by Tessa Bailey
After a moment of debate, Henrik unlocked the entrance door and shoved it open with enough force for it to bang off the opposite wall. “This better not be about me sitting next to your girlfriend this morning,” Henrik gritted out as Austin passed him on his way into the well-lit hallway.
Austin gestured for Henrik to precede him up the stairs. That’s right, I know which floor you live on. “This isn’t about you sitting beside Polly, but I suggest you drop it. My temper is long, but nasty.” They stopped on the third-floor landing, where Henrik tossed an exasperated glance at him. Austin’s answering smile was forced. “I’ll admit I wanted to slit your throat during the meeting, but I’m feeling benevolent now that you’ve referred to her as my girlfriend.”
“Bully for me.” Henrik was doing a bang-up job of hiding his apprehension, but it was there in the tight lines around his eyes, his uncharacteristic lack of smoothness. When they entered the sparse one-bedroom apartment, Henrik dropped his keys onto the kitchen counter and propped his notoriously lethal fists on his hips. “What do you know about Ailish?”
Austin took a turn around the room, noting the stacked boxes in the corner. The lack of anything personal. Maybe they weren’t so different, after all. “I know you destroyed evidence to keep her out of prison.” He narrowed his eyes on the other man’s back. “I know she disappeared during your brief incarceration.” His words caused Henrik’s shoulder muscles to bunch. “Didn’t leave so much as a love note, did she? I know firsthand how cruel women can be.”
“Do the world a favor. Shut the fuck up.” Henrik prowled in a circle around the card table serving as a dining room. “Why are you coming to me with this? Just to show off?”
“I am a bit of a show-off,” Austin admitted. “But in this case, my—Polly is owed the accolades.” Pride worked its way past his defenses. Honestly, his defenses had all but deserted him, the cheeky fuckers. “We need your help, she and I. You’re going to give it to us.”
Henrik’s laughter boomed. “If I were holding a hose and you were on fire, I’d point it in the opposite direction.”
Granted. “What about Polly?”
“I liked her until a minute ago, when you so casually mentioned she’d hacked into my private business and obviously plans to use it against me.” Henrik crossed his arms over his chest, legs braced in a fighter’s stance. “I’m waiting to hear how.”
“Before you had your badge taken away, you won quite a lot of money for charity on the department’s behalf inside the ring.” Austin inclined his head. “You’re a boxer. We can use that talent to our advantage.”
“I was a boxer. I’m nothing now.”
God, Austin was starting to feel shabby about this whole business. “I hope you still have your old gloves lying around, because you’re going to need them.”
“You need me to fight?” Henrik’s expression was incredulous. “Why the hell would I do that?”
Austin took no pleasure in delivering the blow. “We know where Ailish O’Kelly is.”
For the second time since Austin arrived, he watched Henrik turn into a mammoth-sized sculpture. Unmoving, but intimidating nonetheless. There was more, though, lurking under the hardened surface. So much that it made Austin a little uncomfortable to witness it. In Henrik’s eyes lay bedlam. “Talk.”
With a nod, Austin turned one of the dining room chairs around and straddled it. “Until now, your fights were merely for fun. Charity bouts and the like.” He shook his head. “That won’t be the case this time.”
Polly had slept with the enemy.
Austin had been her nemesis from day one, but there’d been a certain amusement behind their constant ribbing. In a million years, she’d never expected him to reveal a connection to Reitman. She should feel like a lowly traitor, having slept with him after he’d revealed that information. So why didn’t she? Instead, she was experiencing the reverse. A sense of camaraderie to be after the same man. Hope that they could accomplish something together.
She stared at the lines of code flashing across her laptop screen, wishing she hadn’t cut off her nails, just so she could chew them. Oh, who was she kidding? She wanted them back as of that morning. If she’d still had her nails in the hotel room, maybe Austin wouldn’t have taken one look—and despite the antagonism created in the meeting and the uneven footing they stood on, known he had her. Hook, line, and sinker. She’d paid for the slip in the form of being draped over the bathroom sink, dragging in wheezing breaths in an attempt to recover from the force of nature that was Austin.
If you refuse to think about it, it never happened.
Sure.
As she waited for the desired information to appear on the computer screen, she checked the clock at the bottom right-hand corner. Evening had fallen and the man in question still hadn’t shown with his promised “plan” in tow. Hell, maybe he’d never show, choosing to handle Reitman on his own without alerting her. Their parting at the hotel had been awkward to say the least, Austin clearly wanting to go another round, but Polly too thrown by the first time to give in. When she stopped to think about it, his behavior had been so un-Austin. Starting a sentence, stopping. Reaching out, letting his hand drop. So unlike his usual confident self, sure of his skill in seducing a woman.
As always, Austin was proving to be the ultimate riddle, intriguing her relentlessly, despite her remaining reservations. She could never discern his thoughts or puzzle out his motivation. That had never been so true as it was now. Twice now, he’d turned her universe on its head and left her wondering if she’d imagined what had transferred between them. They traded trust and pushed toward understanding, only to step back and leave Polly staring at a riddle that had become more convoluted.
Did she want the riddle of Austin to remain convoluted? It was a strong possibility. Because the solution meant casting aside doubt and going all-in with a man who excelled at deception.
But you’re not thinking about it. Remember?
Sure.
As if her desperation for a distraction had called it forth, Reitman’s credit card statement popped up on screen. This was her twice-daily ritual: checking for activity, searching for a way into his world. Normally, if he made a rare purchase on credit, whatever goods or services he’d procured would serve to strengthen her thirst for retribution. She sorely needed the benefit of anger now when uncertainty over Austin overshadowed everything she’d worked toward.
A tuxedo rental showed at the very bottom of the list. For Saturday’s party? Likely. It must have been an expensive one, because the fee was over a thousand dollars. Paid for with stolen money. Money Austin helped him steal?
A knock at Polly’s front door brought her head up, kicked her adrenaline twenty-seven notches higher. Austin was going to be inside her apartment for the first time in mere seconds. The same way she’d done at his barren two-bedroom in Lincoln Park, he would take in every detail with one sweep of his gorgeous eyes and just like that, he would learn more about her. What would that something be?
Polly tucked the short ends of her hair behind one ear, turned the ancient dead bolts, and opened the door. Austin captured her attention first, because hello. One forearm was propped against the doorframe, drawing up the hem of his gray long-sleeved T-shirt, revealing crucial inches of his ridged stomach. It reminded her of how he’d looked in the chair, legs splayed. Naked. Had she really come that close to taking him in her mouth and resisted? His knowing gaze told her he was wondering the same damn thing. Arrogant jerk. Why did his unabashed cockiness suddenly make her want to laugh?
Beside Austin, Bowen made an impatient noise. “Do you two want to be alone?” He slung an arm around Sera, who appeared busy trying to hide a smile. “We’ve got better things to do than watch some freaky peep show.”
“Oh yeah?” Austin lowered his arm from the doorframe. “Like what?”
“Finding out why we’re here, for one,” Sera said.
“Or pretty much anything else you can think of,” Bowen responded,
guiding Sera into Polly’s apartment like she was made of glass. “Let’s get this over with.”
That left Austin standing in the doorway. His focus on her was as unnerving as it was arousing, starting a down-low pulse she now associated with him. Not willing to give her weakness for him away so soon after that morning, Polly stepped aside in one brisk move to let him in, but he grabbed her wrist and tugged her out into the hallway. “We’ll only be a moment,” he called to Bowen and Sera. “Name your future children or something.”
“What are you doing?” Polly asked as the apartment door clicked shut. “What do Bowen and Sera have to do with our plan?”
He released a shhh against her mouth. Which should have triggered her knee slamming into his nuts, but sent a ribbon of lust twirling in her stomach instead. As if he could sense the exact location of her chemical reaction, his thumb pressed two inches below her belly button. “You need to relax.”
“Excuse me?”
Austin made a humming noise. “When you answered the door, your shoulders were up near your ears, sweet. I don’t like seeing you overwrought.” He leaned back to run calculating eyes over her form, an invisible motor churning in his gorgeous head. Seeing everything.
When his thumb left her belly to grasp her hip, turning her toward the wall, Polly protested. “Come on. What—”
She broke off on a moan when his thumb found the small of her back, an inch to the right of her spine, massaging with pressure so perfect in its accuracy, it made her sway. Even his chuckle didn’t score her pride enough to order him to stop. Shit. How had he known exactly where to touch? Stupid question. This was Austin. Her tension had grown throughout the day. Over him. Over Reitman. His thumb moved to the left side of her spine, giving the new area his singular brand of treatment. “There now. That’s better.”
“I h-hate you.”
He made a sound of disappointment. “Here I am trying to make you well and you’re taking shots at me.” She could hear his audible swallow behind her. “Apologies don’t come easy to me, but I’m harboring a fair bit of regret over this morning. You deserved…holding. There will be holding next time, Polly.”
When his words struck their target, a target shaped suspiciously like a heart, she scrambled to compensate for the fear that realization instilled. He was admitting he made a mistake, and for Austin, that was tantamount to a moonlight serenade delivered on bended knee. Did she want him to feel enough for her that he would learn new tricks, such as apologies? “I never said I needed holding from you.”
“I’m well aware. But the fact remains that holding is in your future. By me.” His big palm dropped to her bottom, and Polly’s frown eased into a smirk. Thank God. He’d made the moment sexual, so she could end it. Figure out what these inconvenient feelings meant later, when he wasn’t there to overwhelm.
But then…oh God. His thumb dug into the flesh of her right cheek and endorphins rushed through her veins with the effect of a hallucinogen. “Oh Lord. What are you even doing to me?”
Another dark male chuckle, this one more strained than the last. “Your ass muscles are sore because they flex when I bang you.” His breath fanned her neck, and she felt it everywhere. Her nipples. The insides of her thighs. “That little flex gives you the qualities of being adorable and fuck-hot at the same time. The adorable half made me feel goddamn lecherous when I took you from behind this morning. Why do you think I needed to come so fast?”
Polly pressed her forehead against the wall, chewing her bottom lip to trap the moan of his name dying to break free. “Is that why?” she managed instead.
“Yes. Although I suspect there will be a different reason each time.” He transferred the massage to the opposite side. “Your ass is already so tight. I can’t even contemplate what a few more weeks of fucking each other will do to it. You’ll be illegal, Polly.”
“You’re pretty confident…in how the next few weeks will be spent.”
“I can’t imagine why that would be, sweet. I’m only massaging your bottom in a public hallway.” His mouth traced down her neck, before it opened and…French-kissed the space below her ear. There was no other description for the passionate movement of his lips and tongue. He may as well have been performing the kiss between her legs because—holy God—wetness rushed and gathered with such swiftness, she couldn’t find the wherewithal to draw breath. “When you opened the door,” he murmured, his hand still working the flesh of her backside, “were you thinking of sucking my cock?”
“Yes,” Polly gasped. “And you knew it. Happy?”
“Quite,” he growled. His touch moved, wedging between her stomach and the wall, before dipping lower to capture the juncture of her thighs in a firm hold. “Any time you want it, all you have to do is bat your eyes at me. I’m a slave to you and this pussy. I don’t know how to make it any clearer…” He shoved his mouth against her ear in an unexpected move that made her gasp. “Mistress.”
His mouth, his hands, his voice. They all deserted her at the same time, sending her pitching toward the wall. Another purposeful maneuver, she was sure. Before and after Austin. With and without Austin. If he’d wanted to remind her what their chemistry had been like in the dark and what it would be like to live without it now, he’d made his point. Now that he wasn’t touching her, however, she continued to rewind to his promise of…holding. And she couldn’t help but suspect that the sexual trappings that came after had been his way of disguising the importance of that promise. To avoid freaking her out?
Or himself?
“Go on in ahead of me,” Austin said, giving her hip a nudge toward the door. “I can’t walk in there just yet or I might poke someone’s eye out.”
Polly turned to find Austin bent forward, hands on his knees, performing what looked to be breathing exercises. A smile curved the corners of her mouth. “You need something gross to think about?”
“I can’t think of anything but you, Polly.”
Despite the immediate schooling of his features, Polly’s toes curled in her shoes. “Oh. Um.” She laid her hand on the doorknob. “Once when I was in police custody, I found a Band-Aid in my oatmeal. Does that help?”
“Thinking of you in police custody?” He straightened, but kept his eyes closed. “Yes, I believe that just might do the trick.”
“I’ll see you inside.” She opened the door quickly and stepped into the apartment, before he could see the scarlet blazing up her neck. How could such blunt statements have the effect that romantic poetry or a dozen long-stemmed roses might?
Polly busied herself making coffee for everyone while they waited for Austin to rejoin them. For once, she was grateful that Bowen and Sera were too absorbed in each other to give two craps about what was going on around them. Bowen was content to turn the wedding ring on Sera’s finger again and again, saying things into his wife’s ear that gave her a blush almost rivaling Polly’s. After two minutes, Austin rejoined them, his confidence causing a palpable difference in the atmosphere. He sent Polly a wink before focusing on the couple seated at her functional, Ikea-bought dining table.
“Right, then.” Austin clapped his hands together once. “Driscol. You’re wondering why you’re here.”
Bowen’s leg bounced in a restless gesture. “You think?”
“Constantly.” Austin hesitated, a rarity for him. “You’re here because you’re the closest thing to a con on the squad. Apart from me, obviously, but I have to work behind the scenes on this one. So. Sloppy seconds it is.”
“Man.” Bowen dropped a fist onto the table. “Just when I think I can’t hate you any more, you up your game.”
It had always been a source of amusement for Polly, how much everyone disliked Austin. She’d been one of them—maybe she still was and her better judgment had been buried under a landslide of lust. But right about now, she didn’t think everyone’s open animosity toward Austin was so funny. In fact, it put her back in the meeting room when Erin pointed the gun at him. If anyone pointed a gun at him or
implied he was a shithead, it would be her, thank you very much. Furthermore, he was defending his daughter here, although she doubted he’d be imparting that bit of information anytime soon.
Before Austin could respond to Bowen’s barb, Polly moved to stand at his side. “Just hear him out, okay?” She ignored the surprise Austin turned on her. She was too busy fielding her own. “You think he would ask for help if he didn’t really need it?”
“No,” Sera answered. “He looks like he’s swallowing nails.”
“Look.” Bowen plowed a hand through his dark blond hair. “Ask for any favor you want. But unless I missed Captain Tyler on the way in, he’s not the one issuing this assignment. Which means it’s fucking shady. And any time there’s a chance for Sera to be in danger, the answer is no.”
“She won’t be in danger, per se.” Austin blew out at breath. “I—we need you to be your old self just for one night. A man out to make some cash with an easy score. There’s a series of unsanctioned fights taking place late Saturday night—an underground operation—and through a connection of mine, I’ve managed to put Henrik’s name on the lineup.”
Bowen and Sera exchanged a perplexed look. “Henrik?”
Austin nodded. “You’ll be posing as his manager, for lack of a better term. Sera will be safe as houses, but her role as your night’s entertainment may require her to show a little cleavage.”
When Bowen’s chair scraped back, Polly and Sera both stepped in between the two men with their hands out. “Bowen. Wait,” Polly said, her attention straying to the desktop computer where she spent so many hours, reading, filing away information. “You won’t just be helping Austin. It’s for me. And you owe me.”
