Fire and Flint

by Andrew Grey

  “He hasn’t been charged?” she asked.

  “Not yet. I’m holding him for twenty-four hours, and I’ll speak with the judge in the morning.” Pierre didn’t give her any indication of his personal feelings in this matter, even though there was a matter of true justice at heart. “He’s safe, and we’ll keep him that way. Go on home. We’ll definitely be in touch.”

  “Do I need a lawyer?”

  “I can’t give legal advice, but why don’t you wait and see what happens?” He smiled at her. “Deputy Brown will allow you to see him for a few minutes before you leave. Please take it easy on him. I think he’s one of the most fragile people I’ve seen come through here.” And Pierre had seen a lot of folks. “There’s hope, so please help him see that.”

  Pierre wasn’t sure if she believed him, but he put her in the care of his colleague and stopped by the sheriff’s office with an update. Hunter was just leaving, and they talked a little about how to approach Judge Crawford. Pierre left the station afterward, going to his car and calling Jordan. “I just got done.” He yawned.

  “Did you eat?”

  “Hours ago,” Pierre said, feeling dead on his feet.

  “Then come on over. I made chicken salad with pineapple, nuts, and a little curry.”

  Pierre’s stomach rumbled big-time. Damn, that sounded good.

  “Jeremiah is about to go to bed, and he was asking if you were coming over to read to him. I told him that you had to work late and that you’d call when you were done, so he’s been trying his best to stay up.”

  “Are you using Jeremiah to get me to come over?” Pierre asked, smiling.

  “Maybe….” Damn, Jordan was adorable. It warmed Pierre’s heart to think that his company was wanted that much.

  “All you ever need to do is ask for what you want and I’ll do my best for you. Every single time.” He yawned again and pulled out of the drive. “It will take me a few minutes.”

  “I’ll put out towels and things for you as well so you can clean up when you arrive.” Jordan said goodbye and ended the call.

  Pierre’s phone rang minutes later. “Hi, Mom.”

  “You’re alive….”

  “Yes, I am. I’m getting off work now.” He pulled to a stop sign and then turned the corner.

  “Then call when you get home.” She sounded concerned.

  “I’m not going home. I met someone and I’m going to his house.” He gritted his teeth as his mother let out a whoop. “What was that for?”

  “It’s about damn time. You need to find someone to fill your life with. Being alone forever isn’t good for anyone. Your father and I have had a sometimes rocky way of things, but we were always together, even when we fought like cats and dogs. At the end of the day, he was still mine. So find someone you love to fight with and make love with.” She paused, and Pierre checked his phone to make sure he had the right number. His mother never said things like that.

  “What have you done with my good Catholic mother?” Pierre teased.

  His mother scoffed under her breath, but he could tell she was smiling. “Leave the priests to their business and I’ll mind my own.” She laughed. “When your father and I were at each other’s throats last year, I asked for guidance, and the old goat told me to pray and obey my husband. I walked out of the confessional and waited for the priest. Then I told him that maybe it was time for him to retire. He’s as old as dirt, and I had real problems that weren’t going to be solved unless I did something. So if you want to spend the rest of your life with a man, or a cow… whatever. As long as you’re happy, who am I to say different?”

  Pierre smiled. “Thanks, Mom.” He made the turn into the condo complex. “His name is Jordan, and he’s adopting Jeremiah, who is four. Jeremiah’s so cute, and I need to get there before he goes to sleep. He wants me to read to him. The Velveteen Rabbit.” Pierre pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine.

  “Well… you go and read to this Jeremiah, and call me when you can.”

  She hung up, and Pierre sat in the car, wondering at the change and amazed by it. His mother had never been judgmental or hateful, just conflicted. His being gay had gone against what she thought she knew and understood. Pierre hadn’t expected that she’d be the one to find her own way to acceptance and even support.

  Pierre got out of the car and went up to the door. Jordan must have been watching for him. He opened it as he approached, with Jeremiah behind him in his elephant pajamas, holding a book to his chest.

  “Hey, buddy.” Pierre extended his arms, and Jeremiah hurried into them. Pierre lifted him up. “Why don’t you go right to your room, and I’ll be there in a few minutes to read you your story.” He hugged him and closed his eyes. Jeremiah was warm and his arms wound around his neck.

  “I was waiting for you.”

  “I know. I had to work, but I’m here now.” Pierre gave him a squeeze and then set him on his feet. “Go on to your room and I’ll be right there.”

  Jeremiah raced away, and Pierre took a few seconds to hug Jordan before kissing their breath away.

  “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too.” Jordan held him, resting his head on his shoulder. “I was worried when you didn’t call for so long.”

  “I know. All the cops I know say that their spouses worry all the time. It’s one of the hardships of dating a cop. We do a dangerous job, and there are times….” Pierre had been dreading this conversation. “All I can tell you is that we do our best to follow the policies and procedures we were taught to keep us safe. I don’t take chances, but there are times when I can’t control every situation.”

  Jordan held him tighter. “I know. It will take some getting used to.”

  Pierre tucked Jordan’s head under his chin, cradling him. He needed to talk to him. “I wish I could make it better, and I’m sorry you were worried. But I….”

  “Mr. Pierre…,” Jeremiah called from the other room. “I’m ready for my story.”

  Jordan chuckled. “Go. Read him the story, and I’ll make you a plate. You can tell me what you need to while we eat.” He moved out of his embrace, and Pierre’s arms felt empty.

  Pierre went through to Jeremiah’s bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Jeremiah handed him the book, and Pierre began to read. “The Velveteen Rabbit….”

  JEREMIAH WAS asleep by the time he finished the story. Pierre made sure he was under the covers, then turned out the light and left the room so he didn’t wake Jeremiah up again.

  “Do I have time to shower?” Pierre asked. “Maybe I should get my bag from the trunk.” He’d been hopeful, packing a bag when he stopped at home and tossing it in the trunk before heading to the station.

  “Go get your things and then you can eat. There will be time for a shower a little later.” Jordan began bringing things to the table, so Pierre hurried out, grabbed his bag, and jogged back inside. He set it in Jordan’s bedroom and sat at the table. Jordan placed a plate in front of him with sourdough toast, chicken salad, and a few strawberries. Then Jordan sat across from him with a smaller plate.

  “I have some news.” Pierre took a bite and closed his eyes. The pineapple and curry were incredible together. “God, this is good. Best chicken salad ever.”

  “Thanks. I had this in a restaurant once and I liked the idea, so I played with it until I got it right.” Jordan ate slowly. “So what’s the news?”

  “I found the letter writer. And it’s pretty sad.”

  “So he was screwed over like we thought?” Jordan shook his head. “I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “Don’t do anything. I have two people right now, and I’m going to continue the investigation. There have to be more. But I don’t want you in the middle of this. There is too much for you to lose. Up until now I’ve been able to keep you out of it, and that’s what I hope to do going forward. I’m not going to be in court every day the way I was, so don’t talk about me or bring me up. He saw us at dinner, but I’m hoping that
if he doesn’t see us together anymore and you don’t talk about me, then when things get hairy—and it’s likely they will—he won’t put you in the line of fire.” Pierre set down his fork and took Jordan’s hand. “Promise me.”

  Jordan didn’t speak for a moment. “But what if I find something like those files again?”

  Shit, Pierre had completely forgotten about the one he had in his trunk. That was okay for now. Once he spoke with Judge Crawford in the morning, he was going to go about running down the rest of the people on the list, as well as the details of that case. “Call me, copy them, but only if you can do it safely. Don’t bring the files home or try to sneak them out. Hide them, and I’ll arrange to meet you in the building. But above all, don’t put yourself in any peril. Just do your job as efficiently as you always do.” He squeezed Jordan’s hand. “Please promise me.”

  “Of course,” Jordan promised, and Pierre ran his thumb along the back of Jordan’s hand.

  “You, this little family, have become so very important to me.” The thought of losing them scared him to death, and the idea of hurt coming their way made his blood boil, which was a weird combination. “I want you safe, and you let me know if he threatens you in any way, even obliquely. He may have powerful friends, but so do we.”

  “Okay. I promise I’ll just do my job and not spend time amateur sleuthing.”

  “Good.” Pierre breathed a sigh of relief and picked up his fork again. He finished his food and sat back, satiated, at least for food. Jordan finished as well, as Pierre cleared away the dishes. This felt so settled, and he liked it. A little calm and quiet in his life, surrounded by people he cared for, was a very new sensation.

  “Let’s watch a movie before we go to bed,” Jordan offered, and Pierre followed him to the sofa. They settled together, and Jordan put in The Wedding Date. Pierre stifled a groan at the choice. “I know, but he’s gorgeous and we get to see his butt if you look fast. And I’m in the mood for a little romance. Is this okay? We can change the movie.”

  Pierre tugged Jordan closer. “It’s fine. We can watch whatever you want to.” The truth was, it didn’t matter. He had what he wanted right there with him, and that was wonderful. He intended to hold on as long as he could.

  He sat contentedly and watched the movie as Jordan laughed along with the romantic antics on the screen. Eventually Jordan yawned and turned to him, they shared a smile, and then Jordan shut off the television. “We should go to bed.”

  “I’m sorry I’m so boring. You can watch the rest of your movie.” It wasn’t enough to keep Pierre’s mind from running to all the things he needed to do in the morning.

  “No. There are more important things.” Jordan stood and tugged Pierre to his feet. Then he turned out the lights, heading to the bedroom. Pierre had no choice but to follow—he was already caught like a fish on the line, only he had no desire to get away.

  Jordan checked on Jeremiah as they went, pulling the covers up over him. “He always kicks them off because he gets warm, and then he gets cold without them.” Jordan kissed his son gently on the cheek before leaving the room, taking Pierre’s hand again. “I still worry about what’s going to happen.”

  “I know. That’s why I don’t want you to do anything to capture the judge’s attention. I know what he could try to do.”

  “Have you told the sheriff about what I found in the files?” Jordan asked.

  “No. But I’m going to have to. The first piece of information didn’t lead to anything concrete. It only provided suspicion, but what I’ve got now could lead to proof, and he’s going to need to know where it came from.” Pierre sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Jordan into his arms. “I know this worries you, but I don’t have a choice. We have to get Judge Crawford so he doesn’t ruin other innocent lives.”

  Jordan quivered in his embrace. “I know. He doesn’t care who he hurts. But with one word he could kill the adoption, or….” Jordan buried his head in Pierre’s neck. “I don’t know what I’d do if they took Jeremiah away. He’s my family and I love him so very much.”

  “I know, and we’ll do everything we can to make sure he can’t get to you. So far, the judge doesn’t know how close we’re getting to what he’s been up to, but I have to talk to him tomorrow, and all of that could change.” There was little Pierre could do to help the conclusions the judge might draw. “I could just tell him that we caught the man and let the chips fall where they may.” He sighed. “But then someone the judge already hurt once before will be hurt again.”

  Jordan nodded against him. “Funny thing… sometimes justice is the farthest outcome of the justice system.”

  “Yes.” Pierre ran his fingers through Jordan’s hair. “Look, I’ll do whatever you want me to. I’ll say nothing as far as the letter writer is concerned, and that will be that.”

  “No.” Jordan lifted his gaze. “You really think this man was innocent?”

  “I’ll have confirmation in the morning before I come in to work. If that’s the case, then the judge helped set up a man to take the fall for the relative of one of his cronies, and that sent our letter writer into fits of despair.”

  “You really think that’s what happened?” Jordan asked, his eyes huge and absolutely beautiful.

  “Yes, I do. Our letter writer was eventually cleared, but it took months, and he was in prison. God knows what happened to him there, but he’s broken and his life has been turned upside down. Meanwhile, the real guilty party got away, at least for a while. The judge is twisting and abusing the system that’s supposed to protect the innocent. We have to stop him.”

  “Yes, we do, for a lot of reasons. And you want to help this man.”

  Pierre closed his eyes. “I think it’s time someone did.” When he opened them, Jordan filled his gaze with beautiful wide eyes that drew closer until Jordan kissed him hard, pressing him back on the bed.

  “Please be careful. I know it’s in your makeup to try to help and protect anyone you can, but this whole situation worries me. As long as Judge Crawford is a sitting judge, he has a great deal of power over me, the adoption, and even you. He can order you to jail, and he could pretty much put an end to my adoption by talking to Judge Taylor.” Jordan clung to him, and Pierre held Jordan tight. He could feel the fear running through him. “The final adoption hearing is in three weeks. Then everything will be done and Jeremiah will officially be my son.”

  “Sweetheart.” Pierre wished none of this was happening.

  “I know—I’m so close to what I always wanted, and I want to help everyone, I really do. But I can’t put the adoption in danger. I just can’t. I know you want me to just do my job, but….”

  “What do you want me to do?” Pierre asked quietly. At this point he’d jump off a cliff if Jordan asked him to.

  Jordan went quiet, and Pierre waited for some sort of answer. He tightened his embrace, letting Jordan’s warmth sink through his clothes. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt Jordan. “No. I can’t ask you to go against who you are. You talk to the judge, and I’ll trust you to handle things the way you think best.”

  Pierre knew just how big this was. Trust was difficult for Jordan, and knowing he was willing to place his faith in him only made Pierre want to step up and make sure everything worked out as it should. Dammit, he had to make this work. He couldn’t be the cause of pain for Jordan and his family, but he had to do what he thought was right.

  Conflicting loyalties were nothing new to him. Pierre’s job often presented them. Most people became police officers because they wanted to do something good, with an innate sense of justice and right and wrong, but the law sometimes had very little to do with justice, and doing what was right was often at odds with doing what was legal or best for the people involved.

  He guided Jordan’s lips to his, and in a few seconds, he forgot about everything except Jordan and what he was quickly coming to mean to him.

  Jordan pulled away, and Pierre blinked a few times, wondering if he�
�d done something. But Jordan stared at him, eyes filled with heat. Slowly he gripped the tail of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

  “Are you going to strip for me?”

  “Uh-huh,” Jordan said, gyrating his hips a little as he almost got his head stuck in his shirt. Pierre smiled and would have laughed, but Jordan reappeared seconds later, cheeks reddening. Within moments Pierre forgot everything as his gaze raked over smooth, pale skin.

  “You’re gorgeous.” He reached out, but Jordan slid back out of reach.

  “You stay there.” Jordan wagged his finger at him. “For now you can look, but not touch.”

  Pierre shivered, leaning back, using his hands to prop himself up as Jordan did a little shimmy. It was flawless, graceful, like watching a sexy ballet play out in front of him, the fires of desire stoking, building with every movement. The hip action alone was enough to get Pierre’s motor running. Jordan kicked off his shoes, one flying a little close to Pierre. He batted it away and to the floor.

  “Shoot,” Jordan groaned. “Maybe I should stop before I hurt you.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Pierre growled, his eyes riveted to Jordan’s hips rocking back and forth. His belly muscles rolled as he moved. All he saw was more and more bare skin, and as Jordan turned around, that little butt waving back and forth was like a red cape in front of a bull. Pierre’s mouth went dry and his eyes rocked back and forth. He might have been watching a tennis match.

  Jordan pushed his pants down and hopped a few times to get them off. When Jordan turned around again, the tennis match continued, only this time with much more interesting balls than Wimbledon could ever hope for. Jordan rocked his hips as Pierre repressed the urge to lunge for him. “You like this?”

  Pierre nodded. “Oh, yeah.” Jordan’s narrow hips kept him in a sort of trance as heat raced through him. He wanted Jordan more than anything, needed to feel him around him that way he had the night before. Hell, he wanted that every single night for the rest of his life, but he didn’t dare say anything for fear of scaring Jordan off. Pierre was falling for him in a big way—even his mother seemed to understand that…. God, he was thinking of his mother when Jordan was right in front of him and….