by Pandora Pine
Ten frowned. “Why don’t you tell me about this one, instead of me pulling it out of your head? I’m a little tired from all the driving.”
Nodding, Ronan pulled out the manila folder from inside that contained the most basic information about the case. “Harold Owens, fifty-six years old, was clubbed to death on Christmas night, 1997 with a two-by-four in his Dorchester living room.”
“Ouch!” Tennyson winced in sympathy as if he could feel the murderous blows.
“The only people in the house with him that night were his wife, Maxine, and their daughter, Hope. Both were questioned repeatedly, but neither were ever charged with the crime.”
Tennyson shot Ronan a shocked look. “How is that possible? They were both in the house. One of them had to have been the one to kill him. How were neither of them charged?”
“From the case notes I read by the detectives who interviewed mother and daughter, there was never enough evidence against either of them to arrest one over the other.”
“I don’t get it.” Ten looked confused.
“It’s all about reasonable doubt, Mr. Law and Order, right? So, if they charged the daughter, then her defense would have been to blame it on the mother...” Ronan trailed off, knowing Ten would catch on to where he was leading.
“And if they’d charged the wife, her defense strategy would have been to blame the daughter,” Ten concluded.
“Right, and because of double jeopardy, they’d only have one chance to get a conviction, so the DA declined to bring charges against either of them.” Ronan set the folder down on his desk.
“Wow, so they’ve gotten away with the crime for the last twenty years.” Ten shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it.
Ronan nodded. “Yup! Crazy, huh?”
“So, I guess I must be more tired than I thought. I’m having a hard time figuring out what makes this case the most boring murder in the world?”
Ronan’s face brightened with a million-watt smile. “That’s where you come in, Nostradamus!”
Tennyson’s own smile briefly faltered. “It is?”
“All you need to do is read Harold. Ask him who killed him: Hope or Maxine. Once we have that information, we bring our murderess in for questioning and I use my stellar interview techniques and you use your gift to make her confess. Bada bing, bada boom! No gunshots, no kidnappings, no blood, no trips to the ER. What do you think?”
Tennyson tilted his head to the side as if he were weighing what Ronan had said carefully. “Sounds like a good plan. Do you know where the mother and daughter are now? I mean if the wife was fifty-seven years old twenty years ago, then she’s seventy-seven years old now. She could be dead.”
“Way ahead of you, babe. Maxine and Hope are both still among the living and have a charming house on the beach in Hyannis.”
“Beachfront property in Hyannis?” Ten’s mouth dropped open. “That must have cost a fortune!”
“Oh, it did. Trust me! Wanna guess how much?” Ronan bounced his eyebrows up and down. “No fair using your gift. Just guess.”
Ten rolled his eyes. “Nine hundred thousand?”
“Try 1.2 million.” Ronan bounced his eyebrows up and down.
“Makes you wonder where the widow and bereaved daughter got that kind of cash.”
“I don’t have to wonder.” Ronan tapped the folder. “I already know. Let’s just say that Nationwide was on their side. Along with MetLife and a few others.”
“Old Harold was insured to the gills?” Tennyson snickered.
“And then some,” Ronan agreed.
Ten’s eyebrows knitted together in a frown. “Wait, so why didn’t that raise red warning flags for the detectives?”
“Every policy taken out on Harold was also taken out on Maxine.” Ronan grinned broadly at Tennyson.
“Smart.” Ten shook his head.
“It was almost the perfect crime. I’d say.”
“Almost?” Ten asked.
Ronan pointed his finger at his lover. “Yeah, the Owens’ didn’t know I’d have an ace in the hole.”
5
Tennyson
Tennyson was so wracked with guilt he thought he was going to throw up. He’d lied to Ronan more in the course of two hours than he’d lied, in total, over his entire life.
After Ronan had finished laying out the Owens case, Tennyson had told his lover he was tired. Ronan, being the sweetest, most caring boyfriend on the planet had insisted he go home and rest. Telling Ronan he was tired was one of the few things he hadn’t lied to him about today.
Ronan’s excitement about how easy it would be to solve Harold Owens murder had almost been contagious. It was obvious he’d spent the last few days doing his homework on Maxine and Hope and getting his ducks in a row. If Tennyson’s gift had been working, he probably would have been able to talk to Harold right then and there. He didn’t know how long he was going to be able to plead fatigue to hold Ronan off.
He had gone to the precinct this morning fully intending to tell Ronan everything that happened that last, cursed day in Maine. After he’d left Carson’s house yesterday, he’d gone back to his apartment and unpacked. He’d done laundry and tried to settle back into his old life, even though there was one big part of his life that was missing.
Once he was settled back in, he’d try to figure out what to do about Ronan. He’d thought about calling or texting his lover to set up a date, but in the end, he’d chickened out, resolving to drive into Boston first thing in the morning and spill his guts.
It was his plan to tell Ronan everything and see if the veteran detective had any suggestions on how to jumpstart his gift. Needless to say, things hadn’t gone as planned this morning.
When Ronan grabbed him and hugged the life out of him like he’d never expected to see Tennyson again, Ten lost his nerve and chickened out for the second time in twelve hours.
He’d gotten lucky, in his mind, that none of his friends abandoned him for losing his gift. He wasn’t so sure he’d get lucky a second time with Ronan.
Both Ronan and Captain Fitzgibbon were counting on him to help solve Cold Case murders. Neither one of them were going to want him around the station house if he couldn’t pull his weight and be a fully functioning member of the team.
To add insult to injury, Ronan had promised to make Tennyson dinner tonight. Ten had been more shocked than anything else when Ronan said he’d be over later and would cook for them. So far as Ten knew, the only thing Ronan knew how to do in the kitchen was have sex on the counter. Detective Ronan O’Mara was the king of take-out. Bobby Flay, he wasn’t.
Ten had accepted Ronan’s date night suggestion the minute he made it, since it also came with Ronan saying he was going to sleep over.
The thing Tennyson had missed the most during his time in Maine was falling asleep on Ronan’s shoulder.
Ten resolved that sometime after they ate, but before Ronan carried him off to bed like the caveman he was, Ten was going to tell him about losing his gift. He held his pinkie up in his empty apartment, swearing in front of any spirit who was there, but who he could no longer see or hear.
Since there was no active case pending, Ronan showed up at 5pm on the nose. Instead of carrying a pizza box or brown handled bag filled with Chinese or Thai food, Ronan was carrying bags of groceries from the local supermarket. He also had a bouquet of bright pink Gerbera daisies in his hand.
“Ronan! These are gorgeous!” Ten took the flowers and brought them into the kitchen to find a vase for them. No one had ever brought him flowers before.
“So are you! I missed you so much, babe.” Ronan set the groceries down on the kitchen counter and pulled Tennyson into his arms. “Wait until you see what I’ve got in store for you tonight.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my Ronan?” Ten laughed.
“What do you mean? I am your Ronan.” Ronan looked offended.
Ten shook his head. “No, my Ronan doesn’t even know how to turn his stove on
. My Ronan is the master of the menu, the king of take out.” He pointed to the reusable shopping bags. “You’re going to have to explain all this to me.”
Ronan grinned and picked up Ten’s hands. He pressed kisses to the backs of both of them. “I did a lot of thinking while you were gone. I love our relationship, but I wondered if there were things I could do better. I wondered if I could be a better boyfriend to you, so I called Carson and Truman for help. They invited me over to dinner. Of course, Fitzgibbon was there too. It’s like he’s their new bestie or something.” Ronan rolled his eyes as if the idea that his boss was now part of his circle of friends was annoying.
Ten started to laugh. When he first met Kevin Fitzgibbon he’d thought the man was cold and abrasive, but now that he knew the captain better, the opposite was true. Ten knew Ronan was only kidding about having his boss around. “What did they all have to say about you?”
“None of them seem to think I’m very domestic. Now, I wonder where they all got that idea, Ten?” Ronan’s grin was full-on.
Ten had a “who me?” look on his face. “Well, I may have mentioned a time or two that I didn’t think you even knew how to boil water and that I wasn’t sure you owned a pot.”
“I own pots. I think.” Ronan snorted.
“How did Carson and Truman help you?”
“They invited me for dinner.” Ronan pressed a kiss to Ten’s cheek and moved over to the grocery bags. “Turns out the meal Truman made is your favorite.” Ronan pulled out a package of instant grits, followed by a jar of minced garlic, a lemon, a jar of cayenne powder and lastly, raw shrimp.
“These are the ingredients for lemon-garlic shrimp and grits.” Tennyson sounded intrigued.
“Well,” Ronan said, pulling Tennyson into his arms. “Not only did Truman invite me to dinner that night, he showed me how to make this meal for you.”
Tennyson was stunned. While he was off being selfish, Ronan was learning how to do this incredible thing for him. “I don’t know what to say. Ronan, this is amazing.”
Ronan laughed. “How about you hold that thought until after you try the first bite, okay? If this goes belly up, we might still have to call out for pizza.”
If there was one thing Ten knew about his boyfriend it was that he was as brilliant as he was stubborn. Knowing Ronan, he’d probably gone home and made this meal several times since the first night Truman showed him how to do it. “What can I do to help?”
“Have a seat at the bar and tell me about your trip. I want to hear all about the wilds of Maine.” Ronan grinned while he washed his hands.
Tennyson took a seat on one of the barstools on the other side of the kitchen counter and watched while Ronan pulled out the pots and pans he’d need to put their dinner together. Now would of course be the perfect time to tell him the entire story of what happened in Maine. He just wasn’t sure that he had the nerve to do it.
“The island itself was gorgeous. My cabin was right on the beach. I could hear the waves breaking on the sand as I fell asleep every night.”
Ronan sighed. “Sounds pretty romantic. You think you’d ever like to go back there again? I know a cop who hasn’t had a real vacation in a few years who might like to sit still in a place like that.” He tipped Ten a sexy wink.
As far as Tennyson was concerned, he never wanted to step foot in the state of Maine ever again. “I’m not sure the island is quite your thing. There’s literally nothing to do there except watch the sun rise and set.”
“You’d be there, Ten. That’s all I need.” Ronan washed all of the shelled and deveined shrimp and set them on a clean plate.
Ten watched in awe as Ronan measured out water for the grits and put together garlic and cayenne for the shrimp in a Ziploc bag. His lover was moving around the tiny kitchen like he cooked all the time. A few minutes later, Ronan added the shrimp to the bag before shaking it all together and then adding the grits to the boiling water. It all seemed like a perfectly orchestrated dance. Ronan wasn’t even referring to a recipe.
“Can I at least set the table?” Ten asked as Ronan flipped over the perfectly pink shrimp.
“Sure. How about some candles too? I’m thinking that will get us in the mood for dessert.”
“Oh, what are we having for dessert?” If dinner looked this good, Tennyson couldn’t wait to see what was for dessert.
“Each other.” Ronan licked his lips as if he were already anticipating how good Ten was going to taste.
Oh yeah, telling Ronan about how the rest of his trip to Maine went was going to have to wait. He’d tell his lover all about it tomorrow.
6
Ronan
Ronan’s fourth try at making shrimp and grits was his best effort yet. Of course the way Tennyson moaned over nearly every candlelit mouthful was an extra bonus he’d never gotten when he’d made the recipe by himself and twice for Fitzgibbon.
“I still can’t believe you did all of this for me,” Ten said as he set the last washed dish into the drainboard to dry.
“It was totally worth it to see the look on your face when you tried that first bite, babe.” Ronan wished he’d thought to grab his iPhone to snap a picture of that moment.
“I loved that you did this for me.”
“Up next is spaghetti and meatballs. Truman’s gonna teach me his mother’s tomato sauce recipe and how to make meatballs on Sunday. Turns out I like cooking. What does my mother think of that?”
“She’s not here right now,” Ten said quickly. “Remember what I told you about how spirits make themselves scarce when the living are about to have private moments?” Ten waggled his eyebrows and pulled Ronan close, brushing their lips together.
“Damn, Ten,” Ronan grinned against his lips.
“You know what I was thinking earlier?” Ten went for the button of Ronan’s jeans before unzipping them and sliding his hand inside to cup his lover’s hard flesh.
“That you were going to kill me in your kitchen?”
Ten snorted. “No. I was thinking that the only thing I thought you knew how to do in the kitchen was fuck me against the counter.” Ten squeezed Ronan’s dick gently.
Ronan hissed at the skin on skin contact. “Up until last week that was the only thing I knew how to do in the kitchen.”
“Maybe I want to return the favor.” Pulling his hand out of Ronan’s pants, Ten pushed the soft denim, along with Ronan’s boxers, down to the tops of his sneakers and hit his knees.
Ronan hadn’t been kidding when he said that he wanted them to have each other for dessert, but he had no idea Tennyson would take him so literally. Not that he was complaining.
Tennyson looked up at Ronan, desire darkening his brown eyes to almost black. He licked out at the gathering drop of pre-come at the tip of Ronan’s slit. “Delicious.”
“Better than the shrimp?” Ronan teased. Now this is what he wished he had his camera to snap a shot of: Ten’s eyes glowing with need and hunger for him. The way his tongue was licking over his lips again and again in case he missed a taste of Ronan.
Ten nodded and licked a wet stripe down the length of Ronan’s erection. Dancing his tongue over his lover’s balls, Tennyson’s dark eyes looked up at Ronan.
Jesus Christ! If Ten kept this up he wasn’t going to last long. Being apart for two weeks on top of Ten gazing up at him like he was a bronzed god was going to have him coming, cock practically untouched. “Ten, please,” Ronan begged.
Running his tongue up the underside of Ronan’s cock in response, Ten flicked his tongue up and over the head as if it were an ice cream cone. He dropped Ronan a sexy wink before taking the spongy head into his mouth and sucking gently.
“More, Ten. We’ve been apart for nearly two weeks. I don’t need slow and sweet. I need hard and fast. I need you, damn it!” Ronan hitched his hips forward, at the same time grabbing onto Tennyson’s head with both hands, forcing several inches of his erection deeper into Tennyson’s mouth.
Tennyson gagged in response.
Just as Ronan was about to warn Tennyson of that very thing, Ten pulled off his wet dick with a pop.
“Ten, what?”
Before Ronan could get another word out, Ten went for his pants, quickly undoing the button and zipper. He yanked them down to his feet and turned around, bracing his arms on the counter. Looking over his shoulder, Ten gave Ronan an enticing come hither smile and wiggled his ass.
“Are you serious?” Ronan grinned and kicked out of his sneakers and pants.
Ten nodded, nibbling on his bottom lip. “I thought all you could do was fuck me against the counter. So that’s exactly what I want you to do, detective. Fuck me against the counter.”
Not wanting to waste another second, Ronan grabbed his still soaking wet dick and rubbed it against Tennyson’s hole, which was strangely loosened and lubed. He snickered. “You prepped yourself ahead of time for me?”
“You weren’t the only one who missed this.” Ten winked at him.
“Christ, you really are trying to kill me.” Ronan lined himself up with Ten’s hole and slid himself inside.
“I’m not a china doll, Ronan. Fuck me. Now!”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Ten.” Ronan pressed a kiss against the back of his neck.
“You’re not going to hurt me. Treat me like I’m your bad boy, detective.” Ten pushed his ass back against Ronan.
“Your wish is my command, princess.” Ronan dug his left hand into Ten’s hip and set his right hand in the center of Ten’s back shoving his chest down against the cool marble of the counter.
Tennyson gasped out loud.
“So, you’ve been a bad boy?” Ronan growled in Ten’s ear. He angled his hips away from Ten’s prostate, wanting Ten to work for this. If he said he was a bad boy, Ronan was going to treat him like one. Although just what Ten could have done wrong, Ronan had no earthly idea.