by S. E. Harmon
His mouth was soft and warm as I went for one drugging kiss after another. I sank my fingers into his hair. He usually kept it shorn down low on the sides and longer on top, but he was overdue for a haircut. I took full advantage, gripping the strands to move his head exactly how I wanted.
By the time I finally pulled back, we were both hard and wanting. “Your parents,” he finally managed.
Well, that was damn near a boner killer.
My dick persevered and so did I, mouthing my way down Danny’s neck. I was careful not to use enough suction to leave marks, even though I wanted to sink my teeth in the tender flesh there and bite down. “What about them?”
“I promised them… something. Breakfast, I think.” He let out a hiss as I gave in to my primal instincts and bit a little at the juncture of his neck. His dick jumped against mine, pressing insistently against the restrictive fabric of his jeans. “Don’t mark me, you fucker.”
I chuckled darkly. “But you like it so much, Detective McKenna.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like the thought of your parents smirking at me over pancakes and sausage.”
“You actually think there’ll be something as edible as pancakes and sausage?” I nipped him again and, despite his bitching, he arched his neck for more. “Hope truly does spring eternal.”
“Well, bacon, then,” he insisted. “It’s just good etiquette. You invite people over for breakfast, you have to serve bacon, don’t you?”
So young so much to learn. My parents weren’t vegetarians per se, but a pig would never be safer than at their house. Even the third little piggie with his house of bricks would envy that bastard.
I pulled back just to look at him for a few seconds. It had only been a day and a half, but it felt much longer. Ugh. I was starting to feel a little sappiness coming on. I hated to be that guy but… hold my beer while I’m that guy.
“I missed you,” I blurted.
We were close enough that I could see the faint freckles on the end of his nose. Because of his naturally tanned skin, they’d never show up properly, but God bless them, they certainly tried.
He half smiled. “Is this where I say, ‘You had me at hello?’”
“You’d better not.” I narrowed my eyes. “My bag is still packed, you know. I’m not afraid to toss it right back in my trunk if you attempt to Jerry Maguire me.”
He chuckled. “I missed you too.”
“Show me,” I suggested, only half kidding. “Dusty knees equal love.”
He looked amused but didn’t deny a blowjob was in my imminent future. When he went over to the kitchen window and closed the blinds, all I could do was stare at him openmouthed, surprised I was getting my way.
“Really?” I asked.
“Yeah, but we’ve got to hurry.”
Yeah, that was so not a problem. I nearly broke land-speed records getting my pants and boxers down. I didn’t make another noise until he took me to the back of his throat, at which point I yelled something so garbled I startled us both. In my lust-addled state, I couldn’t be sure, but it sounded kind of close to the opening bars of The Circle of Life. From the vibrations around my cock as Danny chuckled, he thought so, too.
“You just wait,” I slurred, sinking my fingers in his hair. “I’ll have you singing Hakuna Matata.”
He couldn’t speak since his mouth was currently full, but those twinkling eyes said we’ll see.
*
It was a while before we headed out the door and over to my parents’ house, a big white platter in my hands, and a jug of orange juice in Danny’s. I caught our reflection in the glass door as we approached and nodded in satisfaction. We looked like a respectable couple, a decent couple, one who paid their bills on time and went to the farmers’ market on Saturdays to get choosy over fruit. Not like two pervs who’d just gotten each other off against a refrigerator, which just goes to show, you never can tell about people.
Danny immediately jumped in to help my father, who was wiping down patio furniture. I headed inside to the kitchen. Even though I still thought the house was way too tiny for actual living, I had to admit the finishings and décor was all top-notch—or at least, it had been when the builder created it. Now it was eclectically decorated with smiling sunflowers and pink flamingos.
I entered the kitchen only to find my mother taking a muffin tin out of the oven with a dishtowel. “Hot,” she yelped, practically dropping the tray on top of the stove. One of the muffins bounced off the cooktop and landed on the floor.
“Give that one to Danny,” I said, taking a seat at the tiny dining room table. “I won’t tell.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“Not really. I just thought it might be fun to tell him that he ate a floor muffin.”
She shook her head as she tossed it in the garbage. Her blond hair was in a braid that went almost to her waist, errant wisps escaping around her heart-shaped face. She was clad in her signature look of a long, flowy skirt and a peasant blouse. The colors and fabrics changed but that was pretty much her uniform at this point.
She scowled at the gun on my hip. “You know I don’t like those in my house.”
“Yes, I know, Mother, but I’m going straight to work after breakfast.” I couldn’t resist adding, “You’d be singing a different tune if armed robbers busted in here right now.”
She gasped. “You will not shoot people in my kitchen.”
“All right, I’ll herd them out onto the deck first.”
“The yard,” she insisted. “Leo hasn’t sealed the deck yet. Now make yourself useful and arrange that fruit platter.”
I was all for any work I could do sitting on my duff. I pulled the plastic containers of strawberries, grapes, and melon closer. “Any particular formation?”
“No, just make it pretty.”
Pretty wasn’t really in my wheelhouse, but I’d try. I started with slicing the melon into smaller chunks, so everything on the platter would be about the same size. I glanced up after a few moments, realizing my mother was watching me, a decidedly fond look in her warm green eyes. “Something wrong?”
“No, I’m just glad you’re back, sweetheart. How was your trip?”
“Wonderful.”
“And your chat with a serial killer?”
“Also wonderful. I’m thinking about bringing him home for Thanksgiving.”
“As long as you tell me early enough to make the place settings.” She picked up the serving platter I’d brought and started arranging muffins on it. “You know I need to have a definitive number beforehand. I like to know how much food to make.”
I rolled my eyes. She might’ve been kidding about bringing a serial killer home for dinner—I hoped—but the rest was strangely true. Rigidity about Thanksgiving place settings was one of her strangest quirks. For a woman who liked cleansing auras, that was saying quite a bit.
I’d missed a lot of those Thanksgivings when I was working for the FBI.
I gnawed on my lower lip as I worked my knife expertly. Some of my time with the Bureau had been good, of course. Our method of working a case had undoubtedly spoken to my impatient nature. The goal of the BAU and the Cold Case Unit was the same—bringing a criminal to justice—but our processes were light-years apart.
With a cold case, detectives had to have patience and be ready to work the case from the ground up if necessary. Witnesses weren’t always immediately available to talk, especially about something they considered ancient history. The ones who were eager to chat usually didn’t remember jack shit. And even though BBPD claimed no favoritism in the lab, our stuff was often shuffled to the back of the line for something more pressing—someone who might still be alive.
In the BAU, haste was routine. They wanted a profile of the unknown subject, and they wanted it yesterday. By the time they brought us in, things had usually reached a boiling point.
‘I need coffee.’
‘Who the hell is in charge here?’
‘You should’ve calle
d us earlier!’
All were often the first things out of Graycie’s mouth. That kind of attitude didn’t exactly endear us to the locals.
A small smile tugged at my lips. Not like Graycie gave a damn. Work came before everything else. He never harassed me about getting sleep or tried to stop me from working myself into a stupor like Danny did.
The smile dropped off my face. Reminiscing about the FBI was not a good idea and neither was thinking about Scout, or Fox, or Angela, and how well we worked together. I had to remember all the negative as well, like the constant travel. I’d had a go bag always ready because I never knew when Graycie would call. Sometimes I didn’t even know where we were headed until we were at cruising altitude.
And why was I even thinking about this? I wasn’t really considering Graycie’s offer. I wasn’t keeping the shield I’d tucked away in my messenger bag. I wasn’t going back to the FBI, where everything was safe and I knew where I stood. Right?
“Rain?” I blinked to find my mother eyeing me, hands poised over the blender. “I think that’s small enough, sweetie.”
I looked down at the decimated watermelon. “Oh, sorry.”
“It’s fine. Watermelon is good sliced or… diced into fruit carpaccio.” She furrowed her brow. “You look like you’re thinking heavy thoughts over there.”
“No, not really. I just… when I was down at the prison, something strange happened. He offered me a job.” I frowned at her horrified look. “What?”
“The serial killer?”
“For God’s sake, mother. Yes, a serial killer offered me a job. The benefits are great, but the hours are murder.”
She didn’t look impressed with my sass. “That’s not cute.”
“Graycie,” I huffed. “Graycie offered me a position back at the FBI. Says he could use someone with my talents.” When she didn’t say anything, I prodded. “You don’t have an opinion about that?”
She frowned. “I appreciate you taking me into your confidence, but I don’t know if I’m the right person to talk to about this. I’m not exactly partial to you rejoining the FBI. Or going back to DC, when I only got to see you once every two years.”
“You have nothing to worry about.”
“Don’t I? If you weren’t considering it, you wouldn’t still be thinking about it.”
Until that moment, I hadn’t know that I was taking this seriously and it almost scared me to give voice to my waffling. “So you don’t think I should?”
“I can’t tell you what to do.”
“I’m asking for your opinion.”
“I think you’ll give it careful thought like you do everything else. You always were my overthinker.” She smiled a as she loaded the blender with all kinds of nasty green things. Then an abundance of strange looking seeds. “When we used to go to the beach, Skylar would always just jump right in, no matter what the temperature. You would have to get your feet wet a little first. And when she got stung by a jellyfish, I thought we’d never get you in the water again.”
“The memory of her jumping around screaming ‘it burns, it burns’ certainly served as a nice deterrent.”
“And you remember the go-karts? She must’ve lapped you six times because you were driving so cautiously. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone put his hands at ten and two in a go-kart.”
I scowled. “There were rules tacked up near the entrance, you know. And Sky only lapped me twice.”
“That’s not how I remember it. When she nearly flipped the thing on a curve, your father and I exchanged a glance and said simultaneously, ‘He gets his license first.’” She glanced over at me, expecting me to share her laughter. “Oh, don’t frown, sweetheart. That wasn’t a criticism. I just meant that you should have faith in your final decision because it’ll never just be a knee-jerk reaction.”
That was another way to look at it, not just that I’d been cautious and hesitant even as a ten-year-old. “Thank you, Mother.”
She glared at me, and I hide a smile. She preferred us to call her Robyn, which is why I delighted in doing the opposite. That’s what she got for trying to give me Moonbeam as a middle name.
She turned on the blender as if she could tell I was going to call her Mother again, which I was. I went over to the sink to wash the sticky fruit juices off my hands. As I was toweling off, the racket from the blender ended abruptly.
“I just thought about something,” she said. “What about Danny?”
“I would work remotely and just go to DC when I needed to,” I said after a moment. “That’s the only way I would agree to work for the Bureau again.”
Sometimes I thought Danny would be better off going back to cold cases minus the paranormal. Sometimes I thought he felt that way, too. I lifted the blinds at the kitchen window with a finger to find Danny and my father chatting. Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. My father seemed to be saying something that required a lot of hand movement while Danny listened, his arms folded, a little half smile playing on his mouth.
I didn’t know much about much, but I knew I needed to be within reaching distance of that man. All those years in DC only solidified that feeling. At my mother’s soft laugh, I startled and let the blinds drop. “What?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t work together. Every time you gaze at him, you fall into those pretty blue eyes.”
They are dreamy, aren’t they? “Excuse me?”
“You’re excused,” she said pertly. “You can’t even look at him without getting this lovestruck expression on your face.”
That lovestruck expression turned horrified. It shows?
As she laughed again, I slunk back over to the dining room table and plopped in a chair. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my tone quite prim.
“Well, just know that whatever you decide, I know he’ll be behind you. Because you’re a team.”
She poured her vile smoothie concoction into a large pitcher—or tried to, at least. Some of it clung to the blender, and she smacked it hard to get the lumps to dislodge. The final glop of smoothie finally fell into the pitcher, and she sprinkled in some more tiny seeds.
I strove for casual. “So… what’s in there?”
“Kale, banana, almond milk, and flax seeds, to name a few. And stop making that face,” she said, without looking at me. “It’s good for you.”
So was salmon and quinoa, but I didn’t want that in my breakfast glass, either. “Let’s see. We have your famous muffins that are flour-free, oil-free, sugar-free, dairy-free, egg-free, and most importantly taste-free—”
“You never gave them a real chance,” she huffed.
“There’s also your kale and flaxseed smoothie, and, thank the Good Lord above, fruit.” I glanced around the kitchen and spotted a platter of… pastries? “Did you buy or make those?”
“Bought,” she said with a glare.
“Whew. At least I won’t starve.”
“We wouldn’t want that, darling. I mean, just look at you, wasting away.” She furrowed her brow in mock concern. “It’s a wonder you don’t blow away with a strong gust of wind.”
Danny guffawed as he came up behind me because he would come in just in time to hear that. “How can I help, Robyn?”
She put us both to work, handing us platters to ferry outside to the patio table. I could hear her cackling as the door swung shut behind us. “I’m going to call her Mother for the rest of the week,” I vowed. “In the creepiest voice I can manage.”
Danny placed the muffin platter on the table with a flourish. “You know she hates that.”
“Yes,” I said definitively. “I’m going to Norman Bates her so hard.”
He shook his head, presumably at us both, amusement lighting his eyes. “Of that, I have no doubt.”
Chapter 3
The precinct was a hub of activity as usual, proving that “hurricane hunker-down mode” didn’t apply to the Brickell Bay Police Department. Danny and I joined the bustle, zipping throug
h the metal detector and two checkpoints before he went one way and I went another. I was glad we’d said, “hello, how you doin’, and goodbye,” before we reached the station. Otherwise, the little smile and wave we gave each other before we headed off in different directions wouldn’t have been nearly enough.
I joined two chatting officers on the elevator. At one point, the red-haired one turned and sent me a smile. “Haven’t we met before?”
His partner, a stocky fireplug of a guy, snorted, presumably at his lack of game. “Really, Jeff?”
Jeff flushed. “I’m serious.”
I met a lot of people in my line of work—some living, some dead—and it was rather hard to keep track. I smiled anyway. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”
“Yeah, I think we have.” He held out his hand, and I shook it bemusedly. He clearly hadn’t gotten the memo that quick nods were my preferred method of greeting. He jerked his head toward the other guy. “This is my partner, Ray.”
“Nice to meet you both.”
Jeff seemed determined to puzzle out where we’d met before as he squinted at me. “I don’t usually forget a face.” Then, he snapped his fingers. “We sat next to one another at that conference, Policing in the Video Age. Remember?”
Vaguely. One person from each department was required to attend. As the newest member of the team, I was “nominated” by the rest of the PTU. I’d countered that the team was newly formed, so technically, we were all new members. No one had had my back on that logic. A few days later, I’d found myself sitting in a conference room at the airport Holiday Inn, gnawing on a stale bagel and sitting next to… oh, yeah. That Jeff.
I remembered Jeff being sweet and flirty, and taking a lot of notes, which the nerd in me found a little endearing. I gave him the slip when we broke for lunch because he was working his way up to asking me out, and I was the King of Awkwardness who had never learned how to let people down easily.
“You took off after lunch, and we didn’t get to finish our conversation.” His brow furrowed. “You never did tell me what department you were in.”
