Cavanaugh's Bodyguard. Marie Ferrarella
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had an ego the size of Pittsburgh.
“Well, ‘Detective,’” the lieutenant said curtly, giving her a withering glance, “you and your sleepy-looking partner can get off your butts and do some honest police work and catch this son of a bitch before he louses up my record for cleared cases!” Howard snapped.
With that, the lieutenant turned on the heel of his Italian leather, three-hundred-dollar shoes, and marched back into his office, confident that he had made a dramatic impact on not just the two detectives but the rest of the squad room as well.
Josh glanced over toward Bridget and saw the way her hand closed over the stapler on her desk—like she was debating hurling it.
He put his hand over hers, keeping the stapler where it was. “Not worth it, partner,” he murmured.
She took a deep breath and nodded, doing her best to ignore the momentary warm feeling that zipped through her and then vanished the second Josh removed his hand from hers.
Chapter 2
“His record,” Bridget bit off angrily, struggling not to raise her voice loud enough for the retreating lieutenant to hear her. “That jerk couldn’t clear a case if it was lying on the floor and he had a broom in his hands. We’re the ones who clear cases,” she declared hotly, referring not just to herself and Josh, but to the other detectives who were in their division as well. They were the ones who did all the work, not Howard. He turned up at the press conferences to grab the recognition, but he was never there for the hard work.
“Don’t work yourself up,” Josh advised mildly. “Like I said, it’s not worth it. And, while you’re at it,” he continued, leaning in so that his voice was even lower than it was a moment ago, “don’t raise your voice.”
She glared at Josh. How could he remain so calm around that preening peacock? “It isn’t raised,” she insisted.
“No,” he agreed. Her eyes narrowed into blue slits of suppressed fire that he found arousing. “But it will be,” he pointed out. “And this headache is still killing me.”
Bridget looked over her shoulder toward Howard’s office and at the man inside the glass enclosure. He was watching them. It just made her temper rise to a dangerous level.
“Speaking of killing …”
On his feet, Josh came up behind his partner and placed both hands on her back. With a gentle push, he guided her toward the doorway. “Let’s go, Cavelli, before I suddenly find myself having to break in a brand-new partner. You know how much I’d hate that.”
Forcing herself to calm down, Bridget spared Josh an amused glance as she doubled back to get her jacket. He really did look out for her, and she appreciated it. He was a hell of a lot more thoughtful than some of the guys she’d dated.
Too bad circumstances weren’t different, she mused as she deposited something into her pocket before slipping on her light gray jacket.
“Breaking in a new partner,” she echoed. “Who are you kidding?” she asked. “Nobody would be able to put up with you and your quirks for more than a week.”
“And I’d find myself missing that unabashed, ever-flowing flattery of yours,” Josh cracked as he led the way to the elevator. “By the way …” He turned toward her. “Exactly where are we supposed to be going?”
She’d stuffed the details of this year’s first murder into her jacket and pulled it out now as they waited for the elevator to arrive. Pointing to the pertinent addresses, she held the sheet up for her partner to see.
“We can either go to the scene of the crime or go to break the news to the victim’s boyfriend. Take your pick.” Folding the sheets again, she slipped them back into her pocket. “I’m guessing that the ME hasn’t had a chance to do the autopsy yet, otherwise, that would be my first pick.”
Josh made his choice. As he saw it, it was the lesser of two evils. “Scene of the crime,” he said as they stepped into the elevator. After a beat, he made a confession, which was rare for him. “I absolutely hate breaking that kind of news to people. They’re never the same after that.”
Bridget laughed shortly. “Haven’t found anyone yet who didn’t mind it, never mind enjoyed it.” She clearly remembered each time she’d had to go to a loved one to break the tragic news. The experience never became routine. Her heart hurt every time. “Okay, scene of the crime it is.” She leaned forward and pressed for the ground floor. “You realize that putting it off doesn’t make telling the boyfriend any easier.”
He knew that, but he was hoping for another option. “And nobody else caught this case?” he asked just before the doors opened again on the ground floor.
Bridget made an elaborate show of searching the small aluminum-walled enclosure. “You see anyone else here?”
“Nope,” he answered, resigning himself to the fact that they were working the gruesome case solo as they got off. “But that’s only because you’re so dynamic you make everyone else fade into the background.”
Bridget stopped just short of the rear doors that exited out onto the parking lot. Turning, she looked at Josh quizzically. “What’s with you this morning?” she asked.
Wide shoulders rose and fell in a noncommittal shrug. Since she wasn’t going through the doors, he did. And then he held them open for her.
“Nothing,” he responded dismissively.
Bridget slipped through the doors quickly. She wasn’t about to give up that easily.
“Yes, there is,” she insisted. They were on the same wavelength, she and Josh. Something was off. She could feel her protective side being roused. “Now spill it. Your latest main squeeze hounding you for a commitment?” she guessed, deliberately keeping her voice upbeat and light. The idea of her partner committing to a single woman was as far-fetched as Prince Charming actually turning out to be a skilled day laborer. And, if she were being utterly honest with herself, she rather liked it that way.
Why should that matter? she silently upbraided herself. The guy’s your partner, not your lover, remember?
It annoyed her that the word “lover” had even popped into her head in reference to Josh. What was with her lately?
Josh paused, gazing out on the parking lot. He wasn’t looking for his car—he knew where that was—he was looking for his patience, which seemed to be in short supply this morning.
“No, not her,” he finally said.
Bridget heard things in his voice that he was leaving unsaid.
Not for long, she thought.
“Then who is?” she asked. Josh merely frowned in response and went down the cement steps, heading toward the vehicle they were using for the day. Bridget followed quickly.
But, getting into the passenger seat, she paused for a second and offered to switch places with him. Whether hungover, coming down with something or disturbed, he wasn’t himself today.
“You want me to drive?” she asked.
“Nope.” Josh buckled up. “I’m not ready to die today,” he told her.
Bridget was quiet for a moment, trying to get to the bottom of what was eating at him. And then it hit her. Belatedly, she finally buckled up.
“It’s your mother, isn’t it?” she guessed just as he turned the key in the ignition. The car came to life and he slowly backed out of his space.
“It’s my mother what?” he asked shortly, straightening out the wheel and then heading out onto the main thoroughfare.
She ignored the shortness of Josh’s response. “It’s your mother who’s hounding you to make a commitment, isn’t it?”
Damn