Brothers in Blue: Marc Read online

  The daughter, Cathy, seem a bit flustered and her husband, John, sat at the kitchen table, looking worn out. Leah could imagine taking care of a parent with dementia was not easy at all. In fact, it was probably a full-time job.

  When Leah came back into the kitchen, Marc was leaning back against the counter, his ankles crossed, with both palms anchored on the edge of the countertop. Leah let her gaze roam over him, from his severe military haircut, to his sharp crystal-blue eyes, down his torso to his hips, then to junction of his thighs where—

  Marc cleared his throat loudly, bringing Leah’s up eyes to meet his. He frowned. She could hear his voice in her head scolding her for the impromptu going-over. He was so fucking hot, though. Especially in his blues. Their gazes held only for a searing moment before he returned his attention back to Mrs. Monaghan.

  “I had my purse on the table by the door because I was about to head out for lunch with my girlfriends.”

  “No, Mother, you weren’t going anywhere,” her son-in-law said, his voice and demeanor tired.

  “Yes, we get together once a week,” Mrs. Monaghan insisted. “I had my purse ready to go so I wouldn’t forget it.”

  “Mother, your purse was in your room. Cathy found it in there.”

  “Maybe Cathy stole it then.”

  “Mom, I didn’t steal your purse,” Cathy said, exasperated. “No one stole it. You left it in your room.”

  Mrs. Monaghan waved a frail, age-spotted hand in the air. “Well, anyway, I’m glad you found it, Matt.”

  “Marc,” he corrected her.

  “Marc, yes. You haven’t stopped by in a while for tea.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Sorry about that.”

  “How are we going to keep this relationship afloat if you’re always too busy to spend time with me?”

  “I’ll try to do better in the future, Mrs. Monaghan.”

  The older woman waved her hand again. “Now, Matt, we know each other better than that. Call me Maggie.”

  “Of course, Maggie. Well, now that the case had been solved, we need to get on our way.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to rush off. Cathy will make you some tea. Won’t you, Cathy?”

  “Mom, the officers need to get back to work.”

  “Nonsense.” Maggie finally turned her attention to Leah, as if noticing her for the first time. “So who’s this?”

  “Maggie, this is one of our new officers. This is Leah Grant. She might come to visit you too, sometimes.”

  “Are you cheating on me?”

  “Oh no, Ma’am,” Marc said with serious conviction.

  Leah moved forward and offered her hand. Maggie looked at it with disgust and made a sour face. “Are you trying to steal the love of my life? Are you a floozy?”

  “Mother!” Cathy and John exclaimed at the same time.

  “Well, she’s trying to steal Matt. I see how she’s looking at him.”

  “No, Ma’am,” Leah said. “I’m not trying to steal him. We just work together.”

  Maggie harrumphed. “Harlot.”

  Leah might be a lot of things, but harlot wasn’t one of them. Marc appeared amused. Cathy and her husband, however, looked mortified. Again, Leah felt for them. It couldn’t be easy.

  Leah decided that the best course of action was just to take herself out of the picture so Mrs. Monaghan wasn’t bothered by her presence. “I’ll go wait by the car,” Leah told Marc. “It was nice meeting you all.”

  And before Marc could stop her, she strode through the house and outside. Not even a minute later, Marc came out to join her.

  “I told you.”

  “It was to be expected.” Leah said. “Those two probably need to hire help.”

  “Yeah, I’m surprised their marriage has lasted so far.”

  Leah agreed. “It has to be hard on a relationship.”

  “They sometimes drop her off at the adult day care—the place where Greg goes—for a break, but they can’t afford to send her there on a daily basis.”

  Leah nodded and looked back at the house. She hoped her own mother never had to suffer through Alzheimer’s or any kind of dementia.

  “I’m sure it’s financially and emotionally debilitating,” she murmured.

  Marc stepped in front of her to get her attention and she glanced up at him. His unnerving eyes pierced her soul. “Leah, you can’t be looking at me like that and expect this plan to work. I’m a man, not a robot.”

  Before Leah could answer, the radio squawked again. “County Dispatch to Manning Grove six.”

  Marc reached up to his shoulder to hit the mic on his portable radio. “Manning Grove six, go ahead.”

  “Manning Grove six, received a call for a cat in a tree. Caller is Mrs. Johnson. Do you need the address?”

  Even dispatch knew the regulars. Marc moved around the car to the passenger side. “That’s a negative, Dispatch. We’re en route.”

  Marc regarded Leah over the hood of the car. “It’s going to be one of those days. I hope you like pussies.” He unhooked his portable radio from his duty belt and climbed into the passenger seat. “I know I do,” he mumbled as he slammed his door shut.

  She shouldn’t laugh when he was so crude. But she couldn’t help it.

  Chapter 11

  “Four more weeks,” Marc whispered as they moved into the living room, where a long table was set up.

  She shivered at his low, sexy voice in her ear. She had to admit the weeks had been slow and torturous. They had avoided touching each other, even accidently. One misjudge of movement causing a brush of fingers, or skin to skin contact, would make them both want to rip off their clothes to get down and dirty.

  Thirty calendar days to go before she was off coach-pupil.

  The rest of the Bryson family wandered in like a mob of hungry cowboys that had just heard the dinner bell. It wasn’t just the Brysons included in Mary Ann’s Mother’s Day dinner, Teddy had also been invited.

  “Do we have assigned seating, Momma Bryson?” the hairdresser asked in a falsetto voice. “’Cause if not, I want to be sandwiched in between the boys. Oh, what a fantasy! We should alternate anyway. Boy, girl, boy, girl,” he said as he pointed at the empty seats. “And, of course, I can be a girl, if needed, to even things out.”

  “I wanna be a girl!” Greg shouted.

  Marc snickered. “Greg, you’re the man of the house. You can’t be a girl.”

  “Yep. I’s the man,” Amanda’s brother answered.

  Amanda settled Greg in the seat to the right of Mary Ann, who sat at the head of the table while Pop Bryson sat at the other end. Amanda sat to Greg’s right. Max settled to his wife’s right, which left Teddy, Marc, and Leah. Teddy plopped into the empty seat next to the matriarch of the family and Marc pulled out the seat next to him for Leah. Then he took the remaining seat between his flirt of a father and her.

  Once they all were settled the dishes began to circle the table. Plates filled up quickly, salt and pepper were passed, and mouths chewed contently. As stomachs began to fill, the shoveling of food slowed enough for some conversation.

  “I appreciate you girls cooking. All of it tastes like heaven,” Mary Ann announced. An echo of agreements went around the table. “The only thing missing from this wonderful meal is my little boy.”

  A collective male groan rose up from the table. Leah could hear the unsaid, “Here we go…”

  “Matt’s hardly a little boy, Ma,” Marc told her, stabbing at his dwindling pile of sliced ham.

  Ma Bryson sniffed loudly. She wasn’t crying, it was clearly for dramatic effect. Leah knew she didn’t like the men in the house poo-pooing her feelings. “He’ll always be my little boy.”

  “That’s probably why he stays in that hell hole. Stop treating him like a baby.”

  “Marc!” Max barked. “It’s Mother’s Day. Knock it off.”

  Marc rolled his eyes at his brother, then frowned at his plate.

  “So, he’d rather be over there than with his loving
family?” Mary Ann asked. The touch of sadness in her voice made Leah’s heart ache for her. She knew the woman missed her youngest son immensely. She talked about him constantly. Yes, it drove her other sons crazy, but tough shit to them.

  “Please, let’s not get started with this again, honey,” Ron said to his wife. “Can we just enjoy the great meal the girls put together?”

  “Yes, thank you for the grub, baby,” Max said to his wife before leaning over and kissing her on the cheek.

  She gave her husband a wink and a smile. “I just helped Leah. She is a beast in the kitchen.”

  All eyes fell on Leah. “Well…”

  “Look. I’m not bad in the kitchen thanks to all of your lessons, Ma. But Leah’s got mad skills.”

  “Thanks. My grandmother taught me what I know. She was always in the kitchen.”

  Marc said under his breath, “As a good wife should be.” Both Amanda and Leah shot him a searing glare. He held up his palms. “Just kidding! Jeez.”

  Ron looked over his glasses at Marc, his fork paused halfway to his mouth. “Son, if you like your nuts right where they’re at, I’d keep those types of comments to yourself. Especially in mixed company.”

  “Nuts!” Greg crowed.

  Max snorted, trying not to laugh at his brother-in-law. “How does he always pick up the one word you don’t want him to?” Max shook his head before shoveling an overloaded forkful of sweet potato casserole into his mouth.

  Teddy giggled at the other end of the table. “So, Leah, I hear you’re looking for your own place.”

  “I will be. The Brysons have been very generous, but I’ll be wanting my own place once my training is over and I know I’ll be a permanent part of the force.” Leah intentionally didn’t look toward her chief.

  “Sweetie, you can stay here for as long as you want,” Mary Ann assured her.

  Ron reached over his middle son to pat Leah’s hand. “You don’t need to rush. We have plenty of room.”

  “Yeah, no need to make any rush decisions,” Marc added, his brows pinned together as if he didn’t like the idea of her moving out of his parents’ house.

  She wasn’t sure why he’d even care.

  “I can spread the word at the salon if you want,” Teddy offered.

  “That would be great, Teddy. Thank you.”

  Marc made a rude noise but Leah ignored it. “She needs to pass her training and have Max sign off on her first. She shouldn’t think about moving anywhere yet.”

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that,” Max said around a mouthful of food.

  “Yeah,” Marc muttered.

  Max swallowed as he gave his younger brother a harsh look. “I was talking to you.”

  Leah coughed to disguise her laugh.

  “We enjoy having you around, Leah.” Ron gave her a reassuring smile.

  * * *

  Marc was sure he did. Especially when Leah walked around upstairs with just a towel on.

  Sweet baby Jesus, he was jealous of his father.

  But even so, Marc liked having Leah living this close. So accessible. It was nice to be able to come over to his parents and watch her…like the stalker he was turning into. Fuck.

  Four weeks felt like forever right now. The day Max signed off on her training, Marc planned to lock her in his bedroom and not come out for days.

  “So speaking of…” Amanda deepened her voice. “The force...” She chuckled at the Star Wars reference. “How are things going, Leah? Especially with Mr. Chauvinist McPiggie being your FTO?”

  “Piggie!” Greg echoed.

  Marc turned to Leah, waiting for her answer. This should be good since she was being put on the spot.

  A flush rose up from her chest into her neck. She bit her lip.

  “I’m a great FTO.”

  Max laughed loudly and slammed the table with his palm.

  Leah jumped at the noise and avoided Marc’s gaze. “He’s…uh…taught me a lot…so far.”

  “Like how women should be in the kitchen barefoot and pregnant?”

  He wasn’t that bad, was he? “Hey now. I have no problem with women’s rights.”

  “Then you need to respect women on the force. Women can do anything a man can do,” his mother chimed in.

  “Better,” Amanda corrected.

  “Now, baby,” Max said.

  “Oh no. Don’t you now baby me. Or you will be sleeping in the dog house with Chaos.”

  At hearing his name, the border collie, who was asleep at Greg’s feet, thumped his tail under the table.

  “Oh please. That dog sleeps in Greg’s bed. He’s never even seen a dog house.”

  “Try me,” Amanda warned.

  Max lifted his hands up in surrender.

  “Well, anyway, I’m the only FTO you have,” Marc said.

  “For now,” his brother added.

  “You are welcome to pass the torch. However, I still don’t think women should…” His voice drifted off as all eyes turned to him. Well, all except his pop’s, who kept stuffing his face with dessert. “What?”

  “You’ve had the open-mouth-insert-foot syndrome lately. You might need a doctor to look at that,” Teddy said around a fork full of cake.

  Marc took a look around. He mirrored his father and shoved a piece of homemade coconut cake in his mouth, started to chew with exaggeration, then pointed to his full mouth and shrugged.

  “Well, we’ll just wait until you swallow,” his mother said in an extremely pleasant voice.

  Shit.

  He chewed a little longer, buying some time to figure out how to get out of this mess. With a wince, he swallowed the lump of flour and sugar hard, trying not to choke.

  “You want to finish that sentence now?” his mother asked as she pushed her chair back. Her tone had gone from pleasant to intimidating in a heartbeat. With dismay, he watched his mother rise and stalk around the table.

  He was afraid to look behind him, but she was there. Lurking. And when she grabbed his left ear and yanked, he howled as he partially rose out of his seat to relieve the pull on his brain.

  “It’s Mother’s Day. The celebration of how much us women have to deal with when it comes to children as thick-headed as you. And I don’t care how old you are. You are still my child. Drop that fork.”

  Marc instantly opened his fingers, letting the fork clatter to the plate.

  His mother finally released her death grip on his lobe, but not without another tug for good measure. She reached around him to snag his dessert plate.

  “Until you have a better attitude about the capabilities of women—don’t make me describe how I had to push your fat head out of my lady parts—then you don’t deserve a piece of my cake. In fact, I should’ve made your father set up the folding table.”

  “For what?”

  “Because that’s where the children sit.” Mary Ann huffed and handed the remainder of Marc’s cake to his father. Max found something interesting on the floor, but his face had turned red and his shoulders shook.

  Bastard.

  Amanda and Leah stared at each other across the table, their eyes meeting and their faces masks of neutrality. But he knew they were ready to burst out laughing any second.

  His pop finished off the last bite of cake on his plate and moved to finish off Marc’s. He never even looked up. Smart man.

  Greg? Greg had cake and icing stuck in the corner of his mouth, feeding the dogs under the table, not caring about any drama at the table.

  Teddy leaned around Leah to make sure Marc knew he was laughing too.

  He was just owned by his mother.

  “Next subject,” Max announced.

  “You don’t have any family nearby Teddy?” Leah asked the man next to her.

  Marc kicked her calf, a silent signal that her question wasn’t an appropriate switch of topic. Leah shot a frown at him before turning her attention back to Teddy.

  “I got all the family I need right here sitting around this table.
My dream is to marry one of Ron’s handsome boys, but it’s getting narrowed down with Max now being married to my BFF.” His head spun to Max. “Unless you wouldn’t mind me being a sister wife?”

  Max choked, a piece of cake flying out of his mouth, bouncing off Marc’s chest with a splat, and landing in his lap. Suddenly Menace’s head was in between his legs, snagging the cake and almost grabbing other things that weren’t food related.

  “Ew!” Marc yelled, then said to Teddy, “Not ew to you becoming one of Max’s sister wives. I encourage that. But to Max’s spit-covered food shooting my way.”

  Max picked up another piece of cake and whipped it at him across the table. Marc batted it away and it skidded to a landing on his pop’s plate, who proceeded to stab it with his fork and eat it.

  “Ooo, Ron. You the man,” Teddy said, laughing so hard a tear rolled out of the corner of his eye.

  “When will you boys stop acting like children? I swear!” His mother came around the table smacking Max upside the head and then Marc got the same before she stopped next to Ron.

  Marc asked, “Pop?” His old man might as well answer his wife.

  “Never,” Ron answered. And his hand disappeared behind his mother’s backside causing her to squeal and jump.

  “Oh, Ron, leave that for later.” Mary Ann chortled, patting her husband’s arm.

  Ron wiggled his eyebrows and smiled grandly at his sons. Marc was glad to see he wasn’t the only one disturbed by that little exchange. Max wore a horrified expression and his mouth gaped open.

  “Close your mouth before a bug flies in. Do you think your mother and I are dead?”

  “Oh, what the fuck,” Marc groaned. He slammed a hand over his mouth, hoping to avoid gagging.

  “Just stop,” Max pleaded, squeezing his eyes shut. “I need to go bleach my brain.”

  Leah and Amanda’s gazes met and they both laughed out loud.

  “Good for you, Pop,” Amanda said. “Nothing wrong with getting a little sumthin’-sumthin’ from your sexy momma. I just hope Max can still get it up at your age.”

  The legs on Max’s chair squealed against the floor as he shoved it back and stood. “I gotta go”—he took a deep breath—“take a walk or… something.” He threw his napkin on the table and rushed out, not looking back while everyone’s eyes tracked him.