steel to talk to me like that, don’t you?”
“Maybe. But I also love the job and the people of this town. I couldn’t let a murderer go free.”
“Well, Catherine Ulrich said she was upset, but her son talked her out of making a complaint. Seems his father’s death and you two fools made an impression on him. So here’s what I’m going to do. Rob, go home for the rest of the day and take tomorrow as well. Spend some time with your wife. She’s doing better, I hope?”
“She is. But, sir, I’d rather stay on the job. Please.”
“I’m sure you would, but that’s not your decision. And Paul, you’re gone for the week, effective immediately as well. That’s all.” He pushed back from the desk and walked over to them. “Good job, you two,” he said quietly, then opened the door. “Now get out of here and go home.”
Relief poured through Paul, and he nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, sir,” Rob added.
They ignored the stares and whispers as they walked to their desks. Paul powered down his machine and took some personal items he’d need out of the desk drawer. Rob did the same and swiveled his chair to face Paul.
“You know I’m pissed you tried to take all the blame, but now I’m kind of glad.”
“Oh, yeah? Why?”
A twinkle lit Rob’s eyes. “I only get a day and a half at home with my mother and mother-in-law. Kraft could’ve given me the week like you.”
“I told you it would all work out for the best.” He snickered. “Let’s get out of here.”
He had plans, so he might as well make good use of the time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Cliff was beat. The day had started off with a fire in the kitchen that required them to close down service for all hot food and only offer cold items. Then the computer system went on the fritz, and the front desk couldn’t access any reservations, which meant calling the main reservations line for each guest checking in. Then—the cherry on top of the fucked-up sundae—a pipe broke in the laundry room, causing a flood, which shorted out four of their ten machines.
“Get me the fuck out of here,” he muttered to himself, shutting his office door behind him with a satisfying thump. He’d already called his parents and said he couldn’t make it that evening, and they understood. All he wanted was to go home, undress, and put his feet up. Hopefully Paul would come by and they could continue where they left off the night before.
He drove up to his house, and he smiled at the sight of Paul’s car in the driveway. Knowing Paul waited for him, Cliff’s stress melted away. For a moment, Cliff allowed himself to imagine this could be every day.
He walked around to the back and stopped. Bare-chested, in a pair of cut-off shorts that set Cliff’s blood racing, Paul sat on the top step, weatherproofing the deck. The worn denim hugged his perfect ass and showed off the sinewy strength of his muscled thighs as he leaned over. His broad shoulders gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat, and Cliff stopped breathing for a second.
Lord have mercy.
Paul straightened, and their eyes met. He smiled. “Hi.”
Reining in his lust, Cliff strolled over to join Paul. “Hi, yourself.” He surveyed the deck and was surprised to see a good portion of it finished. “When did you get here? This looks almost half-done. And thank you, by the way.”
“You’re welcome. Let’s go inside. I can explain properly.”
Paul closed the can of varnish and left it on the bottom step, and they walked around to the front and entered the house. Paul put his hands on Cliff’s shoulders and stopped him.
“Hey.”
“What’s wrong?” Cliff turned in his tracks and faced Paul.
“Nothing. I just felt like doing this.” He bent and put his mouth over Cliff’s, pressing their lips together. The heady scent of Paul’s sweat, cologne, and heat crawled through him like honey pouring through his veins, and Cliff wrapped his arms around Paul’s shoulders. Their tongues met and touched, and Cliff sagged against Paul’s chest.
“Wow. I needed that.”
“At your service.” Taking his hand, Paul led him to the kitchen, where he got a beer out of the fridge and handed it to him. “I have something to tell you.”
Cliff twisted the top off and took a long, cold swallow. “Ahh. Okay, sure. I could tell something was up.”
“I’ve been suspended from the force for a week. And I deserve it, but I’d do it again.”
“Is this related to what you called me about?” Cliff set his bottle down on the kitchen island.
“Yeah.” Paul laid out the story, and Cliff winced at the final outcome when Paul told him why Josie killed her employer.
“Do you think she was in love with Catherine Ulrich?”
Paul had taken his own beer out, and he drank some before answering. “No. I think she was obsessed with her and despised Dr. Ulrich for cheating on her. Josie thought he brought shame to Catherine, but she didn’t know the lengths Catherine was willing to go to in order to keep her husband.”
“Very sad.”
“It is. She’s having a psych eval right now, so we’ll see what happens.”
“And you’re okay with the suspension? You don’t seem too upset about it.”
“I’m not happy, but I expected it. And I figured it would give us some time together.” His dark-blue eyes warmed. “I know I’ve been a little MIA lately.”
“I’m used to it by now,” Cliff said with a smile.
“If you’d like, I can even stay over the week, sort of a test run.”<
br />
He stared. “Test run?” Was Paul saying what he thought? What he hoped?
“All of today, I was thinking about how short life is and how things can happen in a minute and have consequences for years to come. Life, death…we don’t have any idea what awaits us.”
Cliff circled the island to join Paul. He put a hand on Paul’s chest to feel the strong thump of his heart under the hot skin. “There’s never a guarantee. So if you’re saying what I think you are…” He kissed Paul. “I’d love it if you moved in here with me.”
“I was pretty obvious, huh?” Paul laughed, and Cliff’s heart soared.
“You might be able to fool your suspects, Detective Paul Monroe, but I think I’ve got you figured out.”
“I’m that easy to read?”
“You might be.”
“So,” Paul said with a gleam in his eye, “you should be able to tell what I’m thinking right now.”
Cliff took Paul’s beer bottle and set it on the counter. “That’ll be the simplest case ever to solve.”
Laughing, their arms around each other, he and Paul walked to the bedroom.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to my editor, Keren Reed for all her guidance and help. Thank you also to Hope and Jessica from Flat Earth Editing and Dianne from Lyrical Lines for the meticulous copy editing and proofreading. I couldn’t do it without you.
To everyone who read Couldn’t Cheat Death and enjoyed Paul and Cliff’s story, I hope you enjoy this book as well.
About A.P. Eisen
A.P. Eisen cut her teeth on Nancy Drew mysteries as a child and never looked back. Writing has always brought her joy, and she loves creating characters who can make people laugh and cry, sometimes at the same time.
Whether they are investigating a murder, cooking a gourmet meal together, or simply living their lives, the men she writes about are smart, savvy, and sexy. They may not walk the straightest path to love, but they always solve their case and get their guy.
A.P. lives in New York City and drinks too much coffee and not enough champagne.
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Also by A.P. Eisen
The Paul Monroe Mysteries:
Couldn’t Cheat Death
