Cuff Me

by Lauren Layne

  But when he finally pulled up in front of Dorothy Birch’s apartment building, his heart really did stop.

  There were the expected squad cars, of course. A half dozen of them.

  But there was an ambulance too. And there were his brothers. His brothers who beat him, because they were already in Manhattan when shit went down.

  Luc’s and Anthony’s faces were unusually somber as they watched a stretcher be loaded into the ambulance then.

  He saw it then. The blond hair. The small frame.

  “No. No!”

  Even in the chaos, his shout had carried, and people turned to stare as he half ran, half stumbled toward the ambulance as the stretcher disappeared from view.

  His brothers caught both of his arms before he could throw himself into the back.

  “Easy,” Anth muttered. “Let them work.”

  “What happened?” his voice cracked. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “They found her unconscious,” Luc said quietly. “They think she was drugged, but they don’t know with what. They’re searching the place now.”

  Drugged. That old bitch had drugged her.

  “Where is she?” Vin snarled, glancing around at the squad cars, searching the backseats for a white head.

  Both brothers were silent for a moment.

  Anthony finally answered. “There was no sign of Dorothy Birch when the uniforms got here. It was just Jill slumped on the couch. Judging from the open dresser drawers and clothes strewn on the bed, we’re guessing she made a run for it.”

  Vincent’s eyes came back to Jill’s body. He could barely see with the paramedics moving in every direction, but she wasn’t moving.

  She wasn’t moving.

  “I’m going to find Dorothy Birch,” Vincent said, his voice harsh and grating. “I’ll fucking find her!”

  One of the paramedics started to close the back of the ambulance door, and Vin reached out to grab it before it could shut in his face.

  “Sir, you can’t—”

  “I’m a cop,” Vincent ground out as he launched himself into the back of the ambulance.

  “And this is my partner.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Jell-O.

  She’d been eating Jell-O for days.

  Or at least hours. Jill had definitely been eating Jell-O for hours.

  And it was freaking fantastic.

  At least until the last nurse had brought her the orange kind. She started to hand it to Elena who was sitting in the chair to her right, but Elena didn’t look up from her magazine, and merely pointed across the bed to Ava.

  Jill handed the orange Jell-O to Ava, who plucked it out of Jill’s hand with a tsking noise. “Now how can they expect you to get better on orange Jell-O?”

  “I know,” Jill pouted. “Don’t they know I was drugged with dog tranquilizers?”

  “The indignity. I can’t even. I’ll take care of this straightaway.” Ava handed the orange Jell-O cup to Luc. “Luc, take care of this. Straightaway.”

  He stared at the cup in his hand before shooting a puzzled look at the women. “And by take care of this, you mean…”

  “Get her red Jell-O,” Maggie said from the chair in the corner. “Obviously.”

  Luc glanced at Anthony with a what-the-fuck expression, but Anth held up his hands and shook his head. “Hey, man. She’s right about the dog tranquilizer. Maybe it made her weird. Weird-er.”

  “Heard that,” Jill said, shooting a finger pistol at Anthony. “And for the record, I liked red Jell-O before that old lady tricked me into taking doggie sedatives.”

  “Everyone likes red Jell-O,” Elena pointed out. “It’s pretty much the only Jell-O worth eating.”

  “I like green Jell-O myself.”

  Jill glanced at the door and grinned when she saw the Moretti grandmother. “Nonna!”

  “There’s my girl,” Nonna said, moving toward the bed and giving Jill a none-too-gentle hug. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it here earlier. I had another of those dang colds. Boogers the size of—”

  “Nonna, for the love of God,” Luc said. “Not after you just talked about preferring green Jell-O. Actually, not ever.”

  Nonna ignored her grandson as she studied Jill with a slight frown. “So where is the old biddy that landed you in this horrible place, and got you dressed in that ugly gown that makes your boobs look like pancakes?”

  Anthony grabbed the Jell-O cup out of Luc’s hand. “I’m going to go find the red Jell-O.”

  “I’ll help!” Luc said, half running after his brother.

  Jill glanced down at the gown. “Not my best look, huh? And as for that biddy… still on the run.”

  Nonna huffed and shoved Ava out of the chair so she could sit down. “I’m not surprised. Everyone underestimates us old farts, but we can be surprisingly crafty. A wobbly hand and a shaky voice are all it takes to do surprising misdeeds.”

  Yikes.

  Jill plucked at the hospital blanket, remembering all too well how Dorothy had played her with the shaking hand routine. She’d replayed yesterday over and over—at least the parts she could remember—and had concluded that Dorothy must have drugged her first cup of tea while she was still in the kitchen, and then the second cup of tea when Jill had looked away to let the elderly woman save her pride.

  Idiot. She’d been such an idiot.

  The nurse came back into the room, carrying a tray with three red Jell-O cups (Anthony and Luc must have played the cop card) and an exaggerated smile. “I hate to keep doing this, but there’s a limit on how many visitors can be in here…”

  “Why?” Nonna asked, turning around to stare at the nurse. “You think anyone died of too much well-wishing?”

  “It’s hospital policy, Nonna,” Maggie explained, rubbing a hand over her belly and taking pity on the poor nurse. “We’re all taking turns. Mom and Dad headed out so that Luc and Anth could come in.”

  Nonna grunted, turning back to Jill. “Who cares about those grandsons? Where’s the one that matters?”

  The room fell silent. Even the nurse seemed to understand that this was a Forbidden Question, and quietly set the Jell-O cups on Jill’s table before leaving the room. She didn’t even warn them again about visitor overload.

  Jill swallowed and opened her mouth, but no words came out.

  “Vincent’s trying to track down Dorothy Birch,” Ava explained quietly.

  “Why?” Nonna demanded with her usual candor. “His partner’s laid up being served orange Jell-O, and he can’t find someone else to track down a ninety-year-old woman?”

  “She’s sixty-six,” Jill corrected quietly. As though that was what was important right now.

  Nonna stood, putting hands on her bony hips. “That boy may be my blood, but I’d strangle him if he were here right now. I’d sit him down and make him hear all about my boogers. And my phlegm. I’d tell him about how my phlegm was multicolored this morning. And then I’d go and find that Tom—that nice, handsome, but maybe wrong-for-you Tom, and I’d bring him here and tell him to put that pretty ring back on your finger, because at least Tom—”

  “Nonna, if you bring Tom into this hospital room, or anywhere near Jill, I’ll put your bony ass in a home where they don’t serve any Jell-O.”

  Jill’s heart swelled at the sound of that voice. That wonderfully beautiful, familiar voice.

  Nonna’s frown flipped into a happy grin as she spun around, shifting enough to give Jill an unobstructed view of the door.

  An unobstructed view of Vincent.

  He came.

  He was here.

  Jill drew in a long breath.

  He looked…

  The same.

  Leather jacket? Check.

  Black shirt? Check.

  Dark jeans? Check.

  Frown? Check.

  But there were differences too.

  Like the bouquet of gorgeous pink roses in his right hand. That was new.

  And the warmth in his gaze
when his eyes met Jill. That was new too.

  “Oooh-kay then,” Elena said quietly, pushing to her feet. “Anyone else find that it just got uncomfortably warm in here?”

  Elena silently held out a hand to Maggie, who was already awkwardly pushing herself to her feet, aided by Ava, who came around to grab her other hand.

  Jill was only dimly aware of her three friends heading toward the door.

  Only at Elena’s not-so-soft Nonna! did Jill realize what was going on…

  Everyone was trying to give her and Vincent privacy.

  Everyone except Nonna, who’d plopped back down in her chair and helped herself to a red Jell-O. She was frowning down at it. “What is this, cherry? Fruit punch? I’m telling you, the green is where it’s at. It’s very—”

  Ava stuck her head out the door. “Luc! Anth!”

  Luc and Anthony reappeared in moments, and without having to be told—they had both lived with Nonna, after all—descended on their grandmother and very gently, very firmly, lifted her from the chair and ushered her from the door.

  “My Jell-O!” she shrieked.

  Elena gave her an exasperated look. “You were just fussing about how it wasn’t green.”

  “Yes, but if I had to choose between red Jell-O and no Jell-O—”

  Vincent moved for the first time since entering the room, walking toward the Jell-O, grabbing both that and Nonna’s spoon in one hand before storming back to the group waiting in the doorway.

  He handed it to Ava, who was closest, and then spreading his arms out to the side, flowers and all, he literally crowded every last one of his family members out the door.

  Vincent started to shut the door before he reached out and grabbed Anth’s arm. “Nobody comes in here.”

  Anth gave him a nod, and Vin started to close the door again, but not before Nonna loudly whispered to him to remember to get down on one knee.

  Finally, the door was shut.

  The room was silent.

  They were alone.

  Vincent slowly turned around to face her, his wary expression easing slightly when he saw that she was smiling.

  He approached the bed until he was beside it, his right hand just inches from her own. She itched to extend her fingers. To brush hers against his, but his face was still too damn unreadable.

  Vin cleared his throat and awkwardly held out the flowers. “These are for you.”

  “They’re pretty,” she said as he lowered himself to the chair beside her, “but…”

  His eyes narrowed. “But what?”

  “Well, there’s two buts, actually,” Jill said, sniffing the bouquet. “The first is that considering you’ve been off chasing a murderer that I discovered, there’s something I want a little more than these flowers…”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Vincent lifted an eyebrow before pulling his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. He wiggled it at her. “I may or may not have what you’re looking for on this very device.”

  Jill breathed out a sigh of relief. “You know me.”

  Vin unlocked his phone, hit a button, and then handed it to her.

  It was Dorothy Birch’s mug shot.

  Jill laid a hand over her chest. “Vincent Moretti. Don’t you ever say that you don’t do romance. Where’d you find her?”

  “Security cameras caught her near Port Authority, getting on a bus.”

  “A bus,” Jill said. “You don’t see that every day.”

  “Yeah, well.” Vincent leaned back in the chair. “You also don’t see a sixty-six-year-old woman committing sororocide either.”

  “Ooh, good word,” she said.

  The side of his mouth tilted up. “Only a homicide investigator would think so.”

  She glanced down at the flowers. “I keep thinking that we should have known earlier. That we should have caught her.”

  “You know what I’m thinking?” Vin asked, leaning forward. “I’m thinking that regardless of when we figured out it was her that you shouldn’t have gone in alone.”

  “Agreed,” Jill said.

  He opened his mouth, and then shut it at her easy agreement.

  She gave a sheepish smile. “I’m not proud of the way I handled it. There are no excuses, really. I was stupid.”

  Jill watched as his eyes turned darker. “Do you have any idea what it was like for me?” he said, his voice quiet. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to show up to a crime scene and see your partner on a stretcher?”

  She reached a hand toward him but stopped almost immediately. They weren’t ready for that. Not yet.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He cleared his throat and looked away. “What was the other thing?”

  “What?” she asked, not following.

  “You said there were two buts about the flowers. What was the other one?”

  “Oh. Um—”

  She felt foolish telling him now, when his face was all closed off and unreadable.

  Then she remembered Maria Moretti’s words that day Vin’s mother had come to visit her. If you want him… you’ll have to be the brave one.

  Jill lifted her chin. “The second thing I was going to say is that while the roses really are quite lovely, I find that I’ve recently discovered a new favorite flower. Carnations. Red, to be precise. Sort of like the ones a certain man got for me, only I was too blind to actually see them.”

  His gaze snapped back to hers. “Is that so?”

  She nodded, and this time when she reached out a hand toward him, she didn’t stop until her arm was all the way extended.

  His eyes traced the motion warily, and Jill stared at him steadily in challenge. If this was going to work, he needed to be brave too.

  Vin blew out a breath and then leaned forward, taking her hand in both of his and cradling it.

  “Jill—”

  “Wait. Me first,” she said. “About that night, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I shouldn’t have made demands, I shouldn’t have rushed you into anything, I shouldn’t have—”

  “I love you.”

  Jill’s words trailed off at his interruption. “What?”

  He leaned his head down to their joined hands, pressed his lips against her palm. “I love you, Jill Henley. Always have. Always will. And you don’t have to say it back. And even if you never say it back, know that I will still want you, still love you, still die for you—”

  Her free hand found its way to his cheek, and he turned his head, pressing his lips to that palm as well before finally lifting his eyes to meet hers. “My brothers said that saying it would be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. They were wrong. It was the easiest. Because loving you is easy.”

  Jill’s eyes filled with tears. “Took you long enough to realize it,” she whispered.

  He stood, leaning over her as he pressed his mouth to her eyes, her nose, then finally to her mouth, kissing her soft and sweet.

  Vin started to pull back, but Jill’s fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, holding him close. “You interrupted my speech,” she whispered.

  He ran a thumb over her cheek. “So finish it now. But make it quick—I’m dying to know if this hospital gown is one of the ones that gapes open in the back, displaying your perfect ass.”

  She laughed. “All right then. I’ll skip to the end of my pretty speech. I love you too, Detective Moretti.”

  The playful expression vanished from his face, and something tender and heartbreaking flitted across his harsh features. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered.

  His kiss was longer this time, hotter, and when he pulled back, they were both a little breathless, and both remaining red Jell-O cups had been knocked to the ground.

  “I don’t understand why they don’t make these beds for two,” he growled.

  “Um, probably because the walls are made of glass.”

  Vincent whipped his head around to see every last one of his family members staring at them wi
th happy smiles.

  “How long have they been standing there?”

  “Oh, you know. The whole time.”

  “And how long have my mom and Maggie been crying?”

  “Also the whole time,” she answered, grinning happily as she traced a finger over his jaw.

  “Uh-huh. And Nonna and her camera—”

  “Yeah. Whole time.” She kissed his cheek.

  “Awesome,” he muttered. “Have they given you any indication of when you get out of this voyeuristic hellhole?”

  “They said one more day for observation, then I’m all yours.”

  He gave a satisfied grunt and leaned down for another kiss.

  “If I get rid of my Peeping Tom family, what are the odds of me getting to see that delightful open-backed gown of yours?”

  “It depends,” she said, running a finger along his chest.

  “On?”

  Her hand fisted in his shirt once more and she tugged him downward, pressing her lips to his ear.

  “On whether or not you’ve got your handcuffs.”

  Vincent’s groan was low and tortured as he rested his face against her neck. “You’re mine forever. You know that, right?”

  “I do,” she said, running a hand over his cheek. “At least… I’m yours until the next time I have to go to Florida, and someone with an exceptionally pretty face offers me a diamond ring—”

  Jill’s tone was teasing, but when Vincent pulled back, his expression was both earnest and intense. “Detective Henley, I regret to inform you that while I definitely see a diamond ring in your future, the only one who will be putting it on your finger is me.”

  “Oh yeah?” she asked, lifting her eyebrows in challenge. “How long will that take?”

  “I’m guessing six years. Give or take,” he deadpanned.

  And then he was kissing her again, his hands sneaking around to the back of her gown, and Jill grinned.

  No way were they making it six years.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lauren Layne is the USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance.

  Prior to becoming an author, Lauren worked in e-commerce and Web marketing. In 2011, she and her husband moved from Seattle to New York City, where Lauren decided to pursue a full-time writing career. It took six months to get her first book deal (despite ardent assurances to her husband that it would only take three). Since then, Lauren’s gone on to multiple books, including the bestselling Stiletto series, with more sexy stories on the way!