Page 1 of A Very Un-Shakespeare Romance
CHAPTERONE
Slammingthe case file on a bad guy was as good as sex.
Had he really just thought that?Robbie O’Connor filed the paperwork sitting on his messy desk and then picked up his shitty precinct coffee to wash the taste of that sorry realization out of his mouth. Sure, the criminal who was now serving twenty years had hurt his wife and kids like it was his daily right. Robbie lived for getting scumbags like that thrown into the slammer. Work had always been his mission. His source of pride. He loved making a difference in people’s lives.
But had he really gotten to a point where he thought putting someone away was as good as a roll in the sheets with a hot-blooded woman?
Okay, he knew he worked a lot. He’d gotten into the habit of taking on extra cases to help out other cops with families since there was no reason for him to go home. He was patted on the back all the time for it. But this notion? His brothers—all six of them—would likely say he’d become a pathetic excuse for a man. Okay, maybe not Tim. The youngest O’Connor male was the most sensitive one. He’d be more inclined to point out Robbie had become overly cynical since his divorce. Not so far from the truth.
“O’Connor!” his intercom blasted from reception. “The UPS guy needs your pretty signature.”
Shoving out of his creaky office chair, he strolled down the hallway, wondering if his sister Kathleen had sent him something from Ireland. She liked to pop the odd stuffed sheep or eerie leprechaun into the post, but those packages usually came in around birthdays or holidays. It was late August, but maybe she’d sent him aJust Becausepresent. He was her favorite brother, after all—not that his other brothers would agree, the idiots.
They all adored their one and only sister, and God knew she’d put up with a lot having seven older brothers. But she’d turned out okay. In fact, she was the only O’Connor kid who was happily married with a baby on the way. He was smiling at the thought of his first niece or nephew when he reached the man in the brown uniform beside the reception desk. The guy was belly-laughing with Patty Fitzgerald, both men huddled over the latter’s phone.
“Hey, O’Connor!” Patty smacked him on the back. “I was just showing Al here your latest stupid criminal video. I still can’t believe that murderer thought he could erase all the evidence by sticking the body in a vat of vanilla ice cream. I about died laughing when the local reporter quoted the suspect as saying the victim loved having his cherry pie à la mode, so he figured he’d appreciate the gesture of burying him in it.”
Robbie puffed out his chest, taking pride in spreading his sick version of law enforcement cheer. His family, friends, and fellow co-workers all loved it. “It might be a top ten, given the suspect dropped his cell phone in the vat along with the body. Forensics found the sim card and recovered everything from his threatening texts to his murder shopping list at Home Depot. Idiot thought the ice cream would cure all his troubles.”
“A pint of chocolate chip usually cures mine when my old lady gives me fits,” the UPS guy said with a snort. “You O’Connor?”
“Didn’t you hear me call him that?” Patty walked back behind the reception desk. “What? You got lime sherbet in your ears?”
Robbie shot Patty an amused look before pulling out his ID, tucked beside his badge inside the wrinkled tan sports jacket he really needed to get to the dry cleaners. “Don’t mind him, Al. Patty hasn’t had his donut quotient for the morning. Thanks.”
“No problem,” the man answered as Robbie signed for the package.
He immediately noted it wasn’t from Ireland as the UPS man took off. Just a simple Next Day Delivery envelope with an illegible return address in Boston. His instincts revved. He hadn’t been sent anonymous evidence through the mail in a while, but maybe today was the day. The thought excited him more than it probably should. He needed an interesting new case. Something to hold his focus. The run-of-the-mill breaking and entering was like stale bread.
“That from your sweet little sister?” Patty asked, slurping coffee from his carefully guardedI’m Too Sexycup, an outrageous lie his fellow police officers knee-slapped themselves silly laughing over. Patty had the kind of unmemorable face that had made him great for blend-in-anywhere undercover work. Now, with only a few years to go until retirement, he was proud of his weekly donut intake.
“Doesn’t look like it’s from sis.” Robbie casually rested against the desk and snagged an apple crumb donut from Patty’s box. “Maybe I won the lottery. Wait, I just did.”
“Hey! Donut stealing is a serious offense. Don’t make me cuff you.”
“I’m good for it,” he called over his shoulder, moving quickly to his office and then dramatically slamming the door. Only one other officer had ever cuffed him—Patty, back when Robbie had been a hotshot rookie. The older officer had taken it upon himself to give him a lesson in police hierarchy after he’d solved one of Patty’s cases in a day—a case that had been open for six months. So the big lug had cuffed him to one of his cousin’s garbage trucks for revenge.
Robbie had taken the hint to shut up and done his job, letting people come to him if they wanted his help. He’d risen through the ranks faster that way, not that promotion had been his focus. But to this day, he’d never been recreational with handcuffs in the bedroom.
God, here he was again, thinking about sex—or his current dry spell. To be fair, it was of his own choosing. He was turning forty this year, and he was tired. Tired of dating apps that brought strange messages to his inbox, and even more so of the bar hookup scene, including at his brother’s Irish pub, O’Connor’s.
He didn’t want to get married again just for the sake of it, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted kids of his own. They were great and all, but they asked so many questions and needed so many things. He’d practically helped raise seven siblings, being the oldest. He was good with living life as a single man. Or so he was telling himself…
He carefully opened the envelope, checking the interior with the eraser end of a pencil from his desk. It only nudged a half sheet of paper. When he withdrew the note inside, he froze.
Robbie,
I need you to get into a taxi right now and go to the Beacon Hill Gym. My babies are there. You have to pretend to be their father and pick them up. Don’t try and call me. More information will be waiting for you there. Don’t leave this note at your office and don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Make sure you aren’t followed. I haven’t been kidnapped, fyi.
Love,
The one who helped you out of Carson Bay after that lion’s mane jellyfish stung you.
TARA!
Robbie read his first cousin’s cryptic note over again, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to make sense of it. Jesus, she hadn’t even signed it. Just given a detail only he would remember, much more cloak-and-dagger than he was comfortable with. And why the fuck had she thrown in the haven’t-been-kidnapped part? His blood pressure was soaring already.
He looked at the UPS envelope, noting she’d sent the letter yesterday. Yesterday…
