Leaning on the door, Diego watched the EMTs place Mahurin in a body bag. When a uniform headed in their direction, he shook his head to wave him away. Then he grabbed the strobe light off the car. Everyone knew they were cops at this point, and the damn thing was giving him a headache. He studiously ignored the fact that Ronan had tears running down his face and gave him a few minutes to pull himself together before demanding an explanation.
“What the hell happened back there?” he finally asked.
Ronan scrubbed his face with his hands and sniffed back his tears. His voice hitched at his first attempt to speak. He cleared his throat. “He said he should have killed O’Malley years ago. Then he told me that my father was a good cop, clean, the best cop he’d ever known, and that was what got him killed.”
Diego took a second to digest the information. When Ronan said nothing more, he asked, “Was that it? Did he say anything else?”
Ronan shook his head. “No, the fucker passed out or died or I don’t know what.”
“He’s dead,” Diego said as gently as he could.
“Shit!” Ronan looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “This is the closest we’ve come in eight years to finding out what happened, and the asshole dies. God damn, son of a fucking bitch!”
Diego couldn’t blame his partner for his anger and frustration. It was maddening to Diego, and he didn’t have nearly as much emotion invested in solving the old case. “I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say, pathetic as those words were.
“Yeah, me, too.” Ronan was quiet for a moment, staring at the pavement. “It’s like this wound, you know? It never heals. You can go long stretches where you don’t notice it, forget it’s there, then the pain catches your breath when you don’t expect it. I just want it over, so they can rest in peace and my brothers and I can move past it.”
He shifted in the seat, arms resting on his thighs. “I can remember Daire coming home. Finn and I were watching television while our parents were out having date night. We thought it was funny and cute that, after all those years of marriage, they still went out on dates.
“The door opened, and instead of Mom and Dad coming home, it was Daire. I knew something was wrong right away. It wasn’t just the look on his face. I knew he should still be on his shift. He was new to the badge and gung-ho, no way he’d sneak in a break at home. Finn hadn’t noticed. He was laughing at the sitcom we were watching, and there’s Daire with his grim face walking slowly toward us. I thought it was an accident, that they were hurt maybe. He switched off the TV and said they were dead.”
Ronan sniffed and swiped at his nose with his sleeve. “There was this buzzing in my head, like white noise, drowning out his words. Then I heard the word shot, and the noise cleared. Everything came into sharp focus, and all I wanted was revenge, not justice, revenge.” He shook his head and huffed. “All those generations of cops, and all I wanted was to kill the motherfucker responsible with my bare hands.”
Looking up at Diego, he shrugged. “It was a fine funeral, the best Boston could do for a fallen cop and his wife. The fucking rumors started that very afternoon, although I didn’t know it at the time. As the weeks went by, then months and now years, no one caught, no answers, my brothers and I became more determined to figure it out on our own. And in all that time, this is as close to an answer as any of us have gotten.”
He pounded his fist on the side of the door. “Fuck Mahurin for dying with nothing more than confirmation of what I already knew. My father wasn’t dirty.”
Crouching down in front of his partner, Diego said, “No, he wasn’t. I think it’s likely that Mahurin killed O’Malley or had him killed, but he didn’t act alone.” He sighed and rubbed his hand down his face. “So, we tackle Mahurin’s home, his bank accounts, everything we can find. Maybe in the end, he’ll tell us more than he intended.”
Ronan gave him a grim smile. “Yeah, maybe.” He stared at the ground for a while. “Ah, look, thanks for handling me. I lost it.”
“You had good reason.” When Ronan only rolled his eyes, Diego decided it was time to bare his soul, too. He knew something of what Ronan felt at the moment. “I moved to Boston because I couldn’t stand staying in New York any longer. It reminded me too much about how I killed a kid.”
Ronan’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t say anything.
“He was fourteen, and yeah, packing a gun he’d used in a store robbery where his friend had killed a clerk. And yeah, he did something incredibly stupid by raising his gun instead of dropping it like I told him to. Still.” The image of the boy crumpling to the ground rose unbidden in his mind. His gut clenched as it always did. He ignored his pain and pressed on because he thought it might help his partner.
“He was just a kid, with a baby face and a future cut short. Maybe he was going to die by someone else’s hand that day. I wasn’t the only cop cornering him, just the closest. I’m the one who shot him, though, and it haunted me. Haunts me. For months, I saw his face screwed up in agony every time I closed my eyes. The media coverage, the pain of his family, even the well-meaning support from fellow cops magnified the misery.”
Ronan stared off in the distance. “You don’t just see the pity in their eyes, you feel it too when your back is turned.”
Diego nodded. “You enter a room and the voices stop. People look at you guiltily so you know they were talking about you.”
“The same people who act supportive to your face feast on ugly gossip when you’re not around.”
“Right,” Diego agreed with a huff. “I know what you mean about it being a thing that doesn’t heal. Time and therapy has helped. Ultimately, I decided I needed a change in scenery. I hoped by leaving New York, I could break the obsessive patterns in my mind.”
“Has it worked?”
“I think it has, yes. I wasn’t sure I could handle being back in the field, but it’s been fine. More than fine. I just wish this case had ended better.”
“Me, too.” Ronan grimaced. “Then there’s Cassidy.”
Ah, shit. He’d almost forgotten about that little problem. “Yes, there’s Cassidy.”
“I think I’m falling in love with her.” Ronan’s confession was said so softly, Diego had trouble hearing it. It took a second for the words to sink in.
Diego sighed. “That’s a problem, my friend, because I have, too.”
Ronan threw his head back and barked out a laugh. “Oh, my God, we are so fucked.”
Diego managed his own chuckle. “I guess we are.”
“She’s not going to change her mind about choosing between us,” Ronan said, sobering up.
“No, she’s not. And it’s not fair to expect her to.”
“Right, so there’s really only one solution.”
“We’re going to fight for her?” Diego said it with a feral grin to show he didn’t really mean it, except part of him did. He hadn’t realized how powerful his primitive self was. He’d always prided himself on being civilized, especially when it came to women.
“Sure, that’s a plan. We fight for her, the winner goes to her on bended knee, and when she finds out—and she will—that she was a prize that was won, she’ll castrate both of us with the dullest scalpel she can find.”
Diego winced at the statement, although he couldn’t argue with it. “So what do we do?”
“This is going to sound crazy.”
“Lay it on me. The day can’t get much crazier than it is.”
“We share her.”
Diego fought to keep his expression neutral when he really wanted to roll his eyes at the not crazy idea, but stupid one, as if they could share a woman like they might share a car or custody of a kid or something. “Seriously? That’s your solution? We pass her back and forth every other day and she rests on Sundays?”
Ronan didn’t bother to hide his eye-roll. “Not like that.” He leaned forward, excitement spreading across his face. “We share her all the time.”
Diego thought maybe he was just to
o dense to get what Ronan was suggesting. “Because that worked so well yesterday.”
“It was our competing for her that fucked up yesterday. I’m saying we share her on her terms. We park our testosterone and jealousy at the curb and let her call the shots. If she’s the boss, we won’t get into any fights.”
“You make it seem so rational.”
“It is if we buy into it. I’m not saying it will be easy. I’m saying she’s worth doing it for.”
For some idiotic reason, now that it was becoming clearer to him what Ronan was saying, Diego wasn’t dismissing the idea entirely. It had disaster written all over it, and yet, if it was a way to have Cassidy, he had to at least think about it. Whether he had the discipline to make it work was another story altogether.
“How about sex? How’s that supposed to work? Again, are you suggesting we share a rotating schedule in her bed?”
Ronan licked his lips and glanced away. “Um, tricky, but we do that together, too.”
Diego snorted. “Really? A three-way?”
“Yes. I’m not suggesting we fuck each other, just her together.”
The idea of getting naked and hard and performing with another man in the room—touching the same woman—made Diego slightly queasy. He was all for gay rights, of course, but he was firmly heterosexual.
“Have you ever actually done that?”
“Sure.” Ronan paused. “With two women.”
“Of course. Why am I not surprised?” When Ronan shot him a cocky grin, Diego narrowed his eyes. “It’s not the same, and you know it. Outside a porno, have you ever seen another guy fucking a woman with another guy in bed, let alone fucking her at the same time?”
“No, not as such. And I understand the point, I really do. We’re talking about Cassidy, here. I’m desperate enough to try anything to keep her. If we don’t buy into it fully, though, she’s never going to agree to it.”
Diego blew out a breath and became more aware of how many cops and firefighters and others had joined the party since he and Ronan had started their tête-a-tête. “Look, I’m not saying no. I need to think about it. In the meantime, we have work to do. Are you okay?”
Slapping his palms on his thighs, Ronan stood up. Diego straightened up with him.
“Yeah, let’s put this motherfucking case to bed as best we can and tackle Cassidy with a clean slate.” He slapped his hand on Diego’s shoulder. “Thanks, man, I mean it.”
“Anytime, partner.” Diego meant it, too. Whatever happened with Cassidy, he knew he had a good partnership with Ronan and he was going to make it work.
Chapter Seven
Cassidy stared long and hard at the contents of her refrigerator, somehow expecting to find food inside she hadn’t bought herself and actually felt like eating. No such luck. It had been a brutal week of work, so she hadn’t had time to go shopping and buy stuff to indulge in an orgy of stress eating. Everything was disgustingly healthy, nothing heavy in both fat and sugar. She’d already checked the freezer and the cupboards, too.
Of course, she could get dressed again and go out to get something. She’d thrown on boxers and a T-shirt as soon as she’d gotten home. It seemed like more trouble than it was worth to change back. And not a good idea to use food to relieve her misery.
It was all her own fault. She wasn’t going to blame Diego and Ronan, much as she wanted to. It wouldn’t be fair. She was the one who agreed to go out with both of them. She was the one who jumped into bed with both of them as well. She’d wanted to do something wild and different with her life. When she put her mind to a task, she achieved it. That’s how she got through medical school and residency. That’s how she’d managed to call off her eternal engagement with Thomas. And ultimately, it was how she ended up falling for different men at the same time.
Perhaps she wasn’t ever going to be suited for casual sex. It seemed ludicrous to become so emotionally entangled in such a short period of time. Yet, she had. It hadn’t been only about the sex, amazing as it had been with both men. It would have been easy to walk away from sex. Her heart was breaking, though. She’d felt the loss of Ronan and Diego all week. There was no hope for it, however. She’d meant it when she said she couldn’t choose between them. When she tried to picture her life with only one of them, it felt incomplete. There was a space left that neither of them could fill on his own.
With a grunt of disgust, she grabbed the butter, eggs, and shredded cheddar cheese. An omelet would have to do. As she placed the skillet on the burner, her doorbell rang. She scrunched up her nose in irritation and decided to ignore it. She was in no mood for company. The pealing continued. As tempted as she was to dig in her heels and not answer the door, politeness was ingrained in her, so she caved. Given that she wasn’t exactly dressed for company, she hoped her caller would understand when she didn’t invite them in.
As she hit the final set of steps, she could see two large figures through the mullioned window. Her step faltered when her mind filled in the details she couldn’t discern. Ridiculous. It wasn’t them. It couldn’t be them. She stopped to flick on her security monitor. Holy crap, it was them!
Her heart fluttered wildly with anticipation, even as her brain told her to settle down. Whatever the boys had come to say, it didn’t matter. The relationships were over. They had to be, or everyone’s heart would eventually shatter. As she opened the door, though, she couldn’t help wishing she wasn’t going to be greeting them without make-up, her hair up in a messy ponytail, and in her ratty sleepwear. Oh, well, maybe the sight of her would send them running. Nah, they were men. Their standards were never very high where sex was involved.
With a deep breath, she opened the door and tried for a polite smile. “Gentlemen, this is an unexpected surprise.” How clever, as if there were such a thing as an expected surprise. She was flustered already. Not a good sign.
Ronan and Diego stood on her front stoop, looking adorable and sexy, respectively, as usual. They were casually dressed—Ronan in T-shirt and jeans and Diego in a button-down and chinos. Diego carried a dozen sterling silver roses mixed with baby’s breath. Ronan held what had to be a two pound box of imported chocolates. Each of them wore an identical expression of hope and pleading, reminding her of the way her cocker spaniel used to greet her when she came home from school.
On a heavy sigh, she turned and said, “Come in.”
She stomped her way back up to the kitchen, aware of how the two men followed close behind her. She returned to her task of making dinner and cracked six eggs into a bowl. May as well make enough for all of them. Nobody said anything while she briskly whisked. Smart men. They’d read her mood right and were leaving it up to her to give them leave to speak their minds. Part of her was very curious as to what they had to say. The other part of her was terrified to hear it.
“You’ll find a vase in the top cupboard over there.” She jerked with her chin. “Please put those flowers in water.” Diego moved quickly and silently to his directed task. Cassidy eyed Ronan, who stood almost at attention, the box of candy clutched to his chest. “I’ll take one of those now if you please. Coconut cream if you have it.”
She started in on heating the saucepan with the butter on the cooktop built into her island. The sound of crinkling paper told her the second order was being obeyed. As she got ready to measure out the egg mixture for the first omelet, a small chocolate drifted into her line of vision. Without looking at the delivery boy, she bent down and snatched the candy up with her teeth. Two masculine grunts punched into the room. She smiled inwardly in satisfaction.
Omelets were quick and easy when one knew how to make them. It only took a few minutes for all three to be done and plated. Only once she’d turned off the burner did she bother to look up at her guests. Their gazes were locked on her, again just like her dog, waiting for a signal. Tossing two of the plates farther down the island, she pointed to the high back seats on the other side.
“Sit,” she ordered and they did.
Figuring this was a night for wine, she poured them all a glass of chilled pinot blanc. Then taking her own seat opposite them, she ate her meal, forcing herself to take her time and not wolf it down the way she wanted. Whatever was going on, she needed to give herself a chance to get on an emotionally even keel. Besides, it might not be fair of her, but she kind of wanted to make them wait. They bore at least equal responsibility for the mess they were all in. Fortunately, the guys were willing to play it her way. They didn’t say a word, simply ate their food and drank their wine, although she could feel their occasional glance her way.
When the last morsel had been swallowed, Cassidy shoved her plate to one side and took a large gulp of her wine. “Talk,” she said, looking at the two of them over the rim of her glass.
The men traded looks. As if they’d rehearsed it, and maybe they had, they said, “I’m sorry,” in unison.
“I acted like an asshole last Sunday,” Ronan added.
“Me, too,” Diego chimed in.
Putting her glass down, she twirled the stem, thinking of what she wanted to say in response. She decided to go with her heart and not play any more games. “I’m sorry as well. The whole situation is all my fault.”
“No!” Again they spoke as one.
“I was too cavalier with your feelings. And my own, frankly. I thought I was cut out for playing the field and casual sex. I’m not. If I were, then dumping you both wouldn’t have made me miserable all week.”
Her confession cheered the two men up considerably. They broke out in identical grins of satisfaction. Oh, perfect. She’d just fed into their male egos.
“We’ve been the same,” Ronan admitted.
“I hope you haven’t been at each other’s throats.” God, now she sounded like an egotistical maniac. As if she had the ability to inspire that kind of passion in one man, let alone two.
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