by Ella Frank
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.”
