He lowered his gun and bolted to a sitting position. After jamming his gun back into his holster, he pulled Parker up by her shoulders and peered into her face. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. Her whole body shook with harsh pants. “Is he dead?” She kept her gaze on him.
Daire didn’t have to double check. “Yeah, he is.”
“Fucking coward.” The vehemence with which she delivered her verdict surprised him.
He chuckled, an incongruous sound as the shots still echoed in his mind if not in reality, and hugged her tight. “It doesn’t matter. So long as he didn’t hurt you. Any of you,” he added, looking around the room.
Finn had also put his gun away and stood with his back to the room. “I’m fine.” He sounded anything but. Fortunately, he had a loving man to go home to and Michael could be counted on to be there for him.
Daire glanced at Ronan and Regan, both of whom still had their weapons at the ready and were checking out the body. Ronan actually nudged it with his foot. “Fucker’s dead.”
“We all hit our mark,” Regan added.
The idea of Finnegan killing himself with the help of Daire and his family made him sick. All these years he’d fantasized about confronting his parents’ killer and meting out justice. For all intents and purposes, Finnegan had pulled the trigger, and yet, having him dead almost literally at his feet, didn’t ease the ache in his heart. Closure was an overrated concept. Perhaps in time, he’d feel differently.
For now, all he wanted was to hold Parker close, feel the warmth of her skin and the beat of her heart, and reassure himself she had emerged unscathed.
****
“What in the holy hell were you thinking, Li, confronting the police commissioner on such flimsy evidence and bringing the Callaghans and Malloy with you?”
Benson’s face flushed red enough in his tirade that Parker actually worried he might drop dead from a coronary or stroke. Normally, he scared the crap out of her as an officer. Not today. Not now that Finnegan had found rough justice at the hands of the Callaghan family.
The cop part of her wished he’d been arrested, tried, and convicted the way the law intended. The woman part of her felt relieved that the man she loved could finally find a measure of peace now that he knew the who, what, why, and how of his parents’ murders. The female part won out.
She straightened and stared Benson down. “They were the only ones I could trust not to help Finnegan put a bullet in my head and tie my body to a pylon in the harbor.”
Benson’s face got even redder, and his mouth worked like a hooked fish for a few seconds. “You didn’t even trust me with the truth?”
“No, sir. I still don’t know for sure you’re not in on any of this.” Before her superior’s eyes fell out of their sockets with that pronouncement, she softened the blow. “I’m sorry, sir, but the police commissioner just confessed that he cultivated a large group of cops over an extended period of time to create a complex crime ring. He admitted that they committed murder, Rory and Sheila Callaghan only being two of their victims. They destroyed evidence, compromised investigations, and got good cops killed or nearly killed just to line their pockets. In the face of all of that, how could I take any chances?”
She kept her concentration on Benson, trying to block out the activity around her as CSI did their thing. She and Benson were standing in the kitchen, but Daire and the others were being interviewed separately by others in her department. It made her nervous, because she’d meant what she said about not being able to trust anyone. It had been excruciatingly hard to wiggle from Daire’s fierce embrace in the aftermath of Finnegan’s suicide by cop and call it in.
Once Benson and other cops had arrived, she’d insisted on playing her recording of Finnegan in front of everyone so that as many people as possible heard the confession. Only then had she handed the evidence over to Benson, as certain as she could be that it wouldn’t simply disappear. Now, all she wanted was go back to Daire’s house and lay in his arms for the rest of the weekend.
Duty called, however, and she knew she wouldn’t get her wish for hours. The paperwork alone would keep her into the dead of night.
Benson paced away from her, his hand rubbing furiously across the back of his head. He turned and pointed a finger at her. “Go home.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me. The shitstorm is already starting. The media was only one step behind me in coming here. I’ve got to call my captain, who will call the deputy commissioner, and then we’ll all have a nice chat with our new mayor, I’m sure. You know that guy, right? The one that campaigned on a rooting out political corruption platform? That oughtta be an awesome time. My weekend is now officially fucked. This thing is going to bring an unspecified number of people down, and it’s going to take hard work and lots of time to ferret out everyone.” He shook his head. “Shit, I bet the governor will ask the state cops or even the FBI to take over.”
He walked back to her and gave her a pugnacious stare. “And I’m not one of the bad guys. So, go home, or go to Callaghan’s home, I don’t care which. He, his brothers, and Malloy all fired their weapons. They have to be put on administrative leave and their guns taken. You, on the other hand, didn’t fire. You get to keep yours, and maybe you want to keep it with you at Callaghan’s house. Just in case.”
It took a few seconds for Benson’s meaning to sink in. “You think they’re still in danger?” Her heart lurched painfully at the idea.
“I don’t know.” Benson’s voice lost its anger. “I’d like to think there is no loyalty in whatever band of miscreants the commissioner put together, but who knows. Laying low wouldn’t be the worst idea. Besides, you’re off the investigation as of now anyway.”
Parker opened up her mouth to argue that point. Benson shut her down.
“Don’t even think about fighting me on this, Li. You may have had your reasons, but you still fucked up this investigation. Involving Daire Callaghan was never within your purview. That being said, I’m not going to recommend any disciplinary action ’cause the mayor might want to pin a medal on you or something for uncovering this blight on the department.”
He jerked his thumb in the direction of the doorway. “Scram. I’ll call you when I want you to come in and give a more official report.”
The energy she’d been pulling from deep within her drained fast the longer Benson spoke. She couldn’t argue with what he said or how he felt or the fact that she was exhausted. Going home with Daire, keeping him safe even, suddenly seemed like the best idea she’d ever heard. “Yes, sir.”
She left with quiet steps, avoided the living room in which Finnegan’s body still remained. She weaved among the swarm of crime scene investigators and other cops and went straight to where Daire stood with his brothers and Regan by the stairs leading to the second floor. They all looked like she felt with the added layer of a bit of shock. Finnegan had been a fixture in their lives, and each of them had to live with killing someone no matter how justified their actions were.
Daire met her half-way as soon as he saw her coming. “Are you all right?” He clasped her by the shoulders and peered into her eyes.
She gave him a tired smile. “Let’s go home. Benson wants me and all of us, really, to lay low while they sort this all out. I’m sorry,” she added, her gaze sweeping the others, too. “This isn’t over. Not yet. Too many—”
“Loose ends,” they all said together.
“Exactly.” She moved into Daire’s embrace and gave him a quick kiss, not caring who might see. “How about we get take-out Chinese food and settle in for the night?”
Daire’s eyes darkened with emotion and desire. “I like that plan, but I can’t promise I won’t still get up in the night.”
She beamed up at him. “It’s okay. We can check the perimeter together.”
Epilogue
Six months later
On a warm spring day, almost nine years since their brutal murders, the time had come to
give Rory and Sheila Callaghan a proper farewell. Daire had called the clan together to join him at the cemetery, and for the first time, he could gaze upon his parents’ headstone and feel a measure of peace.
They formed a semicircle around the graves. Daire held Parker tight against him with his arm around her slender waist. Ronan and Diego did the same with Cassidy, the much-loved middle of their threesome. Regan held Kyle’s hand to her right while she rested her left arm on the back of Jack’s chair. Finn and Michael had Craig sandwiched between them, no touching because a teenage boy didn’t like such a public fuss, but their closeness was obvious nonetheless.
Everyone had a paper cup with a bit of Jamison in it, because Dad and Mom had both loved the scotch and it was a fitting tribute to them. With most if not all the crime ring rounded up, a tightness Daire had carried with him all these years had eased. He could breathe again, sleep again, and the compulsive need to check everything and everyone in his life had started to subside.
The nightmare hadn’t completely ended, of course, wouldn’t for probably a few years. There’d be trials and a need to testify again and again, but not as many as they’d all feared, and Finnegan had been at the top of that ugly pyramid. He’d kept his own files, which made the investigation easier than they’d expected, and when confronted, his wife had handed over everything she had, even as she saw the life she’d planned going down the drain.
It had taken a few weeks, but internal affairs had finally cleared Daire, his brothers, and Regan of any wrong doing in the self-defense killing of Finnegan. Parker had been both reprimanded for her handling of the case and lauded as a hero against corruption at the same time. She’d accepted both with her usual equanimity. Daire would be forever grateful and humbled by how she’d put herself and her career on the line to find justice for his family.
She had also stuck with him and his needs throughout the long, sometimes agonizing process of uncovering who had ultimately betrayed his father. Every time she got up with him and held his hand as he roamed the house, he had fallen a little bit more in love with her. He believed her family was warming up to him, too, but that would take more time. It didn’t matter. They had the time. There was no rush. He could see his life opening up to marriage and children of his own now.
He raised his cup. “To Sheila and Rory, may you rest in peace.”
There was a murmur of assent, and everyone drained their cup, except for Craig, who had barely downed the drop or two given to him before Finn snatched it out of his hand.
Daire smiled at the mutinous look on the boy’s face and the indulgent smiles of his parents. Finn and Michael wore rings now, engagement rings. Michael had asked Finn to marry him and the plans for a big fall wedding were in the works. The loss of their parents would be felt anew with the event. That would be true for all the weddings to come and the grandchildren yet to be born. For the rest of their lives, he and his brothers would notice that two who should have been there were not. That was the legacy of Finnegan and his murderous greed.
“Well, now,” Uncle Jack said, releasing the brake on his chair. “It’s a fine day for the first barbeque of the season. Let’s head to my house. Cassidy, my dear, you’ve made pies, have you?”
“Yes, Jack, of course.”
“Good to hear. It’s a wonder you have time to do anything with those two boys sniffing after you all day.”
Cassidy gasped into a laugh, but Ronan and Diego just grinned at each other over her head before each pulled her into a kiss.
Ronan licked his lips. “She tastes like pie.”
“Sugar and spice,” Diego agreed.
“Pops! Don’t be such a troublemaker,” Regan admonished, although she, too, laughed.
“What?” her father said, looking up at her. “I’m old. I can say what I like. You going to pull out one of your floggers or something?”
“Sorry, Jack. Those are strictly for me,” Kyle chimed in and grabbed Regan’s ass. She rewarded him with a smack on his.
“Gross,” Craig muttered as he passed all of the adults at a quick pace.
“Just for that, we’re going to pick Endless Love as the song for our first dance at the wedding,” Finn called after him.
Michael pulled Finn into a hug. “Let’s make him dance with us, like they do with little kids. That’ll teach him.”
With his hand in Parker’s, Daire held back, waiting for the others to get ahead of them as they all walked to their cars. He wanted a few minutes to just gaze at his family and let the feeling of contentment wash over him.
Parker squeezed his hand and leaned into him. “I love your family, almost as much as I love you.”
He kissed the top of her head and held her even tighter. “I’m glad to hear that. They take some getting used to, but they’re mine and I love them, almost as much as I love you, too.”
They didn’t say anything more as they finally headed to his car. When they reached it, he opened the passenger door and watched her get in. He couldn’t get enough of her, and when he looked into the future, for the first time in all these years, he not only saw hope, he saw a woman, her, with him. He shut the door and turned, pausing one more second to stare at the gravesite.
“Good-bye Mom and Dad,” he said quietly, for his ears only. “We love you and miss you, but we’re going to be fine. I promise.”
Like the promise he’d made as he stared down at their bodies so long ago, he knew he’d keep it.
About the Author
I'm a corporate lawyer, happily married for over twenty years with three kids and four dogs. No white picket fence, but we do live in the burbs west of Boston. While my husband and I still do occasionally lick chocolate off each other, our more typical evening involves lying in bed once the kids are in theirs and reading separate books. Mine of course are romance. I started reading them as a defense against all those boring legal documents. Once I started, I couldn't stop.
I've also loved erotica since I was old enough to appreciate what sex is. I've been publishing erotic romance since 2009.
Besides my family, writing, and reading, my loves include the sight, smell, and sounds of the ocean (I'm a New England girl through and through), chocolate (naturally), prime rib (bloody), and good bourbon on the rocks.
Visit Samantha at
http://samanthacayto.com
To chat with Samantha Cayto and other Wild Rose Press authors of erotic romance, join us at www.groups.yahoo.com/group/thewilderroses.
Also Available
Cuffed & Collared
Boston’s Brave Book Three
by Samantha Cayto
Regan Malloy is a dedicated homicide detective married to her job. A tough woman who holds her own when it comes to the opposite sex, she is nevertheless resigned to lonely nights with fantasy men. When a serial killer targets wealthy submissive men from an upscale BDSM club, Regan is convinced the killer is a woman and goes undercover.
Kyle Ramsey is a topnotch litigator juggling life as a divorced father and a workaholic. Raised to be strong and to always take charge, he has trouble trusting that anyone else can get the job done. When he finds his good friend murdered, he mounts his own investigation despite Regan's warning not to interfere.
Regan is furious to find the sexy lawyer at the club but can't deny her attraction or her need to dominate him. Kyle discovers more than clues as, to keep from blowing their cover, the fiery cop demands obedience. Together they embark on a journey to explore this new world of hidden desires, but the road could take a dangerous turn when they cross paths with the killer.
An excerpt from
Cuffed & Collared
Prologue
Her victim quivered beneath her, a mixture of fear and excitement. Soon, his movement would change. It would become more frantic, a desperate attempt to avoid the agonizing pain, and his feelings would be pure terror. Or, would they? Perhaps he would enjoy this final act of submission. Maybe it was what he had been looking for all along.
She didn’t
know, and sometimes, like now, right before she began her serious punishment, she wondered was it really possible to derive pleasure from pain? All her victims seemed to believe so. They craved the sensation. They wanted to be at her mercy. They begged for it. Some even paid for it.
But no, she couldn’t imagine it. That feeling was not for her. She was a Domme, a sadist as some might call her. She was destined to inflict pain, not receive it, and she loved doing it. She loved every stroke she delivered, every grunt and groan and, yes, scream she pulled from her subs, especially at the first moment they realized she had changed the rules of the game. That moment when they understood she had turned play into reality.
Her breath quickened in anticipation. Her cunt tightened, and her body flushed with heat. She was wet with desire as her sexual excitement mounted. This was it. It was time. The urge to find her release was strong, yet she restrained herself. Rushing things ruined the fun. She needed to be patient, to take her time, let it last. And she could, she would, because she was the best.
She was the Mistress of them all.
Chapter One
Sergeant Regan Malloy squatted beside the king-sized bed to get a better look at the victim’s face. He was such a handsome man, and unlike the rest of his body, this part was unmarred by violence. She wasn’t going to insult the poor bastard by saying he looked peaceful in death, but she could say he looked relieved. After all the pain that had been inflicted upon him, she could imagine he had welcomed the moment of death. With the crime scene well-documented, she felt free to reach up and unstrap the gag from the back of his head and pull it away from his rigid mouth.
“You know what we have here, don’t you?” a voice asked behind her.
Regan looked over her shoulder at her partner, JoJo Mathers, an African-American woman several years her junior. “A serial killer.”
Internal Affair Page 14
