by Ella Frank
“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 the
m, 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?”
