Cuff
Me
New York's Finest #3
New York's Finest #3
By: Lauren Layne
Releasing
March 29, 2016
Forever
Forever
Vincent knows he's not the most
charming of the Moretti brothers. He prefers brooding to flirting, reading to
talking, and he sure as hell isn't about to give into his mother's insistence
that he 'settle down with a nice girl.' Luckily, Vincent's gig as one of the
NYPD's top homicide detectives keeps him busy. As does his long-time partner,
Jill Henley–a tough-as-nails cop with the face of an angel and smart mouth that
makes Vincent crazy in all the worst ways.
After six years of working the
homicide beat with the tight-lipped Vincent Moretti, Jill figure she knows him
better than anyone. Which is not at all. But when their most recent case points
to a potential serial-killer situation, the higher-ups send them on a rare
undercover mission to a place no NYPD officer dares go: the Upper Eastside.
Now the bureau's most antagonistic
set of partners is posing as Mr. and Mrs. Brooks of Park Avenue. Spending 24/7
in the suspect's territory brings them closer and closer to their killer . . .
and closer to each other. Soon Vincent and Jill are playing good cop/bad cop in
and out of bed, and Jill's falling hard. But can she convince Vincent to give
her a shot as partner in life, as well as at the bureau?
"There’s
something wrong with a man that grins like that at a crime scene.”
Detective
Vincent Moretti glanced up from where he’d been studying the gunshot wound of
the vic and glared at the officer who’d been shadowing him for the past three
months.
“I wasn’t
grinning.”
Detective
Tyler Dansen never paused in scribbling in the black notebook he carried
everywhere. “You were definitely grinning.”
“Nope.”
Dansen
glanced up. “Fine. Maybe not grinning. But I’m one hundred percent sure I saw
you smile.”
“How about
you be one hundred percent sure about who shot this guy instead?” Vincent said
irritably.
Dansen
returned his attention to his damn notebook, but he didn’t look particularly
chagrined by Vin’s reprimand.
Oh, what
Vin wouldn’t give to go back to those early days when all he’d had to do was
look at Dansen, and the kid practically dropped into a deferential bow.
Three
months of spending every workday in each other’s company had the newly minted
detective acting nearly as impudent as Vincent’s actual partner.
Nearly
being an important distinction, because Vincent didn’t think they made ’em
sassier, more stubborn, or more annoying than Detective Jill Henley.
And he
would know. They’d been partners for six long years, and their pairing up as
partners was proof of God’s sense of humor.
Jill Henley
was Vincent’s opposite in every way.
Jill was
chipper, charming, and smiley.
Vincent
was... none of those things.
Especially
not the last one. Although, if he was being really honest with himself, Dansen
may have been right about Vincent cracking a smile earlier.
It’s not
that Vin was immune to death. There was absolutely nothing humorous about a man
lying cold in his own blood and guts, dead from a gunshot wound to the stomach.
But after
six years as a homicide DT for the NYPD, one learned to compartmentalize. To
let the brain occasionally go somewhere else other than death even as you were
staring straight at it.
It was the
only way to survive. Otherwise it was nothing but puking and nightmares.
And
speaking of puking...
Vincent
stood and gave Detective Dansen a once-over.
“If you’re
gonna barf, do it outside,” he said, just to needle the younger man.
Dansen
threw his arms up in exasperation. “That was one time. One time! And I hear it
happens to everyone on their first day.”
“Didn’t
happen to me.”
“That’s
because you’re a machine,” Dansen muttered under his breath.
Vincent
didn’t respond to this. It was nothing he hadn’t heard before. Robot. Machine.
Automaton.
He just
didn’t know what people expected him to do about it.
In the
movies, there was always some reason for the semi-mechanical, unfeeling action
hero.
Either a
dead wife, an abusive past, or some other sort of jacked-up emotional history.
But Vincent had always sort of figured he’d been born this way. Quiet.
Reserved. Broody.
It’s not
that he didn’t feel. Of course he did. He just didn’t feel out loud. He wasn’t
sure that he really knew how to, and wasn’t sure he wanted to learn.
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Lauren Layne is the USA Today Bestselling author of more
than a dozen contemporary romance novels.
Prior to becoming an author, Lauren worked in e-commerce and
web-marketing. A year after moving from Seattle to NYC to pursue a writing
career, she had a fabulous agent and multiple New York publishing deals.
Lauren currently lives in Manhattan
with her husband and plus-sized Pomeranian. When not writing, you'll likely
find her running (rarely), reading (sometimes), or at happy hour (often).
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