Cuffed & Collared (18 page)

There was silence for two seconds. Then both men said, “Oh,” and went back to what they’d been doing.

Regan blew out a breath in frustration. “That’s all you have to say? Don’t you find my relationship a little weird?”

“Not really,” Ronan said. “The idea of your going all medieval on some guy’s ass makes perfect sense to me.”

“Yeah, Regan, you’re a scary woman,” Finn chimed in, then flashed her a smile. “And I mean that in the nicest sense of the word.”

“What I’d miss?” Daire asked as he came back.

Oh, great. Now she’d get an earful from this cousin and maybe that was a good thing. The other two were being way too casual about her announcement.

“Regan likes to tie up and beat on her new boyfriend,” Ronan supplied unhelpfully.

“It’s not exactly like that,” she protested. Except it was exactly like that when all was said and done. “And, he’s not my boyfriend.” Except he kind of was. Christ, bringing it up had been a mistake.

Daire stared at her unblinkingly for a few seconds. “He likes this too, I assume?”

“Of course, or I wouldn’t do it.”

Daire shrugged. “To each their own, I guess.”

“Yeah, Regan, what’s the problem?” Finn asked. “Are you afraid that what you do isn’t normal or that people will judge you badly for it?”

“Both of those things,” she admitted.

Ronan snorted. “Fuck what other people think. As long as it’s consensual, that’s all that matters. Look at me. I go to bed every night with a woman and another man. Not exactly Leave it to Beaver.”

“Didn’t you meet Cassidy’s parents recently?” Regan asked.

Ronan heaved a sigh. “Yeah, and it didn’t go very well. I’m not sure what freaks them out more, the fact that their daughter lives with two men or the fact that one of those men is Irish and the other is Puerto Rican. I bet if we were both old Yankee WASPs, they’d adjust better.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She was, too. Ronan was so obviously happy, just like Finn, and Diego and Cassidy were both great people.

“We’re spending Thanksgiving with Diego’s family down in New York. Wish us luck on that one. He’s explained everything over the phone to his mother, and he says she’s trying to understand, but…” He shook his head.

“Lots of people are still freaked out over gay couples, let alone two men raising a gay teen,” Finn pointed out.

Regan blew a raspberry. “That’s just stupid.”

“I agree. I’m just saying not everyone sees it that way yet, and maybe never will. Cut yourself some slack, Regan. You’ve been alone for a long time. If this guy makes you happy, what difference does it make how you get your rocks off?”

Such wise words from such a young man. She smiled in appreciation and nodded. Talking about her sex life with three men who meant the world to her had helped. She was there to work, though, so she turned her attention to the scraps of paper with dates and dollar amounts on them, bribes maybe, with locations and the occasional name. She picked up one and looked at the name, B. Smith, then grabbed the picture she’d seen earlier.

“This guy.” She shook the picture at her cousins. “He looks familiar. And this name, B. Smith. Wasn’t there a guy about your father’s age named Brendan Smith who committed suicide a couple of years ago?”

Daire snatched at the picture and studied it. “Yeah, there was. This guy is much younger, but then the picture is at least twenty years old given their clothes and the car in the frame. I think it’s him.”

“There was something about a corruptions charge, wasn’t there?” Ronan chimed in. “He hung himself before it went anywhere, though.”

“That’s right.” Regan’s memory flashed on a man hanging from his shower rod with a belt around his neck. “I caught that case. ME said suicide, but there was some bruising on his arms and the tox screen said he was drunk. It always sat wrong with me. There was pressure to close it down, keep the stain away from the force, I guess. Fuller said to wrap up the case. ME said suicide, so that was that.”

She raised an eyebrow at Daire. “I wonder how many of these old pictures can be matched to cops from your father’s era.”

Pushing back in his chair, Daire said, “We need to see these faces more clearly. I’ll get a magnifying glass.”

Regan got up to refill her glass. She paused on her way to the kitchen and turned back to her younger cousins. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate your helping me feel like I’m not a freak.”

They both grinned back at her. The unconditional love and support clearly written on their faces gave her hope and courage.

Chapter Ten

It was almost midnight before Daire finally shooed his brothers and Regan out of the house. It had been a good night’s work. They’d identified a few other cops, although none of them was actively working in Boston, being either dead or just gone from the area. Not surprisingly, her father was up, the soft glow of his television showing around his window blinds and the sound coming through his doorway into the hall they shared. On impulse, she let herself in.

Her father turned his head to look at her as soon as she walked in. “Regan, my girl, the hours you keep.” He shook his head in mild disapproval and went back to watching his show.

“Like father, like daughter,” she retorted in a teasing tone. She went over to an easy chair next to him and sat on the fat and worn arm.

“I’m retired. I can stay up all night if I want.” His eyes stayed glued to the screen.

“I was referring to when you used to get home as an active duty cop, Pops.”

“Pissed your mother off no end,” he admitted. “It’s the job.”

“It is that.” She didn’t get into the fact that part of her extended absences over the last few days had nothing to do with the job and everything to do with the exquisite pleasure she found in Kyle’s bed. She didn’t mention the work she’d done at Daire’s, either. The Callaghan murders infuriated her father, and there was nothing new to report anyway.

Rubbing a tired hand over a more tired face, she added, “I’ve got three corpses and no leads.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that, honey.” Her father muted the television and turned his wheelchair slightly toward her so he could look at her without twisting his neck. “Driving yourself into the ground won’t help you find him, you know.”

“Her,” she corrected. “And I know. It’s just that I hate doing nothing, waiting for her to strike again in order to gather more evidence. I want to find her now.” Regan pounded the back of the chair in frustration.

“You need a good shot of whisky and some sleep,” her father advised. “A husband and some kids to come home to wouldn’t hurt, either. Gives a person perspective to have a family. Something to focus on instead of the damn job all the time.”

Regan chuckled ruefully at the suggestion. “Oh, Pops, what guy would have a woman like me?”

“Like you, what?”

“Domineering with a demanding job as a lover.” Kyle flashed through her mind, but she banished the idea quickly. Kyle liked the sex with her. It was novel and satisfied a part of him he was only now aware of. Playing with a Domme was one thing, but he would never want to live with one, especially one from the working class.

“Your mother put up with me, didn’t she?” was her father’s reply.

Regan slid down until she was slumped in the big chair. “That was different, Pops. Mom was a traditional woman who was content to stay at home and let her man earn the money and make the rules.”

Her father didn’t respond right away. His gaze slid back to the TV, and he shifted around in his chair in his limited fashion. “Well, now,” he finally said, “you’re about half right.”

Regan furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

“Your mom did like to stay home and care for you and the house. She had her clubs and charities, too. She knew I could earn my keep. At least I did until the injury,” he added with a small amount of bitterness. “As for the rest, though.” He shrugged.

Leaning forward, Regan prompted. “As for the rest, what?”

Her father looked her in the eye once more. “I wouldn’t have thought it was something we should talk about. After all, what happens between a married couple is private even from their children. But I hear something in what you’re saying about yourself that makes me think you need to know you’re not so unusual and destined to remain single.”

He took in and let out a deep breath. “Your mother was not such a traditional woman when it came to submitting to me. You heard me plenty of times refer to her as the boss.”

“A joke,” she replied.

“The truth disguised as a joke,” he corrected. “Your mother was the boss of me. We learned early in our relationship that taking charge was natural to her as taking orders was for me. You know I never got beyond the level of patrolman.”

Regan looked away. “You got hurt.”

“I did, but I had been a cop plenty long enough to buck for detective and sergeant. Look at you, how far you’ve come in less time than I was on active duty. The truth is, I was never going to get promoted because I never wanted to be. I liked the freedom that came from following orders and not having the responsibility of making sure those orders were right. It was no different in my personal life. I handed my paycheck over to your mother and let her make all the decisions.”

Regan was silent for long minutes while she digested the news. To a large degree, she wasn’t surprised by what her father said. She had known in her heart her father wasn’t an ambitious man. But learning that her mother had been the one in actual charge of their marriage and their lives was stunning. Her parents had done a great job of hiding it, and perhaps that was because her mother had ruled with subtle confidence instead of heavy-handed dictatorship. It was similar to what Cleo had said about sexual dominants. One had a duty to wield such power carefully. And, speaking of sex, an unsettling thought about her parents flashed through her mind before she could stop it. No, she wouldn’t go there.

“So, you see, honey,” he father continued, yanking her from her thoughts. “I don’t want you thinking that, just because you’re a strong woman, there’s no man out there for you. You have to find one that’s suited to your personality. One that appreciates your strength and is even grateful for it.”

Regan smiled at her father and, standing up, went to give him a peck on his cheek. “Thanks, Pops. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Regan.”

Leaving her father’s place, Regan dragged herself upstairs and got ready for bed. Thoughts of what her father had revealed about her parents’ marriage swam around her exhausted brain. If her father had been telling the truth, and she had no reason to believe he had made it up to make her feel better, then she was simply carrying on her family tradition.

She wasn’t certain the knowledge helped. She was still concerned that her behavior with Kyle was unacceptable and should end. Still, it alleviated some of her concern that her cousins and her father supported the way she was and didn’t think it was weird or deviant or any of the other bad things she kept worrying about.

Putting the thoughts aside, she let her exhaustion take over. She still had a killer to catch, and if she didn’t do it soon, another man was going to die.

****

Kyle shifted in the waiting room chair, not trying to find a more comfortable position but trying to feel the last vestiges of the beating Regan had given him. Perversely, he missed the pain and hoped Regan would be free tonight to see him. When he stopped to consider it, his view of himself in relation to women had turned upside down in barely a week’s time. Given he was already thirty-five, it seemed impossible that he’d been so obtuse about his own needs and desires. He’d wasted so much time chasing after the wrong type of woman and the wrong type of pleasure. No more.

It was all because of Regan, of course. He didn’t merely adore her. He worshipped her. Although he didn’t consider himself a romantic, he couldn’t deny that love had caught him by the short hairs. It might not quite constitute love at first sight, but it was close enough.

Of course, he didn’t think she felt the same way about him. He was sure he pleased her sexually. Her cool demeanor left him mystified if she felt as strongly for him, though, on an emotional level. He was pretty sure he was more comfortable in his new role than she was in hers.
More comfortable.
Not entirely.

A man couldn’t change a lifetime of behavior and viewpoint without a few doubts, especially given how outside the box his new-found sexuality was. The question on his mind this morning was whether loving Regan was a sickness or a cure. He supposed he was about to find out.

“Mr. Ramsey, Dr. Molvado will see you now.”

Kyle looked up at the receptionist and gave her a tight smile as he stood. She was exactly the way he pictured her over the phone, mousy. He found it hard to believe she wanted to work for a sex therapist. Then again, she looked at him with a certain awkward coyness, so he supposed she might find more than a few dates. That was assuming, of course, that she liked kink. Looking at her prim clothes and blandness, he found that hard to believe. On the other hand, few looking at him would believe that he would volunteer for a beating and like it.

The door to the inner office opened before he reached it, and standing there was an entirely different sort of woman. His cock took an instant interest before remembering it belonged to Regan and going back to rest. Stylish, sleek, and exuding palpable power, Dr. Molvado was the kind of woman he had no trouble picturing in leather. She smiled at him and extended a hand.

“Mr. Ramsey? Please come in.” She shook his hand, a brisk, professional touch, before releasing him again. He followed her into her office and sat on the couch she motioned toward. She took the opposite seat. “I understand from Mindy that you’re going through a crisis.”

Kyle hooked his ankle over the opposite knee and tried to get comfortable. When he made the call, his goal was to ferret out the possible killer of Jazz and the other men. Now that he was face-to-face with the doctor, he still thought she was a good candidate, but he was unsure of how to proceed. He supposed the best thing was to do the obvious and talk about himself.