Cavanaugh's Bodyguard. Marie Ferrarella

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      They were assaulted with questions, innuendos and their share of jealous remarks on a regular basis. They were no longer judged on their own merits but on the fact that they were all part of what was considered by others to be the “royal family” of the police department.

      Now that she actually thought about it, it seemed as if there was at least one Cavanaugh in almost every branch of the department. Despite the fact that it was completely without a basis, nepotism and favoritism were words that were constantly being bandied about when it came to talk about their jobs and she for one was sick of it.

      She’d gotten here by her own merit long before she’d ever been made aware of her surprising connection to the Cavanaughs.

      It was enough to make a woman bitter, Bridget thought, eternally grateful that she at least had a large, thriving optimistic streak coupled with healthy dose of self-esteem—now.

      “‘Detective’ will do fine,” Bridget informed the lieutenant with a deliberate, wide smile that might have been called flirtatious under somewhat different circumstances.

      Josh wasn’t fooled. He knew she’d flashed the smile on purpose, to throw Howard off and confuse him. If he didn’t miss his guess, his partner would have rather eaten dirt than be even remotely coupled with the new lieutenant and the fact that Howard was married had nothing to do with it. He’d only been on the job for a day before it became apparent that Jack Howard 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?” СКАЧАТЬ