Cuff Master

by Frances Stockton

  Unable to take anymore, Ethan grabbed hold of Morgan and his coat and brought her close. She shook her head again, blinking rapidly until she finally, finally looked at him and saw him.

  For a moment, she swayed as nothing but silence filled the air. The cold evaporated into a North Shore early fall evening. The full moon was shining above and the eeriness of the last few minutes faded. The light from the door returned to its normal glow.

  “She’s gone,” Morgan told him when she found her voice. “When you touch me, my abilities go dormant. I’m sorry, Detective. I wish I could have helped you more.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “I’ve freaked you out. Those kisses were really nice. I’m sorry I ruined the evening for you.”

  “Morgan, I’m not mad. Nothing’s ruined.”

  “You’re about to revisit a case from your past that was never really closed. Jenna needs you. Don’t let her down. If you need to discuss her further, call me. I’m more than glad to help her and her mom.”

  With that, she pushed out of his arms, leaving the jacket behind, and rushing toward Sam, Anna and Grace.

  “Morgan, get back here,” he ordered. She didn’t obey. She kept running, disappearing into Druid Creek Castle with the ladies.

  “What the fuck was that?” Ethan cursed, glaring at the men as if they were to blame for whatever the fuck just happened.

  “Afraid only you could hear what she was saying when she was doing her mojo thing with the jacket,” Taran admitted, coming closer.

  “What kind of talk is that from a lawyer, Taran? It’s a goddamned rental! How can there be mojo anything with a tuxedo?”

  “Can’t answer that, bro. Why don’t you go on inside and ask your woman? Let her touch the jacket again and see what she says.”

  “If she does that, she’ll get sick. She’s already weak. I don’t want her to spend the rest of the night sleeping off a migraine.”

  He’d far rather have her sleep soundly next to him in bed, as she’d done that night seven months ago when he took her home from the hospital.

  “Hate to tell you this, bro, I’m pretty sure she thinks she scared you off.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  Taran put his hand on Ethan’s shoulder. Only then did he know he was shaking all over.

  Whatever! No tuxedo-mojo-psychometry-apparition was going to scare Detective Ethan Maddox.

  Quickly, he opened his car door and tossed the tux jacket inside. “Supplies for Phalen’s SUV are in the trunk, gentlemen. Have at them. I’m going after Morgan.”

  “Damn good thing, Ethan,” Alex said. “I’d hate to beat the snot out of you if you don’t get in there and make sure she’s okay.”

  Ethan went back to the restaurant with every intention of catching up with Morgan. As soon as he entered the building, he realized that she was nowhere to be seen.

  Come to think of it, the ladies of the wedding party were all gone, even Cassie.

  “What’s the matter?” Phalen asked, causing him to start.

  “Where are the bridesmaids and the bride?”

  “Morgan, Sam, Anna and Grace took my wife upstairs to change,” Phalen answered. “When they return, Cassie will toss the bouquet and I’ll toss her garter and we’ll be on our way to the hotel nearest to Logan Airport.”

  “I need to talk to Morgan,” Ethan insisted.

  “You’ll have to wait until she comes back down. They’re all changing into something more comfortable. The dancing won’t end until midnight. There’s plenty of time to talk to her.”

  “You know much about the menswear shop we rented the tuxes from, bro?”

  “Not a whole lot, other than it’s not part of a chain. Cassie’s father and brothers have used the business in the past.”

  “Morgan seems to think mine belonged to someone evil. Do you think the shop buys previously owned tuxedos and suits?”

  “Sometimes, sure, but it’s a legit business. As to who might have owned yours before, ask Cassie’s brother for the shop owner’s name and investigate him.”

  Phalen looked around and it was obvious he was ready to leave. “Speaking of these tuxes, I need to change too. Care to join me?”

  “Yeah, think I will.” Ethan followed Phalen, hoping they’d run into the ladies.

  It didn’t happen. By the time he and Phalen returned to the makeshift ballroom in less formal clothes, the groomsmen had descended upon the remaining wedding guests.

  Cassie returned to the ballroom wearing a flowered dress that paid homage to Hawaii. The bridesmaids followed, each wearing cocktail dresses.

  Morgan looked so pretty in her rose dress that she took his breath away again. She’d exchanged the pearl earrings she’d been wearing for long feathered ones that he really liked on her.

  Wanting to apologize and see if she was all right, Ethan made a beeline toward Morgan. Only she’d turned tail when she caught his eye and took refuge with that ghost hunter guy and his friends.

  Whatever she said had the group glued to every word she’d spoken. The music made it impossible to hear the conversation.

  Ethan could make a scene, but then what? He’d talk to her after the guests left.

  The bouquet and garter toss took center stage. He didn’t remember seeing the bride and groom cutting the cake and figured they must have done it while he and Morgan were outside.

  After the bouquet was caught by Sam and the garter was caught by Taran, which caused a riot of laughter when she planted him on his ass before he could slide the garter onto her leg, Ethan looked over to where he’d last seen his woman.

  The table she’d been sitting at was vacant. Checking the room, he quickly deduced that Morgan was gone, along with Remy Sinclair and the ghost hunters.

  “Sonofabitch!” he growled.

  To no one but himself, he whispered, “Morgan Everhart, when I catch up with you, I’ll make good on that spanking I’d promised.”

  Chapter Two

  Morgan had a date!

  Even though it was Monday and not a romantic occasion, she was going out with a gorgeous man who could make ladies drool and men take a second look at their sexuality.

  Remy Sinclair was certainly all that and more.

  Wading through her closet of skirts, dresses, shirts, jeans and pants, she had trouble focusing on what to wear. Since she wasn’t going out with Detective Ethan Maddox, it felt more as if she was preparing for a visit to the dentist.

  After what happened at the reception, she’d tried to call him at Phalen and Cassie’s Saturday morning to apologize for panicking and running away. Taran had answered, telling her Ethan and Samantha had gotten a case in the middle of the night and they’d both gone to Boston.

  Taran had assured her it’d be okay if she called Ethan’s cellphone, but she figured it was best to let Ethan do his job. He and Samantha were detectives who concentrated on locating missing persons and cold cases, known as the MPCCHD or Missing Persons and Cold Case Homicide Division of the Boston Police.

  Morgan couldn’t expect him to drop a case in order to help a teenaged ghost. But she couldn’t forget how good it had felt to be held in Ethan Maddox’s arms, how lovely and sexy and awe-inspiring his kisses had been. The taste of him would haunt her for the rest of her natural born life.

  And then she had to blow it by freaking him out with her talk of ghosts and visions and previously owned tuxedos. She didn’t want to think about that. She needed to think about the night ahead with Remy.

  If he hired her as a consultant for his reality TV show, she could earn extra money to pay the exorbitant costs of owning her small business. At home, she had basic cable, internet and phone services for her landline and a modest cellphone she used at work.

  Ethan mistakenly thought she’d blocked him from texting her. She hadn’t. She’d lowered her phone bill by eliminating the exorbitant costs of a smartphone data plan and keeping track of her minute usage.

  While she did Tarot a
nd palm readings for customers and made decent money for her services, she far preferred clients to bring her antiques, jewelry, books or trinkets from their loved ones. Psychometry was her gift. She believed the best way to predict the future was to understand what happened in the past.

  That was why she’d opened her mind to the supernatural. Ghosts were caught in the past, frequently reliving their own lives or the moment of their deaths over and over.

  There were some spirits and entities that Morgan would never dare to cross because they were pure evil. The difficult part came when evil masked itself as something pleasant. It had taken years and Grandma’s teachings and faith in God to differentiate the bad from the good.

  As it was the first Monday in October, Salem was flooded with tourists this time of year and her finances were in the black. But she really could use the money Remy Sinclair promised to pay for her time and assistance. If she earned enough money, she could take online college courses to finish her degree.

  It was her biggest regret when she’d left home at eighteen. Between the move and now, she’d obtained enough credits here and there to have an associate’s degree in history. But that wouldn’t be enough to become an archaeologist.

  Thinking of her father, Morgan became nostalgic. She missed him. It didn’t matter how long ago he’d died. Markus Everhart had been her constant, her rock. The one who’d believed in her most.

  Her mother, Serena, had once accepted Morgan’s psychic ability. She’d turned against Morgan after the death of her first husband. At first she’d been happy that her mother had met and married Carter Johnson.

  Carter was a decent man. He treated his wife with respect and he’d initially been the stabilizing male figure Morgan needed when she was in middle school. Then he became the chief of police for their small upstate New York town and forbade any and all things supernatural in his home.

  He’d crushed her crystals, tossed out her spirit guides and encyclopedias and Tarot cards. Then he’d sent her to a psychologist after hearing her talk to one of the many spirits who’d attached themselves to the antiques her mother brought home from auctions.

  The well-paid doctor declared her to be delusional due to the tragic death of her father and recommended hospitalization to help. Thus, the middle and high school backlash and rumors that she was crazy began.

  Her friends betrayed her by adding to the misconception of psychics in general. She was seen as odd, wacky and witchy. Most stayed away from her and she hid behind shyness to protect herself from being hurt.

  In the end, she’d left home upon graduating high school and never went back. Thank goodness she’d had Grandma. She’d adored Sara Everhart, her father’s mother, because she’d embraced her, oddities and all.

  Grandma taught her that the spirits were very real and had much to say. Morgan embraced that as truth and she’d never again deny it. That didn’t mean it hadn’t broken her heart when Ethan Maddox looked at her as if she’d become the devil incarnate the night of Cassie and Phalen’s wedding.

  What she’d seen, she couldn’t quite explain. Perhaps if she talked to Jenna again, she’d understand. What she knew with all her heart was that frightened teenaged girl had suffered at the hands of an evil, evil man.

  “Date, Morgan. Think about your date. It doesn’t matter if the good detective gets a little pissed, right?”

  Ignoring the possibility that she was inviting a whole passel of trouble by accepting Remy Sinclair’s offer for dinner at Druid Creek Castle, Morgan grabbed a pair of black leggings, a deep red camisole, a black sweater, a silky wraparound miniskirt and knee-high black leather boots.

  She’d found warm tones, reds, browns, tans and dark greens, went best with her coloring and hair. Black was always a good choice for her. The boots were wicked cool and made of the finest leather. They’d been a gift from Cassie for being her maid of honor.

  The sweater, made to hang loosely about the shoulders with a scalloped neckline, had fashionable tears here and there to show off the red silk camisole. It reminded her of the slashed tunics worn during the late Renaissance.

  Placing her clothing on her double bed, she went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and put on makeup. Afterward, she picked up her favorite hairbrush and ran it through her straight hair, pulled the sides back into a cute little knot and secured it with a wooden pick the size and length of a pencil.

  Once her hair was done, she dusted her face with some makeup and went to search for her favorite tri-colored feather earrings that hung down to her chin. Satisfied with her looks, she returned to her bedroom to get dressed.

  Very comfortable in her apartment because she routinely had it cleansed and mirrors smudged, a spell her grandmother had taught her to ward off unwanted spirits or negative energies, she went to check her appearance in the full-length mirror. She looked really good.

  She’d been in two weddings over the last few months and had learned to show off her face by pulling her hair back. She’d been debating getting it cut. Not too much, just a few inches so that it fell about her shoulders in a soft curtain and add some blonde or red highlights to the dark auburn color.

  If she changed her hairstyle, was she supposed to ask permission from Ethan first?

  Now where had that come from? Ethan had no say in what she wore, what she did with her hair or who she could spend time with.

  Her kitchen phone rang, startling her. “Calm down. Remy promised to call when he was close to Salem. And now I’m talking to myself.”

  Rushing to intercept the call before it went to voicemail, she answered, “Hey, Remy, everything all right?”

  “Care to explain why you’re expecting him to call?” Ethan’s Bostonian accent was unmistakable. Weirdly, his voice did things to her insides that should be illegal. Just that one pissed-off question had her pussy creaming and her panties soaked!

  Think, Morgan. Not Remy. Dammit, not Remy at all.

  “Ethan?” she squeaked out, squeezing her thighs together tightly to trap the trickle of moisture that already dampened her silk red and black panties.

  “That’d be me. Obviously, I’ve called at a bad time. Tried you a few times Saturday and Sunday, but Sam and I were working. Had to switch housesitting and taking care of customers at Phalen’s tattoo shop with Taran until I could get back to Salem tonight, sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize for your job, Ethan. I just didn’t expect you to call tonight.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because of what happened at the reception with your friends watching,” she admitted, remembering the look in his eyes, the panic that’d set in and the fear he couldn’t hide.

  “Taran didn’t take a picture of us kissing. He was being an asshole. Don’t worry. It’s par for the course. He was supposed to tell you that when he dropped by your apartment. He did check on you, didn’t he?”

  “He did. He’s a bit bossy, but basically a sweetheart and relatively harmless.”

  “Don’t let him know that. He likes to think he’s the Romeo of the Maddox brothers. Not sure how long it’ll be before my partner succumbs to his charm.”

  “I think Samantha’s got his number,” Morgan remarked. She’d already told Samantha Riley that Taran was her soul mate. Samantha scoffed, but couldn’t hide the fact that she fancied the youngest Maddox.

  Be that as it was, Morgan had way bigger problems with one of the Maddox men.

  Ethan.

  “Detective, I really have to go. If you want to talk about what I saw the other night, call in the morning. Or I’ll call you at the station or something.”

  “No! I called to ask you out.”

  “Tonight?” She’d squeaked again. Her heart was pounding so damn hard she was sure she was going to need to call Dr. Hathaway.

  “I’m camping out at my big brother’s house for the next two weeks, sweetie. I wrapped things up on a case and took some vacation time. I thought maybe we could go to a movie or get something to eat.”

  A h
eavy knock sounded at the door. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I simply can’t.”

  “Don’t hang up on me, Morgan,” Ethan warned.

  “Someone’s at the door.”

  The knock became harder. “Morgan, love, open up,” Remy insisted loudly.

  In her ear, Ethan growled menacingly. “What the fuck? Sinclair’s there? I told you not to see him. You are mine.”

  Angry now, Morgan gritted her teeth to keep from telling Ethan to go to hell. “I don’t belong to any man! Yes, I’ve plans with Remy tonight.”

  “Fine, I’ll leave you to your date. One thing, I’m really sorry about hurting your feelings back in April. I was worried about you, Cassie and a woman we thought was missing and in danger.”

  “For the record, she was missing and she was in danger. I just didn’t know where she’d hidden and you’d questioned me as if I was the suspect and doubted my honesty.”

  “I didn’t doubt you. You were the closest we had to a witness. As a cop, I had to ask those questions and remain as neutral as possible.” Ethan paused as the knock at the door sounded again.

  “Ethan, I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  “Go. It won’t change how you feel about me. When you’re ready to stop running scared, give me a shout. I won’t call on you again until you do. The ball is in your court now. Bye, Morgan.”

  The call went dead. Morgan calmly set the phone back onto its base on the wall.

  Rushing to the door, she opened it to find one of the best-looking men she’d ever had the fortune of seeing. Even though he was not nearly as handsome as Ethan, Remington Sinclair was six-foot-six of ripped man with pin-straight black and red hair that fell halfway down his back.

  Model gorgeous, his features were sharp, distinct and perfect for television or the centerfold of Playgirl magazine. Already he had countless followers on Twitter, a Facebook fan page and all the social networking devices any self-made celebrity could boast. To top off all that hotness, he had an actual belief in the paranormal.

  Though he primarily dated and flirted with women, Remy was not immune to same-sex relationships. He deliberately kept that to himself, adding to the public’s speculation as to his sexuality. He also had a degree in parapsychology, studied world religions, paganism and had a fascination with illusion.