Cuff Master

by Frances Stockton

“Damn straight, most of those girls were written off by their families. They didn’t deserve that.”

  “No one does, partner,” Ethan said, sympathizing with Sam because he knew exactly where she was coming from. There was a very good reason his partner chose to work with runaways and missing persons, who frequently were young and impressionable.

  “Ethan, I’ve ignored several calls from your brother tonight. He likes to leave messages asking me out on occasion, but why has he suddenly become more of a pain in my ass?”

  “Come on, Sam. You know Taran wants you. You want him. Don’t try to deny it.”

  “I’m not sure I want him anymore, partner. Dammit, he’s too beautiful for me.”

  Ethan wanted to knock some sense into his partner’s thick head. “Fuck that, Samantha Riley. You’re worth a hundred women. Taran knows that. Give him a chance.”

  “You’re biased.”

  “Sure I am. Doesn’t change the fact that Taran can help you get over what James and Mark put you through. You just need to trust him.”

  “Don’t worry. Never again will a guy use me the way they did. I don’t care how young and stupid I was to trust them in the first place.”

  “If you don’t let Taran in, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

  “I have to go. See you first thing, I’ll bring coffee. Morgan will be there, won’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, three coffees and doughnuts.”

  “Sounds great, bye, Sam.” Ethan ended the call and listened to more messages.

  A call from the officer in Danvers investigating what happened to Morgan at Druid Creek Castle pissed Ethan off. Being sure he heard right, he damn near punched the closest wall.

  Sonofabitch! How did he tell Morgan that Remington Sinclair was the primary person of interest in the case? Danvers police couldn’t find the man and wanted to know if Morgan had a contact number.

  “Fuck me with a stick!” he cursed, causing Morgan to toss her head.

  “Ethan?” she called out, half opening her eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, baby. Go back to sleep, dream. I’ll wake you up in a little while so you can brush your teeth and use the bathroom.”

  “Okay,” she murmured, drifting back to her cozy world. He wished to God that he could join her.

  In the morning, Ethan would have to talk to her. But shit, he’d liked, even trusted, Remy. If the bastard was a danger to her, Ethan would end him.

  Ethan set the phone on the bedside table and turned off the light. He’d worry about the dungeon and everything else before Sam arrived.

  Morgan curled into him, holding on tight. Snuggling up with her, he kissed the top of her head.

  She was precious to him. When he and Sam found the truth behind Jenna Bailey’s death, he was going to make Morgan his wife, assuming she didn’t resent him for having doubts about her friend Remy.

  Tired and stressed, he worried he might not sleep. Morgan’s presence calmed him, reminding him that she was safe and nothing could harm her as long as he held her tight.

  Closing his eyes, Ethan drifted off, dreaming about the night he and Morgan just shared.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ethan came awake with a start, rapidly becoming aware that his woman was not only back from subspace, she was horny. She’d climbed on top of him, centered her sweet pussy against his shaft and was slowly grinding herself against him.

  “This is a nice way to wake up,” he murmured, hugging her up close to his body and loving the feel of Morgan’s softness against his rock-hard cock.

  “Morning, handsome, had a very nice time last night,” she said, causing him to become aware of the dull gray light of early morning that spread through the bedroom. “I feel so whole and open and magical.”

  “Magical? I like that,” Ethan said, belatedly realizing that he’d slept too late. “Shit, I overslept.”

  “It’s not even six in the morning.”

  “Yeah, but Sam’s on her way over. She’ll be here any minute.”

  Morgan lifted herself up. She looked amazing, beautiful and all feminine temptation. “I need you, Ethan. Make love to me.”

  “Honey, we need to talk first.”

  She shook her head. “Not enough time. Sam’s coming over, remember?”

  Morgan switched her hips just so, tempting him to say hell with it all and fuck her. But if he did, he’d delay the inevitable argument they were going to have. She was fiercely protective of Remy. If he said this wrong, she was going to be hurt and might blame it on Ethan.

  Unfortunately, his thoughts went out the fucking window when Morgan shifted exactly the right way, taking him into her body.

  The snug, wet grip of her pussy welcomed him home. It’d only been a few hours since they’d had sex. His cock didn’t care. His cock was happy and snug, and holy God, her grip was tighter and hotter than ever.

  As Morgan rocked her hips and surged, taking him for a ride, Ethan became aware of an insistent pounding at the front door. “Sam’s here.”

  “Best make it fast, Detective Maddox. I’ve got an orgasm with your name on it.”

  Put that way, Ethan better get moving. Gripping her hips tighter, he thrust harder, always loving the fit and feel of her pussy. Without much preamble, they chased each other to climax, hot and fast and raw.

  It was pure, quickie sex and he loved it, loved Morgan. Hell, he loved everything right now.

  “Have I told you I love you today?” Ethan asked, laughing softly as they clung to each other in the aftermath of intense orgasm.

  “I believe you just did,” Morgan answered. “I love you just as much.”

  The knocking downstairs became a ringing doorbell. The day had officially begun and reality was about to intrude in a big way.

  Morgan suddenly popped up and off him in a nimble move that would have done a gymnast proud, her smile one of pure satisfaction and happiness.

  “Hey, what’s your rush?”

  “The ringing doorbell and I’ve got to pee,” she said, dancing.

  Before he could even push up on his elbows, she ran to the bathroom and slammed the door. Ethan got up, made his way to the dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans and a tee shirt.

  Before getting dressed, he made a quick stop in the bathroom to take a long, necessary piss. Morgan was already in the shower and washing her hair. He finished up, not caring that he’d just urinated in front of her.

  Now that was love right there. When you’re comfortable enough with your woman, bodily functions were a necessity and not a big deal. Not that she noticed. She was enjoying her shower.

  Ethan quickly washed his hands, brushed his teeth, splashed his face and washed his groin with cool water. He couldn’t keep Sam waiting for much longer. There was a good chance she’d damage the doorbell by now or kick the door in until it splintered.

  Rushing out of the bathroom, he pulled on the jeans, flung the shirt over his shoulder and made it to the foyer.

  And he was almost felled by a flying fist when he opened the door. Sam had enough control to draw her hand back and keep from maiming something important.

  She was in her most practical clothes, jeans, shit-kickers, motorcycle jacket and a black tee shirt. Her long honey-blonde hair was pulled back into a basic ponytail.

  She didn’t seem to notice the slight chill in the air or that the sky was a dull gray. From the looks of things, autumn showers were in the forecast.

  “Fucking hell, Ethan, I thought you’d never get down here,” she growled furiously. “Grab the coffee. I’ve got the doughnuts.”

  “Good morning to you too, partner.” Ethan stepped out of her path, managing to retrieve the cardboard takeout tray with three coffees that’d been sitting on the front stoop.

  “Told you I’d be here first thing.”

  “I heard you. Sorry, got sidetracked,” he apologized.

  Sam paused, flushing as she realized his state of dress was still disheveled. He hadn’t both
ered to comb his hair or put on his shirt.

  “Any chance Taran looks as good as you half dressed?” Sam asked.

  Quiet footsteps came up behind Ethan. “Samantha, we have to talk,” Morgan said, moving right up to Sam.

  Morgan’s hair was covered by a towel and she wore a robe. She was still kind of damp from her hasty shower. She smelled great.

  “Yes, we do. Ladies night out when Cassie gets home Friday,” Sam declared. “We need to know all about the honeymoon and you need to tell us that my partner here is treating you right. Otherwise, I may have to hogtie him for a couple nights in the pen.”

  Morgan grinned wide-as-you-please. “Being hogtied by Ethan’s not so bad. If his kid brother’s as good, I’d have to tell you to go for him sooner rather than later.”

  “Not exactly what I had in mind,” Sam said. “You hungry? I brought breakfast.”

  “Starving,” Morgan answered. She took the box of doughnuts from Sam and headed off for the kitchen. “I’m going to snatch up one of these and head back upstairs to finish drying my hair and get dressed.”

  “Something’s wrong,” Sam commented when Ethan stared off after Morgan.

  “There’s something she needs to know and I haven’t told her yet.”

  “Told her what?”

  “Remy’s the person of interest the Danvers police are looking for in her case,” Ethan admitted.

  “Are you serious? You’d better tell her, Ethan. If she hears that from anyone but you, you might be sleeping on the sofa for a couple of weeks.”

  “I know.” And if he hadn’t been thinking with his dick about fifteen minutes ago, he’d have told her by now. “Can you take the coffees to the kitchen? I’m going to go talk to her now.”

  “Got your laptop nearby?”

  “It’s on the kitchen counter. Help yourself. Be back in a few minutes.”

  Ethan bypassed the kitchen because he heard Morgan make her way upstairs. He followed and found her brushing her hair while staring out the window to the alley below.

  “Morgan,” he said, moving up to her.

  Her brushing was slow and sensual. She turned to face him, her after-sex glow making her stunning. Morgan was already the most beautiful woman Ethan knew. Knowing their night in the dungeon put that satisfied gleam in her eyes made him feel like a hero.

  But he was about to turn that smile upside down. “Honey, we need to talk.”

  “Can I get dressed first?”

  “It can’t wait. I should have insisted we talk before now. I should have woken you up when I got the call, but you were flying and I couldn’t risk having you come down too fast.”

  Morgan frowned a little. “What’s going on?”

  “Take a seat,” he urged, handing her to the lounge chair he liked to camp out on when he wanted to read the Boston Globe before heading to work.

  She obeyed, still with the hairbrush in her hand.

  “Morgan, I got a message from the police officer in charge of your case,” he began, kneeling in front of her. “The witness who came forward pointed investigators to a person of interest. Police need to know where Remy is, Morgan.”

  It took a few seconds for her to realize what he’d said. One minute she was staring into his eyes, the next she stood up so fast that she’d knocked him right on his ass.

  “What? How can that be possible?” she shouted, refusing to let him touch her when he scrambled to his feet and went to grab her hand to stop her from stomping off in a huff.

  “I don’t know much more than what I’ve told you. But Remy Sinclair is the man the witness claimed to have seen.”

  “The witness is mistaken. Remy wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t lie. I’d know. I would know.” She turned her hand inward, poking herself in the chest.

  “He’s a public figure in New England and easily recognizable. This doesn’t mean he did anything wrong, but if there’s the slightest chance that he hurt you, you can bet I will turn his ass into authorities.”

  “You can’t do that, you wouldn’t,” Morgan said, maintaining her stance.

  Ethan didn’t want to lose patience. He knew this would be her reaction. “Morgan, think. I know you like Remy. Hell, I liked the guy. I don’t want to be the one standing here telling you this. I put it off. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

  Morgan shook her head. “You said liked, past tense. You’re jealous.”

  “Not this time. As a cop, I need to advise you to call Remy and get him to contact Danvers PD. If he’s got nothing to hide, he won’t balk at giving them an explanation as to what he was doing in the back parking lot. “

  Some of the steam in Morgan’s temper evaporated, causing her to reclaim a seat. She tried to brush her hair again. Then she flung the brush aside and buried her face in her palms, crying.

  Going to her, Ethan didn’t let her escape being dragged into his arms. Even though she was pissed, he wasn’t going to abandon her or let a disagreement get the better of their relationship.

  He had the feeling their love was about to be tested. He could handle that. He had the mettle and wasn’t going to let anything come between them.

  “I would know, Ethan, I would know if Remy hurt me,” she insisted.

  “I don’t want to think he could have, Morgan. My gut told me something was off with what he told me the night you’d been attacked. I’d thought it was because he’d taken my woman on a date.”

  “Thought you were over that,” Morgan muttered against his shoulder. She remained tense, yet she wasn’t fighting to get off his lap.

  “I can’t deny that it pissed me off, but I realize now why the two of you went out.”

  Morgan shook her head again. “It just doesn’t make sense. There’s no way I can be wrong about this. I know him. I’ve read his palm, Tarot, his wallet, you name it. He’s an open book to me.”

  Ethan gently set Morgan on the chair and went to get the bedside phone. “Call him, Morgan.”

  Before he even handed the phone to Morgan, Sam’s voice came out from the stairway. “Ethan, Morgan, get your asses down here. We need to get to Salem ASAP.”

  The urgency in his partner’s voice forced Ethan and Morgan to finish getting dressed. All it took for Ethan was pulling his tee shirt over his head and grabbing some socks, combat boots and his coat.

  He’d love to take a long shower, but since he’d washed last night before falling asleep and first thing this morning at the sink, he felt relatively clean.

  Morgan went into the closet, showing no sign of reservation, and came back out with a brown skirt, blouse and Ugg boots. Wishing she’d chosen something colorful but unable to question her choice, he said nothing.

  He watched her get panties and a bra out of the drawer she’d claimed for her undergarments. She dressed with speed and efficiency. Her hair was still damp, but drying.

  “Let’s go,” she insisted, heading off to the hallway.

  Ethan caught up with her halfway down the stairs, taking her hand just before they went into the kitchen.

  Samantha was pacing nervously. It was so uncharacteristic of her, he frowned.

  “I’m sorry, Morgan,” Sam said, stopping in midstride and facing Morgan head on. This was the face Sam Riley put on when she had bad news.

  “What is it?” Morgan asked shyly.

  “There’s been a fire at Enchanted Treasures. It started around three in the morning. Investigators believe it was arson,” Samantha explained. “Your store…it’s been ruined. Firemen worked for hours to put it out. It’s safe for us to head there now.”

  “A fire, what fire?” Ethan demanded, even as Morgan drew up short.

  “All I know is that Taran’s been trying to call since five this morning,” Sam stated. “He heard the alarm, checked Phalen’s police scanner and realized the address was Morgan’s store.”

  “I don’t understand,” Morgan said. “If there was a fire at Enchanted Treasures, Grandma would have warned me.”

  “We’ll figure it out together, Morg
an. Ethan, I’ve packed up your laptop. We should get to Salem.”

  Morgan looked back and forth at Ethan and Samantha. She became so sad and confused, Ethan was sure she was either going to cry or collapse.

  She did neither. She lifted her chin and said, “Let’s go.”

  Morgan grabbed one of the coffees, sipped it, pausing momentarily when she grimaced as she swallowed and then headed out the kitchen door.

  “Guess you heard the lady,” Sam said, equally confused.

  “The one thing I’ve learned. If Morgan’s not shouting or talking, she’s pissed.”

  “She has the right to be. Fire was arson. Someone’s out to hurt her.”

  “That’s the reason I’m going to find this fucker and kick his ass into the last century,” Ethan vowed. “Two fires just so happened to affect the woman I love because she learned something incriminating about the Bailey family? That’s not a coincidence and I might let you kick my ass for not doing more to stop this.”

  “We both tried to get Captain Morrison to reopen Jenna’s case,” Sam remarked. “It wasn’t until I found a connection between her stepfather and Erica White and the autopsy inconsistencies that he allowed us back in. We need to follow the clues and we’ll find whoever did this to Morgan.”

  “Yes we will, partner.”

  Ethan ran upstairs, took his gun out of the special safe, strapped it into place and grabbed Morgan’s coat, returning to the kitchen to get his and Morgan’s cellphones.

  Sam was already outside. “My car, partner,” she declared, jingling her key ring.

  Ethan was fine with that. “I’ll get in the back with Morgan.”

  Sam had parallel parked the police-issued unmarked cruiser on the street. Morgan was all buckled in. She’d stowed her coffee in a cup holder. Her silence made Ethan angrier.

  She was hurting and withdrawn. He put on his seatbelt, wishing he could do something to change the course of events that changed the open, loving expression she’d had early that morning.

  “Honey, don’t be mad at me,” he urged softly.

  “I’m not mad at you, Ethan. This isn’t your fault.”

  “Then why do I feel that way? You won’t look at me. You barely let me touch you.”