Jon's Crazy Head-Boppin' Mystery

by A J Sherwood

  Table of Contents

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  Author

  This book is a work of fiction, so please treat it like a work of fiction. Seriously. References to real people, dead people, good guys, bad guys, stupid politicians, companies, restaurants, cats with attitudes, events, products, dragons, locations, pop culture references, or wacky historical events are intended to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. Or because I wanted it in the story. Characters, names, story, location, dialogue, weird humor, and strange incidents all come from the author’s very fertile imagination and are not to be construed as real. No, I don’t believe in killing off main characters. Villains are a totally different story.

  JON’S CRAZY HEAD-BOPPIN’ MYSTERY

  Jon’s Mysteries Case 2

  PRINTING HISTORY

  June 2019

  Copyright © 2019 by AJ Sherwood

  Cover by Katie Griffin

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  Purchase only authorized editions.

  www.ajsherwood.com

  Trigger Warnings:

  Your average cop show violence and criminals

  Tags:

  Relationships, Loss of control, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Tenderness, Tooth-rotting fluff, (I didn’t know that was a tag until just now), Alternating POV, Women being awesome, Protectiveness, The fluffiest mystery you’ll ever read, I mean really this is just ridiculous, Bisexuality, Size Difference, Communication, Holding Hands, Healthy Relationships, Pansexual Character, Donovan is Boss AF, Jon is so smitten it’s embarrassing, Explicit sexual content, Handcuffs, Jon what are you getting yourself into?, Mental health issues, dealt with delicately (I hope), Violence, Because they’re detectives duh, bit of pain, That sounds terrible, it’s brief I promise, Snuggles heal all the pains, most pain, some pain?, Jon basically has to deal with everyone wanting to cuddle him, cuddle porn

  1

  “I swear to you,” I said to my boyfriend/anchor as we left the office, “if we have to deal with one more cheating case that ends in murders, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

  Donovan grunted in agreement. For once, my patient boyfriend wasn’t feeling so patient. We’d just come off an eight-day work binger because of two idiots who had cheated with numerous partners, which in turn had created a ripple effect that resulted in four murders. Untangling it had been like solving one of those impossible metal ring puzzles psychiatrists liked to give people. To make matters worse, because it was a cheating/murder case, emotions had run very high. People kept yelling at me, and Donovan had not handled it well. Well, outwardly, he’d shut people down professionally without murdering anyone, but emotionally? Not so much.

  We both needed to kick back, relax, maybe enjoy some hot sex to blow off some steam, but it wasn’t going to happen tonight. We had company coming.

  Halfway across the parking lot, a thought struck, and I patted both my pants pockets. Uh-oh. That didn’t feel right.

  Ever alert, Donovan stopped as well. “What? You forget something?”

  “The keys, I think.” I dove both hands into my front and back pockets several times. Still nada. “Dammit. I think I left them on the desk.”

  He touched my shoulder in a brief caress as he turned around. “Hang tight, I’ll snag ’em.”

  They’d better be on the desk. The last thing I wanted to do was go hunting for them. We’d hopped between here and the precinct so many times, who knew where else I could have dropped them—no wait. I’d driven here, which meant the keys had to be here.

  It was official. I was tired.

  I let my head fall back for a moment and sighed a year’s worth of sighs. I’d promised myself that if we just got through this case, I’d take Donovan home and shag his brains out. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I had the energy now, especially since we still needed to swing by his house and pack a bag for him. It meant another delay before actually reaching home.

  Well, I couldn’t really call it ‘home’ for him too. Which was the current problem in our relationship. I swear, every time I got through a problem with him, another cropped up its ugly head. Donovan really, really wanted to move in with me. I saw it whenever the subject came up. Worse, I was getting pressure about it from all sides. No one understood why we hesitated. After being together for four months, we clearly got along spectacularly well.

  I was the issue. I knew that. My own insecurities had me choking on the words before I could ask him to stay with me. After seeing what happened with my parents—the getting togethers and break-ups, jumping into other relationships, only for those to break as well—I didn’t want to do that to us. I didn’t want to irresponsibly jump in feet first and assume everything would be fine, just because he was my anchor. Even knowing the players were different, that Donovan wasn’t anything like my father or Rodger, didn’t precisely help. ear choked the words back every time.

  I leaned my back against the side of the HMMWV and sighed again. This had to stop. I didn’t know how to move past it, but if there was one thing Donovan and I were good at, it was communicating. Probably because we both made an effort with it. I had to sit him down and talk through this. After his friend left, maybe I’d screw up my courage.

  Flicking my wrist over, I looked at my mechanical watch (a gift from my sexy boyfriend) and swore a little to myself. Garrett, Donovan’s old army buddy and best friend in the universe, was coming to stay with us for a few days. He was also due to come in tonight—in an hour, no less.

  Donovan was beyond excited about it. Though he and Garrett were close as brothers, they’d not seen each other face to face in a while. Almost three years, or so I’d been told. Because Donovan hadn’t taken the police consultant position at Psy, we still had an opening, and Garrett was coming in to interview for it this week. I could tell Donovan really wanted the chance to not only have Garrett around, but also be able to work with him again.

  I sensed something, though. Something else in Donovan’s lines regarding Garrett that I couldn’t quite make sense of. Not lust or romantic love—more like memory. A recollection of a deeper, more intimate tie than friendship. Donovan hadn’t breathed a word of anything more than friendship, and he’d told a lot of stories on Garrett. And yet—

  “You psychopath!” an outraged male voice screamed.

  Alarm shot through me as I whipped around, arms coming up automatically in defense. A man—shit, that was one of the betrayed spouses in our last case. Adams. He was almost purple with rage, his wrath a beating wall of red along his meridian lines, hair sticking up in weird angles as if he’d run his hands through it multiple times. He held a baseball bat in his hands. I had no doubt he’d use it.

  “Shiiit,” I breathed, adrenaline spiking. I knew from looking at the man I had maybe three seconds before he charged me. Already, he was lifting the bat over his head like a samurai warrior. There was no reasoning with him now; he was a mass of pain and anger, nothing more. All my recent self-defense training notwithstanding, I didn’t know how to get around that bat. It had more reach than my bare hands.

  I did the only sensible thing in this situation. Suckin
g in a breath, I yelled as loudly as I could, “DONOVAN!”

  Mouth twisting up in a snarl, Adams charged me, screaming as he came.

  Me? I ran for it.

  I darted around the Humvee, cursing myself for locking it before entering the building; I’d love to duck inside it right now. I could hear him coming after me, panting like a freight train, the high-pitched ring of metal on metal as he struck the vehicle. It didn’t sound on purpose; more accidental, as haste made him clumsy, body checking into the sides. I didn’t dare turn to look—it would slow me down, and right now he was plenty motivated to catch up with me.

  Coming around the front of the building, I kept running, straight back toward the office. The back door was solid, not glass, which would give me a chance for real cover.

  As I ran, I saw Donovan sprint outside. He took in the situation in a split second, and I could see him switch from his normal teddy bear self to full-on grizzly. Running past me, he barked, “Inside!”

  All too happy to oblige, I kept up my mad sprint, fully intending to call for help as soon as I reached a safe phone. Hitting the door hard enough to make it bounce, I got through it, spied Sho coming out of his office, and said frantically, “Call the cops. Adams is out in the parking lot with a baseball bat.”

  “Fucking shit,” Sho spat out, immediately pulling out his cell phone.

  Okay, good, help was on its way. I whirled back around, catching the door and holding it half-shut. I knew I should shut it completely, but I had to know if Donovan subdued Adams or not. Well, I knew he would, but hopefully without being injured.

  In the ten seconds my back was turned, Donovan had somehow gotten the bat away from the enraged man. Adams wasn’t quite down yet, still up and using his fists. I didn’t give that long. The man was obviously not trained, his fists going wide most of the time, without any of the control of a skilled fighter. He struck out wildly again, and this time Donovan used it against him, catching his wrist in a firm hold and yanking him further off-balance.

  Almost faster than my eye could track, Donovan had him flat on his side. In a typical Krav Maga hold, he got a knee on the man’s neck and folded Adams’ right arm up so his elbow was against Donovan’s chest, his hand pulled back so Donovan could break his wrist if necessary.

  Adams tried to struggle, looking like an inchworm trying to escape, still screaming wordlessly. I could see the moment he accepted he wouldn’t escape Donovan’s hold. Tears streamed unchecked down the side of his face as grief and pain overwhelmed anger.

  Daring to step out a single foot, I asked my lover, “Okay?”

  “Not hurt,” he assured me. “He’s secure.”

  Thank every angel in heaven. I knew my Donovan was stronger than most men, but when a man was lost to that kind of degree, unhinged by anger and pain, he could be more dangerous than a feral wolf. I didn’t want Donovan hurt and was relieved to see him calmly sitting there, completely in control of the situation. “Sho’s called the cops.”

  “Then they’ll be here soon.” Donovan looked down at the man under his knee with something like pity. “Adams, you moron, what the hell?”

  “If that fag of yours had just kept his stupid mouth shut, she’d not be in jail right now,” Adams choked out, rage flaring up again, making him jerk in the hold. He hissed in pain as that put undue pressure on his wrist. He subsided again, although not willingly. “She’d be with me.”

  “She cheated on you with three different people and killed one of them. No way she’d still be with you, man. And really, what makes you think you were safe from her?”

  A sob, mostly of denial, broke Adams’ control. “She wouldn’t have hurt me. She’d never hurt me; she loves me.”

  I personally believed if you cheated on someone multiple times, there was no love there. But Adams wasn’t in a place to hear that, and I wasn’t going to make it harder on Donovan by saying so.

  In a squeal of tires, siren screaming and lights flashing, a police car screeched up into the parking lot. I recognized the man and woman who hopped out and greeted them with a tired wave. “Lang. Clark.”

  “Everyone okay?” Clark demanded of me as she came forward, already reaching for her cuffs.

  “No one’s hurt,” Donovan assured her. “Lang, you got him?”

  “I got him,” the burly cop said, a dark frown on his round face. Lang was not a tall man, instead built like a short tank. Frankly, I would not mess with him, even on a good day. He caught the cuffs as Clark slapped one on Adams’ free hand, then cuffed the other. He waited for Donovan to roll free and get to his feet before he hauled Adams up. “What the hell happened here?”

  “Husband of one of the women I interviewed today,” I explained succinctly. I could feel the window of opportunity for making it home within the next hour slowly close. “She’s now in jail awaiting trial. Murder.”

  “So, the usual nonsense with you,” Clark finished knowingly. A bit of sympathy pulsed along her lines, but mostly dark amusement. Then again, Clark had come out to cuff people on my behalf many, many times before. “Alright, we’ll take him in. I need your statements, both of you.”

  “Yeah,” I responded wearily. Dammit, I did not want to go back to the station again tonight, but without our statements, they couldn’t fully process or book him.

  Donovan came over to slide an arm around my waist, giving me a one-armed hug. I leaned into him gratefully, beyond tired. And the day wasn’t even over yet. I felt like cussing but couldn’t think of a word strong enough.

  “We’ll be right behind you,” Donovan assured both cops. Lowering his voice, he added to me, “Fucking hell. This is exactly why I want Garrett on the job.”

  I felt like defending our boss. “Hey now, Jim tries to safeguard us.”

  “Sure, but he can’t be everywhere. And half the time Tyson’s not even back in the office by the time it closes. I’m just saying, one more strong fighter to help protect people would not be amiss.” Hauling me along by the waist, he deadpanned, “Good news is, I found the keys on your desk.”

  I snorted. “Give ’em here. You better call Garrett and tell him we’re not going to make it home in time.”

  “How about we tell him to meet us at my parents’? Mom will feed us all that way.”

  “You’re a genius.” I so did not want to cook tonight. Alani loved to feed us, mostly because that way she got to see us, and her food was divine. The woman had missed her calling as a chef.

  At least something would go right tonight.

  Alani, because she was made of everything wonderful in the universe, had a full table of food set out for us by the time we escaped from the station. The scent of it wafted temptingly to my nostrils. I hadn’t eaten for the past eight hours, and my stomach let me know in very strong terms that was unacceptable.

  She’d set up outside—a necessity with me—on the back patio, the weather fortunately fair and warm enough to allow that. (Heaven knew what we’d do once winter hit. I didn’t want to think that far ahead yet.) Alani saw us come through the back gate and skipped right off the deck to give me a hug. “Jon, you poor boy. You’ve had a rough day, by the sound of it.”

  “Rough several days,” I admitted, unabashedly soaking in the feeling of the hug. The Havilis gave the best hugs, I would swear to this in a court of law. “But thank you for cooking dinner and entertaining Garrett for us. That took a lot of stress off our shoulders.”

  “Of course, anytime.” She drew back and hugged her son. “You both must be hungry. I made all of Garrett’s favorites.”

  “And I will eat them all without sharing,” a strong tenor voice I didn’t recognize declared. “I won’t even feel guilty about it!”

  Donovan chuckled lowly. “I figured that was your truck in the driveway. Wilson, get your ass over here and give me a hug.”

  A man I only knew from Skype calls and pictures popped up from his seat on the deck, grinning like a leprechaun. I took my first good look at Garrett Wilson, carefully taking him in. He
wasn’t quite what I expected. Short, for one. If he was more than five-foot-six in his boots, I’d eat my vest. He had a tough, wiry build that could house deceptive strength. With blond hair still cut military short and deeply tanned from his time in the desert, he didn’t look particularly handsome or physically imposing. Kind of an everyman look.

  Looks were definitely deceiving.

  I’d rarely met someone with protective instincts rivaling Donovan’s, but Garrett Wilson could give him a run for his money in that department. He shone like an open bonfire, bright enough that, even surrounded by Havilis, he didn’t look dim in comparison. My initial impression was that I’d love this man once I got to know him better.

  In three bounds, he reached my lover, and the two of them embraced each other hard, lingering before Garrett dropped back on his heels. I had three full seconds to see the way they reacted to each other, and that nagging feeling I had before about more-than-friends finally had an answer.

  At some point in time, Garrett and Donovan had been lovers.

  No. No, wait, that wasn’t quite right. I frowned a moment, trying to read the line better. Physical intimacy, yes—they’d connected on that level. But there was no emotional tie to back it. Not lovers, then, but…friends with benefits, maybe? Garrett was pansexual, so that was completely feasible.

  I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about this. But right now, during a reunion and dinner party, was not the time to dig into it. I smoothed out my expression as Garrett turned expectantly toward me. “So you’re the infamous Garrett Wilson.”

  Garrett shrugged, grinning with happiness. “Not sure about infamous, but yeah.” He took my hand in a firm shake, and I could feel the calluses there, much like the ones on Donovan’s hands. “I’m glad we finally get to meet in person.”

  “Same here.” I paused and stared down at his wrist in growing panic. “Uh…tell me that’s not an expensive watch?”

  “Oh shit,” Donovan said in the same second, eyes also on the watch not an inch away from my hand.