Buried Passion: M/M Mpreg Alpha Male Romance (Never Too Late Book 1) Read online

  Ryan winced. "Yikes." His family hadn't been in the States then. No one he knew all that well, except for a foster family he’d stayed with for a whole two weeks once, had been in the States then. He knew the busing crisis only from history books, and what he knew wasn't pretty. "Were they working at any of the sites?"

  "Yeah. I think most of the guys worked at least one shift. None of them lived in Southie, though. My dad's family lived in West Roxbury and my mom's family were all in Brookline." His strong hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. "We could go and talk to them about the case, I guess. They're bound to remember when Townsend was killed."

  "Sounds like a plan." Ryan let the subject drop. He could see how tightly clenched his partner's jaw was getting. He'd already been on the receiving end of that temper; he didn't want to feel it again and have to call around for a ride. He'd been willing enough to deflect the conversation away from his own background, but he didn't want Nick to feel uncomfortable either.

  He sat back and watched the trees pass by. Some of them still had their leaves, brilliant color against a gray sky. November wasn't a favorite month. Come to think of it, he wasn't a big fan of the holiday season in general. "You have big plans for Thanksgiving?" he asked instead.

  "I don't know about big plans." Nick seemed to relax by degrees. "We'll probably go to my parents' house in Brighton. It's what we usually do. You?"

  "I'll come up with something." He usually wound up picking up an overtime shift or working a detail, so a guy who had a family didn't have to. He always figured that he'd rather earn the money while he could. Maybe he'd focus on the case instead, if they hadn't solved it by then. "You know what gets me?"

  "What?"

  "What's up with that little powder magazine type place, anyway?" Ryan turned his head to look at his companion and immediately regretted it. Nick looked too good in profile, like some kind of sculpture. Remember that he doesn't want you here.

  Nick chuckled. "So you know why the City of Boston celebrates Evacuation Day, right?"

  "Because they didn't want to admit that they were giving into pressure from the Irish residents of the town to celebrate St. Patrick's Day?" Ryan leaned against the passenger door.

  "No. Cute, but no. The British evacuated Boston that day back during the Revolution, and the Patriots chased them out from a fort on that hill. They kept a fort on Dorchester Heights for a good, long time. There's just a monument there now, but it was fortified at one point. There are probably plenty of hidey-holes all over the place down there. I mean, you want to be able to keep your munitions safe and secure, right?"

  Ryan nodded, stroking his chin. "Especially if you're a rebel. You don't know if you're going to be found out, or if your neighbors are on the side of the occupiers." He put his hand down again. "People from outside the area would never know that the powder magazines were there."

  "Local people would almost have to." Nick set his mouth into a grim line. "I mean, it doesn't nail anyone down as a suspect, but it does kind of move people up in the pecking order. I mean, we've got an outside agitator from Maine on that list, but he'd never know about those little pockets."

  Ryan shook his head. "No. No, he wouldn't." He slouched down a little. "That hole's been inaccessible for forty years, right?"

  "Your point?"

  "We need to find out how long it was accessible before that, and who knew about it." He drummed his fingers on his own thigh. "We don't have a primary crime scene. We have to retrace the steps that brought Maureen from wherever she had been into that space. She knew the person who did it."

  "We don't know that for sure." Nick rested his arm on the center console. "We can't know that for sure."

  "They left her clothes intact. Sexual killers don't do that. If they'd re-dressed her, there would be signs. The shirt would have been put on wrong, or the shoes would have. Everything was normal insofar as we can tell after forty years of rot." Ryan gritted his teeth. "The biggest clue is the flowers though."

  "The flowers. You don't think regular killers don't get remorseful and leave flowers? They're weird, Ryan. They do weird things after they bludgeon people to death." Nick sighed. "I'm not saying that you're wrong, I'm saying that we don't have enough evidence to say you're right or to follow that line of reasoning yet. You understand what I'm saying?"

  Ryan swallowed his frustration and restrained himself to a glare. "An outside killer wouldn't have brought two bouquets, and he would have taken a trophy."

  "Not always."

  "Usually, in my experience." Ryan faced forward. "I'll make a bet with you."

  Nick scoffed. "We're professionals, Ryan. We don't gamble on cases."

  Ryan rolled his eyes. "Twenty bucks says that it was someone very close to her, from the neighborhood, who lived within a one-block radius of Maureen. Male, religious, at least at the time of the murder."

  Nick barked out a laugh. "Where are you even getting the religious part of your guess, oh great prognosticator? There's absolutely no evidence to suggest a religious element to this crime."

  "Placement of the arms on the body is reminiscent of females in religious artwork used in instructional material." Ryan allowed himself a smug smile. "Saw something similar in a case I worked three years ago, out in Leominster." He cracked his knuckles. "I'm going to buy myself a nice, big turkey dinner with that twenty, Nick."

  "The hell you are. There's no religious component there. It's just the only way that they could cram her arms onto that shelf without drawing attention." Nick slouched a little in his seat, and Ryan let his grin get a little wider when Nick's cheeks colored up. "Shut up."

  The rest of the ride into South Boston passed in silence, but the quiet was a lot less tense than it had been when they set out. Ryan could finally ponder what exactly it was about Nick that he found so attractive. Sure, he smelled good. He smelled amazing, that anise scent woke up parts of Ryan's brain that he'd thought were long since asleep.

  He was handsome, and he was smart. None of those things should have Ryan looking for reasons to overlook Nick's stubborn refusal to take him seriously as an investigator or to accept him as a full partner on this job. It wasn't just that he made Ryan want him. Ryan got horny all the time; it was part and parcel of being an omega, and he just accepted it and moved on with his life.

  No, it was the way desire just flared up whenever Nick entered the room that pissed Ryan off so much. He didn't believe in that kind of instantaneous pairing. The idea that two people, an alpha and an omega, could just be meant for one another by an accident of genetics seemed absurd. Sure, there was chemistry, but chemistry shouldn't have Ryan fighting off the urge to bare his neck and get down on his knees.

  He'd had that kind of love once, a long time ago. It had been different with Dan, though. Dan had been loving, curious, and accepting. Dan had been gentle, too. It would have taken a lot to rile his placid temper, even though he was an alpha.

  Dan was gone, though, long since dead. Nick couldn't compare to him, except in the whole vitality department. So why did Ryan have to keep looking away from him?

  Maybe Ryan just needed to get laid. Maybe that would help tear his brain away from a hostile and distinctly uninterested partner.

  ***

  Nick followed Ryan up the hill, trying to keep a minimum safe distance from his temporary partner. Staying a few feet back mitigated the effect of Ryan's alluring sandalwood scent, but it gave Nick a premium view of Ryan's incredible ass. He had to hope that this case could somehow resolve itself soon, that maybe the killer would turn himself in and save them all the trouble, because this was just getting ridiculous.

  Two uniformed officers, both local, let them down and into the crime scene. Nick would have just acknowledged them and moved on, but that wasn't enough for Ryan. Ryan, as it turned out, knew one of the unis. "Holy crap!" he exclaimed, clapping the guy on the shoulder. "Jimmy Fan! How's it going, man?"

  Officer Fan's grin lit up the gray, unpleasant day. "Wow. Ryan Tran. The
y gave you a badge? For real?" He chortled. "That's awesome. You're working on this case, too?"

  "Yeah." Ryan fumbled in his pocket for a business card, which meant that Nick's attention was drawn to his hips. That was the absolute last thing that Nick wanted, but he couldn't look away. "I usually work in Abused Persons, but I'm on a special assignment." He passed the card to his friend. "Hey, give me a call sometime and we'll get together, okay? It's been a long time; it'd be good to reconnect."

  "Hell yeah!" Fan smirked. "I'm dying to hear how you found your way into a uniform, bro."

  Ryan shook Fan's hand and then descended the wooden ladder into the trench that the utility workers had dug when they'd found the body. Nick hesitated. He half expected Ryan to slip on the slick wood, and maybe fall into the damp mud below, but he clambered down without a problem and stepped to the side to wait for Nick.

  Nick climbed down without a problem. "I can imagine what the guys from the cable company were feeling when they got here," he said, looking around. "It must have seemed like opening a portal to another world." He slipped a nitrile glove onto one hand and ran it along the ancient wooden doorframe. "This timber is old."

  Ryan's narrow eyes traced the outlines of the doorway. "They'll probably want to get archaeologists in here, once we've cleared the scene." He stuck his hands into his pockets. "This scene's been thoroughly processed, right?"

  Nick cleared his throat and stepped into the little chamber that had functioned as Maureen O'Neal's tomb. "Yeah. They went over this place with a fine-toothed comb. Followed procedure to do it, too."

  Nick could practically hear Ryan's eyes rolling. "I'm sure they did." He followed Nick into the chamber. "Wow, this place is grim." He walked over to the shelf that had held Maureen's body. "Okay. You can see right here where they laid her out. No surprises there." He glanced around. "We really need more details here."

  "You're welcome to start poking around for them." Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry. I'm being a dick again. They put her on the shelf instead of leaving her on the ground. Why?"

  "Respect, in a very weird and kind of creepy way." Ryan ran a hand along the shelf. "This place was used to stash munitions and gunpowder, right? Well, you have to keep that stuff dry." He gestured to the bricked-over space. "They lined the space, sure, but in a wet year they'd still risk water coming up through the ground. The shelf is here because the people who built it wanted to keep their stuff out of the water."

  "The people who put Maureen here wanted to keep her body from getting bothered by the water?" Nick sighed. "I want to say that's absurd." Down here, in the mostly-airless chamber, Ryan's scent was almost choking. "I've seen some stranger things, though."

  "That tells me that she was known to her killer. Or killers." Ryan turned to face him. "Strangers only do that kind of weird attachment thing to their victims if they're serial killers." He scratched at his neck. "I mean, there's a lot of ground to cover here, and we could certainly get some ground penetrating radar in here to kind of rule that out, but I'm having a lot of trouble believing that there would be that many kids from the time period in question whose families didn't report them missing, who fit similar characteristics."

  Nick opened his mouth to argue, but he knew that Ryan was right. Serial killers did usually choose from within the same range of characteristics, and there was no indication that anyone else had disappeared at the same time. "A serial would probably have taken trophies, too." He sighed and turned to the cramped wall. "At least the place is well maintained, right? All this time and it's never fallen in?"

  "Seems like a stroke of luck. The plywood they used to cover the door looks newer, though." Ryan gestured to the sheet of plywood that had been stood to the side. "How much of a pain would it have been to get the body in here?"

  "It would have been a huge hassle." Nick looked around. "I'm not saying that they couldn't have killed her in here, but…"

  Ryan shook his head. "Not enough room. If there were two different assailants, there's not enough room for them both to get in swings that would be enough for a killing blow."

  Nick narrowed his eyes. "Why are you so insistent that there have to be two assailants?"

  "Two weapons found at the scene." He jerked his head toward the entrance. "I kind of want to see what's in the area, you know?"

  "Overpriced row housing, mostly." Nick led the way back up the ladder. "The high school, of course, but you knew that."

  "As a matter of fact I did." Ryan smirked as he emerged from the trench. "We should check the property records against all of the witnesses and all of the suspects, see if there's anyone right next to the monument who matches up to the list. How far from the Kildare Tap Room are we?"

  "Crap, I don't know." Nick put up his umbrella as the rain got more intense. "If I remember correctly, they closed down. Why?"

  "Just thought it might be interesting to see if there might be some correlation between the sites." Ryan gave Nick a speculative glance. "You up for grabbing a quick bite to eat? It's lunch time, and I'm kind of ravenous."

  "We just crawled out of a secret tomb and you're thinking of food?" Nick wrinkled his nose at Ryan. "Sure, fine, whatever. There's a sports bar right up here."

  Nick drove them over to the sports bar, because he didn't feel like soaking his dress pants up to the knee. It took them a few minutes to find parking, but it was worth it. They got a seat right away and got their orders in. Nick was determined not to think about the case during dinner, in the hopes that his hackles would lower about the way the investigation was being conducted, but apparently Ryan had something else in mind.

  "What stands out to you about this intersection, Nick?" Ryan pulled out his phone and checked it.

  Nick shrugged. "It could use better drainage." He glanced out the window. "What's on your mind, Ryan? Just spit it out."

  "Check out the business right across the street." Ryan didn't point, or jerk his thumb. He just glanced over at the business in question.

  "O’Neal & Sons, Plumbers." Nick bit his lip. "Well I'll be damned."

  "Their daughter was buried not four blocks away." Ryan shook his head. "It's a damn shame." He drummed his fingertips on the table for a moment. "Are you going to lose your mind if I do a quick search?"

  Nick clenched his jaw. "I don't lose my mind; I just want things done the right way. I don't think that's too much to ask."

  Ryan shrugged and started typing. "I don't think that the two are mutually incompatible. We're following up on a lead. It doesn't have to mean that we have preconceived notions; we're just getting a more fixed idea of the crime scene in our minds."

  Nick glared, but Ryan just sat back and looked innocent. "Fine." Nick looked up to see the waiter approaching. "Do what you want."

  Ryan held out his phone. "Turns out we're already at the Kildare." He smiled at the waiter and grabbed a fry from his plate as it was set down in front of him.

  Nick took the phone. According to the screen, the Kildare had indeed stood right where the pair dined now. "That's… that's actually a pretty good deduction." He passed the phone back and took a bite of his chicken sandwich.

  "I don't think it's a coincidence that it's so close to where she was buried, or where her boyfriend was found." Ryan glanced out the window again and grabbed another fry. Nick tried not to pay attention to the way his mouth looked as he ate.

  "It's not like Southie's a huge place, Ryan." Nick sipped from his water glass. "No matter what, she would always have been close to her family's business." He took another bite of his sandwich and made a point of not looking at his companion.

  Ryan smirked. "It's certainly worth looking back through those files to figure out who had a beef with the couple. I mean, it's possible that they were both randomly killed at the same time, but it's not likely."

  "No." Nick hated admitting even that. They needed to look at all of the evidence before they jumped to conclusions, but that would be too much of a coincidence for anyone to believe. "No, i
t's not likely. Let's head back out to headquarters and see who we can find that might have had an issue with the two lovebirds." He looked down at his plate. "So that local cop. You knew him?"

  "Who, Jimmy?" Ryan paused. He put down his French fry. "Yeah, I knew him. I mean, I knew him years ago. We were in the same foster home for a hot minute. Six months or something. He was a nice kid. Why?"

  Nick frowned. He didn't know a lot of foster kids who became cops. "And you both decided to get a badge?"

  "Apparently." Ryan turned his attention to his own sandwich. "Why?"

  "It just seems weird." Nick shifted in his seat. "I mean, what are the odds that two foster brothers would both decide to go into this line of work, right?"

  Ryan's face stilled, and he straightened up in his seat. His whole demeanor chilled over. "It's not like we stayed in touch after we moved on. I have no idea what his thought process was. You'd probably have to talk to him about it. Is foster care an issue for you?"