Love Under Two Detectives by Cara Covington (good books to read for women txt) 📗

a black belt in karate—but he was fighting like a madman, which, I suppose, he was. What saved me was that award—” She nodded toward the mantle. “It’s metal and a bit heavy, and I was able to reach it off the end table and smash the son of a bitch on the head with it.” She left out the part about doing it while his hands were around her neck, choking the life out of her.

Then she realized her right hand had gone up to her neck and was rubbing it.

“Fuck it all to hell.”

“Son of a fucking bitch.”

Mary blinked, and the next thing she knew she was being held in Anthony’s arms, with Toby pressed close to her on the sofa, bracing her back. Both men were trembling, and she could swear she actually felt the rage burning in them both.

“Where is that bastard now?” Anthony’s tone, low and deadly, sent a shiver through her.

“Locked away in Upstate New York.” She didn’t want to talk anymore. She just wanted to soak in this…this comfort. This knowing that these men had been brought to fury on her behalf.

No one had offered her this sort of…solace. The cops had come, and one of them, Detective Michaels, had felt guilty as hell. He’d told her so, and he’d apologized that they hadn’t taken her complaints more seriously. But still.

How could I have known I would need this?

Anthony eased his hold, and Toby turned her into his arms. She laid her head on his chest and felt Anthony’s hand stroking her back. She felt comforted and cherished and safe.

“Aunt Samantha and Grandma Kate know. They told me on Sunday that they knew. They wanted me to tell Adam, and I was going to on Monday, I really was…but then…”

“You really didn’t want to in the first place, and then you got distracted by the curve balls life threw us at the meeting. Why were you reluctant to confide in Adam?” Anthony used a finger to lift her chin so she could see his eyes. “You have to know he’s nothing like those asshole cops in New York.”

Mary hadn’t been able to answer that with any clarity, even to herself. But now, surrounded by the strength and integrity of these men, with her New York blinders removed, she knew the answer. And damned if feral memory hadn’t reared its ugly head by pulling out garbage from the bygone days when women were chattel and men used their own feminine emotions to control them. “Because, at the core, I feel as if everything that happened was my fault. If I hadn’t pestered the cops with questions and, yes, made a few observations about current cases that might have brought about ‘aha’ moments and closure, they’d maybe have taken me more seriously when I reported the guy. And if I hadn’t written the damn books in the first place, then Northcliff would never have fixated on me!”

They stared at her, those two studly and imminently logical men—and their expressions changed slightly. Tenderness. Understanding. Compassion. They didn’t berate her for saying something that really was stupid, let alone feeling it. They just moved in closer so that she was more securely surrounded by them.

“My cousins Ian and Ken each have a sister, but I’ve never had one. The only female I grew up knowing well was my mom.” Toby placed a kiss on her forehead. “Nothing upset me more than when my mom was upset. So over the years, she would explain the female mind-set to me.” He chuckled. “I still recall, all these years later, when I asked her why she felt guilty for something that was not her fault, the opening lines of her explanation.”

Safe within the arms of both men, she looked up at Toby. “What were they?”

Toby nodded. “To quote my mother verbatim, ‘In the year 325, a bunch of bull-headed men got together in a place called Nicaea to set down the laws of the newly forming Christian Church and to answer that burning question of the day—were women human or beasts? From that time to this, men have been manipulating women, and our inheritance from those times is an abundance of guilt that’s really not our own but that we can’t seem to let go.’” Toby gave her a grin. “She did say she wasn’t one hundred percent certain if that story was true or not, but she said it felt right.”

“Your mother is very wise,” Mary said. “And yeah, I know logically that what came out of my mouth a few moments ago is stupid, but…”

“Not stupid. Never that. You voiced your feelings, and those, cupcake, are always real and valid.” Anthony kissed the top of her head. “So, this Northcliffe bastard is behind bars?”

Mary nodded. “He’s in a mental health facility. The prosecutor told me he wouldn’t be getting out for a very long time. That he has to meet certain ‘benchmarks’ of recovery to be eligible for release.” Mary sighed. “He also told me he doubted very much that Northcliff would ever meet those benchmarks.”

“And that’s why you looked so guilty tonight,” Toby said. “Because there was something you hadn’t told Adam about, and that was weighing on you. You don’t actually believe that Northcliffe is our stalker.”

“No, I don’t. Does that leave you as the winner of this little competition?” Mary asked.

Anthony didn’t wait for an answer. “Start talking, partner. And don’t leave out any of the details.”

* * * *

This was actually the first time Toby had ever been inside Lusty’s sheriff’s office. While Adam brewed some coffee, Toby had a look around. He walked down the short corridor that led to the jail cell, bathroom, kitchen—and a room that was filled with a computer server and some other equipment that he didn’t immediately recognize. It sure as hell looked high tech, and it was in a room that had clearly been designed for it—complete with a plate-glass window.

“I’ll tell you about that a