Sinner's Gin (26 page)

“Fuck,” Riley swore loudly and threw his hands up. “I should have become a fireman like Brae. He doesn’t get a family reunion on every case he gets called on. Last time, it was Connor. Now, I’ve got to worry about
you
showing up too?”

Kane watched in gentle amusement as his long-legged younger brother stalked off toward one of the cop cars arriving on the scene. Shaking his head, he crouched and inspected the knife lying on the ground. “Blade’s been used a lot. God, I’m hoping this is our murder weapon. The jagged cuts on the edge should be easy to match if it was used on Vega.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” Browne agreed, standing up with a huff. “Shit, listen to me creak. See? This is why I got a younger partner. So I don’t have to do this running shit anymore. Where the hell was he when I needed him? Out knocking on doors and chatting up the ladies.”

“No worries. You got an upgrade. A better Morgan to work with for a bit,” Kane replied. “Junior, huh?”

“Well, not like I can call him Morgan,” The senior inspector scoffed. After laying down a paper ruler strip next to it for scale, he snapped a few pictures of the knife with his phone “Screaming Morgan in a cop house is like yelling for an Oompa Loompa at a chocolate factory. You guys pop up like gophers.”

“That’s pretty much what dinner’s like at our house,” Kane acknowledged. “Like a game of whack-a-mole.”

Riley returned with an unsealed evidence bag and a magic marker. Handing his partner a plastic-wrap sleeve to grab the knife with, he held the bag open for Browne to drop the knife into. After pressing down on the seal, Riley jotted down the time and place they’d secured the knife and held it out to his partner to sign. The senior inspector grunted a thanks at the younger Morgan and headed over to the lab tech scurrying down the alleyway toward their scene.

Like most of the Morgan boys, Riley ran large, with dark-lashed blue eyes and thick black hair. He kept it closely cropped to his skull, something he’d learned made it difficult for suspects to grab at his head after he ran them down. Newly out of uniform and wearing an inspector’s badge, the younger Morgan stood shoulder to shoulder with his older brother, eyeing Kane suspiciously.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were paired up with Browne. He’s a good cop. You’ll learn a lot.” Kane slapped his younger brother on the back. Riley stumbled forward a step, then turned to glare back at his older brother.

“You’d know that if you’d shown up for dinner, asshat,” Riley muttered. “Mom’s about to pop a vein if she doesn’t see you soon.”

“Trust me, her vein’s fine,” Kane grumbled. “She showed up at Miki’s house with roast beef and cabbage rolls. I tried shoving her into her car before I left, but I don’t think it took.”

“Good luck with that. There’s a reason we never had a terrier growing up. Mom didn’t want any competition.” He snorted. “Miki’s that guy you’re seeing? That singer?”

“See? I don’t need to show up for dinner,” he groused playfully. “Everyone knows what’s going on in my life anyway.”

“Connor spilled the beans. Says he’s prettier in person than in pictures, which had Ryan going. She’s going to nail your ass to the wall if you don’t bring him around. It’s either that or she’s going to stalk your front door like some groupie.”

“Not going to do her any good. He likes boys,” Kane said, jabbing his thumb at his chest. “This one in particular.”

Riley jerked his head back toward the street. “So the DB in the restaurant is yours?”

“Yeah, and that asshole with the knife is the guy I think did him.” Exhaling, he puffed out his cheeks and watched the ambulance pull away, disappearing around the building. A second later, the sirens hit, and the wailing sounds pulsed through the neighborhood. “This case is getting shittier by the minute. I’ve got two murders and a stabbing I can put on that guy’s head. The DB’s wife committed suicide… shit, yesterday? Day before? Dude, I don’t know if I’m coming or going at this point. It’s been a bit crazy.”

“I saw Sanchez,” Riley murmured. “He looked like hell. You guys need some sleep.”

“Sleep, I’ve been getting.” Kane shrugged, then grinned foolishly. “Mostly. What we need’s a break. I’m hoping that knife handle’s got a print we can use. I want to find out who this fucker is.”

“Wish you luck with that, man,” his brother said, patting him on the shoulder.

Sighing, he drew out his cell phone and grinned at Riley. “Betcha this is Sanchez ripping me a new asshole for running off without him.”

“Hell, tell him to come over.” Riley bared his teeth at his brother in a playful snarl. “I’ll help.”

Kane ground his teeth when he read Quinn’s message. “Son of a bitch, I told her to go home. Damn it to hell. He must be going insane over there. I’ve got to go find Sanchez.”

“What’s up?” Riley leaned over and read Quinn’s message. “‘Get to the house ASAP. Mom’s stolen Miki and the dog. Not letting him go until shit going down is done with. Think he’s freaking out.’
Well, big brother, looks like a murderer’s the least of your worries now.”

Chapter 16

I walked onto the Delta, hoping to make myself a man,

Cocky as shit, with my guitar in my hand.

Walked past the Crossroads, paid the Devil no mind.

He didn’t reach for me, saying I was already his kind.

—Delta Spawn Blues

A
LL
in all, it wasn’t a bad plan, Miki thought as he looked around the room and calculated what he could move around to block the door to prevent the hordes from descending on him. The studio bungalow attached to the back of the Morgans’ two-car garage could be defended fairly easily. He could wedge something into the rails of the sliding glass door leading to the enclosed backyard, and the door connecting the studio to the main house was his only problem. He imagined the Morgans would have a key, so locking the door was out of the question. The armoire possessed great potential. It was heavy and solid wood, a pretty, swirled grain Miki would have admired if he wasn’t plotting to use it to prevent the next Morgan siege. Moving it would be a bitch, but he was willing to give it a try.

As soon as Dude was finished romping around in the backyard, where he was occasionally woofing his fool head off.

He wasn’t even certain what exactly had happened. One moment he was putting away leftovers, and the next thing he knew, Brigid Morgan descended from whatever mountain mad Irishwomen came from and bullied him into a car, plopping Dude on his lap before screeching off into the night. Another Morgan followed her in, his soulful green gaze an odd change from Kane’s brilliant blue eyes. He carried a duffel bag large enough to smuggle a child in, and Brigid shoved most of Miki’s clean clothes into it, zipping it up like a woman possessed.

The cops outside were no help. They greeted her by name and waved good-bye, starting up their patrol car despite Miki’s protests. The smaller Kane clone with the wrong-colored eyes held the door open for him, giving Miki the illusion that he had a say in the matter, but they both glanced at Brigid climbing into the passenger’s seat of the baby monster truck and exchanged a sigh. There was no choice, and Miki got in, grabbing Dude when he gleefully jumped into the backseat.

When they pulled up to the Morgan house, Miki balked at the driveway. The large, rambling Edwardian-style home facing the park was daunting, spreading out from a corner lot with a cheery yellow paint job and window boxes filled with flowers so bright they shone crimson under the soft glow of the street lights lining the walkways. Over the short drive, he’d been introduced to the Kane knock-off, Quinn, who grinned apologetically at Miki when their eyes met in the rearview mirror.

A whirl of people swarmed from the house, and he yelped, actually making a squeaking noise before slamming back into Quinn’s immovable body. Kane’s younger brother merely put his hands on Miki’s upper arms and held him steady as he was shuffled up the drive and into the house, surrounded by a nest of flaming red hair, freckled skin, and the resigned sighs from the men when they saw Miki’s stunned face.

He couldn’t keep track of names. There were too many of them with nicknames Miki had to remember as well. Quinn introduced him to Kiera, a stunning redhead with a serious demeanor, then called her Kiki when he went in to get some iced tea. Braeden, a brawny Morgan who looked a lot like Quinn, waded in and pulled Miki from the fray, separating him from the youngest, a college freshman named Ryan who was enough like her mother that Miki wondered if Brigid hadn’t just cut off a piece of her flesh to grow her in a Petri dish.

More food was shoved at him and enough iced tea to float his kidneys down to his bladder. Dude discovered Brigid’s three cats and fawned over them, much to one of the older felines’ disgust. A warning shot across the dog’s nose left a wide scratch and a spurt of blood on the kitchen floor, but Brigid took it in stride, edging the cat out with her foot while swiping at Dude’s nose with a wet paper towel.

Miki was horrified, but Brae shrugged it off with a grin and said, “That’s probably the smallest amount of blood that’s ever been shed in this house. Don’t worry about it.”

It seemed like hours before they ended the debate on where to stash Miki, finally settling on the bungalow attachment since it was easier on his knee than climbing up the stairs. All Miki could think about when he saw the apartment was that he could somehow sneak out the door, through the connecting family room, and be out the back door to the garage before anyone was the wiser.

Then Brigid triple-locked the front door after Quinn left, closing the garage behind him, and Miki knew he was doomed, encased in a wooden tomb painted a sunny yellow and filled with a maniacal horde of people who sounded like they’d rip his head off if he tried eating their marshmallow-bit-laden cereal.

At way past midnight, his dog was running around a pool wreathed in chaise lounges and topped off with a waterfall made out of boulders, and Miki still had no idea how he was going to escape.

“Why’d you get in the car?” he scolded himself. “What the hell were you thinking?”

He knew what he was thinking. He’d been caught by the worry trap laid down by Brigid’s wide green eyes and trembling mouth when he told her in no uncertain terms he wasn’t going to stay at the Morgans’ hatching crèche while Kane figured out who was leaving pieces of people at his house.

Brigid’s hint of tears broke him, Miki was sure of it, because the next thing he remembered, he was telling Quinn where to find Dude’s wet dog food cans and wondering if he needed a pair of boots he hadn’t worn since before the accident, just in case they went someplace he couldn’t wear sneakers.

“It’s like she’s a witch,” he muttered. “I swear to fucking God, she’s a witch. She even
looks
like that witch Dorothy met, but without the squeaky voice. Fuck, she’s good.”

He was singing to himself when the knock on the door startled him, catching him in the middle of an old Lead Belly tune. Glancing out at the backyard, Miki wondered if there was someplace he could hide in the trees. As he contemplated how long he could survive on pool water, a familiar voice called out to him.

“Miki, I know you’re in there,” Kane said. “Open up.”

“How do I know it’s you?” Miki eased himself up onto his feet. His knee gave a twinge, but held. “You could be any one of the clones.”

“Because none of the others want to fuck you into a wall,” Kane growled. “Now open the damned door.”

He stepped aside to let Kane in, but his cop dropped the duffel bag he carried and grabbed Miki by the waist to pull him into a hug. After squirming for a moment, Miki gave in to the embrace, hooking his fingers into the loops of Kane’s jeans. Expecting a kiss, Miki frowned when Kane buried his face into the curve of his throat and inhaled the scent of Miki’s skin.

“God, you are enough to make a man weep,” Kane murmured. “You doing okay?”

“No, your family’s fucking crazy.” Miki playfully shoved him away with a light push. “Did you eat something? Your mom told me to ask you.”

“Trust me, babe, after what I’ve seen tonight, food’s the last thing on my mind.” Kane flopped down on the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. He patted the mattress, then raised his eyebrows when Miki shook his head. “What? I showered before I came over. I had to stop at my place to grab some clothes.”

“Your mom—” Miki started to say, but Kane cut him off.

“I didn’t have anything to do with it.” He slid across the bed and grabbed Miki’s waistband, pulling him down onto the bed. “But honestly, I like knowing you’re here where you’re safe.”

Kane was careful with him, easing a hand behind Miki’s knee when he dragged him over the duvet. It felt good to be taken care of, and Miki’s eyes stung a bit as he cuddled into Kane’s side, turning over onto his back so he could stare up at the ceiling. The cop waited until Miki got settled, then hooked his arm around Miki’s shoulders to let his hand lie on his stomach. Kane tangled their fingers together and kissed the top of Miki’s head.

“Dog?” Kane asked softly.

“Outside,” he huffed. “Fucker abandoned me to chase squirrels or something.
After
your mom fed him some leftover steak. I hope he pukes in your shoes.”