Cuffed & Collared (27 page)

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Authors: Samantha Cayto

Tags: #Erotic Romance

BOOK: Cuffed & Collared
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He could do this.

Ronan ambled up to the uniforms and the other responders, greeting most of them by name. The reaction from the others was telling. Big smiles and hand shaking told him that his partner was well-known and well-liked. He supposed that wasn’t a bad thing. As Ronan stopped to question some of them about details, or maybe just to talk about sports scores, Diego continued on to the victim. Everyone moved away as he approached, giving him his first look at the DB. Male of so far an indeterminate age. A woman leaned over him on her knees. Diego saw blonde hair in a ponytail and a shapely ass.

He walked around the prone figure, taking in the visible details. Shoes barely holding together, grease stained pants that looked like they’d come out of a dumpster topped with a hole-filled T-shirt and grimy hands and arms. All that was immediately overshadowed as he caught sight of the gaping wound from ear to ear. The woman who was examining the corpse sat back on her heels and looked up at him. Diego’s attention was immediately stolen by pale, flawless skin, high cheek bones, and vividly blue eyes.

The woman flashed him a smile. “Hi, I’m Cassidy Barnes, the new M.E.”

The nascent smell of human decay wafted up to him. Despite that little horror, his body was on high alert, the lure of Dr. Barnes’ gaze overwhelming anything else. It took a few seconds before Diego’s mind and tongue started working enough for him to answer her.

“Um, hi,” he said, squatting down on the other side of the corpse. Damn, he was usually smoother than that with women. “I’m Detective Sergeant Diego Nieves. I’m new, too,” he added with a smile that usually resulted in at least a phone number. Not that he was trolling for a date over a dead body, but Holy Mother of God, this woman was too enticing to ignore.

“I’m thinking you’re new to Boston and not just the force. Your accent is subtle, but I’d say New York?”

“Correct.”

“Well, I’m Boston born and bred, just new to the coroner’s office.”

Her accent wasn’t the thick stereotypical one he’d heard from some people in the area. She sounded more cultured, and he’d bet the diamond studs twinkling in her earlobes were genuine. She probably came from a section of Boston that was lined with trees and quiet. Classy and expensive, yet her expression was open and inviting.

Diego wrinkled his nose as he looked down at the body. “I hope this isn’t your first.” ’Cause that would suck. The man hadn’t been in the water apparently as his body was dry and didn’t look bloated. But that was a small mercy. It was an ugly corpse to view.

Cassidy sighed. “Not my first. Although I won’t know for sure until I’ve had a chance to do a thorough autopsy, my initial guess is that this man died from having his throat cut.”

The understatement and its dry delivery caught him off guard. It seemed incongruous with what he saw that she would be capable of cracking a joke while examining gruesome remains. He understood the impetus, of course. Gallows humor helped to keep the horror they dealt with every day at bay. He stifled a laugh as someone walked toward them and stopped at the head of the body. Glancing up, Diego saw Ronan. His partner had ditched his coffee, thank God, and was looking wide eyed not at the DB but at the ME.

“Hi,” Ronan said, squatting down. “I’m Ronan Callaghan, Nieves’ partner.”

Cassidy gave him the same winning smile she’d given to Diego, so maybe she was just friendly with everyone and his shot at getting her to go out was a long one.

“Callaghan, huh? That’s a name I’ve heard before.”

“Oh?” Ronan’s expression became guarded and his tone a little chilly. His body stiffened just a bit, as if he were bracing for a fight. That was odd.

“Yes, I met a Daire Callaghan on my first case.”

Just like that Ronan’s expression and body language changed again. “Oh, yeah, my older brother, emphasis on the
old,
” he said with a charming smile that probably got him not just women’s phone numbers but the women themselves.

Cassidy raised her eyebrows. “Really? He seemed younger than me.”

Before Ronan had a chance to back pedal on his age comment, Diego jumped in. He was pretty sure he was older than Ronan, and while he might not be the doctor’s age, he happened to like more mature women.

“Please excuse my partner, doctor. Given his young age, his frontal lobe just finished growing. He doesn’t appreciate the appeal of maturity.”

Cassidy grinned at the statement. Ronan’s mouth opened for a retort. Figuring they’d wasted enough time, Diego overrode him. “So, the victim?”

Both Cassidy and Ronan shifted their attention to the body.

“Middle-aged male, or close to it, between forty and forty-five, I’d say,” Cassidy began. “He’s been dead for about ten hours, putting T.O.D. at around midnight. Looks like a single stroke of a sharp blade from left to right, so you’re looking for a right-handed killer. I’ll have to do a tox screen, but the lingering smell of alcohol indicates he may have been drunk when killed.”

“I’m told he had no I.D. on him,” Ronan jumped in, his tone all business and his look serious as he gazed at the corpse. “Appears he was a vagrant.”

“That’s certainly what his appearance indicates,” Cassidy concurred.

Diego was about to weigh in on the observation when he focused on the victim’s hands. He got down on his knees to take a closer look, and at the fingers in particular. He held out his own hand without looking up.

“Can I borrow some gloves?”

“Sure.” Cassidy slapped surgical gloves in his open palm.

Sliding them on both hands, he picked up the victim’s and held it up for scrutiny. With rigor already setting, it was hard to lift it too close, so Diego stayed bent down.

“What’s up?” Ronan asked.

“Take a look at his fingernails.” Diego moved to his left to give Ronan room to slide closer. “As dirty as he is, his nails aren’t torn. They look recently groomed, you know like with a nail clipper.”

Ronan dropped to his knees and hunched over the hand. He nodded. “You’re right.” Scooting back, he gestured to the head that was angled back given the gaping hinge across the neck. “Can you please pull back his lips?” he asked Cassidy.

She did so gingerly, and Ronan peered at the teeth revealed. Ronan looked at Diego and gestured with his own head. “Take a look at his teeth.”

Diego braced a hand on the ground and leaned over. While they weren’t the best set of choppers he’d ever seen, the victim appeared to have all of them and they’d been cleaned on a regular basis.

“If this guy was homeless, it was a recent event in his life,” Diego observed.

Ronan nodded his head. “I agree. Interesting. How quickly can you do the autopsy on smiley here?” he asked Cassidy.

She looked back and forth between the two of them, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I’ll put it at the top of my list.”

Ronan shot her a megawatt smile that turned his boyish charm up to an eleven, the bastard. “Thanks. Let me give you my number so you can text me when you have the preliminary results.”

As he watched the exchange of information, Diego reminded himself they were working a case, not a bar, and that his focus needed to be on the victim, not his sudden desire to pound his new partner’s face into the ground.

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Harrison has promised his campaign manager he'll steer clear of the BDSM club until after the election, but when he runs into Fiona at a local cafe and starts fantasizing about taking the prim and proper debutante over his knee, he realizes abstinence is getting to him. Only a mad man would entertain the idea of sexually dominating his competition's vanilla ex-wife. When an old photo reveals she's not so straight-laced, he begins to wonder if it's possible to mix bondage and bureaucracy.

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