by Ella Frank
I should’ve just walked away, Henri thought as he got to the door and put his ear up to it. Should’ve let Bailey go that morning he pulled me over. Then he wouldn’t be hiding in this bedroom, wondering if Bailey was going to be disgusted he’d just spent the morning with someone his brother had arrested months ago, and now used to get dirt on the dregs of society.
Henri sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Having grown up the way he had, he’d never really been ashamed of who he was or what he’d done. It’d been a means of survival in his situation, and he’d never felt the need to apologize for it, until now.
As he stood there waiting for Bailey—or Dick, for that matter—to throw open the door and tell him to collect his things and get the fuck out, Henri found himself wishing for the first time in his life that he could erase his past. That he could re-create his life and accessorize it with a middle-class family that lived in the suburbs, a mom and dad who worked nine to five and were always home for dinner.
But that was just a wish, a far cry from his reality, and when the silence crept back in and his lack of patience and paranoia finally got to him, Henri twisted the door handle and pulled it open a crack.
Much to his relief, there was no one standing directly outside the door with a scowl telling him to leave. In fact, he couldn’t see anyone. But he could hear muffled voices up the hall and decided he’d been good long enough. He wanted to know what kind of bullshit Dick was telling Bailey. At least then he might have a fighting chance at defending himself.
As quietly as he could, Henri padded up the hall barefoot until he got to where the living room opened up. He spotted Bailey standing just inside the doorway, his arms crossed, his broad shoulders blocking entry to his brother, who was still outside on the stoop.
The sure stance of his feet on the hardwood indicated that Bailey wasn’t about to be moved, and it became obvious that whatever was being discussed right then was not something Bailey wanted to hear.
“Don’t let his charm and bad-boy side fool you. He’s trouble, even if he’s packaged nicely.”
Henri grimaced as he caught the tail end of Dick’s words, and he saw Bailey’s spine stiffen as he shook his head.
“I think you should leave.” Bailey’s words were delivered in a tone Henri had never heard him use before, and judging by the silence, Dick was just as stunned by the request. “I can meet you tomorrow about the case, if that works? But right now, I need you to leave.”
“Bailey—” Dick said, but it seemed he’d pushed his younger brother too far.
“Sean.” Again with the cool delivery.
No words were spoken after that, but Bailey stood where he was for a couple more moments before there was the sound of an engine starting up, and then he stepped back inside the house and shut the door.
Henri waited a beat or two, giving Bailey a moment to collect his thoughts, then he walked out from the hallway. “So, do you want me to leave?”
Chapter Three
CONFESSION
I’d take silence over a lie any day of the week.
BAILEY REMINDED HIMSELF not to get caught up in the deep, smooth cadence of Henri’s voice. Sean’s words, while irritating and offensive, were still rattling around in Bailey’s head and had done exactly what Sean had intended them to do—unsettle him.
God, only minutes ago in his kitchen he’d been having one of the most unforgettable experiences of his life, and now here he was trying to wrap his head around the fact that he knew next to nothing about the man who had given him that experience.
How was it possible to feel so connected to someone when you barely knew more than their name? But as Bailey turned around and spotted Henri standing just inside the living room, he realized that was exactly what he felt.
Connected. Protective. And loyal to someone he knew next to nothing about. That probably should’ve scared the hell out of him, but instead he felt a deep sense of devotion.
Bailey shook his head. “No. Not if you don’t have to.”
One of Henri’s brows winged up. “I don’t.”
“Good. Then let me grab you something to wear, and I’m going to throw these clothes in the wash and take a quick shower.” As he went to walk around Henri, Henri reached out and took Bailey’s arm, halting him.
“You sure about that, officer?”
Bailey looked Henri directly in the eye, and the flash of uncertainty there made that protectiveness he’d been feeling while talking to Sean rise within him again.
How many people had dismissed this man based on his troubled past? How many people hadn’t given him a chance to explain who he was and why? Too many, Bailey suspected, remembering the handful of moments where Henri had said he wished he was a good man, a better one than he was, and that if Bailey was smart, he would walk away.
Smart or not, Bailey wasn’t going anywhere other than the shower right now. “I think it’s time we have a bit of a talk. I’ll make us that coffee, and maybe you can tell me how it is that you know my pain-in-the-ass brother, and why I’m only finding out about it now.”
Bailey couldn’t be sure, but he was close to positive he saw relief fill those dark eyes, and then Henri let him go.
Bailey headed back toward the bedroom and pulled out a pair of sweats and a black shirt for Henri, then he snagged himself a matching pair and navy shirt and headed toward the bathroom.
When he got to the door, Bailey turned back to find Henri standing at the foot of the bed with the clothes in his hand, and marveled over the fact that he’d been able to string a sentence together when Henri was wearing nothing more than a towel. But then again, Bailey didn’t want this to be the last time he ever saw Henri standing there, which was why he’d made himself look past all that naked skin.
“I won’t be long,” Bailey finally said. “Make yourself at home.”
Henri nodded and fingered the material in his hand. Bailey stepped into the bathroom and closed the door between them, and he couldn’t help but think it was a crying shame that they couldn’t have ended their wake-up call in the shower together, just like they had that morning.
Bailey showered, changed, and had Henri’s clothes in the wash in record time after that, and around fifteen minutes later, he walked back into the living room.
He found Henri sitting in one of the recliners that faced the wall of windows overlooking the side of the house that had no neighbors. “That used to be my mom’s favorite spot. She loved watching the birds and squirrels chase each other around the trees.”
Henri glanced up and quickly got to his feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know, or I—”
“No, no,” Bailey said, a half-smile curving his lips. “I didn’t tell you that to make you get up. I was just letting you know that that’s the spot everyone gravitates to.”
Henri nodded and looked back out the window to the large red oak trees lining that side of the property. “It’s peaceful.”
“It is,” Bailey said as he stood beside Henri. “It looks even better when the sun’s setting behind them. You’ll have to check it out sometime.”
Henri turned to look at him and narrowed his eyes. Bailey could see the wheels turning behind them.
“Look, I know there’s a lot we don’t know about each other. We were just getting to that part, and then, well, Sean happened. But that hasn’t changed the fact that I invited you here, that I want you here. So you can stop worrying that I’m about to throw you out the door, because I’m not.”
Henri smiled. “Fair enough. Although you probably should.”
“Why?” Bailey cocked his head to the side. “Do you plan to hurt me?”
“No. Of course not.” Henri let out a deep breath and looked back to the window.
“Then why should I make you leave? Because my brother told me to? I don’t think so. I stopped listening to his advice back when it stopped working for him. So, if that’s the only reason—”
“It’s not.”
“Then how about you come into the kitchen, I make
that coffee, and you tell me how it is that you know my brother.”
Henri ran a hand through his hair and cracked his neck from side to side, then turned toward Bailey and nodded. “Okay.”
Bailey’s heart did a crazy skip and trip at that one word. He hadn’t been sure what kind of answer he’d get. This was a step in the right direction.
“Okay. Good.” Bailey turned to walk through to the kitchen, but halfway across the living room he stopped and rounded back as a thought hit him, and Henri was so close on his heels that Bailey almost tripped.
Henri reached out to steady him, and Bailey angled his head to look up into those serious eyes. “There’s one thing that I need to ask you before we talk, if that’s okay?”
Henri dropped his hands and swallowed. As Bailey tried to think of a subtle way to put his next request, he realized that the direct approach would probably work best.
“Don’t lie to me.” As the words left his mouth, Bailey realized how important they were to him. He’d learned the hard way how damaging lies could be, how painful it was when you uncovered the truth and discovered it was even worse than the lie that had been told in the first place.
Lying was a deal breaker for him, and he needed Henri to understand that.
“If you don’t want to answer something or, I don’t know, can’t, don’t lie about it. I’d rather you say nothing than lie to me.”
Henri’s expression remained steadfast as he held Bailey’s stare. “You have my word.”
And even with Sean’s voice in the back of his head telling him not to let Henri’s charm and packaging fool him, Bailey found himself handing over his trust as he led Henri into the kitchen to make them both that much-needed cup of coffee.
DON’T LIE TO me…
As Henri trailed Bailey into the kitchen, his eyes swept the space that the two of them had occupied less than an hour ago, and he couldn’t help but notice the distinct shift in moods from then and now. What had started out as the perfect end to their first official date had ended in the most dick-wilting manner possible—Dick being the operative word.
Of all the moments in time that Henri could’ve gotten confirmation that Bailey and the detective were related, had it really needed to happen when he was naked on the kitchen floor stroking him and his cop to orgasm?
Apparently so, because his life wouldn’t be his fucking life if the good wasn’t accompanied with a handful of shit. Now here he was, about to have a conversation that was more fitting for, oh, three to six months into a relationship…maybe. Even that was a stretch, because he was still trying to wrap his head around wanting to be in someone’s company longer than a few rolls in the sheets, let alone using words like months and relationships.
But as he watched Bailey using the coffee maker from hell, those words seemed far less daunting, far less foreign to Henri now. For that reason, he planted his ass on the bench seat of the breakfast nook.
Bailey moved with a kind of grace that you didn’t expect for such a built guy. His footing was sure and steady and his movements light and fast, but that made more sense now after Henri learned that Bailey boxed in his spare time.
“Was your coffee okay the way I made it the other day?” Bailey glanced over, and it took Henri a second to remember when he was talking about. Ah yes, the morning after his drunken Victor celebration. Wow, he was really making some good impressions here.
“Yeah. That was probably the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had.”
That shy smile of Bailey’s returned, and Henri figured he’d definitely made an impression on Bailey one way or another. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure he didn’t fuck things up.
“Good to know. I’m nearly done here. Just a couple more minutes. Would you like something to eat? I have cereal. Toast? I could make you a sandwich—”
“Bailey?” Henri interrupted, impatient to get to the talking part so he could work out what kind of damage control was needed.
“Yeah?”
“The coffee’s fine. You just get what you need. Don’t worry about me.”
Bailey chewed on his lower lip and nodded, then he went about finishing up their drinks and popping two slices of bread in the toaster. Once he’d placed some butter and jam on the table and grabbed a knife and plate, Bailey finally settled into the breakfast nook opposite Henri.
When their knees bumped up against one another, Bailey shifted on his seat.
“Sorry,” he said, but Henri didn’t want an apology, and stretched his legs out on either side of Bailey’s and squeezed them together.
“I’m not. I’m kind of getting used to tangling with you in this kitchen.”
Bailey eyed him as he reached for his coffee cup. “And that doesn’t bother you?”
“What?”
“Being entangled with someone.”
Henri thought about that for a second as Bailey took a sip from his mug. “Not just someone, you. And no, it doesn’t bother me. If it did, I wouldn’t be here.”
“You know, I’m starting to believe you mean that.”
Thank God, because of all the things Henri was guilty of—and there were many—lying to Bailey wasn’t one of them.
“Good. So, go on then, officer. Ask whatever it is you wanna ask. I promise to answer with nothing but the truth.” Henri drew an X over his chest. “Cross my heart.”
Chapter Four
CONFESSION
I want to know more about him,
and I want him to want to tell me.
THE RICH AROMA from the freshly ground coffee wafted out of the steaming mug in Bailey’s hands as he stared at Henri. Up until now, he’d always thought the eat-in kitchenette area a decent size for at least four people to sit in. But Bailey was more than happy to note that it actually depended on who was sitting in the opposite seat.
With Henri’s long legs wrapped around his under the table, and their arms resting atop the polished wood, if Bailey let go of his mug and reached out just a little, their fingers would also touch, connecting them again in all the important ways. But somehow, Bailey got the impression that while Henri was here and willing to talk, there were barriers still in place, ones Bailey was going to have to navigate carefully.
“This isn’t an interrogation.” Bailey didn’t want Henri thinking he had to answer. He wanted Henri to want to answer. Wanted him to want to share things and understand that he was able to without judgment.
“I know. I’ve been through enough of those to recognize the difference.” Bailey chuckled, and Henri said, “What?”
“Nothing,” Bailey said, and shook his head.
Henri sat back and eyed him closely, dark eyes glittering. “Just for the record, that didn’t sound very truthful.”
Caught breaking his own rule, Bailey said, “There is no record because this isn’t anything official. We’re just talking.”
“You’re right, so let’s talk. Your brother—”
Bailey groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry for the way he acted this morning. He—”
“Hates me? I know.” Henri shrugged. “We have a…mutual but contentious arrangement. One that helps him, and, well, it kept me out of trouble.”
Bailey reached for the butter knife and spread a thin layer of the golden stuff on his toast, his mind still trying to wrap itself around the fact that Henri and Sean knew one another. But with every passing minute, it became increasingly obvious that they had for some time now, which made an irrational sense of jealousy build up inside Bailey.
“You’re awfully quiet over there.”
Bailey refocused and reached for the strawberry jam. “Just thinking.”
“I thought you were going to ask questions. Did you change your mind?”
Bailey unscrewed the lid and shook his head. “No. Just processing. So, you and my brother. What’d he get you on?”
If Henri thought the question odd, he didn’t say so, but his eyes dropped to the knife in Bailey’s hand. “You promise n
ot to use that on me, right?”
Bailey glanced at the flatware he was holding, and then back to Henri, who had a smirk on his lips. “I promise nothing,” Bailey said. “What’d Sean get you on, Henri?”
Henri shifted in his seat, but instead of disconnecting their legs, he hooked his foot tighter around one of Bailey’s ankles. “Solicitation.”
Okaaay. Of all the things Bailey had expected Henri to say, that was not one. Not because it was so unusual but because Bailey couldn’t imagine a world in which someone like Henri would actually have to pay for sex. “He caught you picking up a hooker? For sex?”
Henri slicked his tongue over his lower lip, and Bailey had to stifle a groan. “I didn’t say that.” Henri’s eyes fell to the knife Bailey had now tightened his fingers around. “Are you going to spread that jam?”
Bailey arched an eyebrow. “Why? Is me holding a knife making you nervous?”
Henri snorted. “A little bit.”
“Good.”
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?”
“It might be, if you don’t hurry up and explain,” Bailey said as he spread the jam. He couldn’t help but note that despite talking to Henri about something that was as far removed from a post-date convo as you could get, he was thoroughly enjoying himself. “I believe you were trying to explain how you were picked up for solicitation, but not really.”
“Okay, okay.” Henri chuckled. “I was new in town and was doing a few odd jobs here and there—”
“Odd jobs?” Bailey interrupted, picking up his toast. “What’s that mean?”
“Uh, I’m in the PI business and sometimes for your brother I work as a CI.” Bailey knew that was definitely the short answer to that question, and Henri added, “Back then, most of it was done under the table. Now it’s more…above board.”
“But not entirely?”
“Not entirely, no. And sometimes I work with or for your brother. It keeps that bogus charge off my file and him off my ass—for the most part.”