Long Time Coming Read online

  Their blossoming relationship is complicated by secrets. And the only way to evade the killer threatening their lives is to bare their souls in the darkest hours of the night. Or everything will come crashing down, just before the dawn.

  Warning: After reading this book you’ll never look at a pair of hot cops, a cemetery or a can of Spaghetti-O’s the same way again.

  *

  Schwullllmp.

  Lacey could guarantee that the eerie sound of the first shovelful of dirt landing on the polished surface of her brother’s coffin would reverberate through her nightmares for eternity. The skittering of pebbles adding one more barrier between her and her last blood relative caused her to flinch. A warm, gloved hand reached out to bracket her elbow. Tyler. She didn’t have to turn around to recognize his steady, comforting touch. He and Mason stood resolute behind her in their dress uniforms like her own personal honor guard.

  Her spine straightened. She drew her shoulders back and lifted her chin against the agony she struggled to hold at bay. Rob would be proud of her stoic bearing. Though, in all honesty, she couldn’t cry. She hadn’t shed one single tear since she’d received the news of his ultimate sacrifice. Whoever he’d died to protect, she prayed they were safe. She had to believe his loss held some value.

  With dry eyes, she scanned the monstrous crowd. Rows of black clad mourners, so deep she couldn’t make out the end, ringed the gravesite beside her parents’ under the oak tree in the city’s oldest cemetery. The preacher’s speech—designed to comfort—couldn’t penetrate the gloom in her heart, which complemented the dreary, overcast day. In her mind, she heard Rob’s laugh, then replayed the petty argument they’d had over dirty dishes last Wednesday, before remembering his daily warning.

  “Stay safe.” It was the last thing he’d ever said to her. He’d whispered the standard entreaty in her ear as he captured her in a bear hug before she’d headed off to work Friday evening. In her mind’s eye, it seemed he held her tighter—for a moment longer—than usual, but she recognized the wishful thinking.

  If only he’d listened to his own advice.

  She shivered against the October breeze as crispy leaves wandered past the pointed tips of her black leather boots. A few moments later, Mason’s jacket enveloped her. Lacey tugged the lapels over her breasts, soaking up the heat of his body. She could make three fitted coats from the fabric that had so recently framed his broad shoulders.

  Over the past several days she had thrown herself into the preparations for this service and the party—she refused to call it a wake—that would follow. At no time had she been left alone. Though they’d stayed in touch with the fruitless investigation, one of Rob’s best friends had accompanied her while she delivered Rob’s dress uniform to the funeral home, selected music and readings, gave input into the obituary she’d penned and stopped just short of following her to the bathroom to see if she needed their assistance to wipe her ass.

  They were driving her insane.

  Mason nudged the base of her spine with a discreet pat. “Go ahead, doll. Do you need me to escort you?”

  She blinked to clear the haze from her mind. The police commissioner now stood at the edge of the jagged hole in the ground, sparing her a glance drenched with pity. In his outstretched hand rested Rob’s badge, hat and service revolver. The sea of miserable faces focused in her direction goaded her forward, fortifying her determination to stay strong. She picked her way across the soggy ground to collect the personal effects presented with honor.

  The eleven baby steps seemed like a marathon but, though her legs wobbled, they held. Lacey pivoted, then appraised the two men whose suffering mirrored her own. The support and worry in their glassy eyes, offset by the twin lines of their clenched jaws, spurred her to make the return journey to their sides without delay.

  When the ceremony concluded, strangers pressed against her on all sides as they encroached on the open grave. They either wanted to offer their genuine sympathy or to gawk at the morbid spectacle, maybe both. Misery threatened to drown her. She couldn’t bear to witness Rob’s sweet girlfriend, Gina, weep through another silk handkerchief or observe the droves of people he’d touched say goodbye. Even the open arms of Tyler’s mom couldn’t entice her to linger. Instead, she snagged a flower out of the elaborate spray at her feet, clutched it to her heart beneath Mason’s coat, then turned to her brother’s best friends.

  “Get me out of here.” The plea had barely crossed her lips before Ty sheltered her under his massive arm and Mason took point, clearing a path.

  While he navigated a course around the headstones, she focused on tactical things. Things like how many place settings they’d need, the logistics of heating up the food generous neighbors and strangers alike had donated for Rob’s farewell party, and the ripple of Tyler’s six-pack against her ribs as he ushered her to Mason’s waiting truck.

  Only when they sandwiched her between them on the bench seat, isolating her from the morose gathering, did she surrender a tiny sigh. Mason turned over the big block engine with jerky motions of his stiff limbs as Tyler enfolded her hand in his, chafing it to infuse some semblance of warmth into the frigid digits.

  “Take me home, please.”

  About The Author

  Jayne Rylon is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. She received the 2011 Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Indie Erotic Romance. Her stories used to begin as daydreams in seemingly endless business meetings, but now she is a full time author, who employs the skills she learned from her straight-laced corporate existence in the business of writing. She lives in Ohio with two cats and her husband, the infamous Mr. Rylon. When she can escape her purple office, she loves to travel the world, avoid speeding tickets in her beloved Sky, and–of course–read.

  Jayne loves to chat with fans. You can find her at the following places when she’s procrastinating:

  Twitter:

  @JayneRylon

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  www.facebook.com/jayne.rylon

  Website:

  www.jaynerylon.com

  Newsletter:

  www.jaynerylon.com/newsletter

  Email:

  [email protected]

  Other Books By Jayne Rylon

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  HOT RODS

  King Cobra

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  Rebel on the Run

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  Barracuda’s Heart

  Touch of Amber

  Long Time Coming

  MEN IN BLUE

  Night is Darkest

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  PARANORMAL DOUBLE PACK

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  PICK YOUR PLEASURES

  Pick Your Pleasure

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Where There’s Smoke

  AUDIOBOOKS

  Barracuda’s Heart

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  Hammer it Home

  Kate’s Crew

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  Morgan’s Surprise

  Mustang Sally

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  Nice and Naughty

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