“No, thanks. It’ll put me under given how tired I am. I’ll take a Coke if you have it, though.”
“Yup, be right back.”
Finn glanced up at her with a frown. God, the guy still looked like he was in high school. No wonder he’d been picked to go undercover a few months ago as a homeless teenager. “You should go home and get some sleep.”
“Naw.” She brushed off the concern and sat down across from him. “I’m good for a few hours yet. What have we got here? None of this looks familiar. Where did it come from?”
Every once in a while, she and the boys poured over documents, pictures, and anything else they could find from Uncle Rory’s personal belongings, as well as poked at the official file. They hoped against hope that something new would jump out at them to make sense of the murders. This stuff on the table, however, was not anything she’d seen before.
Daire put a tall glass of soda with ice in front of her before taking his seat at the end of the table. He looked down the length at Ronan. “You want to field this question?” His tone told her something was up.
She looked at her middle cousin, the one who could charm the birds out of the trees and had an angle for everything. He gave a very un-Ronan-like sheepish grin.
“It’s a box of stuff we took out of Mahurin’s house. Diego found it. The CSI folks missed it, but not so Diego. The man has mad skills at finding people’s hidey-holes of stuff.”
Regan turned her gaze to Daire. “Are we talking about something that never made it to the evidence locker?”
Her cousin grimaced. “Yes.” He took a swig of his beer. “Ronan and Diego knew if they turned it in, chances were it would disappear before they had an opportunity to go through it.”
Regan frowned back. Fuck, yes, she knew it. Her uncle had known there were bad cops back in his day, and she was as sure as she could be that it was those same bad cops who killed her aunt and uncle to keep him from exposing them all. They were still there, more than one, as near as she and her cousins could tell. Someone had tipped off the head of the prostitution ring that Finn had infiltrated and nearly gotten him killed. There were people in high places that had been in the guy’s pocket according to what he’d bragged to Finn, thinking he was going to kill the young cop before he could tell anyone.
Ronan and his partner, Diego, had found evidence that their father’s old partner, Mahurin, had been one of the dirty cops. The guy had been tipped off by someone at the station and had died trying to escape them. They were pretty sure Mahurin had killed or orchestrated the killing of a snitch named O’Malley. It was the video O’Malley had imbedded in his computer that led them to Mahurin and now Mahurin’s stash of information could lead to others.
Her tiredness fled with the excitement of the find.
She leaned over to peruse a picture near her. It was oldish-looking, and one of a guy handing a package off to another. “Hard to see faces in these,” she observed with a squint of her eyes. She looked over at Ronan. “Mahurin died weeks ago. Why didn’t you call me over to look at this stuff before?”
Her cousin looked away guiltily. “Didn’t want anyone else to get into trouble.”
Daire snorted. “Don’t feel bad, Regan. He didn’t tell me or Finn until last week.”
“I didn’t want to get anyone else in trouble,” Ronan repeated through gritted teeth.
“Fuck that,” Regan said without heat, although she was pissed that he’d kept her out of the loop. “We sink or swim together on this. It takes more than one set of eyes to see things. You know that.”
“I had Diego helping me,” he muttered around his bottle of beer.
“Oh, yeah? Where is he, then?”
“Cassidy has to work late tonight. We make a point of at least one of us picking her up to drive her home whenever that happens.”
Regan grunted in response. Overprotective men could be a pain in the ass. Sweet, of course, but annoying. Cassidy Barnes, the new ME in town, had two men to hover over her. It was weird, but her middle cousin was in a three-way relationship. She picked up another picture and stared at it.
“Where’s Michael?” she asked of Finn. Michael was Finn’s partner, and while the man worked vice, he had a keen pair of eyes and good cop sense.
“Craig’s started school, and Michael’s making sure he does his homework and gets to bed on time.”
Craig was Finn and Michael’s foster son, one of the boys they’d rescued from the prostitution ring. “How’s he getting along?”
Finn’s eyes brightened, and he smiled. “He’s doing really well. He’s made new friends, quirky kids. Michael and I refer to them privately as the Breakfast Club. They’re good kids, though. Craig’s really worried everyone will find out what happened to him. Hard enough to be a gay teen, but one who was forced to sell his body to strange men?” Finn shook his head. “I think even if by some chance kids do find out, his friends will stick by him.”
“That’s good. High school is hell on Earth. I’m glad he’s fitting in okay.”
Regan had known for years before Finn dared to come out that her baby cousin was gay. She was glad he was secure in who he was, although she worried he’d jumped in too deep with his boyfriend, moving in and raising a troubled teen. Still, he looked happy whenever she saw him, and there was no denying that Michael was not only a good cop, but a good man for Finn as well.
Looking at her two younger cousins and thinking about their somewhat unconventional relationships, she thought of her own with Kyle. What they had together was outside the vanilla world she’d been raised in. She wasn’t comfortable with it, and yet it made her happy and satisfied. Who was to say what was normal, anyway? Perhaps she was overthinking the whole thing and, worse, worrying about what people might think. Maybe Ronan and Finn had some insight she could benefit from. Did she dare bring it up with them?
Too unsure of the reception she’d get, she sucked on her drink and pushed pictures and papers around. She wasn’t really seeing anything, because she was too distracted with her thoughts. Finally she decided to “man up” and broach the topic of her new-found Domme side. She waited until Daire left to use the bathroom. As the oldest, he was more straight-laced than the other two. She supposed so much responsibility at a young age would do that to a person.
She drained her glass and took a deep breath. “So, um, I’m hoping for some advice.”
Ronan and Finn both stopped what they were doing and stared at her as if she had two heads. Well, no surprise. She rarely asked anything of them or from them. She tried not to squirm under their scrutiny.
“The thing is,” she fiddled with her glass, not meeting their gazes. “I’ve met this guy while on assignment. He’s not a suspect or anything, although he did find one of the bodies.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I won’t bore you with the details about how we hooked up, but he and I have been doing this BDSM thing.” She sneaked a peek at them. Their eyes were wide, and Finn’s mouth was open.
“You let him tie you up?” her little cousin asked, his voice almost a squeak.
“You let him beat you?” Ronan’s tone was harsher, more menacing, as if planning out Kyle’s murder.
Rolling her eyes, she said, “No. I tie him up, and I beat him.”
There was silence for two seconds. Then both men said, “Oh,” and went back to what they’d been doing.
Regan blew out a breath in frustration. “That’s all you have to say? Don’t you find my relationship a little weird?”
“Not really,” Ronan said. “The idea of your going all medieval on some guy’s ass makes perfect sense to me.”
“Yeah, Regan, you’re a scary woman,” Finn chimed in, then flashed her a smile. “And I mean that in the nicest sense of the word.”
“What I’d miss?” Daire asked as he came back.
Oh, great. Now she’d get an earful from this cousin and maybe that was a good thing. The other two were being way too casual about her announcement.
“Regan likes to
tie up and beat on her new boyfriend,” Ronan supplied unhelpfully.
“It’s not exactly like that,” she protested. Except it was exactly like that when all was said and done. “And, he’s not my boyfriend.” Except he kind of was. Christ, bringing it up had been a mistake.
Daire stared at her unblinkingly for a few seconds. “He likes this too, I assume?”
“Of course, or I wouldn’t do it.”
Daire shrugged. “To each their own, I guess.”
“Yeah, Regan, what’s the problem?” Finn asked. “Are you afraid that what you do isn’t normal or that people will judge you badly for it?”
“Both of those things,” she admitted.
Ronan snorted. “Fuck what other people think. As long as it’s consensual, that’s all that matters. Look at me. I go to bed every night with a woman and another man. Not exactly Leave it to Beaver.”
“Didn’t you meet Cassidy’s parents recently?” Regan asked.
Ronan heaved a sigh. “Yeah, and it didn’t go very well. I’m not sure what freaks them out more, the fact that their daughter lives with two men or the fact that one of those men is Irish and the other is Puerto Rican. I bet if we were both old Yankee WASPs, they’d adjust better.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She was, too. Ronan was so obviously happy, just like Finn, and Diego and Cassidy were both great people.
“We’re spending Thanksgiving with Diego’s family down in New York. Wish us luck on that one. He’s explained everything over the phone to his mother, and he says she’s trying to understand, but…” He shook his head.
“Lots of people are still freaked out over gay couples, let alone two men raising a gay teen,” Finn pointed out.
Regan blew a raspberry. “That’s just stupid.”
“I agree. I’m just saying not everyone sees it that way yet, and maybe never will. Cut yourself some slack, Regan. You’ve been alone for a long time. If this guy makes you happy, what difference does it make how you get your rocks off?”
Such wise words from such a young man. She smiled in appreciation and nodded. Talking about her sex life with three men who meant the world to her had helped. She was there to work, though, so she turned her attention to the scraps of paper with dates and dollar amounts on them, bribes maybe, with locations and the occasional name. She picked up one and looked at the name, B. Smith, then grabbed the picture she’d seen earlier.
“This guy.” She shook the picture at her cousins. “He looks familiar. And this name, B. Smith. Wasn’t there a guy about your father’s age named Brendan Smith who committed suicide a couple of years ago?”
Daire snatched at the picture and studied it. “Yeah, there was. This guy is much younger, but then the picture is at least twenty years old given their clothes and the car in the frame. I think it’s him.”
“There was something about a corruptions charge, wasn’t there?” Ronan chimed in. “He hung himself before it went anywhere, though.”
“That’s right.” Regan’s memory flashed on a man hanging from his shower rod with a belt around his neck. “I caught that case. ME said suicide, but there was some bruising on his arms and the tox screen said he was drunk. It always sat wrong with me. There was pressure to close it down, keep the stain away from the force, I guess. Fuller said to wrap up the case. ME said suicide, so that was that.”
She raised an eyebrow at Daire. “I wonder how many of these old pictures can be matched to cops from your father’s era.”
Pushing back in his chair, Daire said, “We need to see these faces more clearly. I’ll get a magnifying glass.”
Regan got up to refill her glass. She paused on her way to the kitchen and turned back to her younger cousins. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate your helping me feel like I’m not a freak.”
They both grinned back at her. The unconditional love and support clearly written on their faces gave her hope and courage.
Chapter Ten
It was almost midnight before Daire finally shooed his brothers and Regan out of the house. It had been a good night’s work. They’d identified a few other cops, although none of them was actively working in Boston, being either dead or just gone from the area. Not surprisingly, her father was up, the soft glow of his television showing around his window blinds and the sound coming through his doorway into the hall they shared. On impulse, she let herself in.
Her father turned his head to look at her as soon as she walked in. “Regan, my girl, the hours you keep.” He shook his head in mild disapproval and went back to watching his show.
“Like father, like daughter,” she retorted in a teasing tone. She went over to an easy chair next to him and sat on the fat and worn arm.
“I’m retired. I can stay up all night if I want.” His eyes stayed glued to the screen.
“I was referring to when you used to get home as an active duty cop, Pops.”
“Pissed your mother off no end,” he admitted. “It’s the job.”
“It is that.” She didn’t get into the fact that part of her extended absences over the last few days had nothing to do with the job and everything to do with the exquisite pleasure she found in Kyle’s bed. She didn’t mention the work she’d done at Daire’s, either. The Callaghan murders infuriated her father, and there was nothing new to report anyway.
Rubbing a tired hand over a more tired face, she added, “I’ve got three corpses and no leads.”
“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that, honey.” Her father muted the television and turned his wheelchair slightly toward her so he could look at her without twisting his neck. “Driving yourself into the ground won’t help you find him, you know.”
“Her,” she corrected. “And I know. It’s just that I hate doing nothing, waiting for her to strike again in order to gather more evidence. I want to find her now.” Regan pounded the back of the chair in frustration.
“You need a good shot of whisky and some sleep,” her father advised. “A husband and some kids to come home to wouldn’t hurt, either. Gives a person perspective to have a family. Something to focus on instead of the damn job all the time.”
Regan chuckled ruefully at the suggestion. “Oh, Pops, what guy would have a woman like me?”
“Like you, what?”
“Domineering with a demanding job as a lover.” Kyle flashed through her mind, but she banished the idea quickly. Kyle liked the sex with her. It was novel and satisfied a part of him he was only now aware of. Playing with a Domme was one thing, but he would never want to live with one, especially one from the working class.
“Your mother put up with me, didn’t she?” was her father’s reply.
Regan slid down until she was slumped in the big chair. “That was different, Pops. Mom was a traditional woman who was content to stay at home and let her man earn the money and make the rules.”
Her father didn’t respond right away. His gaze slid back to the TV, and he shifted around in his chair in his limited fashion. “Well, now,” he finally said, “you’re about half right.”
Regan furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”
“Your mom did like to stay home and care for you and the house. She had her clubs and charities, too. She knew I could earn my keep. At least I did until the injury,” he added with a small amount of bitterness. “As for the rest, though.” He shrugged.
Leaning forward, Regan prompted. “As for the rest, what?”
Her father looked her in the eye once more. “I wouldn’t have thought it was something we should talk about. After all, what happens between a married couple is private even from their children. But I hear something in what you’re saying about yourself that makes me think you need to know you’re not so unusual and destined to remain single.”
He took in and let out a deep breath. “Your mother was not such a traditional woman when it came to submitting to me. You heard me plenty of times refer to her as the boss.”
“A joke,” she replied.
“The truth disguised as a joke,
” he corrected. “Your mother was the boss of me. We learned early in our relationship that taking charge was natural to her as taking orders was for me. You know I never got beyond the level of patrolman.”
Regan looked away. “You got hurt.”
“I did, but I had been a cop plenty long enough to buck for detective and sergeant. Look at you, how far you’ve come in less time than I was on active duty. The truth is, I was never going to get promoted because I never wanted to be. I liked the freedom that came from following orders and not having the responsibility of making sure those orders were right. It was no different in my personal life. I handed my paycheck over to your mother and let her make all the decisions.”
Regan was silent for long minutes while she digested the news. To a large degree, she wasn’t surprised by what her father said. She had known in her heart her father wasn’t an ambitious man. But learning that her mother had been the one in actual charge of their marriage and their lives was stunning. Her parents had done a great job of hiding it, and perhaps that was because her mother had ruled with subtle confidence instead of heavy-handed dictatorship. It was similar to what Cleo had said about sexual dominants. One had a duty to wield such power carefully. And, speaking of sex, an unsettling thought about her parents flashed through her mind before she could stop it. No, she wouldn’t go there.
“So, you see, honey,” he father continued, yanking her from her thoughts. “I don’t want you thinking that, just because you’re a strong woman, there’s no man out there for you. You have to find one that’s suited to your personality. One that appreciates your strength and is even grateful for it.”
Regan smiled at her father and, standing up, went to give him a peck on his cheek. “Thanks, Pops. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Regan.”
Leaving her father’s place, Regan dragged herself upstairs and got ready for bed. Thoughts of what her father had revealed about her parents’ marriage swam around her exhausted brain. If her father had been telling the truth, and she had no reason to believe he had made it up to make her feel better, then she was simply carrying on her family tradition.
Cuffed & Collared Page 14
