Confessions: Henri (Confessions Series Book 5)

by Ella Frank

  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.