Confessions: Henri

Ella Frank

Ella Frank, LLC

Contents

Synopsis

Also by Ella Frank

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Coming Soon

Thank You

Special Thanks

About the Author

Copyright © 2019 by Ella Frank

www.ellafrank.com

Cover Design: Hang Le

Cover Photographer: Rafa G Catala

Cover Model: Mario Zabal

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Created with Vellum

Synopsis

Good and bad. Right and wrong.

Life would be easy if things were always that simple.

That’s never been the case for Henri Boudreaux.

Son of a criminal. Ex-boyfriend to a Priest.

Henri's made a career out of getting in trouble and avoiding the law.

So when he winds up in bed with it, he knows that things are about to get…complicated.

But what’s life without taking a few risks?

And what’s a risk without the threat of being caught?

No one's ever accused Henri of being good man.

And Officer Craig Bailey is about to find out just how bad he can be.

Also by Ella Frank

The Exquisite Series

Exquisite

Entice

Edible

The Temptation Series

Try

Take

Trust

Tease

Tate

True

Confessions Series

Confessions: Robbie

Confessions: Julien

Confessions: Priest

Confessions: The Princess, The Prick & The Priest

Confessions: Henri

Confessions: Bailey

Sunset Cove Series

Finley

Devil’s Kiss

Masters Among Monsters Series

Alasdair

Isadora

Thanos

Standalones

Blind Obsession

Veiled Innocence

PresLocke Series

Co-Authored with Brooke Blaine

ACED

LOCKED

WEDLOCKED

Fallen Angel Series

Co-Authored with Brooke Blaine

HALO

VIPER

ANGEL

Co-Authored with Brooke Blaine

Sex Addict

Shiver

Wrapped Up in You

All I Want for Christmas…Is My Sister’s Boyfriend

Dedication

To Bailey,

The man who makes me feel as though I’ve found the sunlight after all these years hiding in the shadows.

~ Henri

Chapter One

CONFESSION

I hate weddings.

Especially Joel’s.

ROBERT, JULIEN, & PRIEST

TOGETHER WITH THEIR FAMILIES AND FRIENDS

INVITE YOU TO JOIN THEM IN A CELEBRATION OF LOVE.

~ SATURDAY, OCTOBER SIXTH, NOON

~ 2502 SHANGRI LA POINT RD

OSHKOSH, WI

HENRI BOUDREAUX FINGERED the corner of the wedding invitation as he stood on the outskirts of the lakefront property that belonged to Robert Bianchi’s parents, and watched as guests of all three grooms arrived for the noon ceremony.

They were all there today to celebrate one of the most unconventional love stories he’d ever seen play out, and as he watched the festivities from under one of the large maple trees on the property, Henri couldn’t help but wonder why in the hell he was there.

Not that he disapproved of what was going to take place in less than ten minutes. But the fact that it was happening again for one groom in particular was a bitter fucking pill to swallow.

It’d been a few weeks now since the cream envelope with embossed gold writing had shown up at his place. But instead of immediately tossing it out like he knew he should’ve, he’d left it on his kitchen counter to taunt him until he finally gave in and opened the damn thing. Something he was now regretting, because just as he’d suspected, there’d been a wedding invitation inside. This wedding’s invitation, and if that had been it, he might have been able to ignore it. But it hadn’t been, not by a long shot, because that sneaky little princess of Priest’s had also included a whopper of a guilt trip.

A handwritten, folded one that was tucked nice and neat inside.

H ~

I thought you might want to come and see what you saved.

xx Bright Eyes

Henri took a deep inhale of his cigarette, hoping it would calm his fried nerves as people began taking their seats one by one, and when Priest stepped outside, followed by that gorgeous French fucker—his first husband, Julien—Henri felt as though there were a knife in his heart. One that was slowly being pushed deeper and deeper.

What the hell am I doing here? he thought, as Julien reached for Priest’s hand. But no matter how much Henri wanted to leave, his feet seemed glued to the spot, as he watched the two men talk to their guests while they waited for the ceremony to begin.

Around five minutes into the pleasantries, Priest gave a quick wave and made a hasty exit to the left, which didn’t surprise Henri in the slightest. Crowds weren’t really Priest’s thing—Henri’s either, for that matter. But it gave him a moment to really look over the man his former best friend had become. The man he’d loved ever since he was a boy.

Dressed in a black, perfectly tailored three-piece tuxedo, Priest looked devastating today. His flame-colored hair was subdued into an elegant style for the wedding, but it took nothing away from the wild heart and fire that Henri knew simmered beneath that tamed exterior.

He would’ve given up everything he owned right then to go over and tell Priest that he was making a mistake. That it was supposed to be the two of them against the world, not those three and Henri standing on the fucking outside.

But as he took a step in that direction, a jaw-droppingly handsome man approached Priest with a wide grin. As the two of them began to talk, any hope Henri had of getting a moment alone with his former friend was squashed, and not a second later, a booming laugh and a smile as bright as Priest’s hair lit his face, and Henri almost stumbled back from the shock of it, as what he’d been about to do slammed into him.

What the fuck is the matter with me? Was he really willing to go over there and take away the joy he could see on his friend’s face? Especially after all the shit Priest had been through over the years? And that was the real gut punch here, wasn’t it?

For the longest time, it had been just the two of them who knew each other’s secrets. It had had to be; there’d been no one else they could count on. They’d fought monsters—both literally and figuratively—together. But somewhere along the way, instead of being the thing that helped his friend get through the darkness and safely to the other side, Henri had become the darkness for Priest. A reminder of all that was bad, and now here he was about to prove him right.

Henri took a final drag of his cigarette and shook his head. No—he wouldn’t do that. Not to himself, and certainly not to Priest, and as he dropped the butt on the ground and crushed it under his boot, he looked at the silver band on his right ring finger, the one that had an oval black diamond on it, and made a decision. It was time to leave his past behind, the same place Priest always left him.

* * *

“XANDER… XANDER? AS much as I’ve enjoyed this little advice session of yours,” Craig Bailey said into his phone, as he pulled his ’69 Camaro into an open spot along the curb of the Bianchis’ lake house, “I’m here now and I’ve got to go.”

Xander, his best friend—and ex-boyfriend—let out an irritated sound that could’ve been born of frustration or defeat. Either way, Bailey didn’t much care.

“Will you at least think about what I said?”

Bailey rubbed a hand over his face and prayed for patience. “About hooking up with a stranger? No. That’s not my thing and you know it. I like—”

“Long walks on the beach and reading by a fire. I know. But—”

“Substance. I like substance. You should be flattered. I used to think you had some.”

“Used to? Thanks.”

“I still do. But just because I’m not sleeping with someone new each night doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me.”

“I didn’t say there was. But when was the last time you got laid?”

Bailey opened his mouth, ready to give his pushy friend an answer, but when nothing came out, Xander chuckled.

“See? You don’t even know. That should tell you something, Bay. You’re too young and too hot to live like a monk—”

“I don’t live like a monk.” Bailey wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel. Ever since word had gotten out that he was heading to a wedding this weekend stag, there’d been no stopping the unwanted “relationship” advice that had poured in from his brothers and Xander. He was about two seconds away from blocking all of them on his phone if they didn’t get off his ass.

“You work too hard,” Xander said.

“That’s rich coming from an admitted workaholic.”

“No. That’s the truth, coming from me. Like it always is. Plus, I know the last time I got laid. It was last night.”

Of course it was. As one of the nation’s most popular news anchors, Alexander Thorne never lacked for a bed partner when he wanted one. “Look, I’ve got to go.”

“Just promise me you’ll keep an open mind today. Look around, see who’s there. At a wedding for three guys, there’s bound to be somebody nice and single you could…celebrate with.”

“Jesus,” Bailey said, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are we done here?”

“I suppose. But you sound a little frustrated.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

“Fine. But if you don’t find anyone up there, there’s this new copy editor who just started for me. He’s just your type. A good guy all round.”

“Thank you, Mr. Matchmaker. If you ever lose your job, I think you’ve got a really good shot at making a living by annoying the shit out of single people. Now, I really do need to go.”

“Fair enough. Dinner? Tomorrow night?”

“Uh, can I take a rain check? I’m exhausted, and after this I’m just going to want to sleep.”

“No problem. But let’s catch up when you’re free.”

“Sounds good.”

“And remember what I said.”

Bailey gnashed his teeth together as he hit end on the call, then he pulled down the visor in his car to look at himself in the mirror.

Eh, not too bad, all things considered. He rubbed a hand over his buzzcut and was thankful he didn’t have much to do in the hair department, then he flipped up the collar of his shirt and began to tie the thin strip of material that’d been hanging around his neck the entire drive to Oshkosh.

After switching out his schedule with one of the other patrol officers at his station, Bailey had been able to wrangle the entire weekend off. The price tag that’d come with it was only a handful of hours’ sleep in the last forty-eight, but luckily for him, it wasn’t showing just yet.

There were no bags under his eyes as of this morning, but by the end of the day, he had a feeling he’d be passing out in the bed back at the hotel. He just had to make it a few more hours.

With his tie in place, Bailey shoved open the door and climbed out, grabbing his suit jacket from the passenger seat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to a wedding, but considering he’d played a minor part in Priest and Julien getting their princess to say yes, it only seemed right he was there today, which meant he needed to hurry the hell up.

As he made his way up the gravel drive, he saw a sign in the immaculately landscaped lawn that had an arrow pointing to the left: Wedding This Way.

Bailey glanced at his watch and grimaced. He was so damn late, and though he didn’t want to miss the ceremony, the last thing he wanted to do was sneak in midway and possibly cause a distraction.

As he hurried around the side of the house, his phone chimed and he grabbed it out of his pocket to see a photo of a handsome man in a sweater and a pair of chinos pop up on his screen.

Bailey cursed. He was going to kill Xander when he got back in to town. But already running late, he quickly silenced the phone and was about to put it away when he ran into something with so much force that he almost fell back on his ass.

“Shit,” Bailey said as he tried to steady his feet under himself, and when his eyes landed on the man he’d just collided with, he froze.

At six one, Bailey wasn’t short by any means, but this man had a good few inches on him, and that wasn’t the only reason he’d caught Bailey’s attention. No, the other reason was the man’s overall appearance.

In black boots, jeans, t-shirt, and a leather jacket, he looked more like someone attending a motorcycle rally than a fall wedding. He had a piercing through his left nostril—a small silver ring—and his chocolate-colored eyes were lined with lashes so thick that it looked as though he were wearing eyeliner.

With hair as dark as his clothes, and cut short on the sides but left longer up top, the overnight stubble around his full lips and sharp jaw line brought to mind rough kisses and even rougher nights.

He was a shock to the system. One that was as attractive as he was intimidating, and when Bailey realized he was staring, he finally found his tongue and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you until the last minute.”

The man’s eyes made a leisurely sweep of Bailey’s very proper suit and tie before landing back on his face. “I don’t think you saw me even then. But you are now, aren’t you?”

Shit, Bailey thought, as heat rushed to his cheeks. Who is this guy? Not only did he look like every bad-boy fantasy Bailey could imagine, he had an arrogant air about him that was as mysterious as it was sexy. He’d barely said a thing, and yet Bailey found himself at a loss for words, something that never happened to him. He always kept a cool head.

As music started up from across the lawn, Bailey blinked and gestured over the guy’s shoulder to the crowd he saw in the distance.

“It’s just, I’m running late, and—” When Priest stepped up beside Julien under the arbor, Bailey cursed and walked around the man to get closer. “And now I’m missing the ceremony. Great.”

The man stepped forward, next to him, and the scent of his cologne drifted through the air until it found Bailey and made his cock jerk in response. The dark, sensual blend was woodsy with a citrus undercurrent, masculine and seductive, just like the man. And Bailey had a sudden and intense desire to burrow his nose into the neck of that leather jacket and see if the scent was even stronger against the man’s skin.

Fucking hell. What was going on with him? He was not the kind of guy who was ruled by his dick. Yet here he was trying his hardest to get his to behave itself.

“I’m sure if you want to, there’s still time to get over there before it starts.” The man’s voice was smooth as whiskey. “Especially since they’re missing the third groom in their little…celebration of love.”

Bailey looked his way, and when one of the guy’s eyebrows arched, he couldn’t help but ask, “And which groom are you friends with?”

The man’s attention shifted back to the ceremony that was about to begin, and he shrugged. “None, really.”

The tone and body language told Bailey everything he needed to know in an instant, and he nodded. “Uh, okay. So which one is your ex?”

A smirk crossed those sinful lips, and Bailey thought the guy should come with a flashing neon sign that said: WARNING! DANGER AHEAD! Because he looked exactly like the kind of guy your parents warned you about. The kind of danger that would be so damn good that you kept coming back for more.

“Which one do you think?”

Bailey knew he was there today for the three across the lawn about to pledge their love to one another, but suddenly he wasn’t so upset that he was running late. Never had he felt such an immediate and intense attraction to someone before, and with Xander’s talk about the last time he got laid on a loop in his head, Bailey stared into the most arresting face he’d seen in years and decided to just…go for it.

“Hmm, who do I think is your ex?” Bailey made a show of looking the man over. Not because he needed to but because he wanted to, and as he took in the rebellious vibe and wicked smile, he thought of his straitlaced friend Priest and crossed him off the list first. The sweet disposition of Robbie didn’t seem to match up either, and as he shook his head, Bailey knew he had his answer.

There was only one man out of those three that he could see this guy with, and that would be the sexy French chef—the Prick. “I think Julien.”

Chapter Two

CONFESSION

Julien and I would rather date a woman

than date each other.

True fact.

HENRI STARED AT the sexy guy with the light blue eyes and flushed cheeks, and wondered how he’d come to his decision that Julien Thornton had once been the man for him. It was ironic, considering his and Julien’s less-than-smooth relationship over the years, and though he thought about asking for more insight, Henri realized he didn’t really want to talk about it.

Not Julien. Not Priest. And certainly not the happy trio who were now all accounted for under the arbor, midway through their I-dos. Henri suddenly had a different focus, and it had everything to do with the hot-as-hell distraction standing directly to his right.

Not quite as tall as himself, he had a perfect Roman nose and a military buzzcut that showcased piercing eyes that were assessing as they looked him over—and they liked what they saw. That was obvious with the way they crawled back up to Henri’s face, and his dick stiffened at that interested stare.

In a white shirt and tailored three-piece suit to match the color of his eyes, it was easy to see the outline of the man’s wide shoulders and large biceps, giving Henri a glimpse at the power that lay dormant beneath that fine material.

He had no idea who this man was, and knew he should probably get out of there before he did something stupid. But the attraction swirling between them was too damn powerful to resist, and his mind was in desperate need of some redirection.

“Julien, huh?”

Blue—yeah, that suits him—shrugged, and then a shy grin tipped up the corners of his mouth, making it really difficult for Henri to leave.

“I don’t know. He seems the most likely, in my opinion.”

Henri couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled out of him, because out of those three, Julien was the most unlikely choice.

“Oh, shit,” Blue said. “I’m wrong, aren’t I?”

So fucking wrong that Henri almost wished Julien and Priest were there to hear this conversation. But instead of telling him just how far off he was, Henri reached inside his leather jacket for his cigarettes and put one between his lips. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re laughing, so I think I must be wrong.”

As he lit up and inhaled, Henri held out the packet to his new…friend.

“No thanks. I quit a few months ago.”

Henri took the cigarette from between his lips and looked at it. “Do you mind if I do?”

“Hell no. As long as you don’t mind having someone stand very close to you for the next few minutes.”

Henri eyed the guy for a beat, and then took a deep inhale before taking a sidestep so they were close enough that their arms brushed one another. “Get as close as you like. I don’t mind at all.”

Blue lowered his gaze to Henri’s lips, and when he cleared his throat, Henri’s cock began to throb. The lust now licking through his veins was stronger than anything he’d felt in years, and as Blue ran his tongue along his lower lip, Henri knew he wasn’t the only one feeling the spark between them.

“So, um, are you going to be sticking around for the reception?” Blue’s words were innocent enough, but the invitation in his eyes told Henri that one word would have this guy back at his hotel and in Henri’s bed before the three grooms across the lawn had even cut their cake.

But just as that thought hit him, the loud sound of applause and cheers rang out through the air, breaking the moment, and the two of them looked back to the three men who were center stage.

Henri took another drag of his cigarette and suddenly wished he was anywhere but there. It was obvious that Blue wanted to see where this chemistry would go after a few too many drinks. But not even the promise of a seriously hot fuck could convince Henri to stick around and watch Priest and his two husbands fawn over one another.

Henri’s stomach twisted as he watched each of them take a turn at kissing the other, and that was when he decided it was time to get the fuck out of there.

As the guests began getting to their feet to cheer on the happy threesome, Blue took a step forward as Henri took a giant one back and said, “Let Joel know that Henri said congratulations, would you?”

Then he ghosted.

* * *

LET JOEL KNOW that Henri said congratulations…

The full meaning of those words didn’t quite register with Bailey at first. But as he watched Priest reach for Robbie and press a fierce kiss to his new husband’s lips, it finally clicked that the man Bailey had just spent the last fifteen minutes with had given him an answer to the original question he’d asked: Which one is your ex?

And that answer was Joel Priestley.

Bailey turned around, ready to throw doubt all over that response, because he couldn’t think of a more unlikely scenario than the ever-serious Priest dating this guy. But where he thought he’d find the man dressed in all black, he found nothing.

He was gone, had disappeared as though he’d never been there, and as Bailey scanned the wooded property and pristine landscape that stretched as far as the eye could see, he saw no trace of Henri walking away, either.

What the hell? It was as though he’d vanished, as though Bailey had imagined the entire thing, and as he scrubbed a hand over his face, he started to wonder if maybe he had.

Bailey squeezed his eyes shut for a second, and when he reopened them to go over and wish the happy trio congratulations, he spotted a cigarette butt sticking out from the dirt by his feet.

At the visual reminder of his conversation with the stranger—Henri—Bailey’s entire body reacted as though he were right back in the middle of it. His heart thumped and his pulse raced, and as he stared at the cigarette, he willed his body to calm the hell down. The guy was gone, so it wasn’t as though Bailey was about to get any action any time soon, and if he didn’t get himself under some kind of control, it was going to be a really long afternoon.

Jesus, what is the matter with me? This was so unlike him. He knew absolutely nothing about Henri except for his name, and yet here he was getting overly excited because he’d found proof that the guy actually existed.

Henri… He liked that name, tried it out a few times in his head, and when he realized what he was doing, he immediately stopped. The last thing he needed was to start fantasizing about someone he was never going to see again. It was a moment, it had passed, and now he just needed to move on.

This was all Xander’s fault, making Bailey hyperaware of the first person he talked to, and for that alone, he was going to kick Xander’s interfering ass.

As he made his way across the lawn toward the other guests, Bailey tried to focus on why he was there and the men he was coming to see. But just before he reached the crowd, he stopped and looked over his shoulder one last time, and just as he suspected, there was no one out there. Not a soul.

“Well, there he is,” Robbie Bianchi—no, Robbie Thornton-Priestley—said when he spotted Bailey standing on the periphery of his family and friends. Then he made his way through the throng of gushing relatives and flashed a beaming smile Bailey’s way. “The one and only man who’s ever put handcuffs on me. Well, at least while I was fully clothed.”

Bailey chuckled as he embraced the incorrigible man and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Congratulations, Mr. Thornton-Priestley.”

“Thank you,” Robbie said, all but floating high at the sound of his new name as Bailey let him go.

“The ceremony looked beautiful, and so do you.”

Robbie preened at the compliment, but when his two new husbands came to a standstill on either side of him, he said, “Wait, it looked beautiful? Could you not hear from where you were sitting? Oh my God, I told Val we needed mics.”

“No. No.” Bailey grimaced, realizing his slip-up, and knew he had no other choice but to confess. “I was late. I’m so sorry. I tried to get here on time, but I got stuck in traffic, and—”

Priest clapped him on the arm, and a low chuckle rumbled out of him. “It’s okay. You’re here now, and we appreciate you making the trip.”

“Really, we do,” Julien said, a charming smile lighting up his handsome face. “We’re sorry you missed the ceremony, since you helped get us here, but we’re happy you made it for the reception.”

Bailey looked between the men all decked out in their finest and had no doubt that, with or without him, they would’ve worked out a way to get where they were today, no matter what stood in their way.

Which brought to mind… “I actually got here in time to watch from over there.”

Bailey gestured to the spot he’d waited, and debated with himself on whether he should pass along Henri’s message. I mean, if he was invited, then he must be on good terms with these guys, right? “I met one of your guests over there.”

“You did?” Robbie glanced over Bailey’s shoulder, and then looked back to him. “Who?”

“Said his name was Henri.” Bailey turned his attention to Priest. “He said to tell you congratulations.”

The relaxed and happy expression that had been on Priest’s face disappeared in an instant, and when he turned to look at Robbie, Priest’s new husband offered up a guilty smile and put a hand on Priest’s chest.

“Now, before you get all cranky—”

“Did you invite him here today?”

“Well…” Robbie smoothed his hand over Priest’s shirt and then glanced over his shoulder to Julien, who was clearly keeping out of whatever was happening. “I might’ve sent him an invitation. I thought he’d want to see this, since he, you know, helped us stay together.”

Okay, Bailey hadn’t expected that, and it was obvious Priest hadn’t either, as he let out a sigh.

“How did you even know where to find him?” Priest said.

“Umm…”

“Robert?”

Shit, Bailey thought, as he looked between Priest and Robbie. That tone meant one thing and one thing only: I expect an answer, now.

“I… He… Look,” Robbie said, and pointed a finger at Priest’s chest. “He texts me occasionally, okay?”

“He what?”

“He’s my friend. All of our friends, and I didn’t see any problem inviting him today, so stop growling at me. It’s our wedding day.”

Priest had the good grace to look chagrined as he swallowed back whatever he was about to say next, and leaned in to kiss Robbie’s forehead. “You’re right. I apologize. You just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Julien cleared his throat and said, “Ah, is Henri still here, Bailey?”

Bailey shook his head. “No, he’s gone.”

“Of course he is,” Priest muttered, and when Robbie glared at him, Priest shrugged. “What? That’s what he’s good at.”

That was an interesting comment, but not all that unusual coming from an ex. Maybe Henri had been the type of boyfriend who was really good at walking out the door. He didn’t exactly look like the kind of guy to settle down and make roots.

Wow, way to stereotype there, Bay.

“Well,” Julien said to the two beside him, interrupting Bailey’s thoughts. “I think it says a lot that he showed at all. It’s…nice.”

Priest said nothing to that, but Robbie nodded. Whatever message was being passed between these three was being done so in silence. Then Julien stepped forward and hooked his arm through Bailey’s.

“Why don’t you come inside and let us get you a drink?”

“I’m driving, so I—”

“Oh, please,” Robbie said, and hooked Bailey’s other arm. “That’s why there’s Uber. Let’s get you a drink or three. That is the theme of today’s celebration, after all.”

As the two of them led him off toward the back deck area, Bailey spotted Priest staring out at the empty tree line, and couldn’t help but wonder if Priest was having as hard a time as he was forgetting the man who went by the name…Henri.

Chapter Three

CONFESSION

I always thought I was pretty smart.

Turns out, I’m really not.

“WOULD YOU LIKE another?”

Henri nodded to the bartender who’d just noticed his empty tumbler, as he looked out over the lake from the bar in his hotel. He’d been there for a couple of hours now, working his way through the bottle of bourbon the woman had opened when he first sat down. He was doing his best to erase the final image he’d had of Priest wrapped around Robbie, as he kissed his new husband and welcomed him into his and Julien’s life on a permanent basis.

During that time, Henri had also come to the decision that he was either a fucking idiot or a glutton for punishment. He was still trying to work out which of those two things fit a person who’d made a three-hour drive out of town just to torture himself. It would’ve been laughable if it wasn’t so pathetically sad. But as Henri brought his freshly topped drink to his lips to take a sip, he realized that was exactly what he was—pathetic and…sad.

It wasn’t like this day was all that shocking. It was clear to anyone who saw those three together that they loved one another. Henri just wished he hadn’t fucking seen them; it would’ve made disliking them so much easier. But after the hell they’d been through with Priest’s father—Big Jimmy—it was no surprise that Priest had wanted to lock that shit down. That was who he was. It was in his nature. If, of course, you were the one he loved.

Henri shook his head and patted around his jacket for his cigarettes. He needed to stop thinking about this. He needed to go outside, have a smoke, then come back in here and get shit-faced drunk. That was how he’d dealt with it the first time around—fucking Julien—and while that had been one of the most difficult nights of his life, the fact that it was happening all over again seemed like a fuck-you no matter which way he looked at it.

The problem was that he knew that it wasn’t. In fact, it might’ve actually been easier if it was. But that wasn’t how Priest worked, and as Henri sat there trying his hardest to forget the man he’d do anything for, his memories wouldn’t leave him be. They kept coming back to the day he’d made his own vow to Priest.

The one that always had him a phone call away from heartache, a phone call away from running back to the only one he’d ever loved. And if he’d learned anything in all those years since, it was that the past didn’t lie, and while he’d vowed to stay, Priest had done no such thing…

“JOEL…? JOEL! WAIT for me,” Henri called out, trying to project his five-year-old voice across the swampy marshlands, as his ankles sank into the mud underfoot.

It was Saturday afternoon, and when his father, Victor, had dumped him at Big Jimmy’s and told him he’d be back for him in the morning, Henri hadn’t much cared. That just meant he got to spend the night with his best friend Joel, instead of being locked up in the empty shack they lived in out of town.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel shouted back from somewhere up ahead. “It’s hide-n-seek. You gotta find me.”

“But that’s not fair. I can’t see you,” Henri said as he pulled a foot free. The wire grass they’d been running through was thick and much taller than he was, which made seeing anything more than a chubby arm’s-length away hard, and when the mud oozed through his toes again, Henri began to giggle, getting sidetracked by the cool, wet feel of it.

“Henri?” Joel called out, refocusing his attention, and when Henri’s head whipped to the left where the tall cypress trees sprang out of the ground, he spotted his friend in an instant.

A shock of red hair glinted in the sunlight up ahead. Henri grinned as he started off in that direction. He laughed, excited to reach his friend, even though his legs were now all but covered in the sludge that he was merrily stomping through.

“I see you! I see you!” Henri yelled, pointing up at the tree where Joel was perched on one of the higher branches. His arms were wrapped around the trunk and his dirty legs were hanging down on either side of the branch he was straddling.

Henri came to a stop at the base of the enormous tree, and as he craned his head back, he did a little jig of victory. “I found you.”

“Yeah, but you cheated,” Joel said as he swung his leg over the branch.

“Did not.”

“Did too. You made me talk to you.”

Henri was about to answer when a big, beautiful bird with white wings glided through the air and caught his attention. As it soared through the trees, Henri took off after it, and with his eyes sky-high, he wasn’t paying attention to what was beneath his feet, and his foot got caught on a gnarled root sticking out of the ground. He pitched forward and barely had enough time to put his hands out in front of himself, and before he knew it, he was tumbling face-first into the mud.

“Henri!” Joel shouted from somewhere behind him, and Henri shoved up from the ground just in time to see two big boots stop directly in front of him.

As he wiped some dirt from his eyes and craned his head up to see who it was, Henri jerked back onto his ass and scrambled away from the man now looming over him—Big Jimmy. Joel’s father and Victor’s boss.

All the joy from seconds ago drained from Henri in an instant, as he stared up into flat grey eyes and a glower that was straight out of his worst nightmares. Jimmy was in his usual work pants, suspenders, and white shirt, sleeves rolled up. There was blood splattered on the leg of his pants, and the muscles of his left arm bulged as he gripped the shotgun he held.

“Joel?” Jimmy said as his eyes narrowed on Henri, then he raised his head and called out, “Boy? You better show yourself.”

Henri cowered at Jimmy’s feet, not daring to move or speak as he heard the grass shifting behind him, and not a second later, Joel stepped into the clearing. “I’m right here, Dad.”

“What have I told you about running around out here?” Jimmy’s voice was low, and made a shiver race up Henri’s spine. The one thing he and Joel always tried their hardest to do was avoid Jimmy, which was usually easy, since he didn’t like children and was never around. That was not the case today.

Joel lowered his head, his eyes on the ground under his feet as he answered, “You told me not to.”

Jimmy whipped his right hand out and took hold of his son’s chin, and as he jerked Joel’s head back, Henri quickly clambered to his feet. Something in his too-young mind understood that he needed to stand up, that he needed to stand tall by his friend’s side and help, because unlike normal children, they were the sons of monsters, and they had to stick together.

Jimmy’s eyes shifted over Joel’s shoulder, but he quickly dismissed Henri as a threat by bringing his attention back to his son.

“You look at me when you speak to me, boy,” Jimmy said. “You don’t stare at your feet like a sniveling little girl.”

“Yes, Dad,” Joel said in a voice so quiet that Henri barely heard him.

“Good. Now, I’ve told you time and time again not to come this far out on the property. Haven’t I, son?”

Something in Jimmy’s tone had Henri’s legs shaking, as he watched Jimmy’s fingers dig deeper into Joel’s jaw as he tried to nod.

“What was that, boy?”

“Yes, you’ve told me,” Joel said, and that was when Henri chimed in with as much bravado as a five-year-old could manage.

“Let him go, you big bully.”

“Henri,” Joel said, but Henri’s valiant little act wasn’t over just yet. Instead, his foolhardy quest had him stepping up beside his friend, ready to defend him to the very end. Jimmy shoved Joel back and released him, then turned his attention toward Henri, and just as he was about to reach for him, Joel blocked his path.

“Don’t you touch him,” Joel said in a voice that Henri barely recognized, but something about it made goosebumps break out over his skin.

Jimmy narrowed his eyes and straightened, puffing out his chest in that moment as though he was proud of his son, then he nodded. “Huh, very well. You know what? I think it’s almost time, son. But until then, stay away. You hear me?”

Joel gave a brisk nod, and after a final glance in Henri’s direction, Jimmy turned and headed back into the thick trees of the property.

Henri didn’t breathe again until Jimmy was out of sight, and when Joel turned around to ask if he was all right, Henri nodded and made a vow to always be there for Joel the way he’d just been there for him—but two weeks later, Joel Donovan was gone.

Chapter Four

CONFESSION

If I believed in fate, I might start to think that this is more than a coincidence.

“THIS IS YOU.”

The Uber came to a stop at the front of his hotel, and Bailey thanked the driver and pushed open the car door, ready to get inside and crawl into bed.

He’d had a great time at the reception this afternoon with the grooms and all their guests, but now that he’d stopped, his exhaustion and the lingering buzz from the alcohol Robbie had kept sending his way all day was starting to catch up with him.

It was a wonder he could even stand upright as he made his way to the front entrance and pushed through the revolving door. As the glass panes spun in front of him, Bailey tried to focus on something stationary so he wouldn’t wind up on his ass, but it was touch and go for a moment until he finally got inside and steadied himself with a hand on the closest wall.

Shit, maybe he should’ve passed on that last B-52 shot. But all the fun and laughter had been contagious, so he’d rallied, thrown back the drinks, and stayed until the Thornton-Priestleys had headed off for their wedding night away from the Bianchis’ lake house.

Once the world stopped spinning—literally—Bailey made his way through the hotel lobby to wait for the elevator, but as he passed by the bar and looked inside, his feet came to a standstill.

No. There’s no way that’s who I think it is… But as he walked inside, there was no mistaking the man at the far end of the bar.

With Henri’s leather jacket hugging his frame like a second skin and the sun glinting off several rings on his fingers, Bailey didn’t even have to see his face to know it was him. He’d been thinking about the stranger he’d met this morning all day, and now here he was, as if Bailey had conjured him out of thin air.

The place wasn’t too busy yet, since it was just now turning five thirty, but Bailey’s attention was firmly fixated on Henri. He hadn’t moved, not even to take a drink, just sat there staring out at the water in front of him, and Bailey wondered what it was he was thinking about. Probably Priest, if he had to guess. It was never easy to watch your ex tie the knot with someone else—especially a second someone else—if it wasn’t you.

Deciding to leave him alone with his thoughts, Bailey was about to head back to the elevators when Henri looked in his direction, and as their eyes met, a flash of a conversation he’d had earlier with Robbie sprang to mind…

“SOOO, QUICK, QUICK, while Priest isn’t here. Did Henri say anything about the wedding before he disappeared today? I really thought he’d stick around and say hello.”

Robbie all but pouted as he thrust yet another shot glass in Bailey’s hand and did a quick look over his shoulder. It was a couple of hours into the reception, and while Bailey had been enjoying dancing and chatting with the other guests, Robbie now had him cornered, wanting to know more about Priest’s vanishing ex.

“He just said congratulations, that’s all.” Bailey thought it probably best to keep the more cynical side of his and Henri’s conversation to himself.

“And how’d he look?” Robbie asked, his usually sparkling eyes somewhat serious, and the first thing that popped into Bailey’s head was: fucking hot. “It’s just…it’s been a while since I’ve seen him, and I want to make sure he’s doing all right. You know, that he’s…well.”

Okay, so clearly Bailey was thinking along completely different lines to Robbie, because all he could think was that Henri looked like the best night of his life wrapped up in a leather jacket. Whereas Robbie just wanted to make sure he looked “well,” as in, not pining after his new husband—most likely.

“He looked…” When Bailey drew a blank on an appropriate word, Robbie’s lips formed an O, and then he wagged his finger under Bailey’s nose.

“No, no, no. You don’t want to do that.” Bailey narrowed his eyes, and Robbie shook his head. “You don’t want to be thinking whatever it is you’re thinking right now.”

“I’m not thinking anything.”

“Your nose is growing, Officer Bailey. So I’m assuming Henri looked better than well? Tell me, is he still all dark and smoldering?”

And then some, Bailey thought. But before he’d had a chance to deny Robbie’s comment, Priest arrived to steal his groom away for a dance, effectively ending the conversation, and leaving Bailey to think about Henri’s dark, smoldering looks for the rest of the afternoon…

WHICH BROUGHT HIM back to now.

As his eyes collided with Henri’s across the room, a restless, needy feeling washed over him. He was fascinated by Henri, intrigued by the man with the mysterious eyes who had vanished without a trace this morning. And while he would never normally pursue something he knew would go absolutely nowhere, something about Henri made Bailey want to throw caution right out the window.

With their eyes now locked in a scorching standoff, Henri ran his tongue along his full lower lip, and Bailey had a sudden image of him doing that same thing over the head of his cock.

Shit, what would that be like? To have a man like that, who was so obviously sexual, so clearly confident in what he wanted, down between his legs, driving him out of his mind?

It would be a night like no other, that’s what it would be like, Bailey thought, as he shoved aside all of the logical reasons he should leave, and instead found himself walking over to Henri.

As Bailey took the barstool beside him and gestured for the bartender, no words were exchanged. But he could feel Henri’s eyes on him when he finally placed his order.

This was crazy. He’d never been so aware of another person in his entire life, and when he finally turned to stare into Henri’s enigmatic face, a smirk that landed on the wrong side of trouble crossed Henri’s lips.

Heat instantly flooded Bailey’s body under that stare. This guy epitomized the phrase bad boy, but as the bartender placed a whiskey sour in front of him, Bailey thought, I don’t care. I want him anyway. And if it’s only for one night, then there’s no harm in that…right?

* * *

MHMM…

HENRI COULD hardly believe his eyes—or his luck—as Blue settled down on the stool beside him and ordered a drink. He’d just been wishing for a distraction to keep his mind from straying back into unwanted territory, and like the universe remembered how good Blue had been in that department, it had hand-delivered him on a fucking platter.

Blue was exactly what Henri needed, the final ingredient to make him forget why he was sitting alone at a hotel bar getting wasted, and he planned to take full advantage of it.

“Well, this is an unexpected surprise.” Henri twirled his glass between his fingers as he looked over his new drinking companion. “If I believed in fate, I might start to think that this was more than just a coincidence.”

With his tie a little looser than this morning, and a much more relaxed grin crossing his tempting lips, it was obvious Blue had been doing a little drinking of his own today.

“Or,” Blue said, “maybe it’s just that this is the closest hotel to the Bianchis’ lake house.”

Henri scoffed at that pragmatic response. “Now why you gotta go and ruin my little fantasy? Here I was sitting all alone wishing I had someone to talk to, and then you showed up.”

That delicious blush Henri had seen earlier lit up Blue’s cheeks. “That’s all you were wishing for? Someone to talk to?”

Well, hello. It appeared that Blue had definitely loosened up since Henri had last seen him and was more than interested in exploring this chemistry between them, which was fine by Henri. If he had his way, he’d strip the guy naked right now and fuck him against the closest surface he could find.

“Talking seems to be the politest thing I can do with you in a bar.”

Blue took a long swallow of his drink and then licked along his lower lip, and Henri’s eyes followed that slick path. “And who asked you to be polite?”

At that blatant tease, Henri had to stifle a groan. “Careful now. I’m in the exact right mood to take you up on that offer.”

“I’m always careful. Tonight I want to be a little less so.”

Henri tapped his finger on the rim of his glass and gave Blue another once-over. It was obvious that he wanted this. But Henri didn’t get a one-night hookup vibe off Blue at all. “You sure about that?”

Blue took another sip of his drink—liquid courage, maybe?—and said, “I think so.”

“Mhmm. Well, you let me know when you know so.”

Blue lowered his gaze to his glass, and Henri wondered what he was thinking. Was he changing his mind? He had no idea, but then Blue cocked his head and said, “I passed your message on for you today.”

Henri’s lips curved. “Oh? And how did that go?”

“About as well as I think you expected it to. So I was wrong earlier. It was Priest, not Julien, who you used to date.”

Henri downed the rest of his drink in one long gulp, as Blue continued.

“I have to say, I like to think I’m pretty good at reading people. But I never would’ve guessed Priest.”

“And why’s that?”

Blue studied him for a moment as though trying to decide what to say next, and then he lowered his voice and said, “I don’t know. You just seem very…”

Henri shifted closer. “Very…what? You don’t think I’m going to let you stop there, do you?”

When Blue’s teeth scraped along his lower lip, Henri made a promise to himself that by the end of the night, he was going to be the one doing the biting.

“Come on, tell me what you think,” Henri said, placing a hand on Blue’s thigh, and when Blue automatically widened his legs to give him better access, Henri hummed.

“You just seem very—” Blue paused again, as Henri slipped his palm up the inside of Blue’s thigh.

“Yes?”

Blue swallowed, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down his strong throat, as he looked Henri straight in the eye. “Different than Priest. That’s all.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know, he’s…”

“A serious pain in the ass?” Henri said, and then grinned, deciding to leave out the fact that he meant that both literally and figuratively.

“Serious. Yes.” Blue chuckled.

Hmm, good, he’s enjoying this as much as I am.

“That’s definitely the right word for Priest. But you seem less, I don’t know, contained than he is. Like a…lone wolf or something. Someone who likes to run free and do whatever he wants.”

Huh. Blue was spot fucking on with that assessment. He really could read people well. Henri got off his stool to hide his wandering hand, as he finally moved it over the top of the hard-on between Blue’s legs and squeezed.

“Ahh,” Blue said before he could clamp his mouth shut, and Henri put his mouth by his ear and said, “I’d say that’s a pretty good assumption. For example, Joel would never consider fucking someone before he knew their name. Me, on the other hand? I can’t think of anything I’d rather do right now.”

Blue’s lips parted slightly, as Henri flicked the tip of his tongue over Blue’s earlobe.

“Wanna get out of here?”

Blue nodded, and Henri straightened to his full height.

“Your room or mine?” Blue asked as he buttoned his jacket, trying for a little decorum.

Yeah, good luck with that. As it was, Henri’s cock was so damn hard right now that it would be a miracle if he could walk out of the bar. But the fact that the two of them were on the same page made him really fucking happy.

He wanted to forget that today had ever happened, forget about the man who’d chosen everybody else but him, and focus on the one who was here now with him.

He was going to enjoy tonight, revel in it, sink inside the man staring at him as though he was down for anything—and in the morning, well, Henri just might do it all over again.

“Yours. I’ll meet you there in ten.”

Chapter Five

CONFESSION

So this is what it’s like to have déjà vu.

Two Weeks Later…

THE INCESSANT VIBRATING of his phone was just another annoyance to his already sleepless night, as Henri reached for the blasted thing and squinted at the screen. When a familiar number flashed across it, he groaned and rolled to his back.

Motherfucker. That was the last person he felt like dealing with at three in the goddamn morning. But when the vibrating stopped, and two seconds later started up again, he accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear.

“Yeah?” His standard non-greeting was met with stony silence for a beat or two. Henri could hear gravel crunching underfoot and assumed the one who’d called him was moving to a more private location.

He rested his forearm across his eyes as he waited for his caller to come back over the line, and a minute later he heard, “You in town?”

Henri thought about lying but said, “Yeah. What’d you need?”

“Déjà Vu Showgirls—you know it?”

He did—it was a strip joint over on the South Side. After he’d relocated to Chicago, he’d done a few…odd jobs here and there in that area. “I know it. What’s going on?”

“Get down here and I’ll tell you.” The order was clear—and annoying as fuck—but then again, Henri had put himself in this position, hadn’t he? So he let out a sigh and looked at the time.

“I can be there in…thirty minutes.”

“Make it twenty. It’s not like you’re above breaking a law or two.”

“Fuck you.”

“This ain’t a date, Boudreaux. Don’t make me wait around for you.”

Before Henri could respond, the call ended, and he cursed, threw his phone on the bed beside him, and shoved back the covers. When his feet hit the hardwood floor, he stretched his neck from side to side, and then got up to head into the bathroom to get changed.

Several months ago, he’d purchased this downtown loft and decided to settle in and call Chicago his new home…for now. Up until then, he’d been a kind of nomad, wandering around wherever his jobs took him. But he always somehow found himself back in New Orleans, despite his fucked-up history with the place.

Maybe because it was familiar, or maybe because he was sick in the head, he had no idea. But it was time to cut ties there for good now. After what happened with Jimmy, he’d known he would never set foot in that place again, not even under a fake name.

It was time to start over for real, time to start somewhere new, and part of that had included a diversion of some sort, a misdirection that would keep certain eyes off him and make what he did for a living an asset, as opposed to something suspicious that needed to be investigated and stopped.

That was the only reason he was grabbing his keys and walking out the door this fucking early in the morning. It was a miserable morning, too, wind and rain accompanying him and his irritated mood, as he drove through the deserted streets in Priest’s Aston Martin, letting a little Pink Floyd ease his mind.

He had to hand it to Priest: when he’d restored this baby, he’d done a damn good job. Supple red leather interior, chrome fixtures, a sweet paint job, and a stereo with speakers that made everything you played sound like you were at a damn concert.

Henri was actually surprised Priest hadn’t come after him for taking off with his pride and joy after the showdown with Jimmy. But then again, he’d have to find him first, and he figured Priest had left it with him in the end as reward for a job well done.

With the windshield wipers going, Henri drove under the railway and through an intersection that marked this part of town worse than the part he’d just driven through, and made sure to keep a watchful eye at all times.

This kind of car in this part of the city always drew attention, and it was never too early or late for the seedier members of society to be out making deals and looking to cause problems. Something he knew well, since that was the part of society he’d inhabited for most of his life.

As he made a right at the intersection, he spotted a slew of blue and red lights flashing on the street he was heading toward, and already knowing the drill, Henri pulled into a side street several blocks up.

After parking at the curb, he shut off the headlights and engine and hit the number that had called him earlier. “I’m three blocks west. You can’t miss me.”

He ended the call, tossed his phone on the dashboard, and looked at the half-empty packet of cigarettes sitting in the center console. He really wanted a smoke, but not even his addiction could make him light up in a car as sweet as this. Not to mention, if Priest ever did come for his baby and found out that Henri had smoked in it, he’d kill him. And of all the people in his life, Joel Donovan—Priestley—was the only one Henri knew could do him some real damage, because he was the only person Henri would never fight back against.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The hard rapping of knuckles on the rain-streaked passenger window had Henri’s head jerking to the right, and when he reached over and flicked the locks up and his door was pulled open, he watched his early morning caller slide inside.

Detective Sean Bailey—or, as he fondly referred to him, Detective Dick—ran a hand through his thick brown hair as his dark blue eyes scanned the tight confines, and Henri was petty enough to enjoy how uncomfortable he seemed as water slid down the back of his jacket.

“This weather is shit. Fucking rain.”

“Agreed,” Henri said, as he looked at the man he’d been “helping out” here and there over the past few months. “So can we hurry this along?”

“I’m sorry,” Dick said, sounding anything but. “Did I drag you away from a hot fuck or something? Ask me if I care.”

Henri was about to lie, but really the only thing the detective had disturbed was another frustrating night. Over the last two weeks, Henri had kept waking up midway through the hottest dream he’d ever had, the same dream he’d been having ever since he’d met the man he only knew as Blue, and his lack of sleep was starting to frustrate the hell out of him.

That was the only excuse he had for poking at the guy beside him. Well, that, and the detective was being a special brand of dick tonight.

“You really should work on your people skills, you know that? What are you, mid-forties? You should be married, dating someone by now.”

“Eat shit, Boudreaux. I’m in my thirties. And I don’t need people skills; everyone I usually deal with is dead.”

“Charming,” Henri said, and rubbed his fingers over his stubble.

“That’s me, charming. Now, as much as I’m enjoying this little chitchat, I need something.”

“You mean you didn’t just call me here because you wanted my company? That hurts, detective. That really hurts.”

“Sure it does. You heard of someone who goes by the name rAz? He’s new on the scene, a brutal motherfucker. Is making quite a name for himself dealing guns, H, and whores.”

The name was familiar; Henri had heard it thrown around when he’d been doing some work over on South Side, but it wasn’t someone he had ever dealt with. “I mean, he’s not on my speed dial, but I can probably track him down. What’s the deal?”

“We think we found one of his girls behind Déjà Vu this morning. Severely beaten. Strangled. Apparently she was talking a little too loudly to the wrong customer.”

“A cop?”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is this is the third girl in a couple of months, but we got nothing to tie him to it. We need you to sniff around. Look into it.”

Henri drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and shrugged. “Yeah, okay. My dance card’s pretty open this month.”

“Glad to hear it, and try not to get yourself fucking killed in the process, okay? That requires too much paperwork.”

“Careful.” Henri smirked at the unimpressed expression on Dick’s weary face. “You almost sound like you care.”

“About the information? You’re right, I do care. Let me know when you have something.”

As the detective shoved open the door and slid out, Henri said, “A pleasure, as always,” and was met with a middle-finger salute, then Detective Dick slammed the door shut, flipped up the collar of his jacket, and headed off down the street.

Henri grabbed his phone off the dash and checked the time. It was closing in on five, and when his stomach growled, he decided to head into town and find himself a twenty-four-hour breakfast joint as he mulled his new “project.”

He tossed his phone on the seat beside him, turned the key, and, as The Who blasted from the stereo, put his foot to the gas and headed off to hunt down a cup of coffee.

* * *

THE SOONER TONIGHT’S shift was over the better, as far as Bailey was concerned. The last twelve hours had felt like twenty, and he had a feeling it was going to be a grind right up to the very end.

He wasn’t sure why, but people were so much more careless with their lives when the weather was shit, and that made for a long-ass night of him trying to make sure they stayed safe.

Bailey looked at the clock on his dashboard and saw it was closing in on five on this lovely Thursday morning, and three more hours seemed like an eternity from now. He was just coming off his four-day workweek, and for the last few days he felt as though he’d been running on empty.

Not that that was anything new. His internal clock was always jacked up whenever he worked nights, but ever since that disastrous weekend up in Oshkosh, sleep had been even more elusive. He couldn’t count how many days he’d spent tossing and turning, unable to forget what had happened that night. But the one thing that stood out with startling clarity was the mysterious face of a stranger—Henri. A face that now seemed determined to haunt Bailey for the rest of his damn life.

Okay, stop thinking about him. You have three more hours and then you’re done. If he could just make it through those then he’d be home free. But maybe it’d help if he stopped somewhere for a quick hit of caffeine for that final push.

As he made his way down Roosevelt, the downpour continued and began a relentless rhythm on the roof of his patrol car. It was really coming down now. So much so it was difficult to see more than a car length in front, and as he pulled to a stop at the intersection to turn onto Clark and waited for the lights to change, the rain got progressively harder.

Bailey squinted out the windshield and saw the lights flick from red to green, and just as he was about to pull forward and make the turn, a sporty little number flew through the red light, barely missing him.

Bailey let out a string of curses, flipped on his lights, and took off after the idiot who’d almost taken out the front end of his vehicle.

His windshield wipers were working overtime as he followed after Speed Racer, and when the driver seemed to realize he was being followed, he slowed down and came to a stop on the side of the street.

Bailey pulled in behind the car, his headlights illuminating the vehicle through the relentless onslaught of the weather, and resigned himself to getting soaked because this moron hadn’t been paying attention.

With his rain jacket on, Bailey let out a sigh and shoved open the door. He had a flashlight in one hand as he made his approach, and as he got closer, he couldn’t help but admire the vehicle. As a lover of classic cars, he noted it was a fully restored 1959 Aston Martin coupe, and it was gorgeous.

He would’ve thought that someone who bothered to put such time and care into restoring such a beauty would have had better common sense than to drive it so fast in this weather, not to mention barreling through a red light. But then again, maybe this wasn’t their car.

As he walked up the side of the vehicle, Bailey peered into the back seat to see it was clear, and when he reached the driver’s side and the window rolled down, he shifted the light so it would illuminate the person in the car.

Bailey bent a little to see inside, and the face staring back at him woke him up quicker than any hit of caffeine could ever do. What in the hell? Henri?

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” As those words left the mouth Bailey had spent the last two weeks fantasizing about, his brain tried to catch the hell up.

One minute he’d been about to write the driver up for speeding and failure to stop at a red light, and now? Now he was busy trying to find his tongue, because he was face to face with the man who’d stroked his dick to full mast in public, only to up and vanish when it came to closing the damn deal. This was unbelievable.

“You’re a cop?” Henri said, his eyes roaming over Bailey as he stood there in the pouring rain, trying to make sense of what was going on.

This was the last thing he’d expected this morning, to run into Henri, here. He must’ve gone over that night in Oshkosh a million times, trying to work out what he’d done to make Henri leave without any explanation. And even though Bailey had decided it’d been for the best, sparing him the morning-after walk of shame and subsequent days of regret that would’ve followed, the purposeful dismissal still stung.

Now here Henri was, sitting in front of Bailey after almost careening into his patrol car. “What the hell are you doing here?”

As water slid down the inside of his uniform, that wicked smirk that had tempted him to throw aside caution and take a walk on the wild side slid across Henri’s lips. “In Chicago?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I live here, Officer…?”

When Henri’s eyes shifted to Bailey’s vest, Bailey realized his name was covered up by his rain gear and he had yet to identify himself. He also thought it prudent to note that he hadn’t told Henri his name the first time they’d met either. Apparently, Henri had the innate ability to render him completely fucking useless.

“Bailey. It’s Officer Bailey, and you were speeding. You went right through a red light.” Bailey wasn’t sure what he expected after that comment. But when Henri’s eyes remained fixated on the bulletproof vest he wore over his shirt, Bailey said, “Did you hear me?”

“Your name’s…Bailey?”

Bailey put one hand on the roof of the car and leaned down so he could get a better look at Henri’s face—for professional reasons, of course—then nodded. “Yes. I realize that’s news to you, but—”

“Officer Bailey?” When Bailey just stared at him, he thought he heard Henri say, “No fuckin’ way…”

“Look, I know this is a shock, but can we focus here for a minute? This rain’s no joke.”

Henri shook his head and closed his eyes for a second. He was probably trying to recover from the same shock Bailey was—it wasn’t every day the guy you ghosted pulled you over for a speeding ticket—then he opened his eyes and said, “Sure thing, officer. Go ahead.”

Chapter Six

CONFESSION

I’d rather be pulled over by a cop

than have to talk to a priest.

OF ALL THE cops in the city, I had to get pulled over by the one I stood up? Really? Henri thought, as he stared into the arresting blue eyes he hadn’t been able to get out of his head. Arresting, ha, now there’s a joke.

“Can I please see your license and registration?”

Shit, okay. So we’re really doing this. “Sure thing…officer.” Henri looked up at the still-rumbling sky before returning his attention back to Blue. “You want to come around and get inside out of the rain?”

Blue—Bailey—looked at the empty passenger seat and frowned. “I don’t think so. How about you just give me what I need?”

Henri had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to fight back the urge he had to make a sexual comment, and wondered what it said about him that in a situation as fucked up as this one was turning out to be, his cock was still reacting.

“Sometime soon would be fantastic, Henri.”

“Yeah, right. One second.” Henri picked up his leather jacket off the seat beside him, dug out his wallet, and located his license. Then he flipped open the glove box, ready to grab the registration, and froze.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was not good. In fact, he’d been so caught off guard by seeing his almost one-night stand in front of him, accessorized with handcuffs, that he’d completely forgotten one of the main reasons he was super fucking careful not to get pulled over in this car.

“There a problem? Do you not have your registration?” Bailey shined the flashlight toward the open glove box, and Henri gritted his teeth, wishing that was the problem he had right then. “Henri?”

Knowing there was no way out of this, Henri grabbed what he needed and slammed the glove box shut, and as he handed it all over to Bailey, he flashed a tight smile.

He’d been wondering if this morning could get much worse as he’d driven across town in such shit-tastic weather, and when Bailey aimed his flashlight at the documents in his hand, Henri had his answer: yes, it could get much, much worse.

“Joel Priestley owns this car?”

“Kind of.”

“Kind of?” Bailey repeated, and Henri thought, Please, God, don’t let him call Joel.

Henri tried for his most winning grin. Maybe he could charm his way out of this somehow. “Yeah. He knows I have it, though. You don’t need to worry him about it.”

“Wait here.”

Or maybe not.

With the rain not easing up, and the water now sliding down the sharp angles of Bailey’s face as he headed back to his vehicle, he looked like a pissed-off version of Zeus about to strike Henri down with a bolt of lightning.

Henri watched him go in his rearview mirror, and with the water now soaking through Bailey’s rain jacket, the material molded to his body like a second skin.

Henri wasn’t sure what was about to happen next, if Bailey was going to call Priest. But one thing Henri did know: he might’ve been the one to leave that night in Oshkosh—something he now regretted even more after seeing Bailey again—but unless he was thrown into a jail cell tonight, Henri would find a way to finally have the man who’d been haunting his dreams.

* * *

BAILEY CLIMBED INTO his patrol car and yanked the door shut with a hard slam, his eyes glued to the back of the Aston Martin as he tried to make sense out of everything he’d just learned.

First: Henri lived in the same city he did. Second: he was driving around breaking the law in Priest’s car. And third: even though he might have to ticket the man, all Bailey could think about was why Henri had left that night. Why had he changed his mind when it was clear, even now, that the two of them wanted the same damn thing from one another?

It was official: his dick was now thinking for him, and not very clearly, apparently. Bailey took his hat off and ran a hand over his buzzed hair, then he gripped the back of his neck as he sat there for a minute and tried to remind himself he was a professional. An officer of the law, for God’s sake. But that was difficult when all his frustration and annoyance over the past couple of weeks was sitting in the car up ahead of him.

He stared at the photo on the license he was holding, and it annoyed him that Henri even managed to make that look good.

Henri Boudreaux. Even his last name was sexy. But then again, so were his eyes, his mouth, his voice— No, those things don’t matter. Bailey needed to stop getting sidetracked. He had a job to do, and while he knew he should issue a ticket, Bailey wanted to confirm that Henri’s story about Priest’s car was true.

He looked at the time and grimaced. He didn’t relish the idea of waking anyone at this early hour, and a friend? That was even worse. But he needed to make sure Priest was aware of where his car was. Especially considering Henri had told him that he wasn’t friends with any of the grooms the day of the wedding.

The first thing Bailey did was run the plates, and when the vehicle didn’t show as stolen, he let out a relieved sigh. But that didn’t necessarily mean anything—with the way Henri had been driving, he could’ve been hightailing it away from Priest’s, and as he hit Priest’s number and waited, Bailey found himself praying that wasn’t the case.

“Hello?” As Priest’s gruff voice came through the line, Bailey kept his eyes on the car ahead of him and told himself he was doing the right thing.

“Hey there, Priest. It’s Bailey. Look, I’m sorry to wake you so early, but—”

“Bailey?” Priest said, and the sound of rustling sheets had Bailey wincing. “You didn’t wake me. My alarm just went off.”

“Oh, good.”

“Is there something wrong? Did you pick up one of our clients or something?”

Or something seemed about right, and as Bailey tried to work out how to ask this next question, Priest said his name again.

“I’m here,” Bailey said in his most professional tone. “I need to ask you a few questions, if you have a minute.”

When a long pause followed, he shut his eyes and waited.

“Of course. Is everything okay? You sound…different.”

No shit. Usually, he was calling as a friend or colleague, not to see if Priest’s ex had stolen his car. The same ex Bailey had wanted to see naked in bed, and was annoyed at because he hadn’t.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to alarm you. I’m calling because I pulled Henri over tonight, and when I—”

“Wait a second,” Priest interrupted. “Did you just say you pulled Henri over? As in, my Henri?”

His Henri? Bailey thought, as the rain began to ease and the car ahead was easier to see. Is that how Priest sees him? Is that how Henri sees himself? As Priest’s?

Then he heard his name repeated in his ear. “Uh, yes. That Henri. I pulled him over tonight for running a red light and speeding.”

Priest muttered something that Bailey didn’t quite catch, and when nothing else followed, Bailey continued.

“When I ran his plates, the car he’s driving—an Aston Martin?—came back registered to you.”

“I’m going to kill him.” Priest’s voice was so calm, so sure, that for a second, Bailey actually believed him.

“So he did steal it?”

“What?” Priest said, as if what Bailey had just said made no sense at all.

“Your car? The Aston Martin? I’m trying to find out if Henri stole it or—”

A raspy chuckle filtered through the phone. “Would serve him right if I said yes.”

Bailey frowned. “So…he didn’t steal it?”

“No, he didn’t.” Priest let out an aggrieved sigh. “He’s, uh, borrowing it.”

Priest wasn’t at all convincing in his answer, and for a man who was usually so sure, Bailey found himself doubting his friend. “Look, I get you two have a history, but if he stole your—”

“He didn’t, I promise. But can you give him a message for me?”

Bailey nodded, and when he realized Priest couldn’t see him, he said, “Yes, of course.”

“Can you let him know that I’ll be in touch to discuss this little incident further? Very soon.”

Priest’s tone told Bailey that whatever he was going to say to Henri about all of this would likely be worse than anything Bailey could do to him. So he let Priest know that he would pass the message on before he said, “I hope you three had a good time on your honeymoon.”

Bailey could all but see the smile in Priest’s voice as he said, “Oui. Paris was parfait. We didn’t want to come home.”

“I bet. Say hi to the guys for me, would you?”

Priest assured him that he would, and after they said their goodbyes, Bailey eyed the Aston Martin and took one last look at the license in his hand.

He needed to nip this in the bud, let Henri go with a warning this time around, but as he made his way toward the vehicle, he couldn’t help but wonder what Henri would be doing in an hour or so.

No, Bailey reprimanded himself.

What was that old saying? Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. And Bailey quickly reminded himself that he was raised to be nobody’s fool, least of all Henri Boudreaux’s.

Chapter Seven

CONFESSION

Tell me something’s off-limits,

and I’ll want it even more.

HENRI FELT AS though he’d entered the Twilight Zone, an episode where everything had been turned on its ass, as he focused on the patrol car a couple of feet behind him where Bailey—Officer Bailey—had just disappeared to.

Christ, as if the fact that his Blue from two weeks ago was a cop wasn’t bad enough, that last name and whom Henri had just been meeting up with this morning somehow made this all feel a little…coincidental, somehow. What were the odds that there were two Baileys on the Chicago police force that shared blue eyes, a desire to fight crime, and an unfortunate penchant for the truth?

It might’ve been a coincidence, but Henri was starting to think that when it came to him and this particular guy, there were no coincidences. Just the universe having a really good laugh as it continued to throw the two of them together to see how they’d handle each new fucked-up situation.

So far, he hadn’t handled it very well. It was just his luck that the first guy his dick was interested in had to wield a gun and a badge, because life would be too simple if Bailey worked in an office behind a fucking computer, wouldn’t it?

But when the door of the patrol car reopened and Bailey climbed out, Henri wondered how much convincing it would take for the man of his dreams to come home with him for a night after the stunt he’d pulled. A lot, he was thinking, as Bailey made his way back to him with sure, steady strides that said the likelihood of that happening was nothing more than wishful thinking.

That was probably for the best in the long run, though, because Henri getting involved with a cop would be a really stupid idea.

“Officer,” Henri said as he rested his forearm on the open window frame, and glanced out at Bailey, who was looking down at him with a frown that did nothing to detract from his appeal.

If anything, it just made him more attractive, more off-limits—which, of course, made him all the more tempting.

“So,” Bailey said, and tapped the documents he held on his palm. “I called Priest, and—”

“Shit. I was hoping you wouldn’t do that.” Henri could only imagine what he’d had to say about all of this.

“Well, I did, and he told me you didn’t steal the car. So I would say it went better for you than it could have. He also told me to let you know that he’ll be in touch.”

Henri opened his mouth to respond, but then shut it again as he thought over Bailey’s words. “You really thought I stole his car?” When Bailey said nothing to disagree, Henri added, “I told you I didn’t.”

Henri couldn’t be certain, since it was still dark outside, but he was almost positive Bailey’s lips twitched as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“If I believed everything a person said to me when I pulled them over, I’d be out of a job.”

Good point, Henri supposed, but… “I doubt you’ve invited every single person you’ve pulled over to spend the night with you either, have you?”

Bailey’s lips went from a grin to a scowl in less than a second. “Something you decided you weren’t interested in, if I recall.”

“Oh, I was interested,” Henri said. “It’s just…something came up that night.”

Bailey said nothing, just held the license and registration out. As Henri reached for them, Bailey tightened his grip. “I should be writing you a ticket.”

“Then write me one.”

Bailey licked his lips, his fingers still tight on the papers between them, as a war between his body and mind played out right before Henri’s eyes.

Then he let go of the items. “Where were you going so early this morning, anyway? This weather is pretty bad for a joyride.”

Henri knew he didn’t have to answer that now that Priest had confirmed the car wasn’t stolen. The only thing Bailey had on him were the driving violations, and his answer here wouldn’t change those, one way or another.

“Maybe I spent the night at someone’s house.”

Henri wasn’t sure how Bailey would respond to that, but when he automatically asked, “Did you?” Henri figured things were definitely looking up—something his cock was in agreement with.

“No…I didn’t.” A smile slowly curled his lips at Bailey’s irritated expression, and Henri liked to think that just maybe the officer had been having the same difficulties sleeping lately that he had. “I’ve been too busy regretting a night from two weeks ago to go and look somewhere else.”

Bailey eyed Henri closely, obviously trying to decide whether to believe him. But just in case there were any lingering doubts, Henri added, “I’ve been dreamin’ about you. About that night and what it would’ve been like.”

Bailey slowly nodded and braced a hand on the car roof. “Guess you should keep dreaming, then, because now you’ll never know. I’m letting you go with a warning this morning. If I stop you again, you won’t be so lucky.”

Bailey straightened and headed back to his car. Henri watched him go and couldn’t help but think he just might risk getting arrested if it meant getting a chance to talk to that man again—or at least risk a visit to a certain Priest to get that hot cop’s number.

* * *

“I’VE BEEN DREAMIN’ about you…”

Henri’s words had been on repeat in Bailey’s head ever since he’d left him back in the rain nearly three hours ago. But as he pushed through the front door of his mid-century home, he headed straight for the kitchen, determined to have a quick bite to eat before falling into bed and switching his brain off.

Switching it off to his tired body.

Switching it off to that night in Oshkosh.

And switching it off to the man with the sinful mouth and a bad habit of disappearing into thin fucking air.

Bailey still couldn’t believe that tonight—well, this morning, really—had actually happened. That out of all of the people in Chicago, he’d pulled over the only man who’d ever tempted him into a one-night stand. Not that that night had actually happened, Bailey thought, as he tossed his keys on the small table in the breakfast nook and walked over to the fridge.

A quick inspection of the contents revealed his serious lack of choices, and after he grabbed the orange juice and milk, he went and rummaged around for some cereal.

One bowl of Cheerios later, and he was back to doing what he’d promised himself he wouldn’t—thinking about Henri. Not that he had much to go on, and maybe that was the problem. Maybe if he knew more, this guy wouldn’t be such a mystery—he’d just be another guy.

But Bailey didn’t know more. All he knew was Henri’s name—first and last now—so that was a step in the right direction, at least. He knew that Priest was his ex, and that Henri lived in Chicago in a really nice area that Bailey may, or may not have, looked up after he’d let Henri go this morning.

He had a few misdemeanors here and there, but nothing recently, and certainly nothing to warrant a red flag, and that was it. That was all Bailey knew, other than Henri’s voice was like velvet when he whispered in Bailey’s ear, and he smelled incredible. Like sex and sin all wrapped up in one dangerous package. He was addictive and potent, and that thought had Bailey getting up from the table and dumping his bowl in the sink. The last thing he needed to do was obsess over a guy who had left him without a word the night of Priest’s wedding.

Why had he left like that, anyway? I was a sure thing for him that night. Something came up? Yeah…right.

It’d been embarrassing enough the first time around, wondering what he’d done to turn Henri off. But it had also been a stark reminder why Bailey didn’t do the one-night-stand thing in the first place.

Unlike a relationship you were actually invested in, a one-nighter meant walking out the next day and never looking back. Detaching from the situation, not giving a fuck how the other person felt. And regardless of whether they knew each other well, being left without so much as a word had left him feeling like shit. It had made him paranoid, pissed off, and, most of all, Bailey thought as he stripped out of his shirt and unzipped his jeans, it had left him frustrated as hell.

He drew the blackout curtains closed with a little more force than necessary, then he shoved his jeans off and climbed into bed. As his head hit the pillow, he closed his eyes and tried to drift off, but his mind once again circled back to Henri.

Shit. Maybe Xander was right and Bailey was working too hard. All these hours he’d been pulling lately had really kept him out of the dating loop, and maybe that was what was messing with him.

Maybe his own damn loneliness was the reason he was looking in Henri’s direction. But there was no denying it: Bailey was looking, and thinking, and craving Henri, even though he’d done everything he could to bury his reaction to him.

Bailey squeezed his eyes shut, willing his exhaustion to take over his obsession. Henri was nothing but trouble, Bailey knew it, could feel it. But there was no shaking him. Henri Boudreaux had weaved some kind of spell over him, and Bailey had to wonder what it was going to take to break it.

Chapter Eight

CONFESSION

The best way to stay out of trouble is

to not go looking for it, or so I’m told.

Pity I’ve never been very good at listening.

FRIDAY MORNING, HENRI made his way across the marble lobby of one of downtown’s tallest buildings and came to a standstill at a bank of elevators, where the morning crowd of suits all waited for one to arrive.

Damn lawyers—they always made him uneasy. They looked like a bunch of lemmings about to follow each other off the edge of the earth. But he needed to talk to one lawyer in particular, so Henri was willing to brave assimilation to get the information he was after.

He was on a mission this morning, one that he’d thought about a couple of weeks ago but decided it wasn’t worth the shit he’d have to deal with. But after his run-in yesterday with Bailey, and knowing he was going to have to deal with Priest sooner or later anyway, Henri figured, why not make it on his terms? That way, he held the cards.

Jesus, these elevators take forever, Henri thought, and it hadn’t escaped his attention that several of the others waiting were staring at him.

The woman to his right was particularly obvious in her disapproval. Not that he gave two shits. She was dressed in a black pin skirt with a white blouse and matching jacket. Her black stilettos, string of pearls, and Louis Vuitton bag screamed money for everyone to see. Just as her upturned nose and assessing once-over of him screamed snob for him to see.

Henri knew his height often intimidated people, as did his piercing and the fact he was wearing jeans and leather in a corporate building. But shit, lady, I showered and put a belt on this morning. You can stop clutching your pearls. She wasn’t his type anyway, and as the elevator dinged and the doors opened, Henri stepped forward and held an arm out to keep them that way.

The woman passed by quickly and scurried to the back—as far away from him as possible—and once it was full and the doors slid shut, Henri couldn’t help himself. He glanced over his shoulder and winked at her, and those judgmental eyes widened until they all but encompassed her face.

Henri shook his head. He would never understand people’s ability to judge someone before they knew them, and he couldn’t help but wonder what her reaction would’ve been if he’d been in a suit and holding a briefcase.

Twenty bazillion floors later, Henri reached the top level of Mitchell & Madison and stepped out into one of the most impressive lobbies he’d ever been in. Over the years he’d worked many different jobs, some legal, some not so legal, and while he hadn’t officially been on the books at any of the law firms in New Orleans—more like paid under the table—he’d been around enough lawyers to know that you only got an office like this if you were really fucking good.

So it was no surprise to him that this was where Priest had landed, because as far as Henri knew, Priest was the best.

Henri looked around the currently empty space and made his way toward the curved mahogany desk directly in front of him. There was a large, mottled glass divider that boldly announced the firm’s name to anyone who was unsure of where they were, and the soft strains of classical music that filled the area reminded a person they were in a place that required a certain amount of decorum—something he was surely lacking.

Henri glanced at the clock on the wall, and saw it was just about to turn eight thirty. He was early, but he also knew Priest, and if this place said it opened at eight, then that meant Priest would be here at seven thirty—if not earlier.

Just as he was about to shoot off a text to the princess asking where his grumpier half was, a man in a navy suit, wearing black-rimmed glasses, walked around the divider with a coffee cup in hand.

“Tiffany, did you get the—” When he noticed no one was there, he frowned and was clearly about to go off in search for “Tiffany” when he looked up and noticed Henri standing there.

Henri waited for the usual once-over and dismissal from the man who was clearly someone important, judging by the tailored cut of his suit and commanding way he held himself. But instead, he stepped around the desk and walked over.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you standing there. I don’t know where Tiffany has disappeared to. Has anyone helped you yet?”

The man then held his hand out, and as Henri shook it, he was struck by what an incredibly good-looking person he was staring at.

“Are you here to see someone? Maybe I can help. I’m Logan Mitchell, one of the owners here.”

No shit, Henri thought, as Logan’s full lips curved into an arrogant grin. He was no doubt used to people being struck dumb by his face, and that was when Henri was hit with an image, a flash of recognition from Priest’s wedding, when a ridiculously attractive man had blocked his attempt to talk with his former friend.

This was that man. He was one of Priest’s work partners? Wonder how Julien and Robbie feel about that?

“Yeah, hi. I’m actually looking for Joel. He’s not expecting me, but—”

“You’re looking for Priest?” The intelligent eyes behind those glasses, which had been nothing but professional a second ago, were now giving Henri a very different kind of once-over. One that was both appreciative and…curious.

“That’s right. Priest,” Henri said. “I always forget that’s what he goes by around here.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, but then he chuckled. “I thought that’s what he went by just about everywhere.”

Henri gave a tight-lipped smile, and when it was clear he wasn’t going to elaborate further, Logan turned and headed back to the front desk. Henri followed him across the lobby. Logan picked up the phone and hit a button, cradled the receiver between his ear and shoulder, and said, “Who should I say is calling?”

The spark of mischief in Logan’s eyes told Henri that this man knew Priest well, because if there was one thing Priest didn’t like, it was a surprise, and Henri being there was going to shock the shit out of him.

“Henri.”

“Good morning, Joel. There’s someone out here to see you.” There was a pause, and when Logan rolled his eyes, he instantly earned a spot in Henri’s good books. Then he nodded and said, “Yes, yes, I know. I know. Are you done? Mhmm, he says you know him. His name is Henri.”

Henri caught a few terse words from the other end of the phone, and after Logan said his goodbyes, he hung up and crooked his finger. “If you’ll come this way, I’ll take you to him.”

Logan stepped out from behind the desk, and Henri followed. Directly to his right was a massive corner office that was encased in glass walls and practically took up half the floor. Logan turned down the hallway, stopped at a door midway down the corridor, and knocked. An all-too-familiar voice called out, “Come in.”

Henri’s shoulders straightened. He wasn’t sure what it was about Priest that always made him feel like he was going to the principal’s office, but when Logan looked at him and said, “You need some help in there?” Henri realized he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

“Nah, I’ve been handling Joel for a long time. I’ll be fine.”

“Really. Well, I’ll just have to remember that when I need some help,” Logan said, as he pushed down on the handle and opened the door. “Good luck in there, and remember you have a witness that you were here, so…”

Henri chuckled, liking Logan more and more as he stepped by him and into the lion’s den. As the door shut behind him, Henri looked across the office to Priest and reminded himself that he was there for one thing and one thing only.

To get the phone number of Officer Bailey, not to fall in love with Joel Priestley all over again.

* * *

THE HEAVY POUNDING on his front door made Bailey’s eyes snap open to look at the clock on his bedside table. Shit, it’s nine in the morning?

He snatched up his phone, and when he saw the date, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Wow, he’d slept all through yesterday and last night, and when a text popped up from Xander—Bringing over breakfast—he knew the culprit for his rude awakening.

Damn. Bailey had known he was exhausted, but it seemed the extra stress of no sleep—or restless, frustrated sleep—had really gotten to him. Yet another reason to be annoyed at Henri Boudreaux.

Stifling a yawn, Bailey threw back the covers and reached for his sweats, and then made his way toward the front door.

As the banging continued, he called out, “I’m coming. Jesus,” and rubbed a hand over his head. When he reached the door and pulled it open, he greeted Xander with a scowl.

Xander chuckled. “Well, you look like hell.”

Bailey let out a sigh as he eyed his forever camera-ready friend—and ex. Alexander Thorne, the number one news anchor at ENN, never left his house looking anything but put together.

In fitted jeans and a lightweight charcoal sweater that matched his midnight and gunmetal hair, Xander made a hard, fast, sophisticated impact. So did the famous smile now aimed Bailey’s way.

“Late night?” Xander asked as he stepped inside and lowered his eyes over Bailey’s bare chest. The two coffee cups he held in a tray were the only reason Bailey hadn’t slammed the door in his perfect face.

“What do you think?” Xander opened his mouth to respond, but Bailey held up a hand. “On second thought, I don’t care what you think. But you better have a—”

“Caramel walnut roll for you?” Xander held up the brown paper bag in his other hand and swung it under Bailey’s nose. “I got you two. How long have I known you?”

Too damn long, Bailey thought, as Xander headed into the house, his deep chuckle echoing up the hall, reminding Bailey that it had once been the swaying argument as to whether or not he liked boys or girls.

He remembered that day in junior high very clearly. He’d been eleven; Xander was thirteen. His girlfriend, Nora, had been sitting with him and Xander at lunch, and he’d told them a joke. She’d giggled, and Bailey felt so proud of himself for making her laugh. But then Xander chuckled and rolled his eyes, and Bailey’s cock had made it very clear who it wanted and it was his best friend—not the girl to his right.

Luckily for him, his dick had grown out of that habit around ten years ago. Getting hard for Xander, that was, not men in general.

Xander put the paper bag and coffees on the kitchen island then went to rummage through Bailey’s cabinets for a plate, and when he turned back around, he shook his head and opened up the sack.

“I’m serious, Bay, you really do look a little”—Xander paused as he pulled one of the pastries free and put it on a plate—“weary.”

“Weary? What does that even mean?” Bailey reached for the roll and picked it up to take a bite. As the rich, syrupy caramel hit his taste buds, he closed his eyes and groaned.

“It means you look tired, exhausted. Do you need me to give you a minute alone with your pastry there?”

Bailey opened his eyes. “No, but if you could shut up and give me a moment to enjoy it in silence that would be amazing.”

“Uh huh.” Xander reached into the bag and pulled out an apple turnover and a couple of napkins. He tossed one Bailey’s way, even though he was already licking his fingers clean. “Here, animal.”

Bailey snorted, the sugar now replacing his grumpiness with a semblance of good humor. “We can’t all be as refined as you.”

“That is true. However, I knew your mother, and she raised you better than that. Sean and Kieran maybe not, but you she had high hopes for.”

Bailey smirked, thinking of his brothers, and then took another bite of the roll, grateful for Xander’s morning visit despite himself.

The two of them had been in each other’s lives one way or another for as long as he could remember. Xander had been there for Bailey through good times and bad—his parents passing being the very worst—and while their relationship had changed and morphed over the years, this version they’d settled into now was by far Bailey’s favorite.

Xander was someone he could trust. Hell, he was someone most of America trusted, and no matter what, he was someone Bailey could always rely on to tell him the truth. Even if he didn’t want to hear it.

“So, what’s been going on with you?” Xander asked, as he rested a hip against the counter.

Bailey reached for his cup, brought the hot brew to his lips, and shrugged. “Nothing.”

One of Xander’s perfect eyebrows arched. “Come on, you can do better than that, Bay. People lie to you all the time for a living. I’m sure you’ve picked up some of their moves.”

He wasn’t wrong, and while Bailey had spoken to Xander since the wedding, he’d been unsure whether to tell him what—or who—it was that had been causing him to lose sleep.

But after a quick back-and-forth with himself, Bailey finally decided that, for the sake of his sanity, it might just be time to confess.

“Okay, but you have to promise not to give me shit.”

Xander lowered his coffee to the counter, a devious smile curving his lips. “Promise.”

Chapter Nine

CONFESSION

I love to hate him as much as he hates to love me.

JUST ONCE, HENRI wished that Priest could look something other than fucking perfect when they saw each other. Then maybe Henri wouldn’t always feel like a peasant coming to visit a king, especially when they hailed from the same shitty neck of the woods.

But as usual, Priest looked the picture of a refined gentleman this morning. The suit, the office, the perfectly groomed hair and scruff that lined his jaw, and then, of course, there was that commanding, nobody fucks with what’s mine voice of his.

Not that Henri would know much about that. He’d never been good enough to be counted as Priest’s the way it mattered most, and that was all it took to snap him out of his little fantasy. “You owe me a favor.”

In all the years the two of them had known each other, one of the things Henri envied most about Priest was his ability to keep his emotions at bay. That was something Henri had never been able to master. But if Priest didn’t want you to know something, if he didn’t want to give his hand away, he threw up a mask that was one of the best Henri had ever seen—like now.

“A favor?” Priest said, as he walked around his desk. “As far as I’m aware, everything I owed you was settled when you disappeared several months ago with my car.”

Yeah, Henri had known that one was coming, and when Priest stopped in front of him, Henri couldn’t resist taking a shot. “Can you blame me? She drives like a dream, by the way. I can tell you really cared when you restored her. How long did it take?”

“Quit the bullshit,” Priest said, as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants. The move was both cool and calm, but Henri thought it was more likely to remove the urge Priest had to strangle him. “Were you ever going to tell me you were back in town?”

“Probably not. But then again, I never left. If you thought I did, that was your mistake, not mine.”

Priest eyed him and rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose you’re right. But I figured once you heard I was going to call, you’d bolt.”

“I told you, you owe me a favor.”

Priest’s eyes narrowed, and where that look had once aroused Henri, now it just challenged him.

“This ought to be good,” Priest said. “I can only begin to guess what kind of ‘favor’ you think I owe you. By the way, if you’re going to be in contact with one of my husbands, I want to know about it.”

A smirk tugged at the corners of Henri’s lips. “Why? Scared I might corrupt the little princess?”

Priest frowned, an expression Henri was positive he was born with. “It wouldn’t be too far of a stretch, now would it? Correct me if I’m wrong, but did I or did I not get called by a cop yesterday to see if you had stolen my car?”

Henri knew he should let it go, just move on to what he was really there for. But there was too much history, too much water under that bridge to ignore, and before he could help it, he heard himself say, “If I remember correctly, that kind of thing used to turn you on.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, my mistake. It all depends on who is stealing your car. I forgot.” Even as the words were leaving his mouth, Henri told himself to get to the point and get the fuck out. But it was too late now, and for the first time since he’d stepped into the office, he saw Priest’s mask slip.

“Henri.” Priest took a step forward. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You’ve never lied to me before, so don’t start now.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Then what was that all about?”

Henri clenched his teeth, trying to keep the recent resurgence of old emotions at bay. But before he could stop himself, he exploded. “Are you really so fucking stupid that you don’t know?”

Priest reared back as though Henri had punched him, and then he slowly crossed his arms over his chest. “Not as far as I know. So if you have something to say to me, why don’t you say it before I lose my temper?”

Henri willed himself to calm down. He wasn’t there to fight. But the second he’d stepped through that door and seen Priest standing there, everything he’d been feeling in those moments before the wedding bubbled up inside him and spewed out in a toxic rage.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting married again?”

Priest’s eyes widened. It was extremely rare to catch Priest off guard, but Henri had managed it. After a moment or two, when Priest still hadn’t answered, Henri took another step forward and said, “Do you really think so little of me that you couldn’t bother to tell me yourself?”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Do I? How? How the fuck am I supposed to know that, Joel?” Henri ran a hand through his hair. “If it hadn’t been for Robbie, I wouldn’t have had a clue what was going on. So don’t stand there and tell me that you give a shit, because I don’t fucking believe you.”

Priest’s cheeks flushed even as his jaw bunched, and then he turned away and walked back to his desk. When Priest braced his fingers on the wood and hung his head, Henri had the insane urge to go and comfort him.

But no, fuck that. It wasn’t his place—not anymore.

“I wanted to tell you.” Priest’s voice was eerily quiet, and Henri braced himself for what he knew would follow. “But I knew how much it hurt you the first time that I—”

“Pussied out?”

Priest whirled around, ready to tell Henri to go fuck himself, no doubt, and the hurt and anger swirling in those grey eyes matched the emotions now roiling through Henri.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Why not?” Henri said, now seething with annoyance. “It’s what we do best.”

“That’s not fair.”

“That’s the truth.” Henri spun away from Priest, no longer able to face him. “I swear to God, Joel. I get within five feet of you and I want to kill you.”

A long silence followed. “That’s why we don’t work.”

Henri glanced over his shoulder to see Priest’s earnest eyes on him, and the pain and regret he saw there mirrored what was going on inside him.

“I love you, you know that. But this, us? We don’t work,” Priest said, and that knife from two weeks ago—hell, from forever ago—twisted so deep inside Henri’s heart that it finally shoved all the way through. “You know that, Henri. I know you do.”

Henri swallowed back the denial that wanted to fly off his tongue.

“I didn’t come here for this,” Henri finally said, his voice flat now.

“That’s right. You said I owed you a favor.”

“You do.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because the night of your wedding, it wasn’t enough that you were occupied with two cocks of your own—you had to reach out and fuck with mine too.”

Priest screwed his nose up, confusion stamped all over his face.

“You texted me,” Henri said. “Does that ring a bell?”

“Of course. After I found out you were at the wedding, I wanted to know why you didn’t come and see us.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. You texted me as I was about to go and knock on the door of that hot cop you invited to the wedding. But after that, my dick didn’t want anything to do with anyone.”

Priest processed all of that, then finally said, “You mean Bailey? You and him—”

“Did nothing, thanks to you. But yes, that’s who I mean. Officer Bailey, I believe is what he called himself when he pulled me over yesterday, and I want you to give me his number.”

Priest sized him up for a second, and then rubbed a hand over his beard. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I don’t believe I fucking asked you.”

“He’s a cop, Henri. Stop thinking with your dick and use your brain for a minute. This is not smart.”

Henri bristled at the implication that he was stupid. Considering who he was and what he’d done in his life, the last thing he planned to do was get involved with Bailey—he just planned to get laid. “If you won’t give it to me, I’m sure the princess will be more than happy to help.”

Priest walked around his desk and muttered to himself as he scribbled something on a Post-it note. He snatched up the small square of paper, strode across the room to shove it in Henri’s hand, then hauled him in so close that their clothes brushed against one another. “I don’t like this.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not an idiot, Joel. I like my freedom, and I’d never jeopardize yours.”

“Then walk away from this one.”

“Like you walked away from Julien and Robbie? I thought if anyone would understand the rush of having something he wasn’t supposed to, it would be you.”

Priest cursed and then stroked his thumb over the black diamond on Henri’s finger. “Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do—”

“There’s a first.”

“But be fucking careful, would you?”

Henri ignored the way his heart skipped at those words. “Why, you worried about me?”

Priest’s eyes roved over Henri’s face, his expression softening a fraction as he said, with the utmost seriousness, “I’ll never stop worrying about you.”

Henri swallowed the lump of emotions that got caught in the back of his throat, and decided a switch of topic would be best for the both of them. “Congratulations on your wedding.”

Priest’s lips twitched at the less-than-sincere tone. “Thank you.”

“I hate you. You know that, right?”

Priest nodded and let him go. “Almost as much as I hate you.”

Henri took a step back and looked down at the number, then he gave a quick nod and slipped out the office door.

* * *

“SO LET ME see if I have this right.”

Bailey looked over to Xander from where he was sitting on the recliner in his living room. After they’d finished eating, Bailey had grabbed a shirt and met his friend in a more comfortable setting, and as Xander stretched his legs out on the ottoman, he eyed Bailey closely.

“Two weeks ago, at the trio wedding, you met a smoking-hot guy that you thought about hooking up with, and you’re only telling me this now.”

Of course that was the part Xander decided to fixate on, the fact that he had been left out of the loop. Not the part where the hot guy had left Bailey high and dry—and then Bailey pulled him over yesterday morning.

Nah, that wasn’t important at all. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Okay. First off, why didn’t you tell me? And second, since when do we keep things from each other?”

“I’m not keeping things from you,” Bailey said, choosing to ignore the first half of Xander’s question.

“Then what would you call it?”

“You promised not to give me shit.”

“About the guy, not about keeping it from me.”

Bailey brought an arm up to rest it over his eyes and groaned.

“You can bitch and moan all you like, Bay. But you look like shit, which means you haven’t been sleeping, which means you’ve been stressing. Something you wouldn’t have been doing if you had talked to me.”

Damn it. He hated it when Xander was right. He lowered his arm and said, “Sorry, okay?”

“Okay. So start talking. Tell me about this guy.”

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Bailey didn’t know anything about Henri.

Xander chuckled. “Do you at least know his name? Or were you planning to be a total slut that night?”

Bailey aimed a glare in his friend’s direction, which made Xander laugh even harder.

“So, total slut, then.”

“No. I know his name. It’s Henri.”

“Hmm, this Henri guy must’ve been something else to make Saint Bailey look twice.”

“I’m hardly a saint.”

“Agreed. In bed, there’s nothing saintly about you. The problem is, you basically require a ring on your finger to take someone there.”

“Just because I’m picky doesn’t mean I’m a fucking saint. When will you get that through your head? I work hard and have weird hours. Not everyone wants to deal with that.”

“All the more reason to be a little more…flexible, wouldn’t you say?”

“I wonder how your viewers would feel if they heard the serious, trustworthy Alexander Thorne talk this way.”

“I don’t know. I always get emails saying I need to loosen up a little. Maybe I’d get a jump in the ratings? What do you think?”

Bailey rolled his eyes. “You’re already in the number one spot, as if you need any help. People love you, and I thought you wanted to hear about this.”

“I do.” Xander crossed his ankles on the ottoman and placed his hands behind his head. “So just to reiterate. Black hair, leather jacket, rings, and piercings?”

“Pier-cing,” Bailey said, thinking about the small silver ring in Henri’s nose.

“Yeah, I’m going to bet that the guy has more than one. Hundred bucks sound fair?”

“No, because there’s no way we’re ever going to find out.”

Xander let out a booming laugh and clasped his hands over his stomach. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not. I don’t know anything about this guy.”

“You know his name, and don’t tell me you didn’t look up his address, because I won’t believe you. Plus, if you really need help digging for more info, I happen to be an award-winning journalist, in case you forgot. Between the two of us, we could know everything about him in ten minutes, easy.”

“You’re crazy,” Bailey said as he sat up on the recliner and planted his feet on the ground. “I’m not going to hunt this guy down. That’s stalker behavior. I arrest people like that.” He aimed a pointed look at Xander. “Something you’d do well to remember.”

Xander flashed a grin, and Bailey scrubbed his hands over his face.

“This is ridiculous. I never act like this.”

“No, you don’t.”

“And I don’t even like him.”

“So? Some of the best sex I’ve ever had has been with people I hate.”

“Nice, Xander.”

“I’m just saying, being friends is not a requirement. Knowing his life story is not a requirement. You can’t stop thinking about this guy. So find out his number and call him.”

“And how exactly am I going to do that?” Bailey asked. He supposed Robbie was an option, but he’d flat out said that Henri was a bad idea. So that only left… “I can’t exactly call up Priest and say, ‘Hey, I want to sleep with your ex-boyfriend, could you give me his number?’”

“Why not? I wouldn’t care if someone called me about you.”

“This is different,” Bailey said automatically, and somehow, deep down, he knew that it was. Not only from the way Henri had reacted at the wedding, but also yesterday morning, when Priest had casually called him my Henri.

“Okay, so maybe you go old school and write a letter. Or wait outside his house.”

“How pathetic do you think I am?” When Xander opened his mouth, Bailey shook his head. “Don’t answer that. Plus, are you forgetting the part of this story where he bailed when we were supposed to sleep together? That makes him an ass, and it’s also a pretty good sign that he’s not interested. So anything after that just makes me look desperate.”

Xander sat forward, his eyes taking on that serious glint they got whenever he was on the trail of something hot. “I would agree if he didn’t say what he did when you pulled him over.”

Bailey snorted. “Come on, he was just trying to get out of a speeding ticket.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve been dreamin’ about you. About that night and what it would’ve been like. How many times has someone said that to you to get out of a speeding ticket?” When Bailey said nothing and just stared, Xander smirked. “Exactly.”

The faint sound of his phone chiming from the kitchen made Bailey spring to his feet, not wanting to miss an opportunity to end this conversation.

After making his way into the other room, he scooped it up and noticed a text from a number he didn’t recognize. He punched in his passcode as he walked back into the living room, and as he opened up his messages and read the words on his screen, his feet came to a standstill.

No way. It can’t be…

But as he read the words again, there was no mistaking who the message was from.

So, do I really need to get arrested to see you again? Because I will. Or you could just call me, since you have my number now - Henri.

Chapter Ten

CONFESSION

Knowing the truth and hearing it out loud are two completely different things.

HENRI STARED AT the text he’d just sent off as he climbed into the Aston Martin and pulled the door shut behind him. He’d barely waited until he was in the elevator before he’d sent a message Bailey’s way, and as he willed a reply of some sort to appear in front of him, he tried to push aside the conversation he’d just had with Priest.

Fuck. Henri hated that even after everything they’d been through, things were still so difficult between them. It hadn’t always been like that. Sure, there’d been fights—that was what happened when a tornado met a volcano: things exploded. But somewhere along the way, they’d realized something was missing from what they had. Henri just hated that Priest had worked it out first.

A couple of minutes later, when there was still no response from his cop, Henri shut his eyes, still holding the Post-it note.

Was Priest right? Was Henri being stupid going after Bailey? Thinking only with his dick? Sure, maybe that was part of it, but at the same time, Henri knew that the much bigger part was that he was lonely—so very fucking lonely.

It’d been a long time since he’d met someone who’d really sparked his interest, and considering he couldn’t stop thinking about Bailey before he knew his name, Henri was willing to take a risk to remind himself what it was like to be touched for a night.

He took a deep breath and then let it out, and when he opened his eyes again, he saw the registration slip sitting in the center console. Henri picked it up and reached across the car to flip open the glove box, and as he did, he spotted the only other thing inside the compartment.

It was a five-by-eight photograph. The edges were ratty, the coloring had faded, but the love on the two faces captured in the photo made the image brighter than the fucking sun.

As if it were a bomb about to go off, Henri gingerly reached for the photo and noticed his hand was shaking. He’d known all along it was in there. He’d made it a rule to never look at it, to never acknowledge its existence, and he’d promised himself he’d never revisit the time when that photo had been taken.

But as he sat there now, nearly a decade since that moment had been captured, Henri finally picked it up. He finally acknowledged it as real, and let the pain and heartache back inside one last time, in the hopes that he could banish it for good…

HENRI STEPPED OUT of one of the terminals at LAX and decided the number one thing he wouldn’t miss about New Orleans when he moved here was the fucking humidity. It’d been two months since he’d last seen Priest, and he was eager to reunite with his on-again off-again…whatever they were.

As a taxi pulled up at the curb and Henri climbed in, he thought about giving Priest a quick call to check that he was home, but in the end decided to surprise him instead. Something Priest would surely hate but soon get over after Henri took off his clothes and did his best to apologize.

The drive took fifty minutes—traffic in L.A. was shit—but when they finally pulled up at Priest’s apartment building, Henri’s irritation over the long commute vanished. He grabbed his bags and then made his way up several flights of stairs to the apartment he’d been to countless times over the past few years.

He fished out the set of keys Priest had made for him nearly a year ago, and when he unlocked the door and pushed it open, the sight that greeted him was like a sucker punch to his solar plexus. Priest was standing in the center of his living room, his lips devouring another man’s mouth, and hands that were not Henri’s were down the back of Priest’s pants.

The sound of the front door swinging open and hitting the wall alerted the two caught in the lip-lock, and when Priest raised his head and looked over his shoulder, those grey eyes Henri had always loved filled with an expression he’d never seen in them before—guilt.

“Henri.” Priest’s voice was raspier than usual, no doubt due to the arousal he had no hope of hiding in his black lounge pants. “I didn’t know you were flying in today.”

The cool, calm statement was so very Priest-like. It was perfunctory, reasonable, and so left field that Henri found himself answering despite himself. “It was going to be a surprise.”

His eyes then shifted to the other man in the room. He was the same height as Priest and had one of the most flawless faces Henri had ever seen. His eyes were the color of gemstones, jade, and right now they were full of shame.

Henri brought his attention back to Priest. “Clearly, you’re surprised.”

Priest took a step toward him, and Henri took one back. Seeming to understand that Henri didn’t want him any closer, Priest stopped and took in a breath. As he let it out, he ran a hand through his thick auburn hair and sighed.

“Henri, I was going to call you…”

As those six clichéd words left Priest’s lips, Henri’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “You were going to call me? Call me and tell me what, exactly?”

It wasn’t as though the two of them were in any kind of permanent relationship, were they? Priest didn’t owe him any sort of explanation. In fact, Henri had known Priest was seeing other people, which was why he’d planned to tell him how he felt today.

But for Priest to display such obvious remorse at being caught with whoever this was must mean he was someone important, which made Henri want some kind of fucking explanation—now.

“Can we talk about this for a minute?” Priest said. “Just the two of us?”

Henri’s eyes once again cut to the man who remained silent behind Priest. “I don’t think so. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your…guest?”

“I think it would be better if—”

“If what?” Henri demanded, his attention now returning to Priest. “If I shut my mouth and wait in the corner while you kiss him goodbye? Yeah, not gonna happen.”

Priest’s jaw clenched, and Henri couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at him or himself. “Julien, this is Henri. Henri, this is Julien.”

The name was a familiar one. Henri had heard Priest talk about this Julien guy in the past. How he’d caught him stealing his car, had to bail him out of jail, how he drove Priest out of his ever-loving mind. But he’d conveniently left out how stunning Julien was, and just how much Priest apparently loved kissing him.

Julien stepped forward, a tight expression on his face. “Bonjour, Henri. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

So apparently Henri wasn’t the only one in the room that Priest had been keeping informed. “I wish I could say the same, but I don’t make it a habit to lie.”

“Henri.” Priest aimed a pointed look in his direction, and Henri shrugged. “Right, that’s it.” Priest stalked over to where Henri stood in the front entrance of the apartment, grabbed hold of the handle on Henri’s duffel bag, and went to yank it out of his hand.

But Henri wasn’t having any of that; he tightened his grip around the handles and hauled it back toward himself, and when Priest came with it and they were practically nose to nose, Henri’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I suppose I should be flattered—my replacement and I are very similar, from what you told me.”

Priest’s mouth fell open, but when no words came out, Henri gave an unaffected shrug. “I mean, I get it—he’s hot. I would’ve given up years of friendship and trust to fuck him too. You think he’d let me have a go?”

A feral sound vibrated through Priest, and it was that moment, that protective instinct he displayed in response to a threat in Julien’s direction, that told Henri that whatever he and Priest had had was now over.

“I understand that you’re pissed off. But you need to watch your mouth,” Priest said, before he lowered his gaze to the bag between them and let go. “You should’ve told me you were coming.”

“Why? So you could rush him out the door, hide him a little longer?”

“I wasn’t hiding him. You knew about him.”

“Yeah, but you left a few fucking details out, didn’t you?”

“I was going to tell you the next time I saw you.”

“Joel,” Julien said, and the sound of Priest’s birth name in that soft, gentle tone made Henri want to hit something. “I think it might be best if I leave.”

No shit, Henri thought, and almost added, Pity you didn’t do that last night, last week, the first time you ran into my damn boyfriend. But at the last second, Henri bit his tongue, because that was the fucking problem here, wasn’t it? He’d never been Priest’s boyfriend, never been his partner, or had any claim on him at all. All he’d ever been was a casual fuck, and this ending proved it.

“Nah, you stay. I’m gonna go,” Henri said. “It’s clear who Joel wants here, and it’s not me.”

Henri took a step back, and as he turned to leave, he felt as though he were a robot. His feet and legs were moving, but nothing else was computing. He couldn’t believe what had just happened, and halfway down the stairs, he heard footsteps following.

“Henri,” Priest called out.

But Henri was done listening. He’d seen and heard too much as it was, and all he needed now was to get far away from the man who had just ripped his heart out.

Henri walked toward the parking lot, where he could call a taxi and peace the fuck out. But halfway there, strong fingers found his wrist and pulled him around until he was face to face with Priest.

“Would you stop for a fucking minute? Let me talk to you, explain what’s going on.”

“What is there to explain, Joel? I’m not stupid; I’ve got eyes, and anyone with half a brain can see that whatever I walked in on means a hell of a lot more to you than what you just let walk out your door.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.”

Henri took a step forward until Priest had to crane his neck to look up at him. “All I know is that you moved on and didn’t have the balls to tell me.”

“Moved on? Moved on from what? This constant fighting? Because that’s what we’ve become really good at, Henri: fighting. Whenever you visit, whenever you go, we’re always at each other, and the only reason I can think of is because I know what you’re going back to.”

Priest’s chest was heaving as he stood waiting for Henri to say something, and when he couldn’t, Priest continued. “You’re going back there. To the one place I want to forget exists, and every time you come back, I’m reminded of it all over again. I’m sorry, I—I thought I could do this, but…” Priest lowered his head, and as though that train of thought was too painful for him to finish, he changed course. “We weren’t exclusive. You knew that.”

Henri clamped his teeth together in an effort to fight back the thunderous shout that wanted to escape him, and then he shoved aside the stupid, hopeful idiot who’d gotten off the plane earlier with plans to leave his past behind.

He wouldn’t be that guy. That pathetic, delusional guy who’d fallen for someone who didn’t love him back. And when he could finally bring himself to speak, he said, “I knew there were guys before me; I didn’t care. But that guy, Julien? He makes you feel guilty, Joel. It’s written all over your fucking face. That means you care, which means I’m fucked, because ultimately, it means that this is over.”

When Priest didn’t say anything, just stared at Henri’s face, Henri knew he was right and pushed for that confirmation, needing the pain that he knew would come with it, needing to hate Priest, instead of loving him.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

Priest licked his lips, lips Henri would never feel against his own again, and then said in a voice that Henri had to strain to hear, “I never meant for it to happen this way.”

“But it did, didn’t it?” When Priest didn’t deny it, Henri said, “Why him and not me? He speaks French; so do I. He’s a criminal; so am I. He’s practically the L.A. version of me, but you told me you wouldn’t date a criminal. So tell me, Joel, why him? What did he do that I didn’t?”

Priest looked him dead-on then, and those steel-colored eyes were so sad that they made Henri’s heart ache all the more.

“He bettered himself. He changed. And he makes me want to change too.”

Henri knew that this battle was over.

The one thing he thought he’d always had in his corner, the one thing he thought Priest loved about him above all others, was that he was the same boy Priest had always known. The one who’d never forgotten him, the one who’d fought off the monsters with him, the one who loved him his entire life…

Who knew that was the one thing that would eventually drive him away.

HENRI STARED DOWN at the photo he’d found tucked in the visor of the car when he first took it. Priest had clearly put it there as a memento. It was of him and Julien on their wedding day, and as he stared at the two of them wrapped in each other’s embrace, Henri felt a lone tear roll down his cheek.

After the day he’d walked in on them, Henri had gone back to New Orleans and disappeared off the map. But instead of falling back into old habits, he’d focused on doing some changing of his own. He’d become a full-time off-the-books investigator for one of the law firms down there, and it had given him the opportunity to use his connections with his old life, even as he cut back on the more illegal shit.

Over the years, he’d kept an eye on everything that happened around him, from those trying to take Jimmy and Victor’s place, to the two men themselves, who were behind bars, and when he’d heard through the grapevine that someone by the name of Priest was looking for him, Henri eventually reached out, and they’d developed this…strained relationship they now had.

Henri put the photo and registration back in the glove box and locked it, and as he sat back in his seat, he twisted the black diamond around his finger, his last tie to the past.

It was time for him to move on. Time for him to stop thinking about a man who would never be his, and instead focus on one he knew could be for a night—with the right amount of persuasion.

Was it risky? Considering his past, and Bailey’s occupation…definitely. But when it came to the men he seemed most drawn to, Henri was starting to realize that the easy, safe route would never be for him.

* * *

IT’D BEEN NEARLY eight hours since Bailey received Henri’s text, and he was still no closer to deciding what he wanted to do. Of course, Xander’s initial suggestion had been to text back and think about the consequences later, but that wasn’t the way Bailey worked.

He wanted a minute to think about this, a minute to decide whether this was a path he wanted to go down now that alcohol was not involved. But as he sat on his back deck staring off into the trees of his property, he realized it must’ve been, if he was still thinking about it all this time later.

Bailey sighed and unlocked his phone, then he pulled open the message Henri had sent and stared at the keyboard.

Am I really going to do this? That was the million-dollar question here, because as soon as he wrote back, as soon as he acknowledged that he’d received this message, there was no taking it back, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

God, what was it about Henri that made Bailey want to throw out all of his usual rules and just see where this crazy attraction took them? Because that was what this was: absolute craziness.

There was a list a mile long as to why he shouldn’t do what he was about to do, and somewhere at the top of that list was the fact that Henri was one of his friend’s ex-boyfriends. But just like all the other reasons he knew he should walk away, Bailey found himself shoving it aside in pursuit of what he really wanted—and that was Henri.

Deciding it was now or never, Bailey typed out two words—Call me—and then quickly hit send before he could change his mind. When the word delivered appeared under his message, he wondered how long Henri would make him wait.

A few minutes. A few hours. A couple of days, maybe? Bailey had no idea, but just as it had been for the past two weeks, his mind was now one hundred percent consumed by a virtual stranger, and he had to wonder what kind of power Henri possessed to make him feel that way.

Bailey grabbed his beer off the side table on the deck and took a long, hard pull of it, continuing his stare-off with his phone, and when the screen lit up and it began to ring a second later, he almost dropped it to the ground from the shock.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Bailey wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but Henri calling him back right away had not been it. If anything, he thought he might get some smartass, sexy text reply. But no, as he sat there staring at the ringing phone in his hand, he realized he was getting exactly what he’d asked for—Henri, calling him.

Bailey took a deep breath and then quickly let it out before he hit accept on the phone and brought it up to his ear. “Hello.”

“Good afternoon, officer.” Henri’s voice was smooth as honey through the phone, and Bailey shut his eyes, picturing the mouth that had just spoken. “I can’t decide if I’m happy or not that you texted me back. I was kind of looking forward to coming up with a reason for you to use your handcuffs.”

Bailey’s fingers tightened around the neck of his beer bottle as he pictured that scenario playing out in his head. He’d never been turned on by the idea of restraining someone that way with his cuffs, but as his dick stiffened between his legs, he was starting to realize that maybe it had to do with whom it was he’d be restraining.

“Do I even want to imagine the scenarios you came up with?”

Henri’s chuckle was raspy and pure sex, and Bailey bit down on his lip in an effort not to groan.

“I don’t know, do you?”

Bailey grinned despite himself, and took a quick swig of his beer before saying, “You wanted to talk?”

“I want to do a lot more than talk. But I figure that’s where I need to start, considering how I left things between us.”

It was on the tip of Bailey’s tongue to ask why Henri had left things that way, but since they were little more than acquaintances, he figured he’d leave that for some other time. “And what makes you think I’d want to talk to you after everything that’s happened?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. Blind hope? Pure stupidity? Take your pick; I’m thinking both apply.”

The response was so unexpected that a bark of laughter escaped Bailey before he could help himself. Add charm to all the other reasons Henri was trouble with a capital T.

“Come on, Bailey,” Henri said, and the sound of his name on that tongue made Bailey’s pulse speed up. “Let me take you to dinner.”

“To dinner?”

“Mhmm.” The rumble that filtered through the phone vibrated up Bailey’s spine. “Well, we could skip it if you like. But I was trying to honor my words and actually talk to you. To do that, I think we should meet somewhere public first.”

First…? The word echoed around in Bailey’s mind as he placed his beer on the table beside him, and all he could think about was: What comes second?

He rubbed the heel of his hand over his way-too-eager cock and gritted his teeth. Jesus, they’d barely said more than a handful of words to one another, and he was ready to go; he could only imagine what it was going to be like in person. Hell, he didn’t have to imagine—he’d already given in once before, only to be passed over and left frustrated in the end.

“How do I know you’re actually going to show if I say yes?” It was a legitimate question, and the only thing that had kept Bailey from agreeing so far.

“Because I braved a face-to-face with Joel to get your number.”

And right then, Bailey knew he was doomed.

“Let me take you to dinner, Bailey.” Henri’s tone was much more persuasive this time around, or maybe that was just the way Bailey was now hearing it. “Then maybe I can clear up a few of the questions you’re not asking me.”

It’s just dinner, Bailey thought, and before he could change his mind, he said, “What time and where?”

Chapter Eleven

CONFESSION

I’ve never been really good at being polite.

But who wants to be good…or polite?

HENRI PULLED UP to the valet of the restaurant Exquisite and put the car in park as the young man behind the stand stepped forward, waiting for him to exit the vehicle. This wasn’t the kind of restaurant he usually frequented—he was more a bar or pub type—but he figured since he was trying to redeem himself with Bailey tonight, the least he could do was take him somewhere nice for a meal.

As he stepped out of the car, Henri looked at the wall of windows and the busy tables inside, all adorned with cream tablecloths and flickering candles, and once again thought, Yeah, this is so not my kind of place.

This restaurant actually reminded him of Priest’s Frenchman. Henri could easily imagine Julien Thornton dining inside with his two husbands, happy as can be, and maybe that was what Henri had been lacking all along for Priest: class and sophistication. He was definitely more the grungy little swamp rat.

Henri shoved that thought aside, though, as soon as it entered his head. He refused to let Priest be the reason he walked away from Bailey again tonight. He was going to go inside, eat dinner, and then—if he was lucky—he was finally going to get Bailey in a bed.

He made his way toward the front doors, and as he stepped inside, he walked over to the hostess behind the stand and aimed a roguish grin her way. She shyly smiled and then said in a soft voice designed to tantalize, “Good evening, welcome to Exquisite. How can I help you tonight?”

“Well”—Henri looked at her name badge—“Claire. I have a reservation for two under the name Boudreaux, and I was wondering if you could tell me if my table is ready.”

Claire’s smile faltered slightly at Henri’s little announcement, as did her eyes as she skimmed the list of reservations in front of her, then she nodded.

“Yes, okay. I see you right here. The other member of your party hasn’t arrived yet. Would you like to take a seat now and wait for her? Or would you like to go and get a drink at the bar?”

“It’s actually a him, and”—he looked at the bar that stretched the entire side of one wall, but then he thought about the night of Priest’s wedding and decided he wanted this one to begin and end very differently—“I think I’ll just go and wait for him at our table.”

She nodded and gestured for him to follow her through the crowd, and as it turned out, their table was more of a booth, private yet public—in other words, it was absolutely perfect for his date with the hot cop.

Once Henri was seated, Claire let him know that a waiter would be by to take his drink order and that she would be sure to show his guest over once he arrived. Henri thanked her and watched her walk off, then he pulled out his phone to check that there were no messages from Bailey saying he would be late.

It was now ten minutes past eight, their agreed meeting time, and the thought that Bailey might stand him up to make a point had most definitely crossed Henri’s mind. But just as that idea entered his head, the front doors to the restaurant opened, and Officer Bailey stepped inside.

Fuck, the man was gorgeous. Even more so than Henri remembered, and he had an unobstructed view of Bailey’s profile. His long legs were encased in pressed grey pants tonight, and he’d paired them with a white button-up with sleeves rolled up his forearms.

The shirt was tucked in at his trim waist, making the outfit simple yet classic, as it showed off the body that Henri wanted to feel naked against his own, and as if he could feel Henri’s attention fixed on him, Bailey looked in his direction.

With his hair still buzzcut short, it emphasized the sharp, bold angles of Bailey’s features, and the stubble that lined his jaw added depth and contrast to an already stunning face. Then their eyes locked, and it was just like it had been that first time.

Instant spark.

Instant heat.

Instant animal attraction.

Henri’s cock punched at the zipper of his jeans, and when the hostess stepped around her stand with a menu, his pulse began to race. He watched with laser focus as she weaved with Bailey around the busy tables, and when she came to his booth, she placed the menu down and stepped aside for Bailey to take his seat.

As his cop slid in opposite Henri, no words were exchanged. But when their legs brushed against one another underneath the table, Henri shifted in his seat, trying to ease the throb between his legs. The move was not lost on Bailey either, if the way he licked his lips was any indication, and that response only intensified Henri’s own.

“Okay, guys, someone will be by to take your order soon. If you have any questions in the meantime, feel free to flag one of us down. If not, we hope you have a great night at Exquisite and enjoy your meal.”

As she hurried off back to her station, Henri took a moment to let his eyes slowly wander down the man sitting across from him, and when he finally dragged them back up to Bailey’s face, he noticed a slight tinge to his cop’s cheeks and smirked. “I thought for a minute there you were going to stand me up.”

Bailey eyed him closely, his silence only adding fuel to the fire already simmering between them. “It would serve you right if I had, wouldn’t it?”

Henri’s lips curved at the bite of frustration in that tone, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Bailey’s annoyance was because of him skipping out that night or from the frustration that’d been left behind.

“I suppose it would’ve. But if you’d done that, then neither of us would finally get what we want tonight, would we?”

“And what is it that you think I want?”

Henri looked around at the tables. Directly to their right were a man and woman sipping on glasses of wine as they talked politely to one another, and behind them was an equally refined group of four who were more than likely there on a double date.

This kind of environment was so foreign to Henri that he might as well have been on another planet, and he had a feeling that Bailey knew that. Henri was not the kind of guy to wine and dine someone and hope for a polite little kiss at the end of the night.

He was the guy at the bar eyeing up his prey, knowing without a doubt he’d have what he wanted back in his bed—if that was what he wanted—and he wanted Bailey.

He’d wanted him that first night, and every night since, and as he sat there trying to put on a polite version of himself for Bailey, he thought, Fuck that shit.

Bailey had been attracted to him that night. Not some guy who sweet-talked him through a meal. He’d wanted the anonymous stranger who promised him a hot fuck with no strings attached, and that was exactly what Henri was going to offer.

Henri brought his eyes back to Bailey’s and leaned across the table a fraction. “I think you want what you didn’t get the first time we met.” Bailey’s eyes zeroed in on his mouth, and Henri touched the tip of his tongue to his top lip. “You want a night where you can forget what it’s like to be good. Where you don’t have to be a cop, you don’t have to follow any rules, and you don’t even have to be you…if you don’t want to be.”

As his words lingered in the air between them, the desire swirling in Bailey’s eyes told Henri he was spot-on.

“I can still give you that,” Henri said. “If that’s what you want. All you have to do is say the words, and I’m there. So, officer, what’s it going to be?”

* * *

DINNER. THAT’S WHAT it’s going to be, Bailey reminded himself. With his dark features and daring eyes, Henri brought to mind a sinful seducer who always got what he wanted, and for some unexplainable reason, that just happened to be Bailey.

In stunning contrast to the usual black get-up Henri wore, he’d dressed in a scarlet button-down shirt tonight, and had flipped up the cuffs at his wrists and left the neck open two buttons down. He had a braided strap of black leather around his left wrist, and those silver rings and that piercing glinted in the candlelight. All of a sudden, Xander’s little bet that there was more silver beneath those clothes came to mind, which had Bailey’s eyes darting back up to Henri’s face.

Henri’s knowing smirk made it impossible for Bailey to think of anything other than how his lips would taste, and that was the only excuse he could come up with as to why he said, “I want that night.”

That devilish grin morphed into a dangerous smile that made Bailey’s heart thump harder and faster than it ever had before, and when Henri looked to the menu in his hand and said, “And do you want dinner?” the word no was out of Bailey’s mouth before he could think twice.

Henri lounged back in the booth, those gleaming eyes sweeping over the rest of the crowd eating and drinking the night away, then he looked back to Bailey and said, “If we leave now, without ordering a drink or any food, everyone in here is going to know exactly why.”

Bailey agreed. He’d already noticed several other customers glancing in their direction. Not that he was all that surprised; Henri was hard to ignore, and dressed as he was tonight, it was close to impossible not to notice him.

“Does that bother you? That the good, respectable people sitting here in this restaurant are going to know that we’re going home to fuck? That you couldn’t wait, not even through one drink?”

Bailey sucked in a breath. Henri’s words were unlike anything anyone had ever said to him before, and something about that was both freeing and incredibly arousing. It made him want to throw everything he would typically do aside and just…go for it.

“And how are they going to know that?” Bailey said, neither confirming nor denying that Henri’s plan was exactly what he wanted.

Henri slid out from his side of the booth, and as he straightened to his full height beside the table, Bailey saw several customers look in their direction. He didn’t care, though; his attention was fixated on Henri, who now had one hand on the back of his seat and the other on the table.

Henri leaned down until his lips were mere inches from Bailey’s. “They’re going to know because you’re looking at me like you can’t wait to get under me.”

Bailey wet his suddenly dry lips with the tip of his tongue, and Henri made a sound in the back of his throat that was so damn sexy that Bailey’s erection tested the zipper of his pants.

“So,” Henri said. “I’m going to ask you again. Does it bother you?”

It should’ve. Bailey knew that just as he knew that the man he was about to go home with was unlike anyone he’d ever been with before. But before he could think too hard about that, he opened his mouth and sealed his fate. “No, it doesn’t.”

Chapter Twelve

CONFESSION

I know most people think shy guys finish last.

But I plan to make sure Bailey finishes first tonight.

JUST AS HENRI suspected, all eyes were on him and Bailey as they made their way out of the restaurant toward the front doors. No drinks had been ordered, no food decided on—the only hunger that was going to be satisfied tonight was the one that had been growing between them since they’d met.

As Henri walked by the hostess stand, Claire gave him a worried look before her eyes flicked to Bailey, who was barely a step behind, and just as Henri had predicted, a knowing light hit her eyes.

Henri threw a wink in her direction, not ashamed in the slightest as he pushed through the doors, and as he came to a stop by the valet stand, Bailey stepped up beside him. Henri grabbed the ticket from his pocket and handed it over to the man who had originally parked his vehicle.

“Next question for you, officer,” Henri said. “Your place or mine?”

Bailey chuckled and he shook his head, and Henri arched an eyebrow. “You asked me the exact same thing two weeks ago.”

Henri smirked; it seemed his hot cop had been replaying that night too. “At least I’m consistent.”

“Let’s hope that’s not true, or once you get in that car, I’m never going to see you again.”

Henri turned and stepped in front of Bailey so his back was to the road, and when barely a breeze was able to fit between them, he said, “And that would be a bad thing?”

Bailey bit into his bottom lip as if deciding what to say next. “That would be a…frustrating thing.”

“Hmm. How about I make you a promise.”

Bailey looked intrigued but said nothing.

“I won’t leave your sight tonight until you are completely satisfied.”

Bailey swallowed, his eyes dropping to Henri’s mouth, and Henri wondered which part of his body Bailey was imagining it on. He sure as fuck knew which part he wanted it on.

“One night?” Bailey said, that reassurance obviously helping with any last-minute doubts he might’ve been having.

But just in case he needed further incentive that tonight he could do, and be, whoever he wanted and Henri wouldn’t judge him, Henri nodded. “I promise you one night, but you have to stop thinking and enjoy it. And in the morning, I’ll be gone.”

Bailey opened his mouth as if he was about to respond when the Aston Martin pulled up behind them. As the young man climbed out of the classic, Henri said, “So? What’ll it be? Your place or mine?”

He could see the wheels turning behind Bailey’s baby blues. “Have you got your phone? I’ll give you my address. I’m going to have to call an Uber. I didn’t drive here tonight.”

Henri glanced over his shoulder toward the car waiting behind him, and then turned back to Bailey and couldn’t help his devious smile. “What’s the matter with my car? Still think I stole it?”

Bailey scoffed. “I don’t know what you did to get that car. But somehow, I don’t think Priest gave it up willingly.”

The valet handed him his keys, and Henri flipped them around his index finger and shrugged. “In all honesty, I couldn’t tell you if it was willing or not. I wasn’t there when I told him I was taking it.” Bailey’s eyes widened a fraction, and Henri chuckled. “But I didn’t steal it, and that’s what counts. Especially to someone like you, right?”

“But not someone like you? You think it’s okay to go around stealing cars?”

Henri took a step back, gave Bailey a scorching once-over that was designed to arouse, and then winked. “Nah, stealing has never really been my thing.”

Before Bailey could fire back with the what is your thing? question that just entered his eyes, Henri spun on his heels and walked around the hood of the car, flipping the keys as he went.

He pulled open the driver’s-side door and rested his arms on top of the roof, looking to where Bailey was still watching him.

“Moment of truth. Do you stay or do you go?”

Bailey eyed him from the safety of the other side of the car, his expression a mixture of indecision and need. But when he finally took a step forward and reached for the passenger door handle, he looked Henri directly in the eye and said, “One night, no thinking—”

“And then I’ll be gone,” Henri finished for him.

Bailey nodded, pulled open the door, and then said, “Then let’s go.”

* * *

AS BAILEY PULLED the car door shut behind him, and Henri slipped into the driver’s seat and did the same, he realized very quickly just how tight the confines of this sporty little classic were.

The red leather seats had been perfectly matched for the era, and the chrome gearstick that sat between them nearly touched both their knees. He was a tall man at six one, but Henri was even taller, and as he buckled up beside Bailey and his hand brushed up against his leg, Bailey was made very aware of just how close they were now sitting.

The air in the car all but crackled with anticipation, as Henri turned the key and the engine purred to life.

Bailey still couldn’t believe that he’d left a restaurant without ordering anything to eat or drink, all so he could get Henri somewhere alone, somewhere private, somewhere where he could finally ease the ache this man had stoked to life two weeks earlier.

But as Bailey gave the first set of directions and Henri pulled out onto the road, he realized that was exactly what he’d done.

“Have to say, I’m a little nervous.” Henri’s comment was so unexpected that Bailey let out a sound of disbelief. “What? You don’t believe me?”

“You don’t exactly strike me as the type who gets nervous in this kind of situation.”

As Henri drew the car to a stop at a red light, he looked at Bailey and grinned. “And what kind of situation might that be?”

Bailey rubbed his palms over his thighs as he looked into Henri’s teasing eyes and thought, Stop thinking. You said you’d stop thinking, so turn your brain off and just be whoever you want. “This. A hookup.” Okay, be someone cooler than that.

“You have a point. But I’m not nervous about fucking you. I was referring to the fact that I was driving home with an officer of the law. One who pulled me over just recently for speeding.”

The wicked glint in Henri’s eyes told Bailey he’d just been caught with his mind in the gutter, but he wasn’t about to feel ashamed. He’d been given free rein for the night, a chance to unwind and forget what he did for a living, and he was quick to remind his passenger of the deal they’d struck.

“I was told not to think tonight, at least not like me, not like a cop. So I think you’re safe; just try not to break any obvious laws.”

The soft, raspy chuckle that rumbled out of Henri felt like a nice, long stroke over Bailey’s cock.

“I think I can handle that for one night. All the things I have planned for you are legal in most states, as far as I know.”

The sinful promise in both Henri’s words and eyes had Bailey clearing his throat, and when he was in real danger of doing something insane, like leaning across the vehicle and kissing that teasing mouth, he looked out the windshield at the lights up ahead and said, “It’s green.”

Without a word, Henri went back to driving and Bailey went back to directing, and around fifteen minutes later, Henri arrived at the far end of a cul-de-sac and pulled into the driveway of Bailey’s house.

As he drew the car to a stop in front of the double-car garage, Bailey looked out the windshield at the front door to his house. He’d left the porch light on tonight but nothing else, and as Henri switched off the engine and pulled the keys out, they were plunged into silence and darkness, and Bailey wondered if Henri could hear the thumping of his heart.

This is it, Bailey thought as he unbuckled his seatbelt and felt Henri do the same. If you don’t want to do this, now is the time to back out.

But when Henri opened the car door and the interior light flooded over him, Bailey knew nothing short of a natural disaster was going to make him walk away tonight.

Henri Boudreaux was fantasy material. Everything about him screamed sex, and when he licked his lower lip as though he couldn’t wait to have a taste, Bailey was out of the car and at his front door before he could change his mind.

Reaching for the keys in his pocket, Bailey willed his hands to stop shaking. But when Henri stepped up behind him, close enough that Bailey could feel his warm breath on the back of his neck, he knew he didn’t have a hope in hell of controlling his nerves.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve lain in bed thinking about you since that first night.”

Shit. Bailey shut his eyes as Henri’s words washed over him and tried to remind himself that he needed to unlock the door to get them inside. Something Henri was clearly thinking too.

“And unless you want to be arrested for public indecency, you need to open your front door, officer.”

Bailey knew Henri was right, but the delicious feel of that hard body was making all of the blood in his head take a quick detour south.

“Bailey?”

Bailey pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

He’d barely made it two steps in before his wrist was caught between strong fingers and he was spun around. An arrogant smirk was plastered on Henri’s tempting lips, and as he slowly drew Bailey toward him, he pushed off the door, closing the distance between them.

“If I don’t kiss you in the next two seconds, I think I might just fucking die.” The tortured tone of Henri’s voice matched Bailey’s frustration, and when Henri reached for the back of his neck, Bailey was right there to meet him.

As their lips crashed down on one another, Bailey speared his fingers into Henri’s thick hair for something to hang on to, and Henri’s fingers at the back of his neck flexed and tightened, drawing him even closer.

Henri’s tongue slid along Bailey’s lower lip, teasing, tasting, testing the waters, and when Bailey opened up to him, a growl of pleasure rumbled out of Henri, and he dove inside for a much deeper taste.

As their tongues tangled, Bailey groaned, the reality of Henri proving to be so much more arousing than the thought of him, and as the desire to get closer clawed at him, Bailey moved forward, wanting more.

As Henri’s back hit the front door, a deep chuckle left his throat. And when Bailey realized what he’d done, that he’d all but shoved Henri up against the door, he went to take a step back. But before he could move, Henri’s hands were on his ass, drawing him forward, until their hips bumped up against one another, and Bailey moaned.

“Stop thinking,” Henri whispered.

“I’m—”

“Thinking,” Henri said, and rocked his hips forward, so his hard cock came in direct contact with Bailey’s. “This is how that first night was meant to go. If you want to shove me against a door, then do it. There’s not one thing you could do right now that I wouldn’t want, so stop thinking.”

Bailey twisted his fingers in Henri’s hair as he jammed his hips forward, grinding against Henri’s body the way he’d been dying to.

“That’s it. Soft, hard, fast, or slow.” Henri kissed his way up to Bailey’s ear. “You show me what you want, and I’ll give it to you. But unless you want me to fuck you right here on the floor, the first thing you need to do is tell me where your bedroom is, Bailey.”

Chapter Thirteen

CONFESSION

I knew he’d look good under those clothes, but my hot cop just set the room on fucking fire.

HENRI MADE SURE to keep his eyes locked with the blue ones now undressing him, as Bailey held his hand out and waited for him to take it.

Henri pushed off the door and walked forward a step, and when he slipped his fingers into Bailey’s and his cop grinned at him, Henri was close to saying to hell with the bedroom and dragging Bailey to the floor.

That grin? It was something else. It was shy, flirty, and so damn hot that when Bailey turned away to lead him through the house, Henri almost fell to his knees.

It seemed that the promise of one night had finally given his cop the permission he needed to let go, and Henri couldn’t wait to see where that took them.

So far, it had led him down a hall and walking into what he assumed was Bailey’s bedroom, and when Bailey let go of his hand, Henri stayed where he was as a bedside lamp was flicked on.

When his eyes adjusted and focused on Bailey, now standing by the bed, Henri had never been more thankful in his life to have been pulled over by a cop—especially this cop.

“Nice room,” Henri said as they continued their stare-off, and Bailey’s lips twitched.

“Did you even look at the room?”

“I’m lookin’ at you, and you’re in it. That makes it the nicest fucking room I’ve been in for years.”

Bailey swallowed and rubbed a hand over the back of his head, a gesture that showed some of the nerves Henri knew he was fighting.

He’d meant what he said earlier. He didn’t want Bailey to think tonight. Henri wanted him to let go and enjoy what they were about to do here. But to do that, Henri needed to get Bailey’s mind focused on something other than the fact that he was inviting a virtual stranger into his bed.

As he walked across the room, Henri slowly began to unbutton his shirt. He got about midway up, but when he reached his cop, he abandoned the rest of the task for Bailey’s pristine white shirt, which was still neatly tucked into his dress pants.

“I gotta say, it’s almost a shame to take these clothes off you when you fill them out so damn good. But I need to know what’s under them.” Henri tugged the shirt tails out of Bailey’s pants and took another step closer, then he leaned forward and ghosted his lips up Bailey’s jaw line. “I want to run my tongue all over you.”

“Shit…”

Bailey’s hands came up to take hold of Henri’s biceps, as Henri’s fingers worked overtime to undo that white shirt. Once he had it open, he fisted his hands on either side of the material and walked Bailey backward until his calves hit the mattress. Then Henri gave an immoral smile, a slight shove, and Bailey’s ass hit the bed.

Bailey braced his hands behind himself to keep upright, and the move spread open his shirt, displaying all the ridges and valleys of his chest, abs, and stomach, and he was so goddamn sexy that Henri couldn’t stop himself from palming his painful erection.

“Jesus, you’re fucking built.”

Bailey said nothing, but his heated gaze dropped to the hand Henri was massaging over his dick, and he spread his legs in invitation.

Henri stepped forward between them and took in the tight fit of Bailey’s pants where they stretched across his lap, and the hard bulge that was outlined by that grey material.

Henri dropped to his knees and smoothed his hands over the thick muscles of Bailey’s thighs, squeezing, testing, getting closer to what he was dying to touch. But just as he was about to reach for his prize, Bailey placed a hand on Henri’s chest.

Henri halted and turned his attention back to Bailey’s gorgeous face, and when his cop bit down into his lip and said, “Take off your shirt first,” Henri complied.

* * *

BAILEY COULD BARELY breathe as he sat there on his bed with his legs spread wide, his cock aching, and his heart beating a mile a minute. But when Henri had gone down to his knees—the intention to drive him crazy clear—Bailey knew if he didn’t ask for this now, he would regret it later.

Ever since he’d sat down in the booth at the restaurant, Bailey had wondered whether Xander’s suspicions about more piercings on Henri were true.

The silver ring in Henri’s nose and the ones adorning his fingers were fast becoming a hot button for Bailey, and when Henri finally shrugged out of his shirt, what he revealed beneath that red material pushed that button really fucking hard.

Xander had been right. There was definitely more silver beneath Henri’s clothes.

Bailey pushed up from his hands and shifted closer to the edge of the bed, and before he could stop himself, he reached out and fingered the small silver bar running through Henri’s nipple. He had one through each, and Bailey sucked in a shaky breath of air.

Damn. It was both crazy and exhilarating to finally have Henri so close that Bailey could actually touch him. He couldn’t begin to guess how many hours of sleep he’d lost over this man, wondering what it would be like to have him in his bed, in his arms, in his body for a night, and when Henri moved up to his knees to get closer, Bailey made a promise to himself that he would do whatever the hell he wanted tonight, and not regret a single thing come morning.

He stroked his thumbs over the short silver bars piercing each nipple, and when a rumble vibrated out of Henri’s throat, Bailey said, “I like these.”

Henri looked down to the erection Bailey had no hope of hiding and chuckled. “I can tell.”

“Do you, um…” Bailey lost his train of thought as he twisted one of Henri’s nipples, making him curse, and Bailey liked that he could make him react that way. “Do you have any more of these?”

“I’m almost disappointed to say no.”

Bailey grinned, because Henri’s tone said he wasn’t lying, and before he could talk himself out of doing what he really wanted to do next, Bailey bent his head and flicked the tip of his tongue over one of the bars.

A low groan left Henri, and when two strong hands came up to smooth over the back of Bailey’s head and guide him closer, he did it again.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Henri’s voice was guttural as Bailey continued to tease and torment the pierced nub, and as he sucked harder, and then brought his teeth in on the action, Henri’s fingers dug into the back of his head.

Bailey’s dick was so damn hard that he was surprised it hadn’t burst through the front of his pants, and when Henri gently pulled him away and said, “Lean back for me,” Bailey had a feeling his cock was about to get the freedom it so desperately desired.

He lounged back on his forearms, stretching out his upper torso, and when Henri ran a finger down the center of his chest to his treasure trail, Bailey clenched his teeth together to hold back a needy moan.

“Don’t do that,” Henri said, as he looked at him from beneath those thick lashes. “If you want to scream, shout, or curse my name at the top of your fucking lungs…do it. Don’t you know that’s what I’m aiming for?” The roguish glint in his eyes told Bailey he wasn’t lying.

That look was downright dangerous, and as Henri bent his head and blew a warm breath over the material of Bailey’s pants, Bailey thought it was a miracle that they didn’t split open. The heat penetrated the fine fabric in an instant and teased his sensitive dick, and when he jutted his hips up, Henri kept their eyes locked as he finally lowered his head and licked along the material.

Jesus Christ. He doesn’t even have my pants off and I’m about to explode. As if Henri could read Bailey’s mind, he flicked open the metal clasp of Bailey’s belt and pulled it free. Then he unfastened his pants and tugged them out of his way.

“Fuck. You look even better than I imagined,” Henri said as he took in the tight white briefs cradling Bailey’s cock. “And believe me, officer, I’ve spent a lot of time imagining you like this.”

Henri then began to mouth his way up the tight fabric, and Bailey had to close his eyes or risk coming right then. He dug his fingers into the duvet he was leaning back against, and the more Henri sucked on him, the more difficult Bailey found it to keep still.

“Henri…God. Take them off me.”

Henri slid the last barrier between them out of his way, and when Bailey’s dick sprang free, Henri said, “Fucking finally,” before he wrapped a fist around Bailey’s length and then sucked him deep inside.

A loud curse ripped free of Bailey’s lips, and as it bounced off the walls, he craned his head up to look at the sexy-as-sin man between his thighs. He’d never really considered himself an overly sexual person in the past, but with Henri he felt insatiable; with Henri he felt free. And Bailey had to wonder how one night was ever going to be enough.

Chapter Fourteen

CONFESSION

I probably should’ve walked away.

Staying was just asking for trouble…

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN GETTING Bailey between his lips and watching him stretch out across his bed like a goddamn offering, Henri just about lost it.

From the second he’d tasted Bailey, he’d known this was going to go from a first-time exploration to a fast fuck, real quick. And as he drew his lips up to the tip of that delicious cock, Bailey’s moan was all the confirmation Henri needed to move forward.

He gave the plump head between his lips a final flick with his tongue, and when the salty taste of Bailey’s arousal once again hit his taste buds, Henri reached down and pressed the heel of his hand to his throbbing dick.

He needed to get out of these jeans as soon as fucking possible, and when he got to his feet to do just that, Bailey’s heavy-lidded fuck-me eyes landed on him. With his shirt and pants spread wide open, his cop looked hotter than anything Henri could ever remember seeing, and when Bailey wrapped a hand around his cock to stroke it, Henri quickly reached into his pocket to pull his wallet and a condom free.

As his hands worked double time to get his jeans undone and gone, Bailey did the same. He was looking at Henri as a starving man would a feast, and as he slowly trailed his gaze down over him, Henri knew one thing for damn sure—he couldn’t wait to be eaten.

With a hand now wrapped firmly around his stiff dick, Henri looked to the bedside table before turning back to Bailey. “You got anything fun tucked away in that drawer over there?”

“Uh, no. It’s, um—” Bailey’s eyes cut to the nightstand as a flush hit his cheeks.

“It’s what?” Henri said.

“It’s been a while, that’s all. So, there’s nothing too exciting.”

Henri eyed him on the bed, smirked, and when he pulled open the drawer and found a half-empty bottle of lube, he picked it up.

“Not too exciting, huh? I don’t know about that.” Henri looked to the bottle and then back to Bailey. “The thought of you using this on yourself excites the hell out of me.”

Bailey worried his bottom lip with his teeth as Henri tossed the lube on the comforter, and then he placed a knee on the edge of the mattress and said, “When did you buy that?”

Bailey swallowed as his eyes roved over Henri’s body, and then he reached between his legs and said, “Two weeks ago.”

Fuck yes, right after we met. That was what Henri had been hoping for, and as he climbed up on the bed and Bailey parted his legs, Henri moved down over him and planted a hand by either side of his head.

At the skin-to-skin contact, Bailey let out a ragged moan and reached for Henri’s hips, and when he pulled him down and their cocks finally rubbed up against each other, the feeling was un-fucking-real.

“That bottle’s been well used in two weeks,” Henri said, his lips a mere whisper over the top of Bailey’s. “Tell me, how many nights did you lie here and get off to this exact scenario, officer?”

Bailey slid his hands around Henri’s waist and dug fingers into the firm flesh of his ass. “None.”

Henri didn’t buy that for a second, and just as he was about to say so, Bailey flashed that shy, all-American smile.

“I’ve gotten off every morning since I met you—sometimes twice. I work nights.”

“And was this what you were thinking about?”

“Sometimes…”

“And the other times?”

Bailey arched up. “The other times I’m on my stomach under you. Just like you said back in the restaurant.”

Henri cursed at that visual and ran his tongue along the stubble on Bailey’s cheek. “Now there’s an idea I think I should get behind.” Then he pushed up and back, grabbed one of Bailey’s wrists, and flipped him onto his stomach.

Clearly on board with that plan, Bailey shifted into position without protest, and a second later, when Henri kissed the base of his spine, Bailey let out a sound of pure bliss.

Things were about to go from zero to sixty real quick, and Henri couldn’t wait.

* * *

THE SOFT DUVET against his overly sensitive cock felt amazing as Bailey shifted into the position he’d been dreaming about for the last fourteen days. Ever since he first saw Henri, he’d wondered what it would be like to be naked and under him, and as he widened his legs a fraction, Bailey felt the mattress dip, then Henri kissed his way up his spine and settled between his spread legs.

Bailey could feel the hot, heavy throb of Henri’s thick erection where it nestled between his cheeks, and Bailey closed his eyes to take a moment to just…feel. It’d been so long since he’d enjoyed the full weight of another person pressing him down into his mattress. But when Henri braced himself with a hand on either side of Bailey’s head and began to roll his hips, there was no way Bailey was able to keep still.

The pure strength in the body behind him had Bailey’s urge for closer contact at an all-time high, and he jacked his hips up to meet the downward roll of Henri’s and clenched the covers for a better grip.

“Your body is a fucking masterpiece,” Henri said by his ear. “You’ve got muscles on top of muscles back here.”

Goosebumps broke out over Bailey’s skin as a shiver of lust skated up his spine, and then Henri trailed one of his palms down Bailey’s side to settle on his hip.

Henri gave a deep chuckle that was as arrogant as it was sexy, and then Bailey opened his eyes in time to see Henri reaching for the lube.

“I think it’s time we move this night along,” Henri said, and snapped the lid on the bottle open. “Because I don’t know about you, but this has been a long time coming for me—and not in the way I prefer.”

Henri shifted away then, and the absence of his body made Bailey groan in protest until a finger stroked down the back of his thigh.

“Hands and knees, officer. I want to take a closer look at what I’m about to get into.”

Jesus, Henri had a mouth on him, and that set Bailey’s blood on fire. He could feel the heat in his face even as the flames licked over his body, and he moved up to his hands and knees.

Henri hummed his approval as he smoothed his hands over the bare skin of Bailey’s ass, dug his thumbs into the crack, and spread it open. Bailey’s head fell forward and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Now this.” Henri massaged a slippery thumb back and forth over the tight entrance. “This is where I prefer to come.”

“God,” Bailey said, clutching at the duvet and shoving back on the thumb teasing him. Then Henri pushed inside an inch further and pulled out to do it again, and Bailey almost shouted in frustration.

He’d never been so turned on in his life, and where most of the guys he’d been with in the past just got to it, Henri was drawing this out, making Bailey wait, and the anticipation was just as much of a turn-on as everything else.

Warm lips found his skin next, Henri’s mouth at the base of his spine, and this time, as he worked his way up Bailey’s back, Henri slipped his thumb all the way inside. Bailey groaned as Henri’s teeth scraped over his shoulder blade, and when that strong, lean body surrounded him, Bailey felt his toes curl from the sheer pleasure of it all.

“You’re real tight back here, Bailey.” Henri dragged his thumb free and then came back to tease Bailey’s hole with two fingers. “I can’t wait to get in here and loosen you up.”

A shiver vibrated through Bailey, and when those talented fingers grazed over his prostate, Bailey arched up and back into Henri’s body.

“Yesss,” Henri hissed by his ear. “Hell yes. You’re so fucking hot, I could do this to you all night.”

Bailey turned his head, wanting that filthy mouth to join his, and the second Bailey was within reach, Henri’s mouth was on his.

His tongue speared between Bailey’s lips as he thrust his fingers inside, and as Henri worked him over from top to bottom, Bailey’s mind began to spin out of control.

Henri was marking him from the inside out, and where Bailey never usually got off on being dominated this way, the thought of giving himself over, giving himself the permission to be Henri’s for this one night, was more arousing than he’d ever imagined.

Henri nipped at his lower lip and pulled his fingers free, and when their eyes locked, Henri ran a hand over Bailey’s hip. “You want more?” Bailey licked his lips as he rocked back. Henri grinned salaciously and said, “That won’t do, officer. I’m a dirty fucker. I want to hear it.” As impossible as it was, given the position he was in, Bailey’s cheeks flamed and Henri chuckled again. “Do you want more?”

“Yes,” Bailey said, and this time nodded for good measure.

Henri’s eyes were like glittering black diamonds as he trailed his fingers over one of Bailey’s ass cheeks, making him whimper. “What do you want more of?”

You, Bailey wanted to say. He also wanted to be fucked into his mattress as hard as possible, but there was no way he was going to—

“That,” Henri said, and then flicked his tongue along Bailey’s lip. “Whatever you just thought of right then, tell me.”

God, could he really just say that?

“You’re blushing again. Embarrassed to ask? Don’t be. I wanna know. What do you want?” Henri dragged his thumb over Bailey’s slicked-up entrance, and that was it. Bailey was going to do and say whatever he had to in order to get Henri inside him.

“I want you to fuck me. Everyone’s always so polite, and I—”

“Don’t want to be polite tonight?”

Bailey nodded. It was both strange and undeniably hot to ask for what he wanted, but when Henri growled and dug his fingers into Bailey’s waist, Bailey knew it would be worth it.

Henri pressed a hard, quick kiss to his lips. “Hope your neighbors live far away.”

Shit. That sounded promising. “Far enough.”

“Good, ’cause it might be embarrassing to have the police show up to investigate a noise complaint. And trust me, by the time I’m through with you, you’ll be making a hell of a lot of noise.”

Before Bailey could respond, Henri was gone, moving back behind him and spreading him apart to get an up close and personal look at “what he was going to be getting into.”

Fingers teased and stretched him, and when he reached under himself to wrap a hand around his cock and start stroking, a feral sound hit his ears.

Bailey looked over his shoulder, and the sight that greeted him was straight out of the fantasies he’d been having the past two weeks. Henri was on his knees stroking his covered cock, and his hungry gaze was roaming all over Bailey.

Those black eyes were intense, his coal-colored hair had flopped down into his eyes, and all that silver Bailey loved so damn much glinted in the lamplight.

Henri was hands down the sexiest man Bailey had ever seen in his life, and as he reached out to smooth a palm over the round curve of Bailey’s ass, Henri winked.

As the tip of Henri’s cock rubbed up against his entrance, Bailey wrapped a hand around his dick. It was leaking all over him now, and the mess he was making of both his hand and the bed was nothing compared to what he knew would come, as Henri slowly began to push inside him.

The wide head stretched Bailey open with a delicious burn he hadn’t felt in months, and he gritted his teeth and dragged the duvet halfway up the bed. Henri tunneled forward and filled him one thick inch at a time, and when he finally bottomed out and stilled, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing.

Henri’s hands were on Bailey’s waist, as he leaned down over Bailey’s back to kiss his shoulder. “Just so you know, you were totally worth the risk of jail time.”

“Fuck,” Bailey said on a rush of air, remembering his threat of arresting Henri.

Then Henri slowly withdrew from his body. “Yeah, let’s do that,” he said before he thrust back inside.

Bailey braced himself in the center of his bed, his palms firmly planted, his knees set, as the rough movement behind him began to pick up pace. With one hand on his waist, Henri held him in position, and used his other to spread Bailey open every time he withdrew.

The pace was fast and intense but exactly what Bailey wanted, and as Henri filled him over and over again, any coherent thoughts Bailey had disintegrated into nothing, until all he could do was feel.

They were going at each other like it was the first and last time they could ever be this way. Then Henri smoothed his hands up Bailey’s back to grip his shoulder and tug him up off his hands and to his knees, and Bailey went, wanting an even closer connection.

Henri wound an arm around Bailey’s chest and pulled him back, and the position got Henri as deep as he could get.

Bailey cried out, his head falling back on Henri’s shoulder. Henri licked up his cheek to his ear and said, “That’s it, fucking shout for me,” and Bailey grabbed his own cock and feverishly tugged.

Henri was drilling into him now at a relentless pace, and when he found that sweet spot inside, Bailey couldn’t have held back his shout if he’d tried. Henri’s name echoed throughout the house, and the fingers at Bailey’s waist dug in harder as the pace got even faster.

Henri had unchained him tonight, and as he bit down into Bailey’s shoulder and gave a final punch of his hips, the two of them came with a force Bailey had never experienced before, and he thought it was a crying shame that in the morning he was going to have to lock it all away again.

Chapter Fifteen

CONFESSION

I tried to stay away.

Really, I did.

TRUE TO HIS word, Henri had left sometime in the early hours of the morning after Bailey passed out. He’d left, and stayed gone now, for eight full days. Seven of which he’d been trying to convince himself that contacting Bailey would be a really stupid move, since they’d both decided it was a one-and-done deal and Bailey hadn’t reached out to him.

That didn’t stop Henri, however, from reliving that night over and over again. Something he had a feeling he’d be doing for a long time to come, because fucking hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with someone who pushed his buttons the way his cop did.

From his looks, to his shy and sexy demeanor, Henri had to admit that if it wasn’t for the whole cop factor, there would’ve been no stopping him from tracking Bailey down again and convincing him to spend another night—or three—in his bed.

As it was, he’d have to be content with the memory of that night. It wasn’t like he could erase history, and Henri knew better than anyone else that all it would take was one fuck up, or some snitch from his past to go blabbing about who his father was, for him to wind up in a situation where he would be asked questions he’d rather not answer.

So, yeah, unfortunately, that put a huge roadblock in the way of any future hookups with Officer Craig Bailey.

Henri grabbed the bottle of whiskey he kept on top of his fridge and made his way into the living room with a glass tumbler in hand. As he took a seat, he glanced at the clock on the wall, and when he noticed it was about to turn six, he realized just how boring his life had become.

At home on a Saturday night—how awesome am I? But the problem was that he had no desire to go out. He had no desire to hit up a bar and look for a good time, because his head was full of the R-rated images from the last good time he’d had.

Shit. This was not smart. It was also not part of the plan. Henri had thought that one night with Bailey would be enough to get him out of his system. But no matter what he did, Henri couldn’t seem to erase the sounds Bailey made when Henri had finally gotten inside him.

Henri looked at the phone sitting on the cushion next to him and shook his head. No, he told himself for the millionth time. You had your fun and now it’s over. You do not need to go sniffing around a cop, for fuck’s sake. So he poured himself a drink and picked up the remote sitting on the arm of his chair.

As he flicked through channels, Henri sighed and tossed the remote down beside him, then he took a long swallow of his drink. There was shit-all on the television tonight, and with nothing to do and no one to call, he was reminded once again of just how fucking miserable it was to be so alone in the world.

There’d been a time in his life when he sought out this kind of isolation, when becoming a ghost had been the only means of survival. But now, Henri found this life lacking. He found himself wanting more these days, and was frustrated that he couldn’t have it, because even though Jimmy was gone for good, Victor still lingered like a bad odor, and that made starting over—starting a relationship—harder than Henri had ever imagined.

But then he thought about Priest, and the love he shared with Julien and Robbie, and Henri knew that that was the reason he was so restless these days. He’d seen what kind of life was possible—even for one who had come from a monster like Jimmy—and it had made him start to think about his own life, or more accurately, his lack of one.

But pulling himself out of that world wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Take his involvement with Detective Dick right now, whose relationship with Bailey was still unknown.

Sure, Henri was working with the police in this instance, but it still had him reaching out to people who could get him thrown in jail, or worse—get him dead. In fact, he was due to meet up with an old contact tomorrow in his pursuit to stay on the straight and narrow.

Henri ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t have what Priest had. A) He didn’t have a respectable job, and B) He’d done things that he could never tell anyone about.

So while he might be able to start over, start new and stay out of trouble, he was more than aware that he would never be good enough for someone like Bailey.

Henri closed his eyes, took another swig of his drink, and wondered where the hell that thought had come from. He wasn’t usually the kind to feel sorry for himself. But as he sat there, wishing he could call up his cop for another night or two, he realized the main reason he couldn’t was because Bailey deserved someone better than him.

Don’t ask him how he knew that. But in the handful of moments they’d spent with one another, Henri got the distinct impression that Bailey was an all-round good guy.

There was just something about him that seemed so genuine, so sincere. Hell, he’d even been hesitant to jump into a one-night stand. But when he’d finally given in, when he’d finally let himself go, there’d been something so incredibly beautiful about watching him come undone that Henri couldn’t get out of his mind—no matter how hard he tried.

As he sat there thinking about the man with the light blue eyes that somehow managed to warm even his fucked-up soul, Henri looked at his keys over on the side table and thought, One more night couldn’t hurt, right? Then he got to his feet, picked up the keys, and headed out the door.

* * *

“HOW YOU DOING with those steaks?” Sean, Bailey’s eldest brother, asked, as he stepped out onto the back deck and walked over to the barbecue, where Bailey was turning the rib eyes for a final time.

Saturday night was family night in the Bailey household. Always had been unless you had a hot date, a work conflict, or were contagious with some kind of horrible illness, and for as long as Bailey could remember, his family—and Xander—had held up the tradition.

Of course, the location changed from time to time, but for the most part, they congregated here at Bailey’s house. He had the biggest lot, and the property behind his home gave them more privacy if they decided to turn the dinner into a party with friends, or a sports-watching event that got out of hand.

“They’re coming along good, I think,” Bailey said as he looked over his shoulder to see Sean cradling a beer in one hand, while stuffing some chips in his mouth with his other. “Xander and Kieran finish the salad yet?”

“Well, Kieran’s doing jack shit as always, and Xander is finishing up washing the tomatoes.”

“Well, don’t ruin your dinner. I’m almost done here.”

“Yes, sir,” Sean said as he popped the final chip into his mouth.

“Haven’t seen much of you this week,” Bailey said, as he hung up the tongs and picked up the beer he had sitting on the deck rail.

“Yeah, caught a case that’s been keeping me busy.”

“I heard about that down at the station. Talk is, this one’s the same as the other two women that were found over on the South Side. That true?”

“Unfortunately. We’ve got fuck-all to go by, though. Just some dead prostitutes and some drugs. Like that’s gonna narrow it down.” Sean took another swig of his beer and rubbed a hand over his face, and Bailey couldn’t help but notice how tired his brother looked tonight.

That wasn’t all that surprising, though, with the hours he kept. Bailey couldn’t begin to imagine how Sean managed the round-the-clock shit he pulled when he picked up a case. That was one of the main reasons Bailey had stayed with patrol, even though their father had always expected him to go for detective like himself and Sean.

But where the police force seemed like a calling for the two of them, for Bailey it was just a job.

Refocusing on his brother, Bailey looked at the bags under his eyes and frowned. “You been getting much sleep lately?”

“Eh, I’ve been getting a handful of hours here and there—”

“But nothing that leaves you feeling any better for it. Am I right?”

“You’re a pain in the ass is what you are. Quit being a mother hen, Bay. I’m fine.”

“But are you? Really? One of the main reasons cops burn out is because of the shit hours—”

“And the shit pay. Don’t forget that.”

Bailey pinned his older brother with a serious look. “You and I both know how important it is to have balance in this line of work. Don’t make the same mistakes he did.”

Sean looked past Bailey’s shoulder to the sizzling steaks behind him, clearly trying to ignore what he’d said. But Bailey knew his brother had heard him, just as he knew Sean would only ever listen to Sean, and when it came to talk of their pops, no one was more pigheaded and stubborn than his eldest brother.

Oh well, at least Bailey could go to bed tonight knowing he’d said his piece.

“Really, Bay, it’s all good. I’m fine. What’ve you been up to, anyway? Do anything exciting last weekend?”

And just like that, Bailey was inundated with images of the one who had done him last weekend.

“Uh, no. I’ve just been working, like you. They switched me to night shifts, so that’s been taking a little getting used to.”

Sean took another gulp of his beer, his eyes narrowing as he scanned Bailey’s face, and Bailey’s pulse began to race. Sean was a master at ferreting out the truth in suspects, witnesses, and his family, and as everyone who knew Bailey could attest, he was the worst liar on the planet.

“You met someone,” Sean said with such certainty that Bailey wondered for a split second if Xander had been shooting his mouth off.

“Okaaay.” Bailey chuckled, trying to play off Sean’s comment. “You must be more tired than I thought.”

“Nope. I told you, I’m fine. And you’re lying. Your cheeks are turning red.”

Bailey knew Sean was right; he could feel the heat on his face. But there was no way in hell he was about to admit anything to his brother. “They’re turning red because I’m drinking. Now, the steaks are nearly ready, so if you’re done annoying me, how about you go inside and tell Xander he’s got about three minutes?”

“Trying to get rid of me?”

“Am I that obvious?” When Bailey gave him a tight smile, Sean laughed but turned on his heel and headed toward the sliding glass door. Once he disappeared inside, Bailey let out a relieved breath.

All week he’d been trying his hardest to push aside memories of Henri, but no matter what he did or where he was, all he could think about was how good it had felt to be naked and under Henri’s strong body.

God, Bailey still couldn’t believe that it had actually happened. He kept thinking that maybe it was all a figment of his imagination. That the dream he usually woke up from midway through had finally played out in full, and he hadn’t really had Henri naked inside his bedroom…naked and inside of him.

But there was no way his imagination was that good, no way that Bailey would’ve thought up the silver piercings through Henri’s nipples, and there was no way in hell that he could have made the bruise on his shoulder, where Henri had bit him, all on his own.

That night had happened, but just like Henri had promised, he was gone the next morning, had vanished like he had that day of the wedding, and Bailey still couldn’t decide if he was happy about that.

After he loaded the steaks onto a serving plate, he switched off the barbecue and then opened up the bottom to turn off the gas. He’d just finished closing it all up when the back door slid open again, and he turned around about to tell Sean to cool his jets.

But instead of Sean, Xander stepped outside. He had a smug smile on his face as he crossed the back deck and held Bailey’s phone out. “Don’t look now, but it seems your one-night stand is looking to make it two.”

Bailey’s forehead creased as he stared at his friend in confusion. He’d told Xander earlier about what had happened between him and Henri. And as Xander stood there now grinning, Bailey wondered if his friend was fucking with him.

“I can’t be positive,” Xander continued, “but I’m assuming the person you listed in your contacts as Ghost is the man who keeps up and vanishing from your life. Am I right?”

“Give me that,” Bailey said, snatching the phone out of his friend’s hand, and sure enough, Xander was right. On the screen was a missed call from Henri, and though the agreement between them had been for one night and one night only, Bailey’s fool heart began to beat overtime at the thought of seeing Henri again.

“So,” Xander said, as Bailey continued to stare at the screen as though it were the winning numbers to the Million Dollar Jackpot Lottery. “You going to call him back?”

The answer definitely should’ve been no. But before he could stop himself, Bailey said, “Cover for me. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Chapter Sixteen

CONFESSION

Of all the stupid things I’ve done,

stalking a cop is right up there at the top.

HENRI TURNED ONTO the street Bailey had directed him to last week, and he recognized it in an instant. He had a knack for that kind of thing, soaking in the details. It was something that had always helped him with his jobs in the past, and as he drove further down the street, he’d never been more thankful for his tracking—stalking—skills in his life.

As he slow-crawled the Aston Martin toward the end of the cul-de-sac, Henri spotted several cars parked in the driveway and cursed. There were four in total, just his fucking luck. So instead of driving right up there and intruding on whatever shindig Bailey had going on, Henri did what any respectable stalker would do: he pulled up to the curb, several houses down, as far away from the streetlight as possible. Then he sat there for a minute, trying to decide what to do next.

He’d known this wasn’t a smart idea before he’d done it, had talked himself out of it several times before finally saying “fuck it” and getting in the car. But as he sat there now, staring at the vehicles parked in Bailey’s driveway, Henri realized he hadn’t really thought this through. He also reminded himself that he still had a chance to leave.

Henri looked over to the house again, to the place he’d spent one of the hottest nights of his life in, and thought, It’s not like this would be the first time I’ve snuck around someone’s house—or into it, for that matter. Then, before he could change his mind, he shoved open the car door and got out.

Careful to stick to the shadows, Henri made his way toward Bailey’s house and slipped down the side that seemed less lit up than the other.

He supposed it should’ve occurred to him that Bailey might have company tonight—after all, it was Saturday—but Henri hadn’t even thought of that when he’d come up with this genius plan. All he’d been thinking about was how fucking incredible last week had been, and how he would do just about anything to see Bailey again.

Even, apparently, stalking.

He knew he should feel bad about creeping around outside someone’s house, and considering that that someone was a cop, he wasn’t sure his night wouldn’t end with a bullet in his ass for trespassing.

But just as he’d thought when first tracking down Bailey’s number, the risk he had to take in order to get what he wanted would be well worth the reward in the end. At least, that was what he hoped.

As he continued alongside the house, Henri spotted a window toward the front and glanced inside to see two men hanging out in the kitchen. The one sitting at the island had short, dirty blond hair and wide shoulders that tested the fabric of a long-sleeve fire department shirt, and the one moving around in the kitchen… Henri stopped for a second to get a better look at him.

The man had dark hair that was streaked through with silver, and he was so familiar that it was uncanny. Henri racked his brain, trying to place the man. It wasn’t like he’d lived here so long that he would recognize a stranger. But then the guy smiled, and suddenly it hit Henri.

He was the news guy. Not the local one, but one of the national news guys. What’s his name? What’s his name? And then, like a light bulb going off, it came. Alexander Thorne. That’s his name, Henri thought, and then he frowned. Bailey knows Alexander Thorne? How?

As that piece of information registered, he heard the sound of muffled talking coming from the back of the house, and when laughter followed, he made his way toward it and found himself standing by the side of a raised deck.

I’ve lost my fucking mind, Henri thought. That’s the only excuse I have for standing out here in the dark like a total creeper. But as the laughter faded and silence again enveloped the night, Henri chanced a look across the deck and spotted Bailey.

Damn. He looked even better tonight than the last time Henri had seen him, and suddenly he didn’t care that he was acting like a lunatic, because that man was fucking gorgeous.

Dressed in jeans and a navy hoodie, Bailey looked relaxed, comfortable, and so damn appealing that it took everything Henri had not to call out to him right then and there. But not wanting to scare the living shit out of Bailey, he knew he needed a subtler approach.

Henri fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Bailey’s number. He thought about sending a quick text, but as he took another look, he decided he wanted to hear Bailey’s voice instead.

Moving away from the deck, Henri hit call and waited for a ringtone of some sort to go off out the back. But when the only thing that greeted him was silence, he frowned.

Maybe Bailey had turned his phone off since he had company? Henri had no idea, but when the call went to voicemail, he hit end.

I mean, really. What the fuck am I going to say if he answers, anyway? Hi, I’m standing outside your house. Can I come in?

Henri re-pocketed his cell and moved to take a final look at the man he’d come for. It was probably for the best that Bailey hadn’t answered anyway; he’d wanted one night, and Henri had promised him just that. But when the sliding door to Bailey’s house opened and Alexander Thorne stepped outside, Henri’s vision turned a little bit…green.

“Don’t look now, but it seems your one-night stand is looking to make it two,” Alexander said, flashing his famous smile. But Henri was done caring who the guy was; he was zeroed in on what he was saying, because it had sounded as though Bailey had been talking about him.

“I can’t be positive,” Alexander continued when Bailey didn’t respond, “but I’m assuming the person you listed in your contacts as Ghost is the man who keeps up and vanishing from your life. Am I right?”

Ghost? The nickname was so spot-on that it made Henri grin.

“Give me that,” his cop finally said, snagging Henri’s attention. As he strained to see what was going on, Henri heard Alexander say, “So, you going to call him back?”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Henri grabbed his phone from his pocket, hoping to God Bailey didn’t call before he could mute the damn thing, and just as he switched the phone to silent, Bailey said, “Cover for me. I’ll be back in a minute.”

* * *

BAILEY STARED AT the missed call on his screen and told himself to breathe. Somewhere in the back of his mind—okay, maybe right up there at the front—he’d been hoping for this.

Yes, he’d agreed to one night. Yes, he’d agreed not to think beyond that. But he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that the entire time he’d been with Henri, he’d also been thinking…what if?

What if this wasn’t one night? What if this turned into more? What if this sexy guy who’s made me feel more alive tonight than I’ve felt in my entire life could actually be mine? Then what would I do?

But knowing the terms he’d agreed to, Bailey had pushed those thoughts aside and instead focused on the purely physical aspect of that night. The way Henri had looked, the way he tasted, the way he pulled out a side that Bailey had never known existed, and made him feel all the more powerful for having explored it.

Bailey had promised himself that that would be enough, but he knew he was lying to himself. His reaction to seeing Henri’s number just now confirmed it, as did the way his heart lodged in the back of his throat at the thought of talking to Henri again. But there was no way he was going to miss this opportunity.

Bailey took another quick look over his shoulder to make sure he was alone, and when he was happy that he was, he hit call.

The phone only rang twice before it was answered, and without even thinking, he said, “So, what happened to one night?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to bite them back, not wanting Henri to think he was annoyed by the call.

But then that seductive chuckle he dreamed about rumbled in his ear. “You did,” Henri said, and all the blood in Bailey’s head went south.

Henri’s words were straight to the point, and so damn sexy that Bailey moved further away from the back door, just in case the people inside could hear his thumping heart. “Did I?”

“Yeah, you fucking did,” Henri said in a voice that made Bailey’s dick remember every little thing those teasing lips had done to him. “I don’t know what kind of spell you put on me, officer. But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

As the raw honesty behind those words hit him, Bailey braced a hand on the rail just in case his knees gave out. But Henri wasn’t quite done reminding him just what a powerful impact he could make.

“I think about you when I’m awake. I dream about you when I’m asleep. I even think about you when I’m telling myself not to—”

“Why would you tell yourself that?”

There was a pause, and then Henri said, “Because it’s the smart thing to do.”

Bailey frowned. Smart thing to do? What does that mean?

“I should let you go. You have guests over.”

“Just my brothers and a friend,” Bailey said, but as what Henri had just said registered, he straightened and looked around.

How did Henri know he had people over? There was no way he could’ve just guessed that. But when all he saw was the dark stretch of land in front of him, Bailey said, “Where are you?”

“If I tell you I’m trespassing, will you shoot me?”

Shit. He’s here? Bailey’s cock throbbed as though it were a homing beacon for the guy, and then he looked to the opposite side of the deck, to the side of his house that was shrouded in shadows, and zeroed in on it.

With the phone still glued to his ear, Bailey could hear the wind rustling through trees through his cell, and as he headed down the stairs and around the side of his place, a hand reached out and grabbed at his wrist.

As he was tugged out of sight and shoved up against the side of the house, Bailey’s pulse skyrocketed as a rush of adrenaline flooded him.

Henri was right there, right in front of him, and as he boxed him in, Bailey knew he would do just about anything to get one more kiss, one more touch, from the bad boy who couldn’t seem to get enough of him.

Chapter Seventeen

CONFESSION

Being good’s never really been my thing.

But being bad? That’s where I truly excel.

HENRI STARED INTO the stunning face now only inches from his, and all of the reasons he shouldn’t be there vanished—right along with his common sense.

With the soft glow from the window on this side of Bailey’s house, he could see the rough stubble shadowing Bailey’s jaw and wanted to run his tongue along it. He could also feel Bailey’s excitement pressed up against his own, as Henri crowded in and placed a hand on the siding by his head.

Bailey slowly lowered the phone from his ear, and when he slipped it into his pocket, he said, “Hi.”

“Hi yourself, officer.” Henri wedged a foot between Bailey’s legs, and when he automatically shifted them apart and reached for his waist, Henri rolled his hips forward and groaned at the contact. “Fuck. I just want you to know, I tried to be good and stay away from you.”

Bailey licked his lips and then hooked his fingers through the belt loops of Henri’s jeans, and it was all Henri could do not to grab him and attack.

“I failed.” At those two words, a grin curled Bailey’s lips, and Henri brought a hand up to trace his thumb along his jaw line. “Should I apologize?”

When Bailey shook his head, Henri smirked and then leaned in to brush their lips together. “Thank God for that. ’Cause good’s never really been my thing. But being bad?” He nipped at Bailey’s lower lip. “Well, I’m a fucking expert at that.”

Bailey cursed and dug his fingers into Henri’s waist as he thrust his hips forward. “This is crazy. I have a house full of people, and—”

Bailey’s words cut off as Henri kissed his way down the line of his neck and then tugged at the zipper of his hoodie. “And what?”

Bailey’s head fell back against the side of the house, his breathing coming much faster now. “And all I want is to feel your hands on me again.”

Henri slowly slid the zipper down, and when Bailey’s naked chest came into view, Henri groaned. “So I’m not the only one who wants to be bad tonight. Is that what you’re telling me?”

Bailey chewed on his lower lip as Henri began to kiss his way down his neck to his chest, then he scraped his teeth over Bailey’s nipple.

“I don’t do things like this,” Bailey said, as he gripped the back of Henri’s head. “Not ever.”

His cop wasn’t telling him anything new. Henri already knew that Bailey was more the commitment type, just as he had always been the no-strings-attached type. But with each look, each touch, each run-in the two of them had, Henri could see they were both starting to change their minds. They were both looking for ways to bend their rule for just another moment with each other, and he was starting to think that being caught up in this man’s strings just might be the best fucking experience of his life.

Bailey looked down at him with sex-hazed eyes, as Henri moved lower, kissing and sucking at Bailey’s smooth skin, making his way down past his abs until he was on his knees, right there in the dirt.

Henri’s eyes roamed up Bailey’s body to his face, and when his hips bucked forward, Henri reached for the button of his jeans.

“Just another taste,” Henri said, as he flicked the button free and pulled the zipper down. “That’s all I want…that’s all I need. Another taste of you.”

“Oh shit…shit.” Bailey was rolling his hips forward now, thrusting his erection in Henri’s face, and when his fingers tightened in Henri’s hair, a grunt of pleasure escaped his throat.

Henri aimed his eyes in Bailey’s direction as he inched his briefs down and pulled his cock free. Then he moved up to his knees and dragged his tongue from root to tip.

“Henri,” Bailey said, shaking where he stood, propped up against the side of his house. “You… I… Oh God.”

The last two words were a tortured moan, as Henri licked over the head of Bailey’s dick. But when the hands in his hair began urging him to his feet, Henri took one last taste before obeying.

When he was back to his full height, Henri once again caged Bailey in by plastering himself to his front and wedging a foot between his thighs. As his jeans rubbed up against Bailey’s naked cock, a desperate sound left him and he grabbed Henri’s hips.

“Shit, you’re driving me insane,” Bailey said. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

The high Henri got from the arousal he could see, feel, and now taste on his tongue drove him forward, drove him that much closer to the most dangerous edge he’d ever stood on. “And how do you want me?”

Bailey’s eyes locked on his, and the raw honesty Henri saw there was unlike anything he’d seen before. “Any way I can have you.”

And that was it: Henri jumped off the edge.

He crushed his lips down on top of Bailey’s in a blistering kiss, and if there’d been any doubt that his cop was upset that Henri had shown up there tonight, the intensity of Bailey’s response would’ve banished it in an instant.

Bailey shoved off the side of the house, his fingers tightening on Henri’s ass. He parted his lips and Henri dove inside; Bailey groaned, and the sound went straight to Henri’s dick.

Not a second later, Henri had Bailey back against the wall, the desperate push and pull between them reigniting the wildfire, as Bailey all but climbed up Henri’s body to get closer to him.

His cop felt incredible, all those hard muscles straining against his, and it wasn’t long before Henri was moving like they were already naked, and he was balls deep inside.

The wind in the leaves, and the muffled sounds of Bailey’s guests, was a gentle reminder of where they were and that someone could walk out at any moment. But Henri didn’t give a shit, and neither, apparently, did the man who was all but fucking his leg, as he bit and sucked at Henri’s lower lip.

Henri grinned against Bailey’s greedy mouth, and when he dragged a hand down to cup Bailey’s erection, Henri had to crush their lips together to stop the loud shout that nearly escaped his cop.

“Jesus, you’re on fucking fire tonight. But if you don’t stop…” Henri squeezed the stiff dick. “How long have you got until someone comes looking for you?”

Bailey swallowed but punched his hips forward, his eyes a little dazed as he stared into Henri’s face. “Not long enough for what we both want.”

“Now that’s a fucking shame.”

“Yeah” was Bailey’s intelligent response, making Henri chuckle.

“Hmm. Well, what if I come back later?”

Bailey’s eyes fell shut as he angled his head to the side, and Henri licked a path right up to his ear and kissed his temple.

“Yeah, I like that idea,” Henri said. “You go back inside and be a good host, and I’ll come back later and be a bad influence.”

As Henri gave him another rough stroke, Bailey grabbed the back of Henri’s neck and slammed their mouths together in a kiss that just about blew the top of Henri’s head off. It was a kiss full of pent-up frustration, and by the end of it, Henri was convinced he just might die if he couldn’t get inside Bailey right this second.

But then, as if Bailey had come to his senses, he pulled back, nodded, and took a step away, giving himself a little more distance as he got himself under control and zipped up.

“Wow…okay,” he said, his voice much deeper than usual. “Clearly, I lose my mind when you’re around.”

A smug smile hit Henri’s lips at that confession, and when Bailey spotted it, he laughed.

“That makes you happy?”

“So fucking happy, you have no idea. I thought it was just me.”

Bailey looked down at the obvious proof in his jeans that it wasn’t and shook his head. “Trust me, it’s not.”

At the sound of laughter inside, Bailey jerked his head around to look at the deck, and when he saw they were still alone, he turned back to Henri. “You’ll come back later?”

“What time?” Henri said as he began to walk backward toward the front of the house.

“Is midnight too late?”

He could’ve said three in the morning and Henri would’ve been there. “Midnight is perfect.”

Bailey nodded, and was about to turn to leave when he stopped and pinned Henri with serious eyes. “I’m really glad you came by tonight.”

The confession was honest and…dangerous, because it made Henri want things he knew he couldn’t have—at least not with this man. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

As Henri took another step back, increasing the distance between them, Bailey gave him a searing once-over and said, “I know you told me to stop thinking that night. But you, and it, are all I’ve been able to think about since.”

Henri’s feet froze, and as the last thread of his conscience struggled to be heard, he said, “That’s probably not smart.”

“Probably.” Bailey licked at his lips as if to get one last taste of Henri. “But I don’t seem to care anymore.”

Henri shoved his hands into his pockets, not sure he wouldn’t go to Bailey and drag him to the ground. “You should go inside now.”

“Or…?”

Henri couldn’t tell if Bailey was teasing or genuinely curious about what Henri was threatening. But just in case it wasn’t clear to the good officer, Henri said, “Or I’m going to rip your jeans off and fuck you right here, right now. I don’t give a shit about who’s inside and what they see. I’m leaving because I know that you do. Make no mistake, Bailey, I meant what I said a minute ago. I’m a bad influence. You shouldn’t probably tell me to go away—you should demand it.”

The silence that stretched between them made Henri wonder if he’d just cut off his nose to spite his face, but then Bailey said, “I’ll see you at midnight. This time you can come to the front door,” and then he disappeared around the back of the house.

* * *

BAILEY SLIPPED BACK inside several minutes later, hoping the other three people in his house were in the living room, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the kitchen was empty.

He’d given himself a few moments out on his deck to get his body under some kind of control, but every time he thought about what had just happened, his body went all high alert on him again.

Jesus. So this is what it feels like to be ruled by your dick. While it was inconvenient, and would pose a million embarrassing questions if someone were to walk in right now, it felt really fucking good.

There was something about Henri that just pushed all Bailey’s buttons, and the second he was around, Bailey found himself doing and saying things that were so out of character that he wondered who they were coming from.

Yeah, kind of like telling the man that you want him any way you can have him.

It was ballsy to say the least, but also…liberating. Plus, it was hardly his fault. In black boots, jeans, and a grey Henley over a black t-shirt, Henri had looked like a thief in the night standing in the dark—a really sexy one—and if it hadn’t been for the obvious fact that Henri felt the same way, Bailey just might think about getting out of town for a few days to clear his head of this insanity.

As it was, he was thinking the best cure for this affliction was to get Henri naked, and in a bed, where Bailey could join him for as many hours as it took to get Henri out of his system—and midnight seemed like the perfect time to start.

Bailey headed to the fridge to hunt down a beer, and just as he opened it, Xander walked into the kitchen. As his eyes widened, he strode in Bailey’s direction, came to a stop behind the open door, and placed his arms on top of it. “Well? Did you call him back?”

Oh yeah, I called him, all right, Bailey thought. Called him. Kissed him. Almost tore his clothes off against the side of my house. But instead of saying any of that, he twisted the top off his beer, took a swig, and nodded. “I did.”

Xander’s brow arched, and Bailey already knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

“And what happened? Don’t think you get to vanish for fifteen minutes and leave me to entertain your pain-in-the-ass brothers without giving up the goods. I quit thinking they were cute when I was a teenager; now they just feel like my pain-in-the-ass brothers.”

“Okay, okay. Fair point. Especially Sean.”

“Exactly,” Xander said, as Bailey shut the fridge. “So you can make it up to me by telling me what happened. Are you going to see him again?”

Bailey’s lips twitched—lips that were swollen because of Henri. “I already did.”

Xander, not a fool in any way, shape, or form, frowned. “You already did?”

“Yep.” Bailey raised his beer to his lips and said, “He came over to see me tonight, and when he saw all of you, he snuck down the side of the house.”

“He stalked you?” Xander grinned and shook his head. “I told you that you should’ve done that. Although, now that I think about it, I don’t know if that’s hot or—”

“Oh, it was hot,” Bailey said, as a satisfied grin slid across his lips, and Xander leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms.

“I’m assuming we’re not talking about the phone call now?”

“I always did say you were too smart for your own good.”

Xander scoffed. “No, you didn’t. You always said I was too arrogant.”

“You’re that too,” Bailey said as he shoved away from the counter.

“Look at you. You’re close to fucking floating around this kitchen. He must be something else.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s true.”

Bailey rolled his eyes. “Shut up anyway. Shouldn’t we get in there? Sean and Kieran will start asking questions otherwise.”

“They think you were on the phone with work.”

“Oh, thanks for that.”

“No problem. But, um, Bay?”

“Yeah?”

“Where is your ghost right now?”

Bailey grinned and winked at his friend. “He disappeared. But I have it on good authority that he’s going to reappear at midnight.”

Chapter Eighteen

CONFESSION

Ding dong, the witch is dead.

And I’m not sad about that one fucking bit.

HENRI UNLOCKED HIS front door, looked around the empty space that greeted him, and knew that the next few hours were going to feel like forever. It’d taken him fifteen minutes to get from Bailey’s back to his place, and now that he was home, he was already wishing the night away.

Walking away from his cop tonight had been a lesson in self-restraint, something he wasn’t particularly good at, or fond of. He was more the self-indulgent type when it came to going after what he wanted. There’d only ever been one person he’d been willing to bend that indulgent streak for, but since that got him absolutely nowhere fast, Henri had decided there was nothing wrong with satisfying his sexual appetites any way he fucking wanted to these days—and he wanted Bailey, and planned to have him.

What had started out as an impulsive decision had turned out to be one of the best moves he’d made in a very long time. Sure, there was still that niggling voice in the back of his head reminding him how risky this was, but it was being drowned out by the sexy sounds Bailey had made tonight, as he’d practically dry-humped Henri’s leg, and nothing could erase that.

As he crossed the living room, Henri spotted the bottle of whiskey he’d been tempted to dive headfirst into earlier, and was thankful that he’d resisted the urge. He had a feeling that things would’ve turned out very differently had he turned up at Bailey’s house drunk. But luckily for him, things had turned out fucking perfect.

Midnight. It seemed an eternity away, but when his stomach growled, Henri decided one way he could pass some time was to make himself something to eat. He headed to the kitchen and was just about to rummage through the fridge when his phone rang.

As he pulled it out of his back pocket, his first thought was: Please don’t let Bailey have come to his senses. But then he remembered that final look his cop had given him, and Henri knew whoever was calling would not be Bailey.

He looked down at the name and number on the screen; it was one he knew in an instant. It was his buddy Diaz, from back in New Orleans, whom he’d stayed in contact with over the years. He hadn’t heard from him in a few months now, and Henri figured what the hell, this was a good way to pass time, catching up with an old friend and shooting the shit.

“Hey, what’s up, asshole? Haven’t heard your name round here since your girlfriend shouted it out last week in my bed by mistake.” The standard ribbing—part and parcel of their friendship over the years—was nothing new, and as Henri waited for Diaz to laugh and tell him to go suck a dick, since that was what he preferred, he was shocked when all that greeted him was silence.

“Diaz?”

“Hey, Henri. Glad I caught you. Can you talk for a minute?”

Diaz’s grave tone had Henri shutting the fridge and leaning against his counter. It was unlike his friend to be so serious, and it was making the hair on the back of Henri’s neck rise.

“Yeah, I got some time. What’s going on? You sound off. Those ball-sweating summers finally sizzle out your sense of humor?”

“Nah, man. I…” Diaz paused, and Henri waited. “I’m calling about Victor.”

At the mention of his father’s name, Henri straightened. He hadn’t seen Victor in nearly a decade, just before he’d made up his mind to move to L.A. But when that hadn’t panned out, and he’d headed back to New Orleans, Henri had made sure to vanish.

He’d disappeared from his old life, including Victor’s, and never bothered to tell his father he was back in town again. So what Diaz could be calling about, Henri had no idea.

“Look,” Henri said. “I don’t want to see him or talk to him, okay? So if he’s worked out where I am, I’ll disappear. He can go fuck himself.”

“That’s not it. I’m calling because, well, he was found dead this afternoon in his cell. Beaten by another inmate, apparently.”

Henri let the words Diaz had just said sink in, and when they finally penetrated the shock that had just enveloped him, Henri said, “Dead? Victor’s dead?”

“Yeah. I know there’s no love lost there; just figured you’d wanna know.”

Henri nodded, but when he realized Diaz couldn’t see him, he made himself speak. “Yeah, uh, thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. Keep in touch, yeah?”

“Will do.”

“See ya round, Henri.”

“Yeah, see ya,” Henri said as though he were on autopilot, and several minutes after Diaz had hung up, Henri realized he still held the phone to his ear.

Dead. Victor was…dead.

Fuck. That was weird. Henri waited for some kind of emotion to flood him—anger, sadness, guilt—but nothing came. Instead, he felt numb. He looked out to his living room, spotted the bottle of whiskey on the table, made his way over to it, grabbed it up, and unscrewed the top.

Drinking or fucking: they were the two things that always managed to make him feel something when his body shut down on him like this, and when he looked at the clock and saw how many hours he had left until midnight, Henri knew he only had one option.

He brought the bottle up to his lips, took a nice, long swig, and enjoyed the burn the liquor made down his throat, as he waited for some kind of feeling to find him again…

THE CLUNKING RATTLE of the iron bars that slid home behind Henri at Louisiana State Penitentiary—or as it was locally known, Angola—was nothing new. But it sure was a sound he was eager to leave behind, after his final face-to-face with his father.

Today was the day Henri was finally going to tell Victor he was done. He was done with this life, done with this family, and done with this no-good fucking place, where all that waited for him was his own room somewhere here in this prison.

For far too long now, he’d been caught up in a vicious cycle, and after years of thinking he had no other options, no means of escaping Victor’s grasp, Henri had finally found something worth fighting for: Joel Donovan.

Henri still couldn’t believe that the two of them had reconnected the way they had. It was like a dream. A really fucking hot one that he never wanted to wake up from, one that he wanted to continue for the rest of his life.

Ever since he was a boy, he’d loved the one with the auburn hair, but when he tracked Joel down three years ago and they’d reignited their friendship with some…added benefits, that love had only gotten stronger.

Joel had always been meant for him, of that Henri was sure now, and after seeing what kind of life he could have out there in L.A., Henri knew the only way that was going to happen was if he left this life behind for good.

When he reached the sign-in desk, an officer thrust a clipboard in his direction, and Henri did a quick scratch and scrawl as he handed over his ID. Once he was cleared, he made his way to booth thirteen, the one farthest from the guards, and took a seat as Victor was ushered into the room behind the soundproof barrier, and then shoved down into the seat opposite him.

He looked like shit—not that Henri expected much else, considering this was one of the most violent prisons in America—but the last time he’d been there, around six months ago, when Victor had sent for him, he hadn’t been sporting the scar above his eye, and he’d looked a lot heavier.

Right now, Victor looked like he could do with a meal or three. His head was shaved, his cheeks were sunken, and his eyes looked flat and pale. Nothing like the intimidating enforcer of Big Jimmy that Henri remembered as a boy.

As the guard walked off, leaving them alone, Henri reached for the handset, and Victor did the same. “What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

Yeah, that seemed about right. No greeting. No acknowledgment of any type. Just straight to the point, so Henri thought, What the fuck, and did the same. “Just thought I’d come tell you face to face—well, face to Plexiglas—that I’m done. I want out.”

Victor stared at him through the grimy barrier but said nothing, so Henri continued, not about to be intimidated by a sickly old man who couldn’t do shit to him anymore.

“I’m done with you, and all the other fuckers out here who you seem to think I need to deal with on your behalf. It’s over. It’s time for you to find a new dog to kick, you get me?”

Victor’s eyes narrowed as he looked Henri up and down. His expression made Henri’s skin crawl. He’d seen and heard the atrocities the man sitting across from him had committed, and for years had been told to do as Victor said or he’d wind up dead. But as Henri stared at the frail fucker on the other side of the security barrier, he wondered why it had taken him so long to wise up.

Victor and Jimmy were locked up, had been sentenced to life so many times over that there was no way on God’s green earth they would ever see the light of day again. So why was Henri still letting them control him? Why was he letting them manipulate him? He was smart, he was resourceful, and even if it meant he had to disappear off the fucking grid, he would do it to be with Joel.

“I get you,” Victor all but spat into the handset. “But why now?”

“What?”

“Why you want out now? Has to be a reason.”

“Other than I don’t want to wind up in the cell next to you?”

Victor’s face remained impassive, impossibly cold, almost like that of a corpse. “You’d be dead in one night if you wound up in here. You hate pain; you’re too soft. A disappointment all round.”

Henri ground his back teeth as he shoved his chair away from the table and got to his feet. “I’m a disappointment? What the fuck do you think you are?”

Victor said nothing, just stared, and Henri wished he had the ability to be that cool. The ability to have no emotional response. Maybe then he wouldn’t have given in and felt the need to do the things he’d done over the years to not wind up on this motherfucker’s bad side.

“You found him, didn’t you?” Victor said, the sneer to his lip just making him uglier. “That little fucker you pined away for all these years.”

Of all the things Victor could’ve said, that was the one that drew Henri up short. It was so unexpected and terrifying that his father knew that piece of information, and Henri froze in place as though ice had just formed in his veins.

Victor leaned back in his chair as though he were sitting in a board meeting instead of a jailhouse, and as his eyes darkened with a sick kind of joy, Henri felt a shudder race up his spine. “Did you think we wouldn’t know? That Jimmy wasn’t already keeping tabs on him?”

Henri said nothing, refused to give anything away just in case Victor was bluffing.

“We have eyes and ears everywhere. You think you can just get out? Think again. Run away if it makes you feel better. But you better become a motherfucking ghost if you do, because that’s the only way you’re going to be done with me, Henri.”

Henri swallowed, understanding the threat for what it was, and as Victor got to his feet, he lunged at the clear divider and slammed the phone into it, shouting, “Run!”

HENRI STARTLED AND jackknifed up on the couch, his fingers tight around the neck of the whiskey bottle. Shit. He hadn’t thought about that day in years, and as he tried to get his breathing under control, it occurred to him that he was finally…free.

As that word—free—rattled around in his mind, a morbid sense of happiness filled him close to bursting, and then he started to laugh. Sweet mother of fucking God. I’m free! Henri thought, and wanted to climb on the rooftop and scream at the top of his lungs.

He’d spent his entire life looking over his shoulder, and with both Jimmy and Victor now dead, there was no one left to terrorize him. No one left to keep him contained to the shadows. He was a free man.

Well, except from his own demons, but those battles could wait another day. For now, he planned to fucking celebrate.

* * *

NEVER HAD TIME moved so slow—of that, Bailey was certain. But as the big hand on his kitchen clock finally landed on top of the small one planted firmly on twelve, his nerves were beginning to set in.

He couldn’t work out if he was more anxious or excited to see Henri again, but when his stomach began to flip-flop at the thought, Bailey had his answer—excited.

Dinner had dragged by at an excruciatingly slow pace, and after they’d finally finished up and he’d gotten rid of his brothers, Bailey was positive Xander had been lingering on purpose in the hopes that Henri would show up early. He didn’t.

In fact, he was now running late. Granted, it was only by a minute or two, but as the second hand ticked around the clock, Bailey told himself not to think the worst.

He chased me down, he reminded himself as he got to his feet and began to pace. He all but stalked me, for God’s sake. But when that little reminder wasn’t enough to quell the doubt creeping in, he walked through to his living room and stared at his front door. The same door he’d shoved Henri up against eight nights ago.

Bailey checked his watch. Ten past twelve.

Maybe he fell asleep waiting? But Bailey quickly shoved that idea aside, because it had taken an act of major restraint to pull them apart earlier. So for Henri not to be here now… Maybe something had happened to him.

Bailey took his phone from his pocket and checked his messages. No missed calls, no texts, and as he stood in his hallway debating whether he should call, his doorbell chimed loudly throughout his silent house, scaring the absolute shit out of him.

Breathe, he told himself as he dropped his phone onto the entrance table and wiped his hands along his jeans. Take a damn breath and calm yourself down.

Bailey stood there for a couple seconds more, and when he finally reached for the handle, he saw that his hand was shaking. Damn. Henri had him as nervous as a teenager going to prom. But when he finally pulled the door open, he found something much more sinful on his doorstep than a high school boy.

Dressed in the same dark jeans and Henley from earlier, plus a leather jacket to ward off the cold, Henri had one shoulder leaning up against the doorjamb, his ankles crossed, and a hand shoved inside the pocket of his jeans.

His hair was ruffled as though he’d been running his fingers through it, and he flashed a smile in Bailey’s direction that was full of one thing and one thing only—sex.

As Henri shoved off the doorjamb, Bailey lost his ability to form words. He let go of the door handle, stepped out of the way, and waited for Henri to walk inside. But instead of entering the house, Henri stopped opposite him, fingered the zipper of his hoodie, and slowly dragged it down an inch. “Shut the door, Bailey.”

Henri’s intoxicating scent surrounded Bailey, but mixed in with it was the distinct smell of whiskey—and a lot of it—and before Bailey could tell his cop brain to shut up, he said, “Have you been drinking?”

A deep laugh slipped free. “Don’t worry, officer. I didn’t drive over here.” Henri’s words slurred slightly. “I took an Uuuber. I haven’t broken any laws, I promise.”

Henri winked and went to kiss him, and Bailey chuckled but put his hands on Henri’s chest to stop him.

“Wait a minute,” Bailey said as he guided Henri inside his house, and when he turned back, he couldn’t help but think how damn attractive Henri was, even plastered. “Are you drunk?”

Henri held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “I might be…a little bit. I was drinking while I was waiting for you tonight. That’s not a crime, is it?”

No, it wasn’t. In fact, this might be a good way for Bailey to relax and loosen up a little, instead of being so hopped up on nervous energy. Maybe he could track down that bottle of cognac Xander had given him for his birthday and catch up.

“So you had a few drinks?” Bailey asked, as he stepped around Henri and headed toward the kitchen.

“More like a…bottle?”

Bailey stopped and turned back to see Henri giving him a scorching once-over.

“You drank a whole bottle?” Bailey laughed and shook his head, surprised that Henri was still standing. “A whole bottle of what?”

“Hmm, whiskey,” Henri said, then licked his lips as though he could still taste it. As he started in Bailey’s direction, he swayed slightly on his feet and reached out for the wall to steady himself. “Officer? Your room is spinning.”

Bailey’s lips twitched as he walked back to Henri. “I’m sure it is. Let me help you over to the couch.”

Bailey held his hand out; Henri took it and drew him in, wound his other arm around his waist, nuzzled his nose into the crook of Bailey’s shoulder and said, “I really want to get naked with you again. It’s all I think about…this body and the way it moved under mine… Let me get you naked.”

Bailey couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do. But when Henri raised his head and blinked a couple times as though trying to focus, something niggled in the back of Bailey’s mind.

Why was Henri drunk? Was it something he did regularly, or had something happened during the last couple of hours to make him go home and polish off an entire bottle of whiskey?

“Henri?”

“Hmm,” Henri said as he started to play with the zipper of Bailey’s hoodie again.

“What were you drinking to tonight? Did something good happen?”

Henri lowered the zipper all the way down, and as the material parted and Bailey’s bare skin came into view, Henri put his palms on his chest and groaned.

Not about to be sidetracked, Bailey halted one of Henri’s hands and asked again, “What happened tonight, Henri?”

Henri stepped away from him, walked over to the couch, and fell down into it. Then he craned his head back on the cushion behind him and eyed Bailey. “I decided to celebrate.”

Celebrate? Well, that sounds like fun, Bailey thought, and then walked around the couch to stand in front of Henri. “What are you celebrating?”

Henri took in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let it out. “My father. He died tonight. And that’s something worth celebrating.”

Chapter Nineteen

CONFESSION

I don’t want to be bad…

Not anymore.

THE NEXT TIME Henri opened his eyes was painful. Not only because there was a loud pounding going on inside his head, but because of the bright light streaming through the massive windows on one side of the living room he was sitting in.

At least, I think it’s a living room, he thought, clutching the side of his head.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up.”

At the sound of the familiar voice, Henri turned, and his eyes landed on Bailey, who was sitting opposite him all bright-eyed and fresh-faced in a comfortable-looking recliner.

Oh fuck. As the night before came rushing back with blinding force, Henri winced. He remembered tracking his cop down, feeling him up outside, making plans to come back and see him, and then…the phone call, and the news about Victor.

After that, he didn’t remember a whole lot of anything. But somehow or another, he’d ended up here, at Bailey’s house.

Again, fuck.

“How’s your head feeling?” Bailey said as he got to his feet. As Henri followed the move, he swore his head might roll off his damn shoulders, but he tried for a smile, which probably looked more like a grimace.

“Painful?” Bailey suggested when Henri couldn’t seem to find the words. “I can only imagine. You passed out pretty hard last night.”

Shit. Way to make an impression, Henri. First he pulls you over for speeding, and now you pass out drunk on his fucking couch. Good job. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I—”

“You don’t have to apologize. I understand.” Bailey walked around the beautifully carved coffee table that sat between them, stopped in front of Henri, and said, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

Henri would sell his soul for a cup of coffee, but, trying not to appear too desperate, he merely nodded.

“Okay.” Bailey looked to the large clock hanging over the fireplace behind him, and then turned back. “It’s still early, so if you had plans today or need to go to, umm, work? There’s a bathroom just down the hall to your left where you can freshen up or take a shower.”

As Bailey went to turn away, Henri reached out and took hold of his hand, knowing he needed to say something. To try to explain what had happened last night and why he was there. But his brain was too foggy.

“I’m sorry. I know we don’t know each other that well, and I shouldn’t have come here last night in the state I was in. It’s just…” Henri paused for a moment and swallowed around the lump in the back of his throat. “I had nowhere else to go.”

Bailey studied him closely, those incredible eyes seeming to see right through Henri as he tightened his fingers. “Then I’m glad you came here.”

With their hands linked, and their eyes connected, Henri felt more vulnerable in that moment than he’d ever felt with anyone in his life. He felt cut open, raw, and Bailey had barely said a word.

Bailey released his fingers and took a step back. “I’m going to go and make that coffee.” Bailey walked toward a doorway that Henri assumed led to the kitchen, then stopped and looked back. “Don’t vanish, okay?”

Henri nodded, and as Bailey disappeared around the corner, he let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding, then his eyes flicked back to the clock. It was just turning six thirty.

He got to his feet and stretched out his back and neck, as he let his eyes wander around the living room he’d only ever been in at night. He took a second to admire how peaceful the space was, with all neutral colors and bright light filtering through the windows.

Bailey had good taste. In décor, anyway, Henri thought, as he ran a hand through his hair and turned to head in the direction he’d been told the bathroom was.

God, had last night really happened? He still couldn’t believe that Victor was gone, that he was…dead. It was almost surreal, because while Henri had blocked his father from his mind, he had always known Victor was still there. Still locked up, rotting away in a prison cell with the potential to break free like Jimmy had. But not anymore. Henri could finally be rid of that life he’d once known, and it was that which he had celebrated last night. The freedom to finally breathe for the first time in all these years.

Henri stepped inside the bathroom, flicked on the light, got a good look at himself, and groaned. He looked like shit. How the hell he was ever going to replace this image in Bailey’s eyes, he had no idea. But as he looked at the shower over his shoulder, he figured he could start there.

He shut the bathroom door and turned on the water. As he quickly stripped down to nothing, he thought what a shame it was that he was taking this shower alone this morning, when he really wanted to share it with the man several rooms away.

If Henri had any hope of changing Bailey’s opinion of him, it was now, and the best way to do that was to get his ass in gear. So with that in mind, Henri stepped inside the shower and tried to think of a way to repair any damage he may have done the night before.

* * *

WHEN BAILEY HEARD the shower turn on, he ordered himself not to imagine how good Henri would look standing under it. Not an easy task, considering he’d spent the entire night sitting in a recliner watching over the guy.

He still couldn’t believe what had happened last night when Henri showed up at his door. Talk about being thrown for a loop. Here he’d been thinking about all of the hot, sweaty sex they’d have at the stroke of midnight, and he’d ended up with a drunk, vulnerable man passed out on his couch.

Bailey scooped some coffee beans into the grinder and sighed. Poor Henri. Bailey knew exactly what it was like to lose a parent—hell, he’d lost two—but unless Henri brought it up this morning, he wasn’t about to pry.

The two of them were in this strange predicament where they knew each other intimately, but beyond that, hardly at all, and unless Henri volunteered more information, Bailey would feed him, make sure he was okay, and then let him go with no guilt attached.

Henri had needed something last night; a friend or a fuck, Bailey couldn’t be sure. But the fact that Henri had wound up on his doorstep had emotions he hadn’t expected rising to the surface.

Shit, he knew this was going to happen. He’d never been the one-night-stand kind of guy, and this proved it, because all he wanted to do for the rest of the day was hang out with Henri and make sure he was okay. Yeah, I’m sure he’d love that. Henri didn’t really strike Bailey as the kind of guy who needed hand-holding. But last night? Last night had been a whole other story…

“MY FATHER. HE died tonight. And that’s worth celebrating.”

As Henri’s words faded off into the silence of the house, Bailey looked down at the handsome face of the man who’d been haunting his dreams, and saw Henri’s eyes were shut and his breathing was steady.

His father died? Tonight? Holy shit, Bailey thought, as he tried to work out what to say to that. Considering the news, Henri didn’t look too upset or distraught. In fact, the only thing really different about him was that he was drunk.

Bailey took a seat on the couch beside Henri. “Are you okay? Can I call someone for you?”

Henri’s eyes did their best to focus on him. “There is no one, and trust me, no one would care anyway. I don’t even think I do.” Henri frowned. “What kind of person does that make me?”

Bailey looked down to the hands Henri was rubbing along his jeans. It was a nervous move, an agitated one, so he took one of Henri’s hands and laced their fingers together. “I think you’re a good person. You’re just in shock.”

Henri looked down at their hands and shook his head. “You don’t know me.”

That was true, Bailey didn’t, not really. “I’m usually a good judge of people, and I don’t think you’re half as bad as you pretend to be.”

Henri rested his cheek on the back of the couch, then he closed his eyes and whispered, “I don’t want to be. Not anymore.”

Bailey’s chest tightened as he tried to think of something to say in the face of such vulnerability. And just as he was about to ask more, Henri’s fingers relaxed around his and his breathing turned even—not a second later, he was out.

THAT CONVERSATION HAD played over and over for the rest of the night, while Henri had slept on the couch across from Bailey.

There was so much about Henri that he didn’t know. He’d always thought of him as mysterious, and the more time they spent around one another, the more Bailey was finding that to be true.

He had questions, ideas and thoughts, on the kind of man Henri was. But since they weren’t in any kind of relationship—even a friendship—his questions remained unanswered.

Like, what kind of man drove around in his ex’s car? What kind of man could vanish in the blink of an eye? And why would Robbie warn him away from Henri, even though he clearly cared enough about Priest’s ex to show concern for his well-being?

Bailey hated not knowing, and the more time he spent with Henri, the more he realized he couldn’t do this anymore. He knew himself well enough to know that this wasn’t going to end well if he continued down this road. He was already too invested in a man who was supposed to be nothing more than some fun, and there was no way he could just flick a switch and turn that part of his brain off.

This had to be it, even though every fiber of his body was drawn to Henri. Bailey would make sure he was okay, and then send him on his way, and that would be the end of that.

Right…? Right.

Chapter Twenty

CONFESSION

I never have a problem leaving,

so what is it about Bailey that makes me want to stay?

“THAT’S A FANCY-LOOKING coffee maker you have there,” Henri said, as he walked into the kitchen to find Bailey on the other side of a wide center island.

Just like the rest of the house, this room was bright, clean, and tastefully decorated. All greys and marble that looked like an “after” shot from one of those renovation shows.

Bailey turned, and even though Henri had seen his cop less than fifteen minutes ago, the picture he made now was no less inviting. Bailey was in his jeans and hoodie from the night before, and his built chest and broad shoulders gave a powerful impression of strength and security, but it was his face that really caught and held Henri’s attention.

With such short hair, Bailey’s eyes were an instant draw. They were both curious and compassionate, and right now that was coupled with an expression Henri was all too familiar with—regret.

I knew it. He’s regretting his night with me. Hell, ever meeting me, most likely. He probably just wants me to get out of his damn house. As Henri moved further into the room, he couldn’t find a reason Bailey shouldn’t feel that way. But before he left, he needed to apologize, and this time have Bailey hear him.

Henri ran his hand through his damp hair and down to the back of his neck, then gave Bailey a tight smile. “Thanks for the shower. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. I hope you found everything okay.”

“I did, yeah. Thanks.” Fuck. This polite, distant bullshit was so not for him, especially when he’d been inside the guy just last week, and as he walked to the kitchen island he noticed the intent way Bailey tracked him. Those eyes were eating Henri up, even as Bailey erected a wall between the two of them.

“Look, I wanted to apologize for last night—”

Bailey pushed off the counter and shook his head. “I told you, you don’t have to do that,” he said, and went to turn back to the coffee.

“What if I want to do that?”

Bailey moved to the center island. “There’s really no need. We hardly know each other. You don’t owe me an explanation over something so personal. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

That sounded great in theory, and Henri knew he should be thrilled not to talk about all of the fucked-up reasons he’d turned to the bottom of a bottle to celebrate his father’s demise. But as he looked into Bailey’s gorgeous face, he said, “I don’t like that answer.”

Bailey’s eyes widened, but when no words left him, Henri kept right on course. It was time to let his cop know that he wasn’t done with them yet, not by a long fucking shot.

“You’re right, we don’t know each other. If I’m honest, I don’t even know your first name.”

Bailey sputtered a little, but that didn’t slow Henri down. It didn’t stop him from walking around the island and heading toward Bailey, either.

“But you know what I do know?”

Bailey crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s that?”

“That I can’t stop thinking about you, and not just that night. Although it was a pretty spectacular night.” Bailey’s lips twitched, but he remained silent. “You’re on my mind every minute of every fucking day, Bailey. I want to know where you are, what you’re doing, if you’d answer the phone if I called. That’s why I came over here last night. I couldn’t stay away, and if you knew me, you’d know that’s not normal—I can stay gone. Just not from you, apparently.”

Bailey looked down at the tile beneath their feet, but before he could say, Too bad, I’m not interested, Henri took another step closer and decided it was now or never.

“I’m sorry I landed on your doorstep drunk last night.” Bailey raised his head and looked Henri in the eye. “I didn’t have a good, well, anything with Victor, and it was freeing to know that he was finally gone. I felt like I could start over, and…I wanted to be around someone who didn’t know the old me.”

As Henri fell silent, Bailey uncrossed his arms and held his hand out. Henri looked down at it, and when he raised his eyes and saw Bailey grinning, Henri took his hand.

“Well then—hi, I’m Craig Bailey. But everyone I’m close to calls me Bailey.”

Henri tugged on Bailey’s hand, pulling him in the final step needed so they were toe to toe. “In that case, Craig, if you don’t mind, I think I’m gonna keep calling you Bailey. Because I plan to be as close to you as fucking possible.”

Bailey took in an unsteady breath, and this close, Henri could see his eyes darken, his pupils dilating, as the desire that had always been between them roared back to life.

“I don’t want one more night,” Bailey said, but Henri already knew that. He’d known from the minute he walked into the kitchen that things between them had changed. Bailey was no longer interested in one and done, and Henri no longer had the will to walk away.

So where the hell did that leave them? Him and a cop? It didn’t take a genius to know that that was a bad idea. But when Bailey ran his tongue along his lower lip, Henri thought that bad had never looked so good.

“I—” Bailey started and then stopped, seeming to think over his next words carefully. “I don’t do one-night stands. I mean, not usually.”

Henri spread the fingers Bailey was still holding and had a flash of déjà vu. This felt familiar, the two of them holding hands. It felt good, it felt…right, and he wanted to keep on doing it. “So what you’re telling me is I got lucky?”

Bailey lowered his eyes, that shy smile again making an appearance. “I guess you did.”

“Mhmm.” Henri shifted so his back was to the island, and then he pulled Bailey between his legs, right where he wanted him. “I got really fucking lucky. So tell me, Bailey, if you don’t want one night, what do you want?”

* * *

BAILEY COULD FEEL the heat in his cheeks as Henri’s question lingered between them. What do you want?

And what did he want? Henri—if he was being honest. Even though he’d just finished convincing himself that it was a bad idea. But if Henri was offering more than just sex, was it such a bad idea?

Bailey placed his hands on Henri’s chest and couldn’t stop himself from taking an appreciative once-over. Damn, he looks good in the morning, all fresh and sexy from his shower. Henri’s damp hair was dark as night, and the thick lashes surrounding his devilish eyes made Bailey’s pulse race.

It was difficult to concentrate as he stared into that face, but then he reminded himself how it was they’d ended up here this morning. “I want to get to know you. And I want you to know me.”

Henri rested his hands on Bailey’s waist and slowly nodded, but said nothing.

“I know that’s not what you wanted going into this,” Bailey added. “So I understand if you don’t—”

“That’s not it,” Henri said. “It’s just, I don’t know if you’re going to like what you find out, once you know me.”

Bailey frowned, Henri’s words similar to something he’d said last night. But everyone had doubts about themselves, right? Maybe Henri just needed to trust someone again; maybe he needed to realize that not everyone was going to judge him on past mistakes. “Well, I’m not going to know if I never have a chance to find out, am I?”

Henri looked away, over to the windows that were letting in the morning sunlight, and Bailey wondered if he’d pushed too hard, asked for too much.

“I should say no.” Henri’s words were so quiet that Bailey almost missed them. But then Henri looked him in the eye and said, “But I’ll be damned if I can.”

Bailey felt a smile of triumph slowly cross his lips, and he had to wonder what it was Henri was so afraid of. “Let me guess. You’re just not the dating kind?”

“Dating?” Henri looked so skeptical that Bailey laughed.

“One date. If you don’t like it, we never have to do it again.” As he went to pull away, Henri tightened his hands on Bailey’s waist.

“What if I like it too much?”

Bailey angled his face so he was looking directly into Henri’s eyes, and then he finally gave in to an urge he’d had ever since Henri had walked into his kitchen. He ran his hands through Henri’s wet hair.

“Then we do it again, and again, and again.”

Henri shut his eyes and let out a low groan of pleasure, and the sound warmed Bailey. It made him feel as though he were soothing some of the chaos from the night before.

Bailey doubted that was a side of himself that Henri showed many, and that thought made Bailey brave, made him bold. He put his lips to Henri’s cheek and said, “I want you, but I want more than just this. So how about you think it over while I make us that coffee?”

This time when he drew away, Henri let him go, and the look in his eyes was one of desire, but this time it wasn’t sexual desire—it was a deep-seated yearning for what Bailey was offering: more. Something he wasn’t even sure Henri knew he was asking for.

“So how do you take your coffee?” Bailey asked, quickly turning away before he did something crazy, like beg Henri to finish what they’d just started.

“You could make my coffee any way you wanted to right now and I’d drink it.” Bailey glanced over his shoulder, and Henri shrugged. “It’s true.”

“Okay then, why don’t you sit down and I’ll see what I can come up with.”

As Henri walked around the island and took a seat on one of the stools, Bailey took two coffee cups from the cabinet overhead.

“Did you decorate this place by yourself? It’s real nice,” Henri said.

Bailey closed the cabinet door, placed one of the cups in the coffee machine, and then rounded back to face Henri. “No. I mean, everything in here is mine, but the actual house and accents, that was my parents. I moved in here after they passed away. A little over five years ago.”

“Oh shit.” Henri’s shock was evident, but then an understanding seemed to dawn. “You were close?”

Bailey looked down to the cup in his hand and nodded. “Yes. We were all very close, my parents, my brothers, me. Losing them was one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through. So I understand what you—”

“No. Don’t do that,” Henri said. His words were harsh, to the point they were almost cold. “Don’t compare something that sounded special to what I had. Trust me, it would be a disservice to them.”

Bailey stared across the space separating them, and when he saw the serious edge to Henri’s eyes, he knew this was something he had to tread very carefully around. “Okay. But if you ever want to talk about it—”

“I won’t.”

Bailey nodded and let it go. He understood what it was like to be pushed into talking about something before he was ready.

“Victor was only my father because he was alive and we shared the same blood,” Henri said. “Now that he’s dead, I’m finally free of that burden. It’s strange, but I almost feel…happy about it.”

Bailey eyed him for a beat. What Henri just said was the most personal thing he’d ever shared, and as Bailey tried to see if there was any underlying sadness there, any kind of regret, all he found was relief.

Which made him wonder: what kind of childhood must Henri have had to be relieved that his father was dead? Not a very good one, that was for damn sure. Death provoked a vast array of emotions in people, something Bailey had learned both on and off the job. It was best to let them feel it and experience it exactly the way they needed to.

“In that case, I’m happy for you. Am I allowed to say that?”

Henri smiled. “Yeah, I guess you are. It’s kind of weird, though.”

“What is?”

“Me being happy.”

The casual way Henri said it was one of the most heartbreaking things Bailey had ever heard. But instead of pointing that out, he decided to take this thing between them one step at a time. Lighten things up. He didn’t want to scare Henri off. “Stick around. Maybe you’ll get used to the feeling.”

Henri sat back on his stool and winked. “That’s the plan, right? But I got to tell you, you’ve got your work cut out for you, officer.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You see, I’ve never been really good at sticking around.”

Deep down, Bailey had known that. But something told him that this time around was different, and if he wanted Henri, then he was going to have to be daring enough to tell him.

So with a boldness he didn’t know he possessed, Bailey said, “Maybe you’ve just never been tempted before.”

Henri made a slow leisurely sweep of Bailey. “And how do you plan to tempt me?”

Bailey flashed a smile and made a promise that he knew he’d have no problem keeping. “Stick around and I’ll show you.”

Chapter Twenty-One

CONFESSION

Even when I try to stay out of trouble,

it always manages to find me.

A DATE…

I have a date. Well, technically a second date, Henri thought, as he stared at the message on his phone later that morning, which had the time and place of where he was going to meet Bailey before his shift started this afternoon.

He still wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing making time with a cop, but since he couldn’t seem to stay away, he’d decided to just embrace it. Ever since he’d met Bailey, Henri had been in a constant battle of wills with himself. One minute wanting Bailey, and the next trying to stay away. But when Henri stepped inside that kitchen and saw Bailey waiting for him, he knew he was done resisting, and one cup of coffee later, he was agreeing to a date.

It was amazing how your life could change course so drastically in a handful of hours. But now here he was, unable to stop thinking about the way Bailey had looked at him and said, “Maybe you’ve just never been tempted enough to stay?”

Well, mission accomplished—he was more than tempted now, and once they’d finished their coffee, and Bailey had told him that he needed some sleep before his shift tonight, Henri had been the one asking when they could see each other again.

If someone had told him a month ago that he would not only be sleeping with a cop but trying to date one, he would’ve told them they were insane. But regardless of whether it was a smart decision, he didn’t think there was anything on the fucking planet that could put him in a bad mood today.

Victor was dead, Henri was going on a date, and okay, what he was about to do wasn’t something he would’ve usually picked to kick-start his perfect day. But he figured the sooner he got a jump start on Detective Dick’s work, the sooner it would be over, and it might also stop him from staring at his phone like a lovesick pup all day.

As he turned down one of the grungy streets that paralleled Lake Shore and Michigan Southern Railway, Henri looked at Bridge #6 over the river and noticed that not much had changed in the last few months.

The first time he’d been in this neck of the woods was one he rarely looked back on. Not because he was ashamed of what he’d done and why, but because he was afraid if he examined it too closely, he would enjoy it far too much.

That night with Big Jimmy… That snapshot in time seemed like a lifetime ago now. It was a part of himself that Henri hardly recognized, but knew was there. He’d locked it far, far away from the civilized world, where nobody but him could see it, and that was where it would stay for as long as he lived.

Henri scanned the dilapidated buildings along the riverfront, searching out the one he’d come looking for.

Scooter—as he was known around here—was a twenty something-year-old that looked like a teen, and played the part like the pro he was. He brought in big bucks when it came to men trolling the back alleys looking for a quick suck or fuck, and was well known in the area for being able to get you anything you need, from G to E to H to the Big O. He was also the first one to tell you to get lost if you came anywhere near his turf.

Luckily for Henri, he’d caught Scooter’s eye the night they’d met, but midway into the hard sell, Scooter learned that Henri was more into men his own age, and was there not for a fuck but to trade information—exactly what brought him there today.

Henri turned the car down a street he knew Scooter worked, and as soon as the Aston Martin made an appearance, so did Scooter. He strutted up the walkway toward Henri in his ripped denim shorts and bright purple crop tee, and when he got to the car, he bent down and rested his crossed arms on the window frame.

“Hey there, sugar. It’s been a little while. You been avoiding me?”

Yes, actually. Not Scooter, per se, but this part of his life. Ever since he’d been on Detective Dick’s payroll, Henri had decided to stay on the straight and narrow for a while, and now that his sights were set on inviting a second cop to come much closer, he figured that had probably been a good move.

Henri took in Scooter’s glossy lips and heavily made-up eyes. “Now why would I avoid you? How you been, Scooter?”

Scooter ran his eyes over Henri and then slicked his tongue over his lower lip. “I’ve been all right. But seeing you just made me better.”

Henri didn’t doubt it. He wondered when Scooter had last eaten a decent meal, and decided once they were done here, he’d take them down to the local diner and feed the guy. “You been staying out of trouble?”

“Have you?”

“What do you think?” Henri said, and Scooter chuckled.

“I don’t think you know how to stay out of trouble, sugar.”

Henri thought about Bailey, and the text he’d just gotten about meeting for dinner, and yeah, he was probably looking for a whole world of trouble there, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him—not anymore. “I think you might be right. Why don’t you come around here for a minute? I wanna talk to you.”

Scooter pushed back from the door and slinked his way around to the passenger side, and once he was in, Henri said, “Buckle up.”

“Buckle up? Are we going somewhere? I’ll charge you extra.”

Henri gave him the side-eye. “I’d expect nothing else. But you need to eat, and I don’t feel like being picked up for solicitation.”

Scooter rolled his eyes. “Whatever. But I’m not about to turn down a free meal.”

Henri didn’t think so, and as he drove off toward the end of the street, he said, “So, tell me. You still selling for extra cash these days?”

Scooter looked at him, his brown eyes skeptical. “Why?”

Smart man, Henri thought. Answer with a non-answer, just in case someone was recording you. Henri reached over, grabbed Scooter’s hand, and shoved it up under his shirt. Scooter sucked in a breath, and when Henri said, “No wire,” Scooter bit down on his lip.

“No, but a whole lotta muscle.” Henri arched an eyebrow and Scooter sighed. “You still didn’t answer my question. Why do you wanna know?”

Henri let go of his hand and turned onto the main street, where he merged with the oncoming traffic. “I’m thinking about doing a little side business of my own.”

“Selling? I didn’t think you were into that.”

“I’m into anything for the right amount of money,” Henri said, his lie all the more convincing because, once upon a time, it used to be the truth.

“I mean, I know a few people. I could probably hook you up.”

“Probably?” Henri made a turn at the next set of lights then looked at his passenger. “Probably doesn’t work for me, Scooter. I want in, and I don’t want to play some back-and-forth bullshit game with a middle man. That’s not my style. I want to know who I need to talk to. You know I’m good for it.”

Scooter fidgeted and then shrugged. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Henri pulled into an open spot by the curb, and before Scooter could push the belt release, Henri reached across the car and hauled him in close by his crop tee. “See now, I think you’re lying.”

“I’m not,” Scooter said, wrapping his fingers around Henri’s wrist.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the truth. I get my stuff from Ricky, and whoever he gets it from, I…I couldn’t tell you.”

“Ricky?” Henri said, loosening his grip but still not letting go. “This Ricky got a last name?”

Scooter shook his head. “Ricky G, that’s all I know. You can usually find him a couple blocks over from where you found me.”

“And you’ve never heard him say any other name? No one he’s in contact with?” Scooter frowned and dropped his gaze, and Henri leaned in close and said, “I’ll keep your name out of it, promise.”

Scooter raised his eyes, his indecision obvious.

“Look, I’ve never got you in trouble before, have I?”

“No, but…”

“Trust me,” Henri said as he released Scooter’s shirt and sat back. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Scooter chewed on his lip for a second and then let out a sigh. “Okay, there’s one name I’ve heard him talk about. But I don’t know who it is, just that Ricky knows him.”

Henri tried to be patient as Scooter worked up the nerve to talk.

“Name’s rAz.”

Bingo. Then, to keep Scooter off his scent, Henri said, “RAz? What kind of fucking name is that?”

“I don’t know; that’s all I’ve heard. He goes to see rAz and comes back with the goods.”

As Scooter looked around nervously, Henri nodded. “Okay, okay, and you said Ricky hangs out a couple blocks over?”

“Yeah.”

“Now see, that wasn’t so hard. Was it?” Henri filed the information away for later and was about to tell Scooter to get out so they could get a bite when his phone buzzed.

Henri grabbed it from the center console, and when he saw Detective Dick’s number flash across his screen, he grimaced. Figures his timing is shit. But he needed to deal with this as soon as possible, and Henri knew there was no way in hell he was going inside now.

Instead, he fished his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans, flipped it open, pulled out a hundred, and handed it to Scooter.

“Sorry, man. I gotta bounce.”

Scooter looked at the money and shrugged. “Hey, no skin off my nose.”

“Make sure you use some of that for food. You’re cute, but you’d earn more if you had a little meat on your bones. You know, something to hang on to and all that.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. I’m doing just fine as is, thanks.” Scooter shoved open the car door and then climbed out. After he slammed the door shut, he bent down and peered through the window. “You sure you don’t want to come in and join me?”

“Nah, I gotta go.”

Scooter’s eyes dropped to the phone in Henri’s hand, and then he smirked. “Let me guess, that’s trouble calling.”

Yeah, but not the kind of trouble I prefer.

* * *

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Bailey slid into his usual booth at one of his favorite bars and scanned the weekday crowd, who were either stopping by for a drink after work or, like him, looking for a quick meal before heading in to work.

The Popped Cherry had fast become one of his and Xander’s favorite hangouts in the city. It was close to both their jobs, the food and drinks were excellent, and the staff was always friendly. Not to mention, on their third or fourth visit to the place, Bailey found out that Robbie was the night manager, something he figured he’d be able to avoid today, since he and Henri had decided to meet for a late lunch/dinner.

It was just turning four o’clock, and while Bailey had managed to get some sleep today, knowing he was going to meet Henri this afternoon had almost made him more restless than wondering if he’d ever see Henri again.

This was crazy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so…so…consumed by another person, to the point where they were intruding on every waking and sleeping hour of his day. A ridiculous smile hit his lips. He had a major crush on Henri Boudreaux.

Do people even call it that anymore? Probably not. It seemed far too innocent for how he felt about the man he was waiting to meet, but that was the only thing he could liken it to.

Henri made Bailey’s heart race, his palms sweat, and his dick so damn hard that he swore he’d gotten himself off more in the past two weeks than he ever had in his life, and that definitely made Henri crush-worthy.

Bailey glanced at his phone to check the time and told himself to stop being neurotic. He had arrived a few minutes early; Henri would be there. Then, as though Bailey had conjured him up out of thin air, the front door to the bar opened and his “date” stepped inside.

The way The Popped Cherry was laid out, there was a small landing at the front entrance as you stepped in off the street, and then there were a couple stairs down to the main bar floor, where there were a bunch of high-top tables, and the booths lined the windowed walls. The place was awesome, with its mahogany bar, burgundy and black theme, and that front entrance that Bailey couldn’t help but admire, since it showed Henri off as though he were on a fucking stage.

Dressed in boots, jeans, a white V-neck shirt, and a black motorcycle jacket that had zippers on both sleeves, Henri looked like the kind of guy your mother warned you about. Add in the confident way he held himself as he scanned everyone in the bar, and he all but melted the place to the ground with how goddamn hot he was.

Bailey wasn’t the only one who noticed, either. Several other customers looked over when the front door opened, and when they caught a glimpse of the man who’d entered, they weren’t able to look away. Henri might be an expert at vanishing, but when he wanted to be seen, everyone around him paid attention.

Bailey chewed on his lower lip, both excited and nervous that Henri was there to see him.

Henri ran a hand through his hair as he made his way down the stairs in Bailey’s direction. As Bailey watched his long legs eat up the space between them, he’d never been more thankful to be seated, because what was going on below his waist was something he couldn’t seem to control.

When Henri came to a stop by the booth, he looked at the empty seat opposite Bailey and frowned, then he turned back, winked, and slid into the spot beside him.

Bailey’s jaw almost hit the table at the arrogant move, and as their legs brushed up against one another, he went to scoot over, but Henri wasn’t having any of that. He put an arm along the back of the seat and angled himself so his back was to the bar and his attention was one hundred percent on Bailey.

“Good afternoon, officer.”

Oh shit, Bailey thought, as Henri’s cologne wrapped around him and added an extra stroke to his dick for good measure. Gone was any trace of the vulnerable man he’d seen earlier, and in its place was the rebel badass that always managed to short-circuit Bailey’s brain. Add in the ridiculous amount of charm and sex appeal, and Bailey wondered how he was going to get through a meal without wanting to leave like they had the last time.

“Afternoon.”

Henri’s lips curled at the one-word response. “It hasn’t been a good one for you?”

Bailey swallowed then nodded. “It has, yes. I just— Sorry, but you look really sexy, and, um, I’m having trouble forming sentences. Give me a second.”

A wicked hot chuckle rumbled out of Henri’s throat. He leaned into the booth and trailed a finger around the back collar of Bailey’s t-shirt, and goosebumps broke out across Bailey’s skin, making him shiver.

“Take as much time as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

The teasing glint in Henri’s eyes was reflective of their conversation that morning, and that small reassurance had Bailey shifting in his seat to get a better look at Henri. “So you found the place okay?”

Henri nodded and then looked around. “I did. Interesting name. Wonder where it came from?”

“I don’t know,” Bailey said, and when Henri's fingers stroked up the back of his neck, he leaned into the touch. “Is it bad that I really don’t care right now?”

Henri trailed his finger back down to flirt with Bailey’s collar, then he flexed his hand over Bailey’s shoulder and tugged him in close. “No. I don’t care either. I just figured I should say something or I’d end up attacking you right here. You’re looking real good, Bailey. This blue brings out your eyes.”

Bailey’s lips parted, and he wondered how much convincing it would take to have Henri do what he’d just said, because he would just about sell his soul to feel Henri’s mouth against his.

But just as he was about to say that, their waiter came up, and when Bailey raised his eyes to look over Henri’s shoulder, they close to fell out of his head when they landed on Robbie Thornton-Priestley.

Chapter Twenty-Two

CONFESSION

Who knew it would take a cop to get a priest out of my mind?

AS HENRI’S EYES roamed over the tight blue shirt that molded to Bailey’s arms and chest, he thought it would be a minor miracle if they actually managed to make it further along on this date than they had on their first.

From the moment Henri sat down, Bailey had been eyeing him like he was the best fucking thing he’d ever seen. Then Henri had put his hands on Bailey—just the slightest touch—and he had responded as though his body had been craving his touch since the last time it’d gotten it.

Hell, at the rate they were going, it just might turn out to be safer cooking meals from one of their homes, because sitting in public next to his cop was becoming a serious hazard to Henri’s health.

His heart raced, his cock throbbed, and he developed a serious case of overheating to the point where he wanted to strip out of all of his clothes. Judging by the way Bailey was looking at him, he was suffering from the same affliction.

It was that raw, honest sexual chemistry they seemed to have that kept pulling them back together, and the more time Henri spent with Bailey, the less he wanted to leave.

Just as he was about to lean in and see if Bailey tasted as good as his memory wanted him to believe, Bailey’s eyes shifted and widened.

“Bailey? Oh my God, hi. I didn’t see you. You must have slipped in while I was out the back.”

Robbie? Priest’s princess? What the fuck was he doing there? And as Henri went to turn, Robbie was off again, talking a mile a minute, as always.

“And who have we got here? Oooh, are you two on a—” As soon as Robbie’s attention zeroed in on Henri, his mouth clamped shut, and his eyes began to ping-pong between Henri and Bailey. “Uh, um, hi?”

Henri straightened and brought his arm down from behind Bailey to rest it on the table. “Hey there, bright eyes. Fancy meeting you here.”

Robbie smiled, sassily cocked his hip, and placed a hand on it. “Fancy meeting me here? I work here. What are you—” Robbie looked to Bailey and seemed to regroup. “Are you two here for, um, dinner?”

Henri smirked at the gossipy little princess. Robbie was nobody’s fool, and Henri had a feeling Robbie knew exactly what they were there for, and dinner was just the beginning.

“Hmm, well, we certainly aren’t here for a business meeting,” Henri said, then, because it was fun—and because he could—he decided to play with Priest’s most recent spouse. He ran a hand down Bailey’s thigh, which flexed under his palm, and just as he’d suspected, Robbie’s eyes flew to the move. Henri winked at him. “Isn’t that right, Bailey?”

Henri turned to Bailey for the first time since Robbie had arrived, and noticed the way he was watching them interact. “Uh, yeah, that’s right. We’re just grabbing something to eat before I go to work. I didn’t think you’d be here. Don’t you usually work, um, nights?”

Ahh, okay, Henri thought. Bailey’s surprise began to make more sense. He’d obviously known Robbie worked here but thought he wouldn’t be in yet. But why would that matter to Bailey? Henri knew why he might not want Robbie to see them together, considering his line of work, but was unclear of the reasoning for Bailey’s discomfort.

“I do usually work nights, yes. But Tate, my manager, he had plans today and switched out with me, and actually…” Robbie’s words faded out as he looked over his shoulder to the door, and then he turned back to face Henri with an apologetic look on his face. “I was just waiting on my ride.”

Oh fuck. Robbie didn’t have to say any more for Henri to know exactly who Robbie’s ride was, and not a second later, the door opened and Joel Priestley stepped inside.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Henri muttered, making Robbie grimace, and Bailey placed a hand on Henri’s leg and squeezed.

Bailey’s awkwardness from a second ago had been replaced with an understanding that Henri wasn’t sure he would be capable of if faced with Bailey’s ex.

“Give me a minute, would you?” Henri said. “Let me go and head him off at the pass.”

As Bailey looked to the door again, so did Henri, and Priest’s eyes were locked on the two of them like fucking laser beams. Yeah, it would be best for all of them if Henri put that flame out before it reached their table.

“I’ll be right back,” Henri said as he slid from the booth. Robbie looked at him with a strained kind of smile, and Henri smirked. “Don’t look so worried. I’ve been dealing with your Priest for a long time. But while I’m doing that, can you take care of my date? Get him whatever he wants, yeah?”

Robbie peered around Henri’s shoulder to his husband, and Henri could only imagine the look on Priest’s face. If he’d been upset about Henri sniffing around Bailey a couple of weeks ago, God only knew what he was thinking seeing them together again now.

Robbie brought his attention back to Henri, concern in his wide eyes. “You do know that Bailey’s a—”

“Cop?” Henri said, and Robbie nodded. “Yeah, bright eyes, I know. Get him what he wants, okay? You know, until he can have me.”

Henri threw another wink Robbie’s way, and he slapped Henri’s arm. “You’re bad…”

“That’s what I keep telling Bailey. Not my fault he can’t stay away. I’ll be back.”

“We’ll be here,” Robbie said, and as Henri took a final look at Bailey, he made a promise to himself to make this up to him any way he wanted.

Henri headed across the main floor with his eyes on Priest, who was now walking down the stairs toward the bar area. In a grey pinstripe suit, with an immaculate black dress shirt and striped tie, Priest looked elegant, sophisticated, and…one hundred percent pissed off.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Priest said.

Henri grabbed one of the small black straws from the glass cup on the bar in front of them and bit down on it to stop himself from saying something he’d regret. But when Priest looked over his shoulder to Bailey, Henri finally spoke up. “Stop scowling at him.”

“I’m not scowling at him.”

“Yes, you are, and he doesn’t deserve it. So stop it.” When Priest raised an eyebrow, Henri did the same. “You got a problem?”

“I have several, many of which we covered the last time we spoke about this particular matter.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Joel.” Henri took the straw from between his teeth and took a step closer. “Would it kill you to lighten up a little?”

Priest narrowed his eyes, and his look would’ve probably sent most running, but for Henri it was nothing new. He’d known Priest for far too long and in too many ways to be intimidated.

“I’m sorry that I’m not over the moon to see you cozying up to a police officer, Henri. But I happen to care about your future, even if you don’t.”

Henri wasn’t sure if Priest realized he’d moved even closer, but he sure as hell had. Not only could Henri smell Priest’s cologne—and his scent, which was so familiar—but he could feel the warmth emanating off Priest, and where that once would’ve had him yearning for more, wanting something he couldn’t have, right now there was just the intense desire to return to Bailey.

“I care about my future, and I’ll have you know, it’s looking brighter every day.” When Priest glared at him, Henri chuckled. “In fact, I’m in such a good mood right now that if you keep standing this close to me, I bet even you will smile.”

Priest took a step back. “I doubt it.”

Henri turned to look down the bar and gestured to the bartender, then he looked back to Priest. “I don’t. Victor died yesterday.”

As Henri’s words landed between them like a bomb, Priest’s eyes widened a fraction and his mouth fell open. But before he could find any words to respond, the bartender stopped in front of them.

“Hi there, what can I get you guys tonight? Oh, Priest, hi.”

Priest half acknowledged the guy with a nod, but it was obvious his mind was still busy trying to process, so Henri ordered for the both of them. “I’ll have a Heineken, and let’s get him an Old Fashioned, thanks.”

“You got it.”

As the bartender headed off, Priest put a hand on Henri’s arm, squeezing through the material of his jacket. “Victor died?” he asked, as though not quite believing what Henri had said.

But when Henri smiled so widely it nearly slid off his face, Priest’s hand tightened and he pulled Henri into a fierce hug that was as unexpected as it was out of character.

As Priest’s arms wound around him, Henri returned the gesture, the camaraderie they felt in that moment something no one else would understand, as relief and freedom washed over both of them.

Henri shut his eyes and held on tight, somehow knowing this would probably be the last time he shared a moment like this with Priest.

“I’m so fucking happy for you right now.”

“So happy you’re smiling?” Henri said, and when Priest pulled away and looked at him, there was a brilliant smile on those usually serious lips.

The bartender placed their drinks in front of them. Henri grabbed his beer and handed Priest his glass. “To dead motherfuckers who can never hurt us again. May they enjoy an eternity of suffering and pain.”

When he added a demented grin for good measure, Priest shook his head but clinked their glasses. “And to you. May you enjoy your freedom, now that you finally have it.”

The not-so-subtle reminder to be careful with Bailey was not missed, but Henri decided to let it go, as he drank to demons in hell and leaving his past far, far behind him.

* * *

“SHOULD I BE…worried about that?” The words were out of Bailey’s mouth before he could think better of them. He looked over to the bar, where Priest was talking to Henri, and his stomach began to slowly tie itself into knots.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew there was history there, but it wasn’t until he saw the two together that it’d really hit home for him. Henri and Priest had been a couple, and looking at the easy way they existed in the other’s personal space confirmed that whatever bond they’d once shared was something deep, something strong. Bailey just hoped he wasn’t fighting a losing battle trying to get closer to Henri.

“Worried about Priest and…Henri?” Robbie let out a choked laugh, and Bailey told himself not to freak out.

He’d been telling himself that ever since Priest had stepped inside and his date had come to a grinding halt. But he couldn’t stop hearing the way that Priest had said “my Henri” a couple of weeks ago, and now here Bailey was on a date with, well, Priest’s Henri.

Robbie shook his head. “I mean, there’s a past there, but they can barely be in a room together for five minutes without wanting to kill each other. Trust me, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not worried,” Bailey said too quickly. Robbie arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “I’m not.”

“Mhmm. You keep telling yourself that, honey, but I know the green monster when I see him. Been there, killed that.”

Bailey let out a sigh and ran his hands over his face. “I know. It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not,” Robbie said, not making Bailey feel better in the slightest. “They love each other, and you can see that. But they’re not in love with each other.”

Bailey nodded and reminded himself that he too had a relationship with his ex, and that he needed to trust what Robbie was saying. If he wasn’t worried, Priest’s husband—well, one of them, anyway—then Bailey shouldn’t be worried, right?

“Maybe you should talk to Henri about it. I know I always feel better after I talk to Julien and Priest about my freak-outs.”

Bailey sputtered. “I’m not having a freak-out.”

Robbie leaned over the table and said, “Yeah, you kind of are. But trust me, I’ve never seen, met, or known Henri to go on a date. He’s always been a loner, from what I could tell. So the fact that he’s here with you at all—that’s saying something.”

Bailey got that impression too. When he looked back to the bar, he saw Henri and Priest heading in their direction.

Henri was walking ahead, and as he got closer, his eyes found Bailey’s and his lips quirked into a sensual grin that had all of Bailey’s worries flying right out the window. That smirk was full-on sex, and there was no way he’d be aiming it at Bailey if he was busy pining over Priest.

When they got to the table, Robbie quickly vacated his seat to greet his husband, and Henri slid in beside Bailey.

As their legs again connected under the table, Bailey’s heart began to thump. Henri draped his arm over the back of the booth and leaned in. “Miss me?”

Yes, he really had, but instead of confessing to that, Bailey smiled and shrugged. “Maybe.”

A deep rumble of laughter came from beside their table. Priest said, “Smart man. Don’t give in to his charm too easily, or you’ll never win an argument again.”

The relaxed comment didn’t quite match the expression in Priest’s eyes, and while he didn’t look pissed off or upset, there was something else there that Bailey couldn’t quite pinpoint. Caution, perhaps? But that didn’t make sense—they were friends, so why would Priest feel wary around Bailey all of a sudden?

“I’ll have to remember that,” Bailey said.

Henri rolled his eyes and looked to Priest and Robbie. “If you two don’t mind getting lost now, that’d be great. I think we’ve spent enough time on our date with the both of you.”

Robbie whacked Henri in the arm. “Well, that’s just rude.”

“Yes, it is,” Priest said, and then kissed Robbie’s temple. “But Julien’s got dinner waiting for us, so let’s leave these two be.”

“Fine,” Robbie said, then looked to Bailey. “I hope he’s nicer to you than he is to us.”

“Oh, I plan to be real nice to him, bright eyes, just as soon as you leave.” Henri’s fingers once again found the back of Bailey’s collar, and while Bailey knew he should be embarrassed by that comment, he instead found it incredibly hot.

“Okay, now we’re leaving.” Priest gave a final look to Henri before he turned Robbie around and ushered him away from the table.

Once they were gone, Henri looked back to Bailey. “Now, where were we?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

CONFESSION

He’s making me feel things I never

thought I’d feel again.

Good, scary, exciting things.

HENRI BARELY NOTICED the waiter bringing their food and drinks a little while later, so focused was he on the man beside him. When Bailey first mentioned going on a date, Henri’s initial reaction had been skepticism. He’d never been the kind of guy who believed in happily-ever-afters, but considering his primary role model in life, could anyone blame him?

However, the more time he spent with Bailey one on one, the more he was beginning to realize he liked being there. He liked the sound of Bailey’s laugh, the twinkle he got in his eyes when he smiled. But what Henri liked more than anything else was the shy way Bailey would blush or avert his eyes whenever he got caught looking at him.

“So, what time does your shift start tonight, officer?”

Bailey reached for one of the fried mozzarella sticks they’d ordered and dunked it in the marinara sauce. “Why? Trying to decide between what hours you need to behave yourself?”

Henri chuckled and took a swig of his beer. “Nah. Don’t you know by now I never behave myself? I’m just trying to see how long I have until I have to let you go.”

Bailey grinned and bit down on the cheese stick. “My shift starts at eight, which means I have to arrive by seven thirty to change into my uniform and get to roll call on time.”

“Really?” Henri said, then popped a fry into his mouth. “I just figured you’d show up in uniform.”

Bailey took another bite of the cheese stick and shook his head. “Nope. Wearing your uniform is basically stating you’re on duty. Our department is fairly strict when it comes to changing at the station, unless you’re driving directly from point A to point B. Plus, sometimes it’s nice to just go into a store and not have everyone stare at you like you’re about to arrest them for walking too slow down an aisle.”

Henri laughed as he grabbed the salt to add a little more to his fries. “So what you’re really trying to say is that most people have guilty consciences.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

Actually, that was one thing Henri really did have an idea about. But unlike the people who avoided Bailey for fear he would see something that wasn’t there, Henri had just gotten really good at ignoring his conscience, as well as his common sense.

“You should see them. The way people won’t overtake you when you drive down the street beside them. Or the way they smile and move aside in a Starbucks as though you deserve to go first, even if they’ve been standing there for thirty minutes.” Bailey shrugged and took a sip of his soda. “I get it. I grew up in a family of cops. I think I was born with a guilty conscience always watching my every step. But sometimes it’s nice to just fade into the background, you know? To disappear.”

That was definitely not what Henri had expected. He’d assumed Bailey loved being a cop and embraced the authority and power that came along with it.

Henri cut into his steak and brought a piece to his mouth as Bailey took a bite out of his BLT, and once they were both done, Henri said, “So you didn’t always want to be a cop?”

Bailey wiped at his mouth with his napkin and shook his head. “No. I just fell into it. Don’t get me wrong—this job is important and I enjoy it, but not the way my father did. He loved his job. It was in his blood. My oldest brother’s the same, and when it came time for me to decide what I wanted to do with my life, nothing else jumped out at me, so…this is where I landed.”

Wow, who knew that two people who were so very different could feel the exact same way about their lives? Sometimes they’d rather be anyone other than who they’d turned out to be.

Henri nodded and reached for his beer. “Well, if it’s any consolation, from what I’ve seen firsthand, you’re very good at what you do.”

Bailey looked at him out of the corner of his eye and laughed. “Uh huh. Got a lot of experience with cops, do you?”

More than he would like, that was for damn sure. But, not about to open up that can of worms, Henri shrugged and played it off. “You’d know. You’ve run my name.”

“Hmm, well, from what I could see, you haven’t had any issues lately.”

“Not any legal ones,” Henri said, and then lowered a hand under the table to rest it on Bailey’s thigh. “But I have a really hard issue for the cop sitting beside me.” When that delicious blush appeared on Bailey’s cheeks, Henri grinned. “I like that.”

“What?”

“That I make you shy.”

“I…” Bailey’s words faded out as Henri smoothed his hand up his leg and squeezed. “It’s just…you make me feel things I’ve never felt before.”

Henri leaned over and put his lips to Bailey’s ear. “Good things?”

Bailey nodded and turned to face him, their mouths only inches apart, their food completely forgotten. “Good, scary…exciting things.”

Henri brushed their lips together. “Wanna know something?”

“Hmm…”

“You make me feel those exact same things.”

* * *

BAILEY’S LIPS CURVED, and when Henri nipped at his lower lip and raised his head, Bailey almost begged him to come back. Instead, he watched Henri pick up his knife and fork and cut off another piece of steak.

Wow, did Henri really just admit he was scared about what was happening here? Because Bailey didn’t think anything would scare someone as confident as Henri. Especially not someone like him.

He picked up his BLT and took another bite. “So what about you, Henri Boudreaux? That’s a very…French name, right?”

Henri tensed slightly, and while most may not have noticed, Bailey caught it before Henri seemed to shake it off.

“Cajun, actually. The spelling of my first name is French, yeah. But no one pronounces it that way. At least, not anymore. My mother used to call me that, but she died when I was very young.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Bailey said, thinking how strange it was for two men in their thirties to have both lost their parents. Not the best thing to have in common, yet it was something they did share.

“That’s okay. I didn’t know her well, and honestly, she went to a much better place than the one she left behind, so…”

Bailey again caught himself in a place where he wanted to ask more but knew it wasn’t the right time. This was their first date—well, officially—and it was hardly the place to talk about sad pasts and deaths in the family.

“So Cajun—that’s New Orleans, right?”

Henri nodded as he munched down on a couple more fries.

“Is that where you grew up?”

“Yep. New Orleans. Where the summers are so hot you can fry an egg on the pavement.”

“Yeah?”

“For sure. I swear, that place is as hot and humid as I imagine hell must be. But damn, the food and drinking is good.”

“That’s what I’ve heard. Never been there myself, though.”

“You should visit one day,” Henri suggested. “Have you always lived in Chicago?”

“Born and raised. We can have some pretty bad heat waves up here too. But man, our winters? They’re brutal.”

“I found that out this past year. It was my first Chicago winter.”

Bailey winced. “Oh, and it was bad.”

“Yeah, I’m still trying to work out why I’m about to voluntarily stay through this next one.”

Although Henri was joking, the idea that he might up and leave sent an uneasy feeling through Bailey. “Well, hopefully I’ll be able to give you a few reasons.”

Henri flashed a crooked smile. “You already have.”

Bailey swore his heart skipped a couple of beats, and he couldn’t help his foolish grin. “You know what I just realized?”

When Henri looked at him, Bailey chuckled and shook his head.

“I have absolutely no idea what you do for a living. We’ve talked how many times now, and not once have I asked you. Ugh, what must you think of me? I—”

“Was too busy kissing me the last few times we met. Sooo, I would say I think you’re pretty fucking amazing.”

Bailey chuckled and sat back in the booth. “It’s just so unlike me to act like this. God, Xander would be proud.”

“Xander?”

“Oh, yeah. Best friend/ex—kind of like you and Priest, I guess. He encouraged me to follow my— Well, he just told me to stop second-guessing everything and enjoy myself.”

Something hot flashed in Henri’s eyes. He angled his body and placed his arm along the back of the booth. “And are you enjoying yourself, Bailey?”

Bailey scraped his teeth along his lower lip and nodded. “I think you know that I am.”

“I sure as hell hope you are, because I’d really like to see you again.”

Butterflies took off in Bailey’s stomach.

Henri ran his finger across Bailey’s cheek. “Tomorrow morning…” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“Let me come see you. I’ll bring breakfast and coffee after your shift.”

Bailey swallowed, the idea of knowing he would see Henri straight after work the best kind of incentive to get through a long night. “Okay. But you don’t need coffee as an excuse. I have a pretty kickass machine.”

“Noted,” Henri said, and leaned forward.

The second their lips touched, Bailey softly moaned, this kiss the exact kind of contact he’d been craving since Henri had walked in the bar. Bailey ran his hands down Henri’s shirt, clenching the material as the kiss intensified, and just as it was about to get out of hand, Henri raised his head and said, “Tomorrow morning, we’ll finish this. Where it’s just you, me, and that nice, big bed of yours.”

A shiver raced up Bailey’s spine as his cock stiffened. God, he wished they could go home now and finish what they’d started. But, knowing if they continued this now, things would surely get out of hand, he nodded. “Tomorrow morning. I’ll be home by nine.”

Henri pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll be there.”

It wasn’t until Bailey was in his car heading off to work an hour or so later that he realized he still had no idea what Henri did for a living.

Chapter Twenty-Four

CONFESSION

I never thought I’d be hot for a cop.

I should point out that it greatly depends on which cop.

SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Henri was across town, driving down the streets of the South Side, looking for some hole-in-the-wall bar where he was meeting Detective Dick. He turned onto an empty side street, stared out the car window, and did a quick sweep of the area before landing on a place that looked abandoned: 2145 Kedzie Avenue.

Henri pulled up by the curb and reached for his phone to check the address he’d been given—sure enough, 2145 Kedzie was what he’d typed in. Climbing out of the car, Henri looked around the darkened street and shook his head. This was the last place he wanted to leave the Aston Martin, and as he headed toward what he figured was the front entrance, he took a quick look over his shoulder to make sure no one was lurking.

Fuck this shit. He was gonna go inside and get Detective Dick to come out here to have their little convo. He’d be damned if his car got stripped tonight.

As he pulled open the door, a cloud of cigarette smoke enveloped him, and if he thought the inside might be an improvement on the outside, he was sorely mistaken. The few windows in the place were covered in inch-thick grime that made Henri hope this place didn’t serve food, and the lighting overhead—if you could call it that—was a couple light bulbs here and there, screwed into stained-glass shades from the seventies.

This place was in direct contrast to The Popped Cherry, and was empty save for a guy watching the horses on a relic TV mounted in one corner, and another shooting pool on his own at the far end of the room. A beat-up bar was the centerpiece of the dump, and perched on one of the stools, talking with a burly, bald man with tattoos instead of sleeves, was Detective Dick.

As the door closed behind Henri, the four men in the place all looked in his direction. When Detective Dick’s eyes found his, he looked at his watch, implying Henri was late. Asshole.

“’Bout time you showed up,” Dick said, as he headed across the seen-better-days floor. “You get lost or something?”

“Well, it’s not like this place showed up on my fucking GPS. You mind if we take this outside? I’d like to make sure all the parts of my car are still there once we’re done.”

Dick grunted, picked up the glass in front of him, downed it in one gulp, then got to his feet.

“Yeah, yeah, calm your tits, Boudreaux. Let’s go.” Dick tossed a couple bills on the bar and then walked past Henri to push open the door.

When they came to a stop at the trunk of the car, Dick said, “This work better for you?”

Yeah, it fucking did, but Henri wasn’t about to give the detective the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I got in contact with one of my guys this morning. He’s reliable, well liked around the area, does a little bit of everything—including dealing some H. I thought he might be able to point me in this rAz’s direction.”

“And did he?”

Henri shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Not exactly, but he gave me the name of the guy he gets his product from. Says he’s heard him talking about someone who goes by that name.”

“Fucking hell, Boudreaux.” Dick sighed and ran a hand through his thick hair. “I thought you were bringing me something solid tonight. All I’m hearing is a whole lot of ‘he gave me the name of someone, who might know someone else, who could tell us something, maybe.’ Which is nothing solid.”

“Hey, you know what? Fuck you,” Henri said, glaring. He’d had a really good day up until this moment, and he’d be damned if he let this asshole ruin it. “I got you one step closer than you’ve been, so back the hell off. The next step is to track down the seller and get a face-to-face with this rAz guy. But if you have a better plan, or can come up with a quicker way to do all of that, by all means, tell me so I can stop looking forward to these little one-on-ones.”

When Henri was done with his outburst, the detective looked him over. “What crawled up your ass tonight?”

“Not a fucking thing. But I was having a good day and you just shit all over it.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, I can tell. By the way, you look like shit.” And while he wouldn’t usually point that out, Henri figured it would piss the detective off—and, well, it was true. Dick’s suit was crumpled, his eyes were bloodshot, and he had at least two days of stubble on his stubborn chin.

“Watch yourself, Boudreaux.”

“Just pointing out the facts. You look like you need a week of sleep.”

“And now you sound like my fucking brother.” Henri again found himself wondering if this Bailey and his Bailey were related. “Give it a rest. How about you focus on why we’re here. What’s the seller’s name?”

“Ricky G.”

“Okay, and you’re gonna talk to him when?”

“As soon as fucking possible. Good enough?”

“That’s perfect,” Dick said, as his phone went off in his pocket. After a quick look at who was calling, the detective silenced the cell. “I gotta go. As soon as you know something, call me. And do not go to see this rAz guy without checking in and telling me where and when, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, sir.”

“Very good. Now fuck off. I’ve got to go make this call.”

Henri didn’t need to be told twice; he was ready to get the hell out of there. As he climbed in the car and turned the key, he glanced in the rearview mirror and thought if his hot cop and Detective Dick here were related, that was going to make things very, very interesting.

* * *

AS BAILEY MADE the final turn into his street the following morning, his heart began to thump uncontrollably. Somehow, he’d managed to make it through his shift without staring at the clock all night, but the second it was knock-off time, he’d all but jumped in his car to head home.

There’d been one text waiting for him from five minutes before eight, and thinking about it now had his cock pounding almost as hard as his heart was. Henri had texted, Already here, just waiting on you, and it was a miracle Bailey hadn’t borrowed a squad car and flipped the sirens on to get home that much quicker.

As it was, he probably broke several speed limits, but since he’d decided against changing at the station, he figured he could get away with it just this once. Now here he was, closing in on his house, and he could see the Aston Martin parked on one side, Henri leaning back against the trunk with his arms and ankles crossed, and damn, he looked good.

Henri had changed since the last time Bailey had seen him, into a pair of faded blue jeans, a white t-shirt, his black leather jacket, and a pair of Aviator sunglasses.

He was the best thing Bailey could ever remember coming home to, and as he stopped his car and got out, Henri pushed off the trunk and walked over.

“You know, I never thought I’d be hot for a cop, but you look so fucking sexy in that uniform. I didn’t think you were allowed to wear it home.”

Bailey took a step forward until they were toe to toe. “I am if I go from point A to point B, and trust me, I wasn’t about to stop until I got here.”

Henri reached out and took hold of the back of his neck, and as he lowered his head and grazed their lips together, Bailey grabbed the sides of Henri’s jacket to steady himself.

“You must be exhausted,” Henri said, and nipped at Bailey’s lips.

Bailey groaned as Henri walked him back a step. “Mhmm…”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Then I think the only right thing to do is to take you inside and get you ready for bed.”

Bailey’s lips curved as he rocked his hips forward, rubbing himself against the erection he could feel inside Henri’s jeans. “I think that’s a great idea. But I have to tell you, I haven’t been falling asleep really quickly these days. It might take a while.”

Henri kissed his way up Bailey’s jaw to his ear. “Personally, I’m hoping it’ll take all fucking day. So lead the way, officer. Let’s get you into bed.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

CONFESSION

I’ve never been really good at taking things slow.

Not sure why I thought I could start now.

THIS TIME WHEN Henri walked inside Bailey’s bedroom, there was a different energy surrounding them. Where that first night between them had been desperate, needy, in a let me get my hands on you as fast as possible way, this morning felt sensual, languid, unhurried.

It was like there was an unspoken agreement that they would slow it all down, take their time with one another.

Bailey stopped in the center of his bedroom and said, “I’d really like to take a shower first.” Henri offered to scrub his back.

Bailey smiled, and Henri was coming to realize that he loved being able to do that. That expression was so genuine, so at the ready. There was just something about Bailey that made Henri feel good, like he’d found the sunlight after all these years hiding in the shadows.

“You can head in there if you like. It’s through that door over there. I’ll just be a minute,” Bailey said, as he headed to his closet to no doubt lock up his firearm and remove all the gear still stashed on that rock-hard body of his.

Henri shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the end of the bed, before kicking off his boots and making his way to the en suite.

Just like the rest of the house, the master bathroom was beautifully renovated, with a large double-headed shower and standalone soaker tub. It was all whites and greys, making it feel light and bright, and as Henri took a second to look around, he realized just how well this home suited Bailey.

Despite his chosen career, Bailey had somehow managed to remain hopeful and positive in life. He wasn’t cynical or jaded like most of the cops Henri had dealt with; he had a happy disposition that made a person want to get closer to him.

As he turned on the water and waited for it to heat, Henri caught a glimpse of movement behind him, and glanced over his shoulder to see Bailey standing in the doorway of the en suite, stripped down to nothing but a pair of tight black briefs. Henri’s entire body reacted to the visual in an instant.

Bailey looked amazing, and the expression in his eyes said that he felt the same way about Henri.

“Fuck,” Henri said as Bailey walked toward him. “What do you do to keep your body in such phenomenal shape?”

“I run and I box.”

When Henri reached out and ran a finger over a sculpted pec, the desire in Bailey’s eyes was…breathtaking. “You box?”

Bailey nodded and sucked in a breath as Henri started to play with his nipple. “I have a bag hanging in my garage—a treadmill too. Helps me clear my mind after a long day.”

Henri’s eyes trailed down Bailey’s ridged muscles, as did his fingers, and when both reached Bailey’s hard cock, Henri cupped Bailey in his palm and squeezed.

Bailey groaned and grabbed Henri’s arms to keep himself upright.

“Let’s see if I can help clear your mind today.”

Bailey panted and rocked forward, then he shocked the shit out of Henri by saying, “God, I want your hands on me. I want them on me all the damn time.”

Henri lowered his head and flicked his tongue along Bailey’s lip, slid his palm up the underside of Bailey’s covered cock, and then slipped his fingers inside those briefs.

The second Henri’s fingers touched skin, Bailey’s grip tightened and his eyes fell shut.

“Keep your eyes open,” Henri whispered. “I want to watch you fly the fuck apart.”

The arousal swirling in Bailey’s eyes was dark and heady, like a storm brewing, one that was about to unleash its fury any second.

Henri wrapped a fist around the erection now making a mess of his palm, and Bailey’s short nails dug into his biceps as he fucked into Henri’s hand, needing more. Bailey moaned, and Henri delivered a carnal kiss. After that, the floodgates opened, and there was no stopping the onslaught that followed.

Bailey wrapped his arms around Henri’s neck, and once he had a firm grip, he began to move. He thrust his hips back and forth, creating a hot-as-fuck rhythm that had Henri’s cock begging for release as the two of them devoured each other.

Henri grabbed Bailey’s ass, pulled him as close as he could possibly get, and growled against his jaw, “Fuck yes, Bailey, do it. Come all over me so I can get you in that shower, wash you down, and then come all over you.” And that did it.

Bailey tightened his arms around Henri as he slammed his hips forward, sliding his dick through Henri’s hand. When his entire body flexed and tensed against Henri’s, Bailey tore his mouth free, tipped his head back, and shouted out his release at the top of his lungs.

He was the most spectacular sight Henri had ever seen, and as Henri lowered his head and licked a path up over Bailey’s Adam’s apple to his chin, he felt Bailey shudder. “You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. You have me so goddamn hard it’s a miracle my dick didn’t bust through my jeans.”

Bailey raised his head, his eyes sex-hazed and satisfied, and then a sensual smile curved his lips. “Then take off your clothes, I want to look at you.”

* * *

BAILEY WASN’T SURE who had just said that, but surely it wasn’t him. He was never that blunt, never that direct, but when a devilish smirk hit Henri’s lips—those swollen, talented lips—Bailey knew it must’ve been him.

He couldn’t believe what he’d just done, that he’d been so selfish in taking his pleasure without doing anything at all for Henri. But as Bailey stared at Henri, the steam from the empty shower billowing behind him, all Bailey wanted was to get him in that shower.

As Bailey took a step back to take off his briefs, Henri peeled his shirt over his head, and Jesus, the second those piercings came into view, Bailey’s dick acted like it hadn’t just been taken care of.

Shit, everything about Henri was so damn appealing. From the way he looked, to the confident way he acted, to the hint at the softer side that lay just beneath his cocky exterior. And the more time Bailey spent with him, the deeper he knew he was getting.

He wanted to know everything he could about Henri, wanted them to be together in ways he didn’t quite understand yet. But when Henri went to unbutton his jeans, one thing Bailey did know was that it was time to stop being hesitant. It was time to stop keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself, because if he had a hope in hell of keeping someone like this in his life, then he was going to have to be bold about it and make sure Henri knew exactly where he stood.

“Here, let me,” Bailey said, then stepped forward and reached for Henri’s jeans. He unzipped and shoved them off Henri’s hips, then Bailey lowered his eyes to the thick cock he’d just revealed and licked his lips.

“Keep looking at me like that and this is gonna end right here on the floor.”

Bailey looked at Henri, and the lust in his eyes said he wasn’t lying, so Bailey took his hand and stepped into the shower stall.

As they moved under the spray, Bailey tugged Henri in close until their bodies were pressed tight against each other under the water. Henri closed his eyes to enjoy the warm water, and Bailey kissed his way along that stubbled jaw line.

As Henri groaned, he wrapped his arms around Bailey’s waist and began to knead the firm globes of his ass.

“I was thinking about you like this yesterday, when you were in the shower and I was in the kitchen…”

“Were you now?” Henri said as he ground their hips together, their cocks rubbing up against each other as water sluiced down over them. “And what were you thinking about?”

Bailey leaned back a little to run his palms down Henri’s chest to his piercings, and when he twisted and tugged on them, Henri growled and Bailey smirked.

“I was thinking how sexy you’d look under the water, how dark your hair would be, the way the water would follow all the lines of your body…” Bailey’s fingers took that same path, over Henri’s lean torso to the treasure trail that led to his hard length. Then he wrapped a tight fist around him and squeezed. “I was also thinking about how I wish I’d gotten to taste you the last time we were together.”

Henri cursed and turned his head so their lips connected. The kiss he pressed to Bailey’s lips was hot, hard, and wet, as Bailey gave Henri a nice, slow stroke, he shoved him back against the tiled wall and moved to his knees.

“Fuck yes.” Henri leaned back against the wall and looked down, and Bailey didn’t think he’d ever seen a more beautiful man in his life. With his hair slicked back from the water and several droplets clinging to his lashes, Henri looked like a sinful seducer come to tempt him, and he’d never been more tempted in his life.

Moving up on his knees, Bailey leaned in and kissed and licked along the V of Henri’s groin. When he reached Henri’s cock and nuzzled in close, the sound from above was one of tortured bliss.

Bailey looked up and then he licked a slow path up the underside of Henri’s cock, and Henri’s eyes slammed shut.

“Christ, Bailey.” The sound of his name in that rich, raspy tone made Bailey’s balls tighten. As he smoothed his palms up Henri’s thighs and then wrapped a hand around his dick, Bailey flicked his tongue over the head and let out a groan.

The salty taste of Henri exploded on his taste buds and was an instant aphrodisiac, and not a second later he was back for more, sucking the head between his lips as Henri began to massage the back of his head.

The wickedly hot grunts and groans from above echoed around the tiled stall, and as Bailey sucked Henri further down his throat, curses that would rival that of the devil began to pour out of Henri.

He was losing his mind, and Bailey was enjoying the hell out of being the one to take him there. As Henri began to thrust in and out of his mouth at a relentless pace, Bailey tightened his hand on Henri’s thigh to keep himself steady.

“Bailey…God… I’m gonna come if you keep that shit up.”

Which was exactly Bailey’s goal. He drew his lips up and down Henri’s length once, twice, and then…

“Ahh, fuck.” Henri held Bailey’s head still as his cock jerked, and he came with a harsh shout that all but rattled the walls down. Bailey swallowed the delicious proof of Henri’s arousal, and then he sat back on his heels and looked up at Henri, who was staring down with a dazed expression.

Bailey licked at his swollen lips as the high of having made Henri come washed over him, then he gave his reawakened cock a slow tug and said, “I’m ready for bed, whenever you are.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

CONFESSION

I don’t know what I did to deserve Bailey.

But I sure as hell am gonna do my best

to keep him.

“SO, DO YOU find it difficult to sleep during the day?” Henri asked, as Bailey pulled his blackout curtains closed and then flicked on one of the side lamps.

Seemingly more at ease with his nudity now, Bailey walked around to his side of the bed and pulled back the covers. When Henri did the same and they both climbed in, they rolled to their sides so they were facing one another.

“Some days are more difficult than others,” Bailey said. “But I have a feeling I’m going to sleep very well today.”

Henri propped his head on his hand and let his eyes roam down over Bailey’s body. “Oh yeah? Sooo, basically you’re telling me that I put you to sleep?”

“No.” Bailey’s mouth fell open, and he shoved Henri in the shoulder. “I’m saying that you’re a good way to expend any extra energy I might have.”

“Ah.” Henri leaned in and pressed a kiss to Bailey’s lips. “Well, I’m happy to be of service, officer. And how are you feeling right now? Still got some energy, or are you hearing the deep voice of slumber calling?”

Bailey chuckled as he licked his lips, the same sexy lips that had been wrapped around Henri’s cock not that long ago. “Nah, I’m not sleepy yet.”

“Hmm,” Henri said as he reached out and ran a thumb along Bailey’s lower lip. “Well, come over here. Maybe I can help you pass the time.”

Bailey scooted closer to the middle of the bed, and then cradled Henri’s face. He leaned over and grazed their lips together, closing his eyes as though savoring the moment.

The kiss was soft, sensual, and so fucking sweet that Henri felt himself falling headlong into the unknown. Their naked bodies aligned, and he reached for Bailey’s hip to draw him in that final inch.

As the kiss intensified, Henri shifted and rolled Bailey to his back and followed him over, and when Bailey spread his legs to let Henri in between, they moved as though they’d done this dance a million times before.

Henri rested his forearms on the pillow beside Bailey’s head, and when he raised his head to look down, Bailey’s blue eyes were sparkling.

Everything Bailey was feeling was right there in those light eyes. The arousal, the pleasure, the joy, and the trust.

Henri ran his fingers down one of Bailey’s cheeks, lowered his head, and whispered, “You’re too good for someone like me…”

Bailey shook his head as he wound his arms around him. “I don’t believe that, not for a second.”

The absolute faith in those words niggled at Henri’s conscience. “I know. That’s what makes you so dangerous.”

Bailey opened his mouth as though he were going to respond, but before he could, Henri took his lips in a soul-crushing kiss. He didn’t want to paint false pictures for Bailey, didn’t want to lie to him in such an honest moment. Henri had gone out of his way to make sure everything he’d said so far had been the truth. But this was one area he couldn’t pretend. He wasn’t good enough for this man, but he also wasn’t about to walk away.

Henri dove in and took a nice, long taste. He was slow, thorough, and by the time he was through, Bailey had a leg wound around his waist to use as leverage as he writhed underneath him.

Henri shifted a little to the side so he could wrap a hand around their erections, and as he began to work both of them, Bailey pulled his lips free and pushed his head back into the pillow. His eyes were shut as he thrust up into Henri’s hand. But when he bit down on his lip to hold back his shout of pleasure, Henri bent his head and scraped his teeth along Bailey’s jaw.

“What’d I tell you the last time we were together? Don’t hold back. I wanna hear how good you feel. I wanna know that I’m pleasing you.”

Bailey gripped the arm Henri was using to work their cocks, and as he began to really shove into the tight hole Henri was providing, he said, “No one’s ever pleased me more.”

Henri let go of them both, and as he lowered over the top of Bailey and nuzzled into his neck, Bailey wound his legs around Henri’s ass and began to move. He grunted and groaned in Henri’s ear, and when Henri took his cop’s lips again, the two of them began to make out like a couple of horny teenagers.

They kissed, sucked, and bit at one another, and when Bailey pulled his mouth free and said, “I need you inside me,” Henri pulled open the side drawer.

As he looked inside, he not only saw the lube but a new box of condoms. He picked it up and looked back to Bailey, who blushed.

Henri chuckled and grabbed both items, and as he brought a packet to his lips to tear it open, he said, “You didn’t make this purchase between point A and point B this morning, did you, officer?”

Bailey bit back a chuckle as he shook his head, and watched with avid eyes as Henri poured some lube into his palm and began to stroke himself.

“No. I stopped at the store after our date.”

As Henri moved closer, Bailey reached for his cock, bent his legs, and put his feet flat on the bed, and that was the best invitation Henri had received in years. He shifted between Bailey’s legs, looked down at where he was stretched out on his bed, stroking himself, and began to do the same.

Henri grinned, and as he reached out and ran his slippery fingers over Bailey’s tight balls, he said, “You like this, Bailey? You like watching me like this?”

Bailey tongued his top lip and nodded. “I like everything you do. The way you walk, talk, even the way you dress. But I especially like the way you make me feel. The way you touch me and fuck me, and I want to feel that again, and again.”

Blown away by the bold words, Henri let go of himself and climbed up over the top of Bailey. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you. But I sure as hell am gonna do my best to keep you.”

* * *

BAILEY’S HEART WAS hammering a mile a minute as he stared up at Henri’s mesmerizing face. The sincerity behind Henri’s words both scared and excited him, because, just like Henri, he was experiencing all kinds of emotions.

It seemed his brain was now fully on board with what his body wanted, and with every touch, word, and feeling shared between them, what had once started out as a simple case of chemistry had turned into something much more than either had expected.

Bailey took hold of Henri’s face between his hands. “Just keep being you, because that’s who I want.”

Henri’s jaw clenched and his eyes got impossibly darker, and Bailey couldn’t wait any longer. He was done being shy, done holding back; he wanted this man every way he could get him. “Now will you get inside me?” Bailey said, and Henri tightened his hold and then tumbled them across the bed.

When they finally came to a stop, Henri was flat on his back with a wide grin and Bailey straddled over the top of him.

“You want me?” Henri said, that sexy bad boy coming back out to play as he smoothed his palms up Bailey’s thighs. “Then take me.”

Bailey looked down at the glorious man laid out beneath him and put his hands on Henri’s chest to tweak the silver bars. Henri grunted, and when Bailey leaned down and tongued them, he bucked up and cursed.

“Fuck, Bailey.”

Bailey raised his head, enjoying the hell out of himself. “Oh, I’m gonna fuck you real good.”

Henri chuckled, gripping Bailey’s ass tight, and as he stroked his slippery fingers up and down Bailey’s crack, he grinned. “Bring it on, officer. Do your worst.”

The glint in Henri’s eyes made Bailey’s dick throb. “You know, I think you actually mean that.”

“Hmm, then I would say you’re starting to understand me really—ahh, fuck—well.”

Bailey had a hand around Henri’s slick dick now, squeezing and stroking. “You think so?”

“Yeah, I fucking do.”

“So I wouldn’t be wrong in thinking you’d really like me to sit on your cock right now?”

Henri gripped the sheets under him. “Jesus, where the hell did you and that dirty fucking mouth come from?”

“I don’t know,” Bailey said as he began to pump his fist up and down Henri’s length. “Seems you were right: you are a bad influence.”

Henri slammed his eyes shut and shoved his head back into the pillow, and when he finally seemed under some kind of control again, he opened his eyes and said, “You trying to kill me or what?”

“No,” Bailey said, as he finally let go and moved up to his knees. As he lowered to tease himself with the tip of Henri’s dick, he added, “I’m just doing my worst, Henri. I’m just doing my worst.”

With one hand braced on Henri’s waist to control his pace, Bailey reached back with his other hand and spread himself open, so he could bear down on the wide head seeking entry.

As Henri slipped past the first barrier, Bailey gritted his teeth and shut his eyes, but when a warm, slippery hand wrapped around his shaft and began to stroke, Bailey opened his eyes, his body relaxing until it swallowed Henri’s cock whole.

Fuuuck, Bailey thought, as he stared down into Henri’s face, and he knew that this moment between them had just changed everything. How did he know that? Because he never wanted it to end.

Henri ran his hands up Bailey’s thighs and around to his ass and said, “Come down here,” and Bailey knew Henri felt the exact same way.

Bailey rolled his hips several times before he curled down over the top of Henri. As he ran his hands through Henri’s hair and began to move on top of him, Henri dug his fingers into Bailey’s ass to bring him closer.

Their mouths met in a feverish kiss, and Henri ran a hand up his back to Bailey’s neck, to keep the two of them connected at both hip and lip. But he had nothing to worry about; Bailey was going nowhere other than out of his mind with need. Henri was consuming him body and soul, and the more Bailey had of him, the more he wanted.

As he continued to move with Henri inside him, Bailey pushed up, wanting to see Henri’s face. All of the want, all of the need, and all of the pain Henri kept hidden behind that tough exterior was right there for Bailey to see. Cut open, exposed as he stared up at Bailey with hope in that brilliant, bold stare.

In every way that counted, Henri was the bad boy full of confidence. But as his body tensed beneath Bailey’s, and he finally let go, he grabbed Bailey and pulled him in tight, as though Henri were afraid he was going to disappear.

As Bailey’s body clenched, his body began to tremble and his orgasm raced down his spine.

Then, just as it was about to hit, Bailey raised his head, wanting to watch Henri’s face, and that was when it happened. That was when he saw that confident exterior crack open and the vulnerable man beneath reappear.

Henri was looking up at him as though Bailey had just handed him the moon, and he was so beautiful, and so very real in that moment, that Bailey knew whatever was happening was special. It was something he was going to fight to hang on to if he had to, and it was that knowledge, that deep-seated truth—that he could really come to love this man—that finally hurtled him over the edge and tumbled the two of them straight into the euphoria that waited on the other side.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

CONFESSION

My reality is something I have to deal with, but how can I ask that of him?

THE DISTINCT AND terrifying sound of a gunshot blasted through the still night air like a lightning bolt, striking and hitting the empty transit shed where he and Priest’s princess—Robbie—had taken up post.

They’d been hunkered down now for what felt like an eternity, waiting in the silence for some kind of sign from Priest that he’d found Julien, and everything was okay. This was not a good sign.

“Was that a gunshot?” Robbie said, as he sprang to his feet.

Henri peered out the dirty window he’d been crouched in front of, and when all he saw was a whole lot of nothing, he said, “Shit. Don’t fucking move.”

To his credit, Robbie froze exactly where he was. “Was that a—”

“Yes,” Henri said, and then jabbed a finger at the floor. “But you gotta sit down. Stay out of sight.”

“But I—”

Henri turned away, effectively cutting off communication as he looked back out the window, desperately trying to see something, anything, and he was thankful when Robbie did as he was told.

It had been a couple of minutes since the gun had gone off, and as the silence now surrounding them became close to deafening, a door at the end of the warehouse flung open and Jimmy slipped outside with the two duffel bags in hand. “You motherfucker.”

Henri’s stomach revolted at the sight, bile rising in his throat fueled by fury, as he thought, If that fucker is running out of there upright and fully abled, then who the hell isn’t?

Please don’t be Joel, please don’t be Joel, he thought over and over again. But when the alternative hit him, and Julien’s kind, handsome face came to mind, Henri cursed, knowing that if Joel lost Julien, it’d be as if he’d died anyway.

Fuck.

Shoving that dismal thought aside, Henri got to his feet, moved down to the second window of the shed, and stopped. He stood there for a second, watching as Jimmy slithered between a row of buildings, keeping to the shadows as though that would help hide him from the world, but Henri was an expert when it came to existing in the dark, and he’d made a promise that he planned to keep tonight.

Knowing he needed to get the fuck out of there or risk losing his target, Henri dug the burner phone he’d brought with him out of his pocket, and set the timer for fifteen minutes before handing it to Robbie. “You stay here until that phone rings.”

Robbie looked down at the cell and then back to Henri. “Wh… Huh?”

“If it doesn’t ring in fifteen minutes, you call the cops.”

Robbie blinked a couple of times, the shock of the night clearly rendering him mute, but then he looked at the numbers counting down on the phone.

“Got it?” Henri asked, and when Robbie nodded, Henri turned and headed toward the exit.

“Where are you going?”

Henri didn’t stop, his adrenaline now working right alongside his anger to spur him into doing what he should’ve done years ago to protect Priest.

Where was he going? He was going to right the wrong that had been brought into the world the day Jimmy fucking Donovan had been born, and he planned to do whatever he needed to end this nightmare tonight.

When he reached the exit, he looked back to the young man who had somehow charmed his way into his heart over the last couple of days, and was content in knowing that if he were to die tonight and that gunshot had been for Julien, at least Priest would have this beautiful man to love him.

“Nowhere you need to worry about, bright eyes.” Henri winked at Robbie and pushed open the door that led to the narrow staircase they’d climbed up to get there. “Remember, fifteen minutes,” he said, and when Robbie nodded, Henri disappeared down the stairs.

As his feet hit the ground floor, Henri quietly opened the side exit and slipped out into the night, careful not to make a sound. The silence in the air was louder than any noise he’d ever heard, and as he followed the same path Jimmy had taken, he made sure to stick to the shadows.

It was cold down there by the river tonight, the wind making the air feel like tiny needles were pricking his skin as he moved faster, and as the sound of feet on gravel crunched up ahead, Henri followed it.

As he tracked the sound to the left and headed toward the #6 Bridge, Henri’s mind began firing off all kinds of messages to his brain, and images and memories flashed through his mind like an episode of This Is Your Life—just a really fucked-up one.

There was the night his mother had died, her face all bloodied and bruised…

Victor locking him in the shack alone, sometimes for nights on end…

Joel leaving him behind without a trace…

And Jimmy and Victor sending a “handler” to handle him, the day he’d turned ten…

He had been a victim of circumstance his entire life, and as he crossed the road and headed under the bridge, he spotted Jimmy up ahead and decided that tonight, he’d be no one’s victim.

Henri removed his gun from the back of his jeans and made sure the safety was off and the suppressor was on. Then he ducked across the street to the embankment littered with garbage, needles, and who the fuck knew what else.

He had one shot at this or he was as good as dead. There was a reason Jimmy was still alive today, and that was because he never hesitated where others did. But there would be no hesitation from Henri, not when he finally had a chance to end this monster’s reign of terror.

Henri darted under the bridge, the whistling wind providing just enough noise to keep his steps stealthy, and when he spotted Jimmy crouched by one of the pillars with his head bent over the duffel—no doubt reveling in the blood money he’d just acquired—Henri decided it was time to make his appearance.

With his gun raised, Henri stepped up behind the old man and pointed the muzzle at the back of his head. “Hey there, motherfucker. Remember me?”

Henri barely recognized the cold tone of his own voice as he stared down at the asshole in front of him, but Jimmy sure as hell did.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Victor’s boy.” Jimmy chuckled, and the sound made Henri want to retch, but he kept his eyes on the target, knowing one wrong move and the tables would be turned. “I should’ve guessed you’d be here tonight. If anyone could make you come out of hiding, it would be Joel.”

Henri clenched his jaw as his fingers tightened around the gun.

“Tell me, though, because I could be wrong,” Jimmy said conversationally, as though he didn’t have a semiautomatic aimed at the back of his head. “Isn’t Joel shacked up with two men who…aren’t you? I mean, I know you two were close as boys, and, well, later as fuck buddies or whatever, but this is a little bit desperate, don’t you think?”

Henri shoved the gun flat against the thinning red hair of Jimmy’s head. “Shut up,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, sorry. Did I hit a nerve?”

He’d hit several, but Henri wasn’t about to let Jimmy know that. “You didn’t hit shit. You’re done, Jimmy. You can’t win here tonight. You can’t talk your way out of this or have one of your thugs come save you.” Henri bent down. “I’m going to kill you and no one is going to care. Now get up.”

Jimmy went to look over his shoulder, and Henri pressed the gun so hard into his head that he was shocked he hadn’t fractured Jimmy’s skull.

“I told you to get on your fucking feet.” The order was issued through teeth that were clenched so hard that Henri was surprised they hadn’t cracked. As Jimmy struggled to his feet, Henri stepped in close and urged him forward, using the gun as a guide.

“Have to say, I’m impressed.”

Jimmy had always been a talker, and even now, as Henri led him down to the edge of the river, the arrogant bastard still thought he could talk his way out of this. It was going to be Henri’s pleasure to prove him wrong.

“You were always kind of the…runt of the litter. Milder, meeker, never wanting to hurt anyone. Yet here you are, pointing a gun at me.”

“You don’t count as a human being, so I don’t mind hurting you.”

“I understand, I understand,” Jimmy said. “What you’re really trying to say is that you’re still a pussy. Still a weak little shit who hides instead of fights. But now that Joel’s dead, who you gonna hide behind?”

As Jimmy’s words echoed in the darkness, Henri’s blood ran cold.

He’d known somewhere deep down that there was a possibility that the shot he’d heard had hit Priest. But in the back of his mind, he’d fooled himself into thinking that if Priest had died tonight, he would’ve somehow felt it.

But now Henri’s hand began to shake. “You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie? You have a gun pointed at my head.”

“You’re trying to fuck with me, and it won’t work.”

Jimmy chuckled, and the sound made Henri’s skin crawl. “It already has.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Henri spat out, his vision now turning a furious shade of red, as he steadied his hand and shoved Jimmy closer to the edge.

“Okay, but I want you to know it warms my heart to know that even with all your failings, we managed to make a man out of you.”

“You didn’t make anything out of me.”

Jimmy shrugged as he looked out across the murky water. “I’m about to make you a murderer, and no matter how much time passes, that’s something you’ll never forget.”

The ringing in Henri’s ears was so loud that it drowned out all other thoughts. He stared at the monster in front of him and thought of all the people Jimmy had killed, all the families that he’d terrorized—and then Henri thought of the boy he’d loved and would never see again.

“Murderer” was a title he could live with if it meant that Jimmy Donovan no longer walked the earth. He pulled the trigger, Jimmy fell face-first into the Calumet River, and Henri made good on the promise he’d sworn to uphold tonight.

HENRI STARTLED OUT of sleep and jerked upright in the dark. As sweat poured off his brow and his heart thundered out of control, he looked around the unfamiliar room he was in and began to panic.

His breathing was erratic and he felt hot all over. Just as he was about to reach for a light so he could see where the hell he was, there was movement beside him, and he remembered—Bailey.

Fuck. Henri squeezed his eyes shut and brought his hands up to his face. The dream had been so real that he felt as though he were still inside it. But he wasn’t, and everyone who mattered was alive—Robbie had texted not long after Henri pulled the trigger to tell him that—and now everything was, as they say, ancient history.

As he tried to calm himself down, Henri felt a hand on his leg.

“Hey.” Bailey’s voice was soft and raspy from sleep. Henri looked down and could make out the sharp angles of Bailey’s face. “You okay?”

No, he fucking wasn’t.

Bailey rolled to his side and said, “Bad dream?”

Don’t I wish, Henri thought. He tried to banish the memory that had somehow managed to escape the black hole he’d locked it inside of. But knowing he needed to say something, he managed, “Yeah, that must’ve been it.”

“Come back down here,” Bailey said, and then tugged on Henri’s hand and placed a palm on his chest. “Your heart is racing.”

“I know,” Henri said. “Stupid dream.”

“Mhmm. But that’s all it was.” Bailey pressed a kiss to Henri’s shoulder. “Just a dream. It’s over now.”

Right…

A few minutes later, the soft sound of Bailey’s breathing indicated he’d drifted off again, but as Henri lay there, staring at the ceiling, he knew there was no way sleep would find him now. That guilty conscience he’d been so good at ignoring sure had, though, and as he turned his head on the pillow to look at Bailey, Henri knew he’d never truly be free, that this nightmare would never be over.

What he’d done that night was a reality that he had to live with, but how in the world could he ever expect Bailey to?

Coming Soon

CONFESSIONS: BAILEY

Release Date: OCTOBER 28th, 2019

Join Henri and Bailey as they continue to navigate the exciting and scary emotions that come with falling in love and opening yourself up to a happily ever after that you never knew existed…

You can pre-order CONFESSIONS: BAILEY now!

Thank You

Thank you for reading

CONFESSIONS: HENRI

I hope you enjoyed finding out more about the mysterious bad boy Henri Boudreaux. If you did, please consider leaving a review on the site you purchased the book from. He would be MOST grateful.

If you would like to talk with other readers who love this series, you can find them HERE at

Ella Frank’s Temptation Series Facebook Group.

Special Thanks

I would like to thank everybody who picked up Confessions: Henri to find out for themselves what kind of man this lone-wolf bad boy would end up falling for. Who knew it would be a shy cop with a heart of gold? Right?

I loved writing every single word of this book, even though Henri wanted to stay mysterious for a little longer than I wanted him too—yes, he was being a stubborn bastard. But we’ll forgive him, since he’s not good at letting people in.

Bailey, however, has gotten past that tough exterior, and now it’s time to dig even deeper. It’s time to see the real Henri. But will Bailey like what he finds once he uncovers the complicated layers that this man uses like a shield?

I can’t wait to bring you Confessions: Bailey (Confessions Series Book Six), the conclusion to these two and their unlikely love story.

So on with the thank yous!

Brooke Blaine. Thank you so much for putting up with every single version of this story I gave you (including one version that wasn’t even this book). But this version was the perfect version, and just proves that I was supposed to try all those others first to realize that! Thank you for working with me and putting up with me over the past few months. Now let’s go celebrate in NYC!

To my husband. Oh, this poor man… I can’t tell you how many times he sat down with me to listen to me plot out this book, change my mind, change the characters, change directions, and then tell him I decided to do something completely different the next day. He is a total trouper, the most patient person on the planet, and I couldn’t have done this without him.

Thank you, Arran, for being so flexible and amazing. You’re the best editor I could ask for, and you are stuck with me until you decide to cut me loose. I appreciate everything you do.

Judy, as always. I rely on your eyes to find the things my eyes, Brooke’s eyes, and Arran’s eyes didn’t catch, and I am always amazed how many hands a book can go through and still have several simple words missing! Thank you for having my back.

To Hang Le, whom I am in complete awe of. Every single cover she sends my way gets better and better, and this Confessions Series is so beautifully branded that I feel fortunate to call them my own. Thank you, lady! (I can’t wait to show everyone Bailey <3)

Thank you, as always, to my readers! I can’t tell you how much I love going back to this world; it’s like coming home and bringing all my friends to visit my family. I hope you all come back to visit again in October!

Until next time,

MUAH!

Xx Ella

About the Author

If you’d like to get to know Ella better, you can find her getting up to all kinds of shenanigans at:

The Naughty Umbrella

And if you would like to talk with other readers who love Robbie, Julien & Priest, you can find them HERE at

Ella Frank’s Temptation Series Facebook Group.

Ella Frank is the USA Today Bestselling author of the Temptation series, including Try, Take, and Trust and is the co-author of the fan-favorite contemporary romance, Sex Addict. Her Exquisite series has been praised as “scorching hot!” and “enticingly sexy!”

Some of her favorite authors include Tiffany Reisz, Kresley Cole, Riley Hart, J.R. Ward, Erika Wilde, Gena Showalter, and Carly Philips.

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For more information

www.ellafrank.com

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