Dead Reckoning (Cold Case Psychic Book 2)

by Pandora Pine

  “I’m sorry, Ronan. I didn’t know,” Tennyson whispered the words to Ronan, who wrapped his arms around Ten’s waist. “I was so angry thinking you were shitting on my gift.”

  Ronan shook his head against Ten’s neck. He pulled back and swiped his arm over his eyes. “I respect you too much to do that. I was just so frustrated thinking that this was almost an instant replay of what happened back in January. I don’t want to repeat what happened with you being in danger.”

  “Did you ever think that I feel the same way about you?” Tennyson crossed his arms over his chest. When the Michael Frye case was said and done and his own physical wounds had healed, the one question he’d struggled with was if he was strong enough mentally to be with a man who could be killed while at work.

  Ronan nodded. “It’s one of the reasons a lot of cop marriages fail. Spouses can’t take the constant worry. I’m a lot safer than most detectives working cold cases, but I understand your worry. On the other hand, I could get hit by a bus crossing the road or a piano could fall on my head. Death is all around us, Ten.”

  Tennyson snorted. “A piano? Really?”

  Ronan found a smile. “Really. Just like in those cartoons when we were kids.”

  Tennyson shook his head. There was no way he could stay mad at Ronan for long, especially not when he’d just opened his heart like that. He’d bet Ronan had never shared that much of himself with anyone ever. “How do we get past this?”

  “We live in the moment. Take each moment as it comes and thank God for finding each other.”

  “I’m sorry I was such a dick today out at the motel.” Ten reached out to cup Ronan’s face in his hands.

  Ronan shrugged. “You were a bit of a pill, but you got some good information out of Joey. Don’t think I’m not going to kick your ass over you slamming my car door though…” Ronan trailed off, his eyes darkening.

  “Hmm,” Tennyson grimaced. “I should pay for that. Shouldn’t I?”

  “The question is, how?” Ronan tapped the side of his head with his index finger. “Strip! Now!” He commanded, his cop voice in full effect.

  “Yes, sir.” Tennyson did as he was told. A frisson of excitement tore through his body. He had no idea what Ronan had planned for him, but couldn’t wait to find out.

  Tennyson quickly pulled off his polo shirt and nearly lost his balance when he tried to yank his jeans off. Not a minute too soon, he stood naked before Ronan. His erection bobbed against the light fur of his stomach.

  “You were a very bad boy today, weren’t you, Tennyson?” Ronan’s voice was calm, betraying no emotion. His eyes never strayed past Ten’s.

  “I was.” Ten nodded his head. He felt his cock get that much harder. He also couldn’t help noticing the rather large bulge in Ronan’s pants and couldn’t wait to wrap his lips around it.

  “I was thinking I would punish you by not letting you come tonight…” Ronan trailed off.

  Ten gasped. Now that was truly a punishment worse than death.

  “But that would just be cruel,” Ronan finished. “I had also considered making you give me a massage, but I’m so exhausted I was afraid I’d fall asleep before we got to the good stuff.” Ronan walked slowly around Tennyson, not touching, just looking at him. “Hands and knees on my bed. Now!”

  Tennyson practically ran to the bedroom. He loved it when Ronan fucked him from behind like an animal. He was hoping his punishment would come in the form of quick prep. He wanted it to burn tonight.

  He arranged himself in the middle of the bed and waited for Ronan. Ten had a feeling Ronan would make him wait a bit. After all, he had been a bad boy, slamming the car door like a petulant child. When five minutes had ticked off on the alarm clock, his arms were starting to get tired.

  “Very nice presentation,” Ronan said from the doorway. “You’re in the perfect position for what I had in mind.” Ronan’s voice was gravelly, almost a growl.

  Tennyson could hear the sound of skin rubbing against skin. He didn’t need to turn around to know that Ronan was rubbing his hands together. He spread his knees apart just a bit more hoping to show off his twitching hole.

  Ronan chuckled from behind Tennyson.

  Ten heard Ronan take his belt off. Heard the metal buckle hit the floor, followed by the sound of his jeans landing on top of it. Next to go was Ronan’s shirt. Footsteps leading up to the foot of the bed followed. Tennyson couldn’t help moaning out loud when Ronan blew a warm breath over his hole. He shivered in anticipation.

  “Like that, did you?” The gravel was still there in Ronan’s voice. “Then you’re going to love this.”

  Tennyson had no idea what Ronan was up to, but he knew one thing, this was not punishment. This slow build up was heaven on earth. There was a sharp crack of skin on skin followed by his left ass cheek feeling like it was on fire. Tennyson shouted out in pain.

  “One,” Ronan counted in the same low, smoky voice.

  Shit, if that was one, that must mean… Another crack followed. This time on his right cheek. His ass was on fire, but what was more confusing than Ronan punishing him like this, was the fact that his cock was so fucking hard, he was sure he could cut through glass with it. What the actual fuck?

  “Two,” Ronan said before rubbing his hands together again.

  When the third blow landed, Tennyson moaned rather than crying out in pain. He looked down to see his cock drooling a steady stream of pre-come all over Ronan’s comforter.

  “Someone likes being spanked for being a bad boy, hmm?” Ronan purred. His voice was smooth like silk now.

  Tennyson could only moan. He was beyond words at this point. When he felt the press of Ronan’s finger against his dry hole, he babbled a string of consonants he hoped to fuck Ronan understood as an invitation.

  “Such an eager, bad boy.” Ronan spat and rubbed it against Tennyson’s twitching hole. A second later, he cracked another mark against Tennyson’s tender ass.

  “Ronan!” Tennyson managed to howl as his cock pulsed and started to shoot. He felt Ronan’s fist wrap around his dick as it continued to jerk, spewing his release. His arms were wobbly and barely holding his weight. He barely recognized the almost barbaric roar coming out of his throat as his orgasm crested and finally receded.

  He collapsed on the bed, landing right in the wet spot. Ten was so thoroughly spent and happy that he could not have cared less. “Holy fuck, Ronan,” Ten whispered when Ronan spooned him from behind.

  Ronan chuckled in Ten’s ear. “Do me a favor. Be bad more often, babe.”

  34

  Ronan

  Ronan’s ringing phone was what woke him up out of a deep sleep. “O’Mara.” His voice didn’t sound like his own. It was sleep-thickened and barely above a whisper.

  “Good morning, sunshine!” Captain Fitzgibbon’s voice boomed through the phone.

  “Morning people suck,” Ronan muttered.

  The captain laughed in Ronan’s ear. “Are you coming in to work today, detective?”

  Grunting, Ronan pulled the phone away from his face. He punched the home button to see the clock. 5:51am. “God, you’re an asshole. It isn’t even 6am. Or is it Daylight Savings?” Ronan sat bolt upright in bed and shook Tennyson’s shoulder. “Shit, Ten! Is it Daylight Savings?”

  Tennyson whacked a hand backward at Ronan. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard for waking me up for sex. Besides, your dick isn’t even hard.”

  “I’ll never un-hear that,” Captain Fitzgibbon muttered. “I should have just led with the fact that I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  “Is it pancakes? I could go for pancakes. After the night we had…” Ronan trailed off.

  “Oh. My. God!” Fitzgibbon growled.

  “I’ll just shut up now.” Ronan snorted.

  “Who are you talking to?” Tennyson asked, rolling over and sitting up.

  “The captain.” Ronan waggled his eyebrows at Tennyson.

  “Christ, just put me on speakerphone so you both can
hear me.” Fitzgibbon sighed. “Can you both hear me now?”

  “Loud and clear!” Tennyson bit his bottom lip.

  “Rod Jacobson called me back last night. Said he was working on a story and was off the grid, which is why he didn’t get back to you yesterday.”

  “Story, my ass,” Ronan muttered.

  “That may be, but he’s coming in at 7am to meet with you.”

  “With me or with us? The last time we were going to get together he didn’t want anything to do with Ten.” Ronan’s radar was on high alert now. If Jacobson didn’t want Ten in the interrogation room again, he’d know for sure there was something up.

  “He didn’t mention anything to do with Tennyson. He just said he’d be here this morning, and before you ask, I don’t have the DNA back yet on the can of soda we took from Jace Lincoln. What I do have are the phone records from your motel clerk. You were right, Ronan. The number Jacobson is using to contact him is a burner cell and we can’t trace it.”

  “Damn.” After round one, Ronan had called the captain after placing an order for Thai food. He’d filled Fitzgibbon in on everything that happened out at the motel. “We’ll get cleaned up and see you in a few.”

  “Jesus Christ, Ronan! TMI!” The line beeped three times and went dead.

  “I just meant we’d grab a shower.” Ronan shrugged innocently.

  “Yeah, but now he has visions of us getting down and dirty before we get clean.” Tennyson grinned.

  “Speaking of down and dirty, how’s your ass?” Ronan had spanked Ten pretty hard last night, not that Tennyson hadn’t enjoyed it, but there were still red marks on his skin when they’d finally decided to go to sleep.

  “Sore but ready for more.” Ten giggled.

  Ronan laughed. “Tonight, babe. We’ve got a suspect to interrogate.” It wasn’t like Ronan to turn down sex, but he could feel himself starting to salivate over the prospect of interviewing Rod Jacobson.

  When Ronan and Tennyson walked into the precinct half an hour later Captain Fitzgibbon was waiting for them.

  “He’s already here,” Fitzgibbon said without preamble. “He doesn’t want coffee, water, or anything else.”

  Ronan nodded. “Already trying to take control of the interview. I can work with that, make him think that he really is in charge in there.”

  “Just remember this is an interview. He thinks he’s coming in here to help us. Play that card, but we could really use his DNA.” Fitzgibbon turned to Tennyson. “Get what you can by any means necessary. I know you have a code you play by, but this is a matter of life and death. If he thinks we’re on to him, he may escalate and go after his next victim ahead of schedule.”

  Tennyson nodded.

  “You ready to do this?” Ronan asked softly. He hated putting Tennyson through another ordeal with a possible killer. He’d had a hard time getting a read on Jace Lincoln; Ronan could only hope he’d have an easier time with Jacobson.

  “Almost.” Tennyson straightened his spine.

  “What do you mean, almost? What’s wrong?” Shit, if Tennyson was having second thoughts, Ronan was going to have to take Fitzgibbon into the interview with him.

  “I’ve got an idea. There’s no reason I need to be in the room with you in order for me to read Jacobson.”

  “Why wouldn’t you be in the room, Tennyson?” Fitzgibbon asked. Concern laced his voice.

  Ronan started to laugh. “Come on, you really think that will work?”

  “Men think with their dicks, Ronan. So, yeah, I think that will work.” Tennyson waggled his eyebrows.

  “Guys, I don’t mean to interrupt this cute little scene where you talk without talking, but what the hell are you both talking about?”

  “When I was out with Jacobson last week, he made it very clear to me that he was interested. When I told him I was off the market, he made a comment about what a damn shame that was. So, if I go in there without my partner and play up the fact that I dumped him because he wasn’t exciting enough for me, tried to change me, whatever…” Ronan trailed off, hoping the captain would see where this was going.

  “So, you’ll flirt with him through the interview while Ten tries to read him through the two-way mirror?” Fitzgibbon looked back and forth between them.

  Nodding, Ronan sized up Tennyson. This was his idea, but he wanted to make sure his lover’s body language said he was still on board with the plan.

  “If Jacobson is more relaxed, and not on guard against me, he’s going to be easier to read,” Tennyson added.

  “If he’s thinking with his dick, you mean?” The captain asked with a grin.

  “Exactly!” Ronan was all smiles. “How do I look?” He ran a hand through his perfect hair to mess it up a bit.

  Tennyson stepped forward to undo one button and open Ronan’s collar to show a bit more of his neck. “Get the DNA by any means necessary. I mean it, Ronan.”

  “Are you sure?” Ronan didn’t like the idea of kissing this potential dirtbag to get his DNA, but if it was the only way, he’d do it and once the sample was collected, he’d scrub his lips until they were raw.

  “You’re already forgiven, now go.” Tennyson smiled. “But bring two coffees with you, just in case.”

  Nodding, Ronan ran off toward the kitchen, praying he didn’t have to use his lips to collect Rod Jacobson’s DNA.

  35

  Tennyson

  Tennyson situated himself behind the two-way mirror that looked into the interrogation room where Rod Jacobson was sitting. After Ronan had spent the day with the newsman who’d flirted with his man, Ten had, of course, Googled him.

  On paper, Jacobson was an impressive man. He’d graduated valedictorian from his high school class at Hamilton-Wenham High School. Both towns were rich suburbs north of Boston. He then went on to major in journalism at Northeastern University which is located in the same part of Boston as Fenway Park.

  Jacobson worked for the university newspaper during his time at the university and had published a series of articles detailing corruption in the Northeastern on-campus security guard union, which led to sweeping changes, including Northeastern establishing their own police force.

  Upon graduation, he’d had a job waiting for him at the Boston Globe. He’d started out as a beat writer, covering everything from human interest stories about a factory closing in Roslindale to stories about whales beaching themselves on the Cape. He’d even done man-on-the-street interviews in 2004 when the Red Sox won their first World Series in eighty-six years.

  To be honest, none of those things interested Tennyson. So the man could write, big fucking deal. What mattered now was if the man sitting at the table in front of him was a child-pimping serial killer.

  Ten took a deep breath and tried to find his center. His own emotions were a mess and that wasn’t helping him at the moment. He needed to let his anger go over what Jacobson had allegedly done to the spirits who’d sought him out and to the boys he’d been bringing to the Beach Inn to sell to the highest bidder.

  He was almost calm enough to read Jacobson when the door opened behind him. Fitzgibbon’s calming presence soothed him.

  “Ronan’s taking his sweet ass time. I see.” Fitzgibbon snickered.

  Tennyson took one last deep breath and opened his eyes. “I’m sure he’ll be here any second.”

  “Was I interrupting your prep time?”

  “No, I’m good. How’s Greeley doing?” To be honest, Tennyson could use the distraction. He wasn’t quite ready to peer into the mind of a possible mad man just yet.

  Fitzgibbon slipped his hands into his pocket and rocked back on his heels. “He’s still dealing with detoxing. He’s got the shakes something awful and his teeth feel loose and ache in his jaw. I’m still trying to read to him, but sometimes he’s in too much pain to listen.”

  Ten could feel the pain rolling off Fitzgibbon. He hated this for a man he’d come to think of not only as his boss, but as his friend too. “I’ve got an idea, Kevin. When Ro
nan and I visited Vann Hoffman, he mentioned going to see a presentation by an energy healer. Guy’s name was Broughan Something-or-other. He does private sessions. Maybe he could help Greeley with his pain?”

  Fitzgibbon opened his mouth and instantly shut it with a clack of his teeth.

  Grinning, Tennyson didn’t need his gift to know the captain was about to dismiss his suggestion out of hand as some hippy-dippy new-age bullshit.

  Instead, Fitzgibbon pulled out his phone and started typing. “Broughan Beals. Is that him?”

  “Yup. He’s a local guy.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Fitzgibbon set a hand on Ten’s shoulder. “I owe you one.” The captain slipped out the door.

  Tennyson grinned and turned his attention back to Rod Jacobson and the interview room door which had just opened.

  “Rod! Sorry to have kept you waiting. Damn coffee machine was on the fritz, so I ran out to the frou-frou place across the street for a couple of vanilla lattes. He set both of the hot brews next to himself. “What have you been up to since the last time we saw each other?”

  Rod offered him a small smile. “I’ve been chasing down leads on the possible serial killer case we talked about. I’ve gotta tell you, I’m not finding much traction here with the street kids. Which is why I’m puzzled that you brought me in today.” He turned around to look at the door. “Where’s your partner, detective?”

  Ronan’s smile was nearly blinding. “Seems you’re not the only one who’s been busy since the last time we saw each other.”

  “All work and no play, hmm?” Jacobson looked bored.

  Ronan tilted his head to the side. “That’s never been more true.”

  “What do you mean?” Jacobson leaned across the table. Curiosity glinted in his eyes.

  “We really shouldn’t be talking about this.” Ronan leaned forward, a conspiratorial look on his face. “I broke up with Tennyson.”

  “You didn’t.” Jacobson didn’t look convinced.

  “He’s not buying it,” Fitzgibbon whispered from beside Tennyson.