by Cecy Robson
“Curran,” Tess warns, her face heating more.
She pushes a blond strand that escaped her bun behind her ear as Curran takes a seat beside me. She clears her throat and lowers herself to her seat. “Declan,” she says. “I would never engage in the activity your brother suggested at the office. I take my job seriously and will only behave in the professional matter you’ve come to expect from me.”
My narrowing eyes fix on Curran. “Oh, I know you wouldn’t engage.”
Curran laughs. “You calling me unprofessional?”
“No, I’m calling you a horny bastard.”
“I’ll give you that,” he agrees nodding.
Tess groans. “God, it’s like I married a teenager. Behave,” she mumbles, arranging the files into a neat pile.
Her office is basically a closet. No windows and barely big enough to hold the three of us. But there are many reasons Tess was hired straight out of school and into this position, she’s whip smart and driven. These same traits will eventually earn her a bigger office and more prestige.
“How are you?” she asks, meeting my face, the frame of her small librarian glasses drawing attention to her large eyes. “I know SACU isn’t the position you were hoping for.”
Curran probably told her, but like everyone else with a clue, she knew I was gunning for Homicide. “All right.”
She knits her eyebrows, realizing there’s more there than I’m telling her. “Really?”
“Yeah.” My attention bounces to Curran. “I received some news after you left.”
Curran frowns. “Good or bad?”
Both. Which is why my voice stays even. “Miles Fenske is taking a leave of absence in the next couple of weeks. While he’s gone, I’ll serve as acting D.A.”
Tess’s eyes widen in time with Curran’s, “Holy shit” remark.
My posture remains stiff. “If things go well, he and the governor will back me for D.A. when his term is up.”
“Declan,” Tess says, gasping as Curran knocks my shoulder. “That’s incredible and more than you asked for.”
Their excitement fades when they realize I’m not celebrating with them. “Wait. Why is Miles taking a leave?” Curran asks.
Curran is one of the best cops to ever wear the uniform, and this is the reason, nothing slips by him. “I’m not at liberty to say,” I reply.
They exchange glances, realizing it’s not good news for Miles. “Damn,” he says.
Tess links her fingers in front of her, appearing as bowled over as I was when Miles told me he had cancer. “So bittersweet news,” she adds quietly.
“Way more bitter than sweet,” I admit.
As furious as I was over Miles’s initial decision, his illness is such horseshit. He’s a good man, and has served as the biggest mentor of my life. He guided me without imposing his will, giving me advice and making suggestions while allowing me to find my way and become the D.A. who kicks ass, who defense attorneys fucking fear. He deserves to step down on his terms, retire happily and travel the world because he goddamned earned it.
“When is he leaving?” Tess asks.
“I’m not sure,” I say. My attention trails to the bookcase. Curran and Tess are my family. Two in a growing family of fourteen, and that’s not even counting the baby she’s carrying. Miles doesn’t have family. He has Melissa. So who the hell will she have if Miles can’t fight his way through this?
“So you’re staying, for sure?” Curran asks.
I clasp my jaw, rubbing it hard. “Can’t exactly leave now, can I?”
We grow quiet. Too quiet, an odd thing around anyone who goes by the last name “O’Brien”.
I try to focus on the good that’s happened these past few years. Our little brother Killian marrying his childhood sweetheart Sofia. Curran and Tess already married a year now with their second child on the way. Finn, yeah, he found his perfect woman in Sol. Then there’s Wren who landed Evan, someone who not only puts up with her mouth, but finds that mouth and the woman behind it endearing. They’re planning a small ceremony on the beach in Cape May. Yeah, with over a hundred O’Briens within an eight mile radius, good luck keeping it small. But even a jaded bastard like me can see how happy they are. Shit, how happy they all are.
I try not to react at the way Curran takes in Tess, tender and adoring, the way Ma used to watch Papa. God, I hope they make it, all of them. But as much as I recognize what they have is genuine, I can’t help wondering if Papa’s feelings were once genuine too, before he broke my mother’s heart.
“What are you thinking about?” Tess asks.
“Just thinking about the day,” I answer. Hell, I may not believe in love, but I want to believe it for them.
I try not to shake my head as I watch Curran stroke her hand, his touch evoking a warm smile she reserves just for him. How did these two end up together? Curran is the frat boy who never quite grew up and Tess probably spent her grade school years as class monitor, writing kids up for not having their Number Two pencils sharpened to code and studying sexism during Russia’s Industrial Era for giggles. But they’re good for each other, and to each other. If nothing else, I can admit as much.
“If you’re staying in SACU, my guess is you’ll be working closely with Melissa,” Tess tells me, bringing me back to the moment.
“You guessed right.”
She shoots Curran a sideways glance. “Do you . . . anticipate any problems?”
With Melissa she means. Tess knows she hates me.
I shrug, trying not to give too much away. “Who knows?”
Curran chuckles. “I do. You’re either going to be at each other’s throats or in each other’s beds.”
“Curran,” Tess warns, yet again.
“What?” He winks at her. “Just speaking the truth, angel face.”
“What makes you think we’ll end up in bed? We work together for hell’s sake,” I snap, pretending like I didn’t have the dream that I did, or fantasized about waking up next to her.
His grin widens as his attention latches onto his wife. “Been there, bro. Remember?”
Tess flips through the file closest to her, trying to ignore him as he continues. “You see, when two hot bodies spend that much time together, it doesn’t take long before the sexy broad throws herself at you, so taken by your wit and ruggedly handsome face she can’t see straight, and begging you to please her with your super-sized masculine regions and whoop-whoop-whooping when you finally do.” He holds out his hands. “What can I say? Professional or not, I am a man―A generous man who couldn’t leave that sexy broad hanging, especially when she’s clawing off my clothes and leaping onto my lap like a seasoned gymnast. Isn’t that right, babe?”
Tess flips the page, not bothering to glance up when she answers. “I may have to beat you to death.”
“Christ,” I mutter.
“How long do you think it’ll take you to bang her?” Curran asks, apparently ignoring everything that shot from my mouth.
“He’s not going to sleep with her,” Tess answers for me. “She’s the boss’s daughter.”
Curran just blinks at her, appearing confused.
“Who works here,” she reminds him.
“And?” Curran asks, still fucking confused.
“There’s no ‘and’,” Tess insists. “There can’t be. I know logic and reason often fail to make an appearance in your world—”
“Don’t know what you mean, hot stuff,” he tells her, grinning.
She smirks in an attempt to tame her smile, because Curran draws her smile as easily as I piss off Melissa. She clears her throat. “Think, for just a moment, how this could play out if they start having sex.”
“Played out fine for us,” Curran points out.
She scribbles something on her pad. “That was different. We had a history. I wasn’t an employee and technically neither were you.”
“So if we were both employed by the D.A.’s office, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself at me like you did?�
�� he asks, innocently.
“I didn’t throw myself at you, Curran,” she responds standing. “I was a consummate professional at all times who kept a respectable distance.” She inches closer to where Curran is sitting, reaching for the legal binder on the shelf behind him. “And yes, if we were both employed here, I wouldn’t have allowed your overt flirtation to affect me, nor would I have spent time with you outside the confines of this building.”
She squeaks when Curran nabs her by the waist and hauls her onto his lap. “But, baby,” he says, curling her fingers to expose her huge engagement ring and the matching wedding band. “Then you would have missed out on all this. Oh, and the hot gorilla sex, too.”
She purses her lips, the affection she has for my brother finding its way into her gaze regardless of the embarrassment painting her cheeks a bright pink. As much as Curran is messing around, he’s crazy about her. It’s obvious by the way his stare welds into hers.
I never expected him to marry so young. I never expected him to marry at all. Like me, he hated what our father did to our mother, and never had a meaningful relationship prior to Tess. But here he is.
Marriage is the last thing that I want, and anything past a second date makes me want to turn tail. Have I ever longed for someone to spend forever with? Yeah. Once. When my sister Wren got engaged. I don’t know why it affected me the way that it did, maybe because she came damn close to losing her chance at forever.
I was there when Evan slipped that ring on her finger. But it’s like as soon as she said yes, I couldn’t keep watching, feeling like I was intruding on something I’m not meant to have.
“What are you thinking about, Deck?” Curran asks.
His hand drifts to Tess’s knee, but both are focused on me. “That marriage isn’t for me,” I answer, my attention darting to the ring on Tess’s hand.
I’m not trying to insult them or what they have, but considering what I said, and who I said it to, I can’t blame them if they’re offended.
The crease along Curran’s brow softens. He knows I don’t mean any disrespect. Thankfully Tess knows it, too. She smiles softly. “No one is saying you have to get married.”
Curran coughs into his hand. “Bullshit.”
Tess laughs. “Okay. Except maybe your mother. But once the baby is born she’ll be distracted and maybe leave you and Seamus alone for a while.”
God, I hope so. For years, every time I was photographed with a woman at an event, Wren would cut out the picture in the paper and send it to Ma, to bust my balls, but mainly to get Ma off her back about marriage. I could have done without the “Do you think she’s the one?” phone calls. But now that Wren’s engaged, Ma doesn’t need any pic of me with a woman on my arm. That huge rock on Wren’s hand has put more pressure on me than any photograph ever has.
It’s strange, for all Papa hurt her, Happily Ever After is still something she wants for us.
Maybe because she was never able to have it.
I tap my fingers against the armrest. “Can I ask you something?” I ask Curran, but don’t wait for him to answer. “What did Mel say to you in the office?”
“When she signed?” he asks. At my nod, he grins. “I asked her if she brought that dress to celebrate your promo to SACU. She denied it, telling me she bought it to show off her boobs.”
So she was telling the truth. I frown like I don’t approve of the conversation. “Boobs? Did you seriously just use that word? What are you, twelve?”
“Well, technically she signed ‘tits’ I think. But Tess says I’m not allowed to say that word because it’s vulgar and demeaning. Unless of course we’re fu―”
“Curran!” she says, burying her face in her hand.
“How the hell did you end up together?” I ask, meaning it. If Tess were anyone else, I wouldn’t swear. But now that she’s officially family and because Curran is being his idiot self, I do. “You’re going to fucking drain the class right out of her.”
“I’m classy,” Curran fires back.
“Of course you are, my beloved,” Tess says, laughing and stroking his jaw. She leans in and presses a kiss against his cheek. “Will you do me a favor and get me a sandwich? I forgot my extra bag of food when I left this morning.”
His hand skims over her growing belly. “Junior hungry?”
She smiles apologetically. “We both are. I don’t think I ate enough at lunch, and it’s going to be a while before I head home and have dinner.”
“Okay,” he says, standing when she slips off his lap. “You want anything, Deck?”
“Thanks, I’m good,” I answer. I start to leave when he does, but Tess’s hand sliding down my arm keeps me in place. Curran catches the motion out of the corner of his eye, clueing in that she wants to speak to me alone.
“What’s up?” I ask as the door closes behind him.
“Declan, it’s none of my business, but you and Melissa . . .”
“You don’t have to worry about me and her,” I assure her, my game face in place. “There’s nothing there.”
“I’m not so sure,” she says.
I start to deny how I feel, but it’s not me she’s doubting. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” she tells me, her tone serious despite how softly she speaks. “And it’s not with the distaste she attempts to portray. She’s Miles Fenske’s daughter.”
“Tess, I know.”
“You don’t,” she presses gently. “He’s her world, Declan. And if he’s sick, her world is crumbling. She likes you. I can tell that she does. If you give in to what she’s feeling, and Miles doesn’t pull through, she may not recover if you leave her, too.”
“You’re making a lot of assumptions,” I tell her.
“I’m not. I’m speaking as a woman who’s been too lonely for her own good, and too caught up in her obligations to realize.” She offers me a smile packed with too much sadness and an extra dose of worry. “Try to keep a professional distance, okay?”
“I will.”
It’s what I say. Too bad I don’t think I can.
CHAPTER 4
Melissa
It takes a few days before Declan and I meet up again. I escort Rosana to his office, along with her mother Vilma, and the interpreter who’s assisting us due to Vilma’s limited English.
Declan and Detective Melo stand as we walk into Declan’s office, sitting only once we take our places at the conference table.
“Rosana, Vilma, this is Assistant District Attorney Declan O’Brien, he’ll be handling your case in court,” I say.
“Hi, Rosana,” Declan says as the interpreter communicates the conversation.
I don’t hear well in groups. There’s too much extra sound when more than one person is speaking, which is why today will be challenging with the interpreter present. It’s moments like these I count on my ability to lip read.
I settle in, hoping I don’t miss anything important and smiling at Rosana encouragingly when she glances from Declan to me. We’ve established a rapport over the last few weeks, but it’s taken a few meetings and some brief counseling sessions for her to warm up to me. Like most victims of ongoing and severe sexual assault, she’s defensive and closed off.
I touch her hand lightly when she doesn’t respond. “Nothing formal will happen today. Declan just wants to meet you and perhaps get a feel for how ready you are to testify.”
She tugs her shirt down over her belly as her attention darts back to Declan. She’s a bit overweight and curvy, making her appear older than fourteen. She’s self-conscious about her appearance in general, but it’s more obvious today.
I’m not sure why until she leans closer to me. “Is he a model?” she asks.
I try not to grin because the last thing Declan needs is a bigger ego. “No. He’s the lawyer who’ll be fighting for you in court.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she says, keeping her attention on me. “Was he a model before this thing?”
She’s mumbling, and I’m struggling to
hear her. But Declan picked up on what she said without any problems. “No, I just take pretty pictures,” he says with a wink. “But I’m sure your pics are prettier than mine, sweetie.”
He’s trying to be charming, but this isn’t the right way to connect to Rosana. Her awe of Declan instantly vanishes, displaced with anger. “The only person who ever took my picture was Iker, and I didn’t have any clothes on when he did it,” she snaps.
Declan stops smiling, his attention shifting to Detective Melo. “Did you know about this?”
“I do now,” Melo says. “Rosana, this is important. Why didn’t you tell us before?”
She shrugs, her stare fixing on the carpet. “Rosana,” I say gently, trying to draw her attention before she shuts down.
“You shouldn’t have told him,” her mother mutters. If it wasn’t for the interpreter doing her job, none of us would know what she said.
I start to defend Rosana, but Declan chimes in, cutting me off. “She did the right thing in telling us, and if we have proof, I can bring additional charges against Iker.” He looks at Rosana. “It’s illegal for anyone to photograph a child this way. Do you understand? He had no right doing this, and I’m going make sure he’s held accountable.”
Her mother tightens her jaw as the interpreter explains what Declan just said. I keep my attention on the interpreter, hoping Vilma will say more, but like Rosana, Vilma is done talking.
“Rosana, I’m here to help you,” Declan says. His voice is so soft, I have to watch his lips closely while doing my best to zone out the interpreter’s speech. “But if I don’t know everything that happened, or if you’re keeping things from me, I won’t be able to defend you to the best of my ability. Is there anything else Iker has done or said that you haven’t told us or the police about?”
Rosana crosses her arms, shaking her head slowly. I can’t tell if she’s being honest or if she’s staying quiet because her mother told her to. I don’t know Declan well, but if Rosana wasn’t underage, Declan would be throwing her mother out to question Rosana privately.
“Tell me about the pictures he took of you,” Declan says.
