Cavanaugh's Bodyguard

His eternal dream. That was almost poetic, she thought.

Bridget eyed her partner, amazed—and amused. Every time that she was about to write him off as being shallow, there’d be this glimmer of sensitivity that would just pull her back in.

She supposed that was one of the reasons women always flocked to him. That, a small waist and a rock-solid body that showed off his active gym membership.

“My God, Youngblood, I’m impressed,” she told him after a beat. “I had no idea that you were so sensitive.”

Josh stared at her for a long moment. And then his smile, the one she’d dubbed his “bad boy” smile, which could melt the heart of a statue, curved the corners of his mouth. “There’re lot of things about me that you don’t know.”

Now he was just trying to jockey for leverage and mess with her mind, Bridget thought. There was just one little flaw with his allegation.

“I grew up with four brothers.” She loved all of them dearly, but at times, when she’d been growing up, the verbal fights had been brutal. “They’d more than held their own, but I really doubt that there’s very much about a living, breathing male that I can’t second-guess,” she told Josh with a smile.

Before Josh could say anything in response, their acting lieutenant, Jack Howard, came out of his office, saw them and immediately came over. Howard, a rather self-centered man who enjoyed hearing the sound of his own voice, had been the one to hand Bridget the case this morning once he saw that she and Youngblood had worked on it a year ago.

He looked from Bridget to Josh. “You two solve the case yet?” he asked in what appeared to be genuine seriousness.

Bridget knew better than to think he was kidding when he asked the question, but she played along, uncertain where this was going. She had a gut feeling that wherever it was, neither she nor Josh were going to like it. There was something very pompous about the man. Added to that, she had a feeling that he resented the fact that she was related to the police department’s well-respected hierarchy.

“No, sir, not yet,” she answered, allowing her voice to be neither submissive nor combative. She merely gave him the respect that his position was due. It had nothing to do with the man.

She and Josh had originally heard about the case two years ago, after the second body had been discovered. None of the clues at the time had led the investigating detectives anywhere substantial. Four bodies had turned up and then the killer seemed to just vanish into thin air.

Until last February when he surfaced again.

This time, the case became theirs and the killer wound up leaving five women in his wake, five women who were all left in the same pose as this latest one. Hands neatly folded below where their hearts should have been. All in all, it made for a very gruesome picture.

“Then why are you just sitting around?” Howard demanded, his voice no longer friendly. He turned on Bridget. “Just because you suddenly found out that your uncle’s the chief of detectives doesn’t give you any extra points in my book or cut you any extra slack. Do you understand Cavelli—Cavanaugh?” Flummoxed, he glared at her. “What the hell do you want me to call you?” Howard demanded.

Bridget squared her shoulders like a soldier who had found herself under fire and was making the best of it. She didn’t like Howard, and his harping on her recent situation just underscored her negative feelings for the man.

God, would this tempest in a teapot never be resolved? It was bad enough that Josh had teased her about it. But he at least didn’t seem jealous of this brand-new status she found herself struggling with, a status she’d never sought out or wanted in the first place.

But here it was, anyway.

Ever since the five-decades-old mix-up in the hospital had come to light, uncovering the fact that her father and some other infant male had accidentally been switched at birth and that her father—and so, consequently affecting all the rest of them—was not Sean Cavelli but Sean Cavanaugh, brother to both the former police chief and the current chief of detectives of the Aurora Police Department, she and her siblings had had no peace.

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.