Dead to the World (Cold Case Psychic Book 10) Page 2

  Clemente had somehow been made aware of his psychic gifts. Tennyson still hadn’t gotten to the bottom of who had ratted him out. It had to have been Tony, Carlie, or Faulkner. The rationale had been that they assumed Tennyson knew what was going on with Tony thanks to his gift, so he’d been brought in as a witness to his confession to the FBI detailing his gun running for the Dragonni crime family. The only problem was that Tennyson’s gift hadn’t given him any idea that Tony had survived the gunshot wound.

  After the confession, Tony was being whisked away into the Witness Protection Program until it was time for him to testify in Dragonni’s federal trial. The only people who would know he was alive until he walked into that courtroom would be Carlie, Faulkner, Clemente, and Tennyson.

  There was the rub. Clemente had promised to see Tennyson prosecuted and thrown in jail if he breathed a word of this to Ronan. The best Ten could do was get a promise from the FBI agent that he would be safe if the psychics at West Side Magick found out. After all, there was nothing he could do if Carson or Cole accidentally read it from his brain. So far that hadn’t happened, but Tennyson was running out of gas. It took a lot of strength to keep the secret hidden behind a wall.

  When he’d lost his gift last year, in addition to showing Tennyson how to turn it on and off at will, Madam Aurora had all shown him how to employ blocking techniques. These techniques made it so that other psychics couldn’t read him like a book. It took a lot of physical energy to keep a block like that in place. With Ten not sleeping or eating much since Tony’s death, it was getting harder and harder to maintain that psychic wall. It was only a matter of time before he slipped and someone discovered the secret.

  Ten almost wished someone would. He needed a friend to talk to about this situation. Keeping a secret like this from his husband was killing him by slow inches.

  Sure, he’d lied to Ronan in the past. Little white lies, mostly. Things like how good Ronan looked in a certain shirt that Tennyson wanted to burn in their backyard fire pit. Or how tasty a dish was that Ronan prepared when Tennyson was just choking it down to be polite.

  The biggest thing Ten had ever lied about was losing his gift. That hadn’t been an outright lie, more a sin of omission. When the truth had finally come spilling out, it had been ugly. Ronan had been devastated. The main reason for Ronan feeling that way was because Carson, Truman, and Cole had been the first people he’d gone to with the news.

  It had been an innocent mistake on Tennyson’s part. He’d been hoping the Craig brothers would know an easy way to bring his gift back. When they hadn’t, Ten had panicked and started making up ridiculous reasons not to tell Ronan. He’d thought maybe the two of them having sex would bring his gift back or the two of them spending the night cuddling would cure him. When none of those things worked and Ronan needed his gift to go to work on the Harold Owens case, the ugly truth had spilled out. Ten almost lost the love of his life. All because he’d kept the secret from Ronan. All because he’d lied.

  Losing his gift was nothing compared to hiding the fact that Tony Abruzzi was still alive. Ten had an ace in the hole. Of sorts. He wasn’t counting on it to save his marriage, but it was there nonetheless. He had Carlie Abruzzi and Cruz Clemente, such as they were. Both of them had agreed to speak to Ronan about this whole sordid situation when the time came.

  Carlie was in the same boat as Tennyson. She was under strict orders not to tell anyone her husband was still alive. For her, that meant lying to her four sons. If Ten thought it was hard just keeping the secret from Ronan, he couldn’t imagine how hard it was keeping it from four people. Life was always harder when you tried to walk around in someone else’s shoes.

  His second trump card, although it chilled him to the bone to even think of it in that term, was Everly Erin. Tennyson had never been a man given to fits of rage before, but Clemente’s threat against his daughter had changed that in a heartbeat. Not only had the dick-faced FBI agent promised to lock Tennyson up if he breathed a word to Ronan that Tony was still alive, but he also promised that he wouldn’t be allowed to even see a picture of the baby while he was incarcerated.

  Everyone in the room had heard Clemente make that threat against Tennyson and Everly. They would all be able to tell Ronan when the time came. Ten had no doubt Ronan would need to hear those words. Most likely from several sources. More than once. Probably more than twice.

  “Hey babe. Done meditating?”

  Ten screamed. Ronan had startled him so badly that he panicked and cried out. His heart was pounding so hard he was afraid he was going to have a stroke right there on his purple meditation rug.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Ronan rushed into the spare room and was on the floor at his side in a heartbeat.

  “I’m fine,” Ten lied. Again. “I was just so deep into my mediation that you startled me.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Ronan snorted. “It just looked like you were sitting here staring off into space.”

  That’s exactly what Tennyson had been doing. Only he hadn’t been repeating a mantra or been focused on his deep breathing. He been worrying himself into an early grave. “I was just about finished.”

  Ronan smiled at him. “I made us some tea and popcorn. Dixie’s already chosen her spot on the bed and Haunted is queued up on Netflix.

  “That’s perfect.” Ten forced a smile of his own. His lips felt brittle, as if they’d crack just from the effort of it. “I’ll just say my closing prayer and be right in.”

  Ronan’s brow furrowed. He pressed a gentle kiss to Ten’s lips. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you too.” Ten meant it. With every traitorous beat of his heart.

  3

  Ronan

  Ronan had interrupted Tennyson during his meditation time before, but he’d never responded like that, screaming as if a knife-wielding killer, instead of his husband, was at the door. Ten minutes later, his heart was still pounding from the scare Ten had given him.

  Now, they were cuddled in bed watching episode three of Haunted. It wasn’t exactly a lighthearted, just-before-bed kind of show, but Ten liked it and that was all that mattered.

  Ten was lying with his head on Ronan’s chest, while Dixie was cuddled up in front of Ten. She’d been gravitating toward him more lately. Right after Tony passed, Dixie hadn’t left his side. She’d even followed him into the bathroom when he had pressing business to attend to. That had started to shift when Tennyson started taking a turn for the worse, wandering the house at night when he couldn’t sleep and when he’d started losing weight.

  It was useless to ask Ten what was wrong. Ronan had been there and done that with zippo to show for it, not even the crappy tee-shirt. There was something wrong. Something more than the death of Tony Abruzzi, that was for damn sure.

  In the nearly five months since Tony’s death, Tennyson had lost twenty pounds and hadn’t once slept through the night. He had dark circles under his eyes and almost never laughed or cracked a genuine smile. Ronan knew when Ten pasted on a fake smile like the one he’d flashed a few minutes ago. There was no joy in Ten’s life. For a man who was married to the husband of his dreams with a baby due to arrive in less than six weeks, he looked like all life was giving him was rotten lemons.

  As the credits rolled on the episode of Haunted, Ten sat up, stretching like a cat. Dixie looked up at Ten like he was a traitor. She gave him a small yip and walked to the side of the bed before hopping off and making her way to her pink princess dog bed.

  “Guess I’m pissing everyone off today.” Ten rolled his eyes.

  “We all know how grumpy she gets when someone wakes her up.” Ronan shrugged a shoulder. He sat forward capturing Ten’s lips in a searing kiss. He could feel the stubble of Ten’s two-day beard scratch across his face as he moved to nibble down Ronan’s neck.

  “Let me suck you off, Ronan,” Ten whispered against his ear.

  That was another thing. Not that Ronan was one to complain about too many blow jobs, but Christ, there w
ere too many blow jobs. In the morning. At night. In the shower. In the kitchen. Hell, the only place Ronan wasn’t getting them was in the car. He had a feeling that if he asked, Ten would suck him off there too.

  “How about if we flip the script here and I take care of you for a change?”

  Ten’s brow drew together as if he wasn’t even sure how to respond to that suggestion. “You’re not in the mood?”

  Of course, Ronan was in the mood. Ronan was always in the mood, but that wasn’t the point. Right now, taking care of Tennyson was all that mattered. “Later.” Ronan moved fast, slipping off Ten’s briefs, so that his husband couldn’t reach for his dick first. If Ten got his hands on him, it would be game over. After all, Ronan wasn’t a martyr.

  “What should I do with you?” Ronan winked down at his husband. Not waiting for an answer, he pushed Ten’s legs apart and bent his head down to lick up the seam of his sack.

  Ten moaned quietly in response.

  It wasn’t quite the response Ronan was going for. It was lackluster at best. Fortunately, Ronan knew exactly what to do to get the right response out of Tennyson. He stuck his tongue against Ten’s dark hole and started licking.

  “Jesus, Ronan!” Ten reached out for Ronan’s head, latching on with both hands and holding him right where he was.

  Never let it be said Ronan O’Mara didn’t know how to please his man. His tongue went to work, lashing against Ten’s most sensitive skin. He could feel Ten starting to relax against him. Reaching up with his right hand, Ronan tracing the length of his erection with his first and second finger. Not enough friction to bring Ten to the edge, but enough stimulation to keep his interest.

  “More, Ronan,” Ten begged.

  That was more like it, but it didn’t mean Ronan was going to give in that easily. He was rimming Ten for all he was worth, his tongue finally managing to slip past the tight ring of muscle. He could hear Ten whimpering and demanding more attention.

  Licking a trail over Ten’s sack, Ronan started up the base of his cock. He locked eyes with his husband, who by now had that needy look in his dark eyes. It had been too damn long since he’d seen those eyes staring back into his own.

  “That’s it, Ronan. Suck my cock. Come on. Don’t make me wait for it.”

  “Look who’s getting all bossy.” Ronan was impressed. It wasn’t like Tennyson to get mouthy like this. He didn’t obey. Instead, he flicked his tongue at the head of Ten’s dick like he was licking an ice cream cone. One swipe went through the slit, earning him a taste of what was to come.

  “Suck. My. Cock. Ronan.” Anger warred with need in Ten’s dark eyes.

  Okay, that was something completely new. Ronan had never once seen anything close to that while he and Ten had been having sex. It was definitely time to stop playing cute and get down to business.

  Slipping his lips over the head of Ten’s cock, Ronan felt his husband start to relax again. He slid down as far as he could go without gagging as a finger picked up where his tongue left off, probing at Ten’s ass. It pushed easily inside.

  “That’s right,” Ten gritted out. “Finger fuck me while you suck my cock.”

  It also wasn’t like Ten to narrate his performance either. Ronan guessed it was a night for firsts. Bobbing his head faster, he managed to work a second finger into Ten’s tight passage. He felt Ten dig his fingers into his head and start pushing his head down on his dick, forcing him closer to the base of his dick.

  “Harder, Ronan. Suck me harder!” Ten growled. “Make me fucking come!”

  Ronan had officially reached the end of his enjoyment here. All he wanted was for Ten to finish so they could go to bed. The erection that had been straining against his boxers had long since wilted. He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with Ten, but this wasn’t how it was supposed to be between the two of them.

  “I’m coming!” Ten bellowed, holding Ronan’s head steady, while he fucked himself up into his mouth.

  Staying where Tennyson kept him, Ronan was counting the seconds until he was free to walk into the bathroom and scrub himself clean. If Ten wasn’t willing to talk to him about what the hell was upsetting him, then he needed to take another tact.

  With only six weeks to go until they became parents, Ronan needed to figure out what the hell was going on here, and fast.

  4

  Tennyson

  Trudging through the front door at West Side Magick the next morning, Tennyson felt like shit. Mentally and physically. He’d wanted to call in sick, but he had several readings booked for today and with all the time he would be taking off to be home with Everly, he couldn’t afford to cancel readings now.

  “Well, Jesus Christ, look what the cat dragged in.” Carson had his arms crossed over his chest. “Come with me. Now!” There was no arguing with that tone in Carson’s voice.

  Ten didn’t even take off his winter coat. He marched behind Carson to his reading room and sat down at Bertha Craig’s table. He heard the door click shut behind them. At least this would be a meeting between the two of them. For now, at least. He knew Bertha could pop in at any second.

  Carson sat in the seat Bertha had used for readings and reached for a muffin. Tennyson’s favorite kind. He ripped it in half and slathered it in butter before pushing it and the coffee cup marked with Ten’s name across the table to him.

  While Carson had been tending to breakfast, Ten had taken his coat off. He couldn’t help wondering what the hell this meeting was about. Had a client made a complaint about him? Were sales down? Had Jude done something stupid in his new role as a Ghost Detective? He’d been trying to read Carson and was only getting static.

  “Eat.” Carson urged. It wasn’t a suggestion. “I’ve noticed some big changes in you over the last few months. Everyone has.”

  Tennyson opened his mouth to object.

  Carson held up a hand. “Don’t even try to deny it. Everyone has noticed. Everyone. Erin has come to both Cole and I too. She’s worried sick about you and Ronan, but for different reasons.”

  That made Tennyson sick to his stomach. Erin was Erin O’Mara, Ronan’s mother. She’d passed fourteen years ago, shortly after her son had graduated from the police academy. Erin and Tennyson had become fast friends after he and Ronan started working together. She was also where the “Erin” in Everly Erin’s name had come from.

  Erin O’Mara had been like a second mother to him. She was going to be heartbroken when Tennyson’s little secret came out. Ten knew she’d never be able to forgive him for lying to Ronan like he’d been doing. The only thing worse than Ronan not being able to forgive him, was Erin feeling the same way.

  “We’ve all tried reading you,” Carson continued, oblivious to Tennyson’s inner monologue. “Me. Mom. Cole. Emilyn. Copeland. Dempsey. None of us have had any luck. We haven’t gotten one scrap of information from you, Ten, not even what you had for breakfast yesterday, which means you’re consciously blocking everyone.” He lifted an eyebrow high. “Go on. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Tennyson couldn’t tell Carson anything of the kind. Instead of lying, he shoved half of his muffin into his mouth.

  “Well, at least now we’re getting somewhere.” Carson sighed, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “This all started when Tony died,” he said out loud, seemingly to himself. “You were never that close to Tony. He never really believed in your gift.” Carson’s fingers drummed absently on the table.

  The one card Tennyson had in his hand to play was Carson. He’d gotten Cruz Clemente’s word that if the psychics here at the shop figured out on their own that Tony wasn’t really dead, he couldn’t be prosecuted for that. All Ten had to do was sit back and let Carson figure it out for himself. He’d drop his psychic block at the key moment, if need be, but Ten was pretty sure Carson was going to get there on his own.

  Bouncing out of his seat, Carson started to pace around the room. “It makes sense that you’d be sad for Ronan, losing his best friend and all, but they hadn’t been close
in over a year. Not since Mark died.” Carson stopped to look at Tennyson. “You’ve never mentioned being able to read Tony. None of us have been able to read Tony since he died. You’d think a man that was murdered just as he’d started to reconcile with his wife and his best friend would want to reach out with some final words, especially since his best friend is married to a medium.” That eyebrow shot back up to Carson’s blond hairline again.

  He was getting closer. Ten’s heart rate kicked up. This must be how Ronan felt when he started putting clues together in a case. It was exciting, but Ten wished Carson would hurry the fuck up. The weight of this secret was crushing him.

  “Ronan seems to be doing better thanks to the grief counsellor you’re both seeing.” Carson turned to look at Tennyson again. “I thought it was very supportive of you to go to those sessions with Ronan, especially considering you weren’t the one grieving. Now, I’m wondering what you were going there for besides being a supportive husband? Guilt goes hand in hand with grief. I would imagine those kinds of counsellors know coping mechanisms for dealing with guilt. She must be a shitty counsellor, Ten.”

  “Why do you say that?” Ten asked around a mouthful of muffin. Carson was definitely getting closer to the “X” that marked the spot.

  “Why do I say that? Gee, Ten, you haven’t gotten a good night sleep in five months. You’ve dropped twenty-five pounds and you never smile anymore. It doesn’t take a psychic to see there is something seriously wrong with you. We’ve all bided our time and bitten our tongues, but this is it. I can’t keep quiet one more second. I know you and Ronan are solid. Everything is fine here at work. Emilyn’s pregnancy is progressing on schedule and Everly is safe. The only thing I can bring this back to is the day Tony Abruzzi died.” Carson stopped pacing. He stopped talking and watched Tennyson.