Cavanaugh or Death by Marie Ferrarella Read Free Book Online Page B

her enough about Gilroy the man, other than that he was an only child—and that was something she’d uncovered on her own. Most of all, she wanted to know how far she could trust him, and if he had her back.
    â€œYou want to drive?” she asked him as they got into the elevator.
    He looked at her before answering.
    She was beginning to think that carefully analyzing the person he was talking to was a thing with him and that he never spoke just off the cuff.
    â€œYou don’t?” he asked her after a beat.
    Moira shrugged. “I don’t care one way or the other. Why?”
    â€œI just figured that, as primary, you’d want to be in control.”
    His reasoning was just a tad flawed. Odd as it might have seemed, that gave her a little bit of hope again. She wasn’t after perfect when it came to a partner, she was after sharp.
    â€œDriving a car doesn’t make me in control. Staying in control of the situation makes me in control,” she told him matter-of-factly. “That doesn’t include insisting on playing a glorified taxi driver.”
    Her response had him regarding her thoughtfully for another long moment before conceding, “Okay, I’ll drive.”
    She had a hunch that he preferred it that way. Score, Cavanaugh side.
    Contrary to the ending in Casablanca , Moira thought, this did not have the earmarks of the beginning of a long, beautiful friendship.
    But she would give it her best shot—at least for now. She was a firm believer in working with the present. That way, if all went well, the future would take care of itself.

Chapter 5
    â€œI ’m assuming that you want to use your car,” Davis said, waiting for her to point the vehicle out in the parking lot.
    â€œWhy would you assume that?” Moira asked. “We’ll use yours. After all, you’re used to the way your car handles and you’re the one who’s driving.”
    Davis had to admit her reasoning made sense. “Logical.”
    â€œYou sound surprised,” she noted.
    He raised and lowered his shoulders in a vague, disinterested shrug. “Maybe I am,” Davis allowed, leading the way to his vehicle.
    â€œOkay, partner,” she said, getting into his car, “our first stop is going to be the cemetery.”
    Gilroy had just turned the key in the ignition, but the car remained in Park. “Don’t call me that,” he retorted angrily. “You are not my partner.”
    â€œDon’t be shy, Gilroy,” she said to him. “Tell me what you really think.”
    His flash of temper had taken even him by surprise. He worked now to get it under control. “I think you should call me by my name or just detective.”
    Moira stared at the man in the driver’s seat, wondering just what the hell had happened here. “But not ‘partner.’”
    One look at his face and she could see that there was no way to penetrate the barrier he’d just thrown up. “Not partner,” he echoed.
    And they said women were difficult to deal with, Moira thought sarcastically.
    But she’d gone out of her way to ask for him. Rescinding her request so early into the game was out of the question. She was stuck—at least for the next forty-seven and a half hours.
    â€œMind if I ask why?” she asked.
    â€œYes—” he bit the word off “—I do mind.”
    Okay, there was just so much patience she had available. This was going to get resolved—one way or another.
    â€œWell, too bad,” she retorted. “I’m primary and if you’re going to bite my head off, I’m going to need to know why.”
    What he wanted to say was that it was none of her business—but maybe, in a way, it was. So he grudgingly dispensed a few words. “Because I refuse to have anyone else on my conscience.”
    Moira shook her head. “Still need more of an explanation than that,” she informed him.