[Men in Blue 01.0] Night Is Darkest
Page 1
Night is Darkest
Men in Blue, Book 1
Jayne Rylon
Happy Endings Publishing
Contents
About The Book
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
What Happens to Razor?
Naughty News
What Was Your Favorite Part?
Jayne’s Shop
Listen Up!
About the Author
Also by Jayne Rylon
Copyright © 2009 by Jayne Rylon
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means—including email, file-sharing groups, and peer-to-peer programs—without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
If you have purchased a copy of this ebook, thank you. I greatly appreciate knowing you would never illegally share your copy of this book. This is the polite way of me saying don’t be a thieving asshole, please and thank you!
If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Refer to the don’t-be-a-thieving-asshole section above for clarification. :)
Version 1
ISBN: 978-1-941785-23-2
Some secrets refuse to stay hidden.
Men in Blue, Book 1
Lacey Daughtry’s perfect weekend is interrupted by tragic news of her brother’s murder in the line of duty. Plagued by a rash of mysterious phone calls, she turns to her brother’s best friends and fellow officers for protection…and comfort.
Spending time in close contact with Mason and Tyler, the two men she’s dreamed of since her first girlhood crush, seems like the answer to a prayer. Especially when they begin to explore the desire she’s harbored for so long.
But the partners are holding out on Lacey. Determined to suppress the most extreme facets of their lust, they agree to settle for sharing the woman they crave while concealing their desire for each other. Until Lacey cracks their resolve, unleashing a torrent of emotions that threatens to distract them when they can least afford it.
Their blossoming relationship is complicated by secrets. And the only way to evade the killer threatening their lives is to bare their souls in the darkest hours of the night. Or everything will come crashing down, just before the dawn.
Warning: After reading this book you’ll never look at a pair of hot cops, a cemetery or a can of Spaghetti-O’s the same way again.
Additional Information
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New 2017 Dedication:
Here’s to rolling with the punches and learning to evolve. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me through ten years in publishing and to all of those who are new to this ride. Publishers have come and gone but readers are for life :)
Original 2009 Dedication:
For all the members of the Samhain reader café yahoo group. I enjoy the time we spend chatting about our favorite books and all the wonderful feedback you’ve given me. Special thanks to the moderators, both past and present, for keeping the party going!
Prologue
Lacey Daughtry grinned at the grandfather clock standing sentinel in the moonlit entryway as she kicked off her orthopedic sneakers. Three seventeen a.m. She’d gotten off shift on time for once. A lack of bus collisions, late night fires, drunk drivers or second shift construction accidents had kept the ER relatively quiet.
She’d parked close to the house since Rob’s absent patrol car left a gap in their cracked cobblestone driveway. The only response following her shout of, “I’m home,” pinged from the century old pipes in comforting creaks. She rarely got in before her big brother. She started singing the infectious melody of a pop song that the hospital’s music system recycled often as she sloughed her scrubs en route to her girlhood bedroom. Funny, how it still felt like home even after years away at nursing school.
With a few moments to herself before her brother swung in from his beat, she kicked off three glorious days of freedom with a whoop. This had the makings of a world class weekend.
Lacey dumped the wad of clothes in her wicker laundry basket at the entrance to her adjoining bathroom then twisted the four-pronged knob on the bathtub faucet until steamy water gushed into the claw foot tub. She filled the black and white tiled space with the echoes of her off-key rendition of Jason Mraz’s “I’m Yours” while she waited for the relaxing bath about to leach away the aches inflicted by another shift on her feet.
After a luxurious soak capped with an extra dollop of the designer shower gel she’d splurged on, she snagged her worn but comfy bathrobe off the pedestal sink. She took mental stock of the pantry as she bounced down the scarred oak stairs. It’d take some creativity to whip up a home cooked meal to share with Rob but he’d enjoy a warm dinner ready and waiting.
A chuckle escaped her when she wondered if you could be late to a four a.m. supper. They’d both worked the graveyard shift long enough it seemed normal. Maybe Rob ran late because he’d stopped at the twenty-four hour convenience store. Though she did most of their shopping, he pitched in whenever he could. Cooking up something simple was the least she could do.
They’d split chores and looked out for each other since the death of their parents in a car crash, ten years before. At just eighteen, Rob had become the backbone of their family unit. He’d kept her thirteen-year-old world from imploding. She worshipped him for never once shirking his responsibilities—for the endless sacrifices he’d made to ensure their life stayed as normal as possible.
Sure enough, within minutes, strobing red and blue lights tinted the kitchen in his silent signal for her to come help him unload. She turned from the enamel sink, wiped her hands on her terrycloth-covered hip then stuffed her pink-painted toes into a pair of abandoned flip-flops by the front entryway. Though the summer had waned, she could handle the few seconds of exposure it’d take to dash out and collect an armful of groceries. She swung open the heavy oak door with its old-fashioned etched glass, nearly smacking into Rob’s two best friends—and fellow officers—shifting from foot to foot on the whitewashed porch.
Her eyes widened.
Dread dispersed her giddy joy in a millisecond.
Lacey’s heart plummeted through her stomach at the somber formality masking Mason Clark’s rugged features. Her pulse pounded when her gaze flicked to Tyler Lambert, taking in his clenched fists and the copious blood smeared over his otherwise crisp uniform.
She stumbled backward, slamming the door in their startled faces as though she could bar the horror they attempted to deliver. This can’t be happening. Not again!
The two men, who spent nearly as much time in their house as she and Rob, for
ced their way inside. Their grim expressions distorted in her swimming vision. A roar in her ears blocked out their familiar voices. Tunnel vision narrowed her world to the sage green walls whipping around her. Then she marveled at the intricate pattern of the well-worn hallway runner speeding toward her until strong arms plucked her from mid-air, crushing her against a solid male chest.
The surreal sensations faded as she clung to Mason, floating into the living room cradled in his arms, before he lowered her to the practical microfiber couch. He knelt on the plank flooring in front of her, urging, “Breathe, sweetheart. Come on, take a deep breath.”
Lacey inhaled, drawing razor sharp pain along with oxygen into her lungs. A ragged gasp split the tense silence. Their lack of urgency to escort her back to the hospital answered all the questions she couldn’t voice. There was no need to hurry. Tyler sank onto the cushion beside her, gripping her hand tight enough to fuse her fingers together but she couldn’t feel anything beyond the numb shock coating her gut.
Her unfocused gaze latched onto the maroon crust of congealed blood beneath his trimmed fingernails. This time she couldn’t muster the disassociation she had perfected in the ER. The sinister smudges were the only part of her brother that would make it home tonight.
“What happened?” The hoarse whisper pushed past her trembling lips, which refused to allow her wails to escape the devastation taking up residence in her heart.
Mason and Tyler looked to each other, ice blue and forest green eyes exchanging the silent communication they had mastered during a lifetime of friendship. Mason gave a short nod then met her broken stare head-on.
He cupped her free hand in his and cleared his throat once, twice, before the heartbreaking news tainted his rich baritone. “I’m going to give it to you straight, Lace. We’re not sure what went down but it looks like Rob came across a mugging in progress. He called it in but didn’t wait for backup. Said he heard a distressed cry for assistance. The victim must have gotten free and made a break for it but, by the time reinforcements arrived, he had taken…” He hesitated. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “…several knife wounds to the chest and throat.”
“How many?” The nurse in her asked before she associated the damage Mason detailed to her brother.
He ground his teeth then growled, “Twenty-seven.”
Beside her, Tyler choked on a curse.
“You caught my brother’s murderer?” She clung to the rage enabling her to function. To say the unfathomable words.
“Fuck. Not yet. But I swear it to you, doll. I won’t stop until I get him,” Mason vowed.
She nodded, not doubting his loyalty or tenaciousness for a second. The three men, and Lacey by default, had been inseparable since the boys’ very first day at school when they’d shared a legendary bus ride that set the tone of mischief they’d indulge in over the years. A fourth-grade bully had met his match in the trio of kindergartners who took him out with a kick to the shin, a punch to the gut and a strategic whack to the nuts with a Voltron lunchbox. Ever since then, they’d been a unit.
The three amigos plus a spare kid sister.
A constant staple in her life, Mason and Tyler were all the family she had left in the world. She stared over Mason’s shoulder until her wandering vision landed on Rob’s pride and joy. Who would shout encouragement to the favored team making its plays on the behemoth 61” DLP rear projection TV now?
“He wasn’t alone at the end.” Tyler’s grief recaptured her attention. Unabashed tears tracked through the crimson stain on his cheek. He leaned forward, braced his forearms on his knees and refused to abandon his hold on her hand like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline. Several strands of his shaggy midnight hair feathered over his creased brow when his head bowed. “I got there just in time. I held him.”
His voice cracked but he didn’t attempt to conceal his misery from her. Instead, he turned his face toward her until she couldn’t avoid the truth in his agonized stare.
“Rob said, ‘I’m not afraid. Tell Lacey I-I love her. It’s okay.’” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I tried to stop the bleeding. I tried to hang on to him, to keep him here b-but he slipped away from me.”
By now, sobs wracked his massive frame. A sight she’d never seen in the twenty years she’d known him triggered her instincts to offer comfort even as her stomach cramped. She curled into his desperate embrace. His clenching fingers raked her back. Lacey attempted to shelter him from the misery she suspected would fester and infect his soul before it began to fade. She squashed the scream bubbling inside her, drawing on the barriers that had kept her sane during the aftermath of her parent’s death to erect a blockade against the encroaching despair.
She couldn’t let it drag her under.
“I’m sure you did all you could, Ty. With that amount of trauma… He wouldn’t have stood a chance.” The reassurance faded into the room as her voice trailed off. It seemed like a hypothetical discussion rather than an account of reality.
Mason grasped her knee, shaking her as if to snap her out of a trance. “We’ve got you, Lace. It seems unreal but…”
“Stop.” She held his bewildered stare with her cheek still tucked against the defined pecs of Ty’s heaving chest. “I’m not going to freak out. I’m not going to shatter. There are things that need to be done.”
“Not tonight, Lacey. For God’s sake, it’s after four o’clock in the morning and you need some time to absorb…”
Had she ever heard Mason’s voice rasp out in that husky tone? One more second of his audible torture and she would lose it for sure.
“No,” she interrupted with a cut of her hand. “I want to throw him the biggest farewell party of all time. He loves…loved parties. It’s what he would want. And there are things to do.”
1
Schwullllmp.
Lacey could guarantee that the eerie sound of the first shovelful of dirt landing on the polished surface of her brother’s coffin would reverberate through her nightmares for eternity. The skittering of pebbles adding one more barrier between her and her last blood relative caused her to flinch. A warm, gloved hand reached out to bracket her elbow. Tyler. She didn’t have to turn around to recognize his steady, comforting touch. He and Mason stood resolute behind her in their dress uniforms like her own personal honor guard.
Her spine straightened. She drew her shoulders back and lifted her chin against the agony she struggled to hold at bay. Rob would be proud of her stoic bearing. Though, in all honesty, she couldn’t cry. She hadn’t shed one single tear since she’d received the news of his ultimate sacrifice. Whoever he’d died to protect, she prayed they were safe. She had to believe his loss held some value.
With dry eyes, she scanned the monstrous crowd. Rows of black clad mourners, so deep she couldn’t make out the end, ringed the gravesite beside her parents’ under the oak tree in the city’s oldest cemetery. The preacher’s speech—designed to comfort—couldn’t penetrate the gloom in her heart, which complemented the dreary, overcast day. In her mind, she heard Rob’s laugh, then replayed the petty argument they’d had over dirty dishes last Wednesday, before remembering his daily warning.
“Stay safe.” It was the last thing he’d ever said to her. He’d whispered the standard entreaty in her ear as he captured her in a bear hug before she’d headed off to work Friday evening. In her mind’s eye, it seemed he held her tighter—for a moment longer—than usual, but she recognized the wishful thinking.
If only he’d listened to his own advice.
She shivered against the October breeze as crispy leaves wandered past the pointed tips of her black leather boots. A few moments later, Mason’s jacket enveloped her. Lacey tugged the lapels over her breasts, soaking up the heat of his body. She could make three fitted coats from the fabric that had so recently framed his broad shoulders.
Over the past several days she had thrown herself into the preparations for this service and the party—she refused to call it a wake—that wo
uld follow. At no time had she been left alone. Though they’d stayed in touch with the fruitless investigation, one of Rob’s best friends had accompanied her while she delivered Rob’s dress uniform to the funeral home, selected music and readings, gave input into the obituary she’d penned and stopped just short of following her to the bathroom to see if she needed their assistance to wipe her ass.
They were driving her insane.
Mason nudged the base of her spine with a discreet pat. “Go ahead, doll. Do you need me to escort you?”
She blinked to clear the haze from her mind. The police commissioner now stood at the edge of the jagged hole in the ground, sparing her a glance drenched with pity. In his outstretched hand rested Rob’s badge, hat and service revolver. The sea of miserable faces focused in her direction goaded her forward, fortifying her determination to stay strong. She picked her way across the soggy ground to collect the personal effects presented with honor.
The eleven baby steps seemed like a marathon but, though her legs wobbled, they held. Lacey pivoted, then appraised the two men whose suffering mirrored her own. The support and worry in their glassy eyes, offset by the twin lines of their clenched jaws, spurred her to make the return journey to their sides without delay.
When the ceremony concluded, strangers pressed against her on all sides as they encroached on the open grave. They either wanted to offer their genuine sympathy or to gawk at the morbid spectacle, maybe both. Misery threatened to drown her. She couldn’t bear to witness Rob’s sweet girlfriend, Gina, weep through another silk handkerchief or observe the droves of people he’d touched say goodbye. Even the open arms of Tyler’s mom couldn’t entice her to linger. Instead, she snagged a flower out of the elaborate spray at her feet, clutched it to her heart beneath Mason’s coat, then turned to her brother’s best friends.