Cavanaugh’s Woman Read Free

family. His door was always open and his table was always available.
    Reese paused. They were standing right in front of the chief’s door. Sobering somewhat, he glanced at his taller, handsomer partner.
    “You sure you didn’t do anything that would get us called out on the carpet?”
    Shaw’s eyes met his. There was barely a hint of amusement in them as he said, “Other than have you for a partner, no.”
    Never one to hesitate, Shaw knocked on the door once, then opened it. He didn’t bother waiting for an invitation.
    Shaw was fortunate that the man wasn’t in the middle of talking, or else he might have been in danger of swallowing his tongue.
    Or, at the very least, gagging on it.
    His uncle Brian was not alone.
    Rather than sitting at his desk, surrounded by piles of papers, Brian Cavanaugh, considered more than passingly handsome and a great deal younger-looking than his fifty years of age, stood on the far side of his desk, talking to a striking-looking blonde, who sat opposite him.
    Even as Shaw took in the scene, the blonde turned and looked directly at him with the greenest pair of eyes he’d ever seen.
    The second before he collected himself, Shaw felt as if a four-hundred-pound linebacker had just jumped on his chest before grabbing the game-winning football away from him.
    The woman wore a light blue, two-piece suit. Powder-blue, he thought it was called by people, such as his sisters, who had more than six colors within their mental repertoire. Whatever the color was called, it appeared that most of the material had been used up making the jacket because there was precious little left over for the skirt.
    Not that he would have registered a complaint with anyone. The less skirt there was, the more leg was visible. And he had to admit that the woman had the longest, shapeliest legs he’d ever seen.
    Belatedly, Shaw realized that his saliva had completely disappeared. Which made up for the fact, he supposed, that Reese stood beside him, almost visibly drooling.
    A vague feeling buzzed around in his slightly disoriented brain that he recognized the woman from somewhere, although for the life of him, Shaw couldn’t have said where. He supposed if it mattered, his uncle would fill him in. If it didn’t matter, he didn’t need to be wasting time trying to remember.
    Like a five-star general who finally saw the key members of his army come into view, Brian Cavanaugh clapped his hands together.
    “And here they are now,” the chief said, although it was obvious that while he said “they,” he was looking at only one of them. He was looking at Shaw.
    Shaw nodded a respectful greeting toward his uncle, then let his eyes move back toward the woman.
    Was this a personal case his uncle wanted to be handled discreetly?
    It didn’t seem very likely, but stranger things had turned out to be true. Since he and Reese were assigned to Vice and Narcotics, he wondered just what this woman’s connection was to the shady world that he was sometimes required to travel through. The mistress of an up-and-coming drug lord, ready to turn state’s evidence in exchange for immunity and a new identity?
    Or was there a more personal connection?
    He stopped speculating and decided to wait out his uncle, who was smiling wider than ever.
    Shaw then became aware that his venerable partner, the man he relied on to guard his back and be the other set of eyes to sharply watch the mean streets, had stopped breathing. Reese had sucked in one long breath and then nothing.
    Shaw turned to look at him and saw that Reese’s brown eyes were all but riveted to the blonde. Turning his back ever so slightly toward her, Shaw lowered both his head and his voice as he asked, “Reese, you okay?”
    All Reese could manage was a slightly wooden nod. His eyes never left the woman’s face.
    Shaw heard his uncle clear his throat and realized the man was doing it to hide a laugh. Brian was laid-back, but ordinarily all business during working