Confessions: Bailey (Confessions Series Book 6)

by Ella Frank

  “From their parking garage.” Henri slipped his hands into his pockets and turned away from Bailey to look back out the window. “He took him to some shitty abandoned warehouse, tied him to a chair overnight, and taunted him for fun until Joel finally showed up. But that wasn’t enough for that evil fucker. He wanted total revenge, couldn’t believe his son had walked away from him. No one walked away from Big Jimmy and got out alive. So he shot Joel, point-blank, right in front of Julien.”

  Henri fell silent, and the only sound Bailey could hear was his own thumping heart. What Henri had just described was enough to make his skin crawl. And Bailey couldn’t believe that the three men he’d seen up in Oshkosh just last month had managed to live through all of that and come out on the other side to tell the tale—or not tell it, as it was.

  “We all thought Joel died that night. I’m pretty sure Julien’s still in therapy from it, and Bright Eyes is about the strongest, bravest princess I’ve ever met. You see, that motherfucker Jimmy took the one person he knew would make Joel come out and play, and I wasn’t about to let Joel face him on his own.”

  Bailey tried to keep his reaction to all of that information as neutral as possible. But he couldn’t help but wonder just how far Henri had gone to “help” his friend.

  “And what about you?” Bailey said, and when Henri glanced over his shoulder, Bailey added, “You were there, weren’t you? You went to help.”

  Henri’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. But I’m fine. It’s over now.”

  “But you aren’t fine. You’re having nightmares. It’s because of that night, isn’t it? Because of what happened… You said you all thought Joel died that night. You included?”

  Bailey took a step closer, staring at the man he’d given himself over to, finding himself in the all-too-familiar position of digging for an answer he knew would break his heart.

  He could either leave this conversation right here, where nothing overly incriminating had been said, or he could ask the one thing that had been plaguing him since he’d heard Henri say it in his sleep tonight.

  Bailey braced himself as he looked Henri directly in the eye and knew it was time to learn the truth about the man he’d fallen in love with. “Did you kill Jimmy Donovan that night, Henri?”

  And Henri didn’t hesitate, not even a second. “Yes…I did.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  CONFESSION

  A lie tonight would be kinder than the truth.

  But I can’t do that. I won’t. Not to him.

  I promised.

  “HERE, AT LEAST let me walk you to your door.” Henri’s voice was quiet in the confines of the Aston Martin.

  Bailey stared out the window to where his front porch light shone. It was around five the following night. They’d arrived at O’Hare at three after changing their flights to come home earlier, and of course that had left them in peak-hour traffic on one of the coldest, wettest days this year.

  Maybe it was a sign, Bailey thought, as he looked across the center console to Henri. The two of them had been in this strange kind of vortex ever since their conversation last night. One where they were within touching distance but had retreated deep inside themselves to process everything that had been said.

  But Bailey had to admit that he was struggling with what he’d learned. He’d known that Henri was harboring some secrets, but this…

  Did you kill Jimmy Donovan, Henri?

  Yes, I did.

  This he never could’ve expected.

  “It’s fine. The light’s on and I only have the one bag,” Bailey finally said, as though everything were normal and he wasn’t returning home early from a romantic getaway because his boyfriend had told him last night that he’d shot one of the most wanted men in America and let him fall into a river.

  Bailey had been going back and forth over it ever since Henri’s confession, and couldn’t help but wonder—if Henri had been a cop and been called out to Julien’s kidnapping that night, would someone have said to him, Good job. Seemed pretty straightforward?

  Probably, right?

  That was what had happened with Bailey at the Quick Mart. Self-defense. Guy had a gun, guy aimed gun, Bailey protected himself.

  In Henri’s case, the guy who had had the gun had already used it. On three guards at the prison he’d escaped, his own son, possibly Julien, and Henri had known he would be next if he didn’t shoot. So how was that any different? Really?

  “Bailey?”

  Bailey was pulled from his thoughts, and as he turned his head, Henri ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh.

  “I know I don’t deserve it, but can I ask you a favor?”

  Bailey said nothing as he looked into Henri’s eyes, transported back to that moment out on the dock when Henri had said he loved him. Had that really been mere hours ago? And did he still feel that way? Did Henri still love him?

  “Bailey?”

  Bailey blinked and shook his head. He’d totally missed what Henri had asked. “Sorry. What did you say?”

  “I just asked that tonight or tomorrow, when you call this in, can you maybe only mention my name, you know, leave Joel and his family out of it? He’s done everything in his power to turn his life around and is happily married, and I’m the one who did it. I’m the bad seed here. So yeah, if you could just keep them out of it? I’d be forever grateful.”

  Bailey opened his mouth, about to tell Henri he wasn’t going to be calling anything in just now. He wanted time to think, to come to terms with all that he’d learned. But instead of saying any of that, he said, “Why do you do that?”

  Henri frowned. “Do what?”

  “Take the blame for everything bad that has happened to, or around, you?”

  Henri just sat there staring at Bailey as though he didn’t quite understand the question.

  “You do it all the time, you know. Degrade yourself like that. You always point out how bad you are, how you don’t deserve to be happy, that you aren’t good enough for someone like me—”

  “I’m not,” Henri snapped, finding his voice loud and clear now. “Are you forgetting what I told you last night? I killed someone.”

  “I haven’t thought of anything else since,” Bailey shouted, and Henri’s eyes widened. But as quickly as Bailey’s anger erupted, it faded, and he shut his eyes. “What you told me last night was… It was a lot to take in. A lot to come to terms with. I’m still trying.”

  “Why bother?” Henri said. “We both know how this is going to end.” Henri swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he glared at Bailey, no doubt hoping the scowl would scare him off—too bad the expression just made Bailey love Henri more.

  Henri was trying to shake Bailey loose. Let him feel okay for wanting to leave. Henri was acting the asshole to give Bailey an out. The problem was that Bailey didn’t want an out. He just wanted time to think.

  “And how is it going to end, Henri?”

  “You’re a cop. I committed a crime. I can’t ask you to lie for me.”

  “You didn’t, as far as I’m aware.” Bailey unfastened his seatbelt and then reached for the door handle. “Maybe if you had, my conscience would be a lot clearer tonight.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not sure I can get past everything you told me yesterday. But I understand why you did what you did. I need time, Henri. I need time to think this through.”

  “To think us through?”

  Bailey inclined his head. “That too. One thing I will promise you? I won’t break your trust, or my friends’. Priest’s parentage will stay with me. Those three have been through enough. So have you.”

  As the two of them got sucked back into that silent vortex again, Bailey wondered if Henri could hear his heart thumping. He wished more than anything else that he could lean across the center console, kiss the grim line from Henri’s mouth, and tell him that everything was going to be okay. But Bailey couldn’t do that.

  They’d made a promise to one anothe
r that there would be no lies, and as Bailey climbed out of the car and took a final look at Henri, he said nothing, because he had no idea if they’d ever be okay again.

  “FUCK!”

  HENRI SLAMMED his hand down on the steering wheel and squeezed the living shit out of it as he watched Bailey walk up his driveway toward his front door.

  In the course of forty-eight hours, things had gone from out-of-this-world amazing to fucked up beyond all recognition, and he was still trying to come to grips with this new all-time low.

  “It’s your own fucking fault,” Henri muttered into the empty car. “Had to go and fall in love with a cop, didn’t you?”

  But as Bailey reached his front door, where the porch light flooded the entrance, he looked back over his shoulder, and Henri knew he hadn’t stood a chance. From the second Bailey had run into him, and every second after that, Henri had been consumed by the man—and just as he’d suspected, it had turned out badly.

  Henri wasn’t sure how long they stayed staring at one another outside Bailey’s house. But when Bailey finally severed the connection and stepped inside, Henri felt the fracture in his heart.

  God, this was exactly why he didn’t do this love thing. Or at least why he’d sworn he never would again. Because this crippling, heartbreaking feeling that he knew would never end was close to unbearable.

  As Henri’s eyes started to blur, he squeezed them shut and told himself to snap out of it. He needed to get the hell out of there as soon as possible, because sitting in his car crying in Bailey’s street was exactly what he didn’t want Bailey to see if he happened to step outside again tonight for any reason.

  Henri turned the key, and just as he was about to put his foot to the gas, the front porch light switched off. Henri sat there for a second, staring out into the darkness, and it was as if the light and sunshine that Bailey had brought into Henri’s life had now been extinguished, and he was once again back where he belonged, in the shadows.

  “Why do you always do that? You always point out how bad you are, how you don’t deserve to be happy…”

  As Bailey’s voice echoed in his mind, Henri shook his head. Bailey didn’t know what he was talking about. He pointed out how bad he was because of all the fucked-up things he’d done. And how could Bailey possibly believe that someone with Henri’s past, someone with his upbringing, deserved to be happy? It was preposterous. Not to mention close to impossible to achieve now anyway, considering a literal door had just been shut between him and his happiness.

  Henri took a final look up the driveway and then stared down at the phone sitting in the center console.

  The last thing he wanted to do was to go home right now, where everything he looked at would remind him of Bailey. So instead, he decided to take a chance and call up the only other people on the planet he could talk to about this.

  Henri hit the princess’s number, put his foot to the gas, looked in his rearview mirror, and watched as Bailey’s house got smaller and smaller and then disappeared altogether. He could only hope that wasn’t a prelude of things to come.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  CONFESSION

  Never in a million years did I expect to end my night with Julien Thornton.

  AS HENRI DROVE DOWN the street, he scanned the million-dollar homes dotting the sidewalk. This wasn’t the first time he’d been there; he’d often driven this way when he’d been out at night working, just to pass by the house he was now pulling up in front of—the Priestley-Thornton residence.

  There was a light on up on the second story, and as Henri switched off the engine, he wondered if coming there had been a mistake.

  He already knew Joel was going to be pissed—that was a given, considering the personal nature of the situation. But add in the confession and the fact he’d made it to a cop, and Henri had a feeling he hadn’t seen the full magnitude of the temper that lay dormant in his fiery-haired friend.

  Henri sighed and looked at the time. Robbie had told him to come over, but now that Henri was there, he thought it might’ve been smarter if he’d just gone home and confided in a bottle of whiskey instead.

  Henri looked to the phone he’d tossed on the passenger seat, and the blank screen that stared at him was mocking in its silence. Of course it was blank. What had he been expecting? A text or missed call from Bailey begging him to come back over so they could work this out?

  Yeah, the likelihood of that happening was slim to none, especially considering Bailey had told Henri he needed a time-out. Not that Henri could blame him; he’d put his cop in one hell of a position, but at the same time had known there was no way he was going to lie.

  Bailey deserved to know the truth, deserved to know whom he was trusting. Henri’s one regret? Not telling Bailey sooner and giving him a chance to walk away.

  Henri climbed out of the car and made his way up to the front door. Christ, he had no idea what he was going to say when he got inside, or even where to begin. How did a person tell the closest people to him that he had possibly put their freedom in jeopardy?

  Yeah, Henri didn’t think he’d need to worry all that much about going to prison once he got through explaining why he was there, because Joel would likely kill him.

  Henri stopped at the front door, shut his eyes, and took in a deep breath, and when he raised a hand, about to knock, the front door was pulled open and he found himself standing face to face with Robbie.

  Dressed in black pants, a burgundy dress shirt, and a black vest that had a cherry embroidered on it, the princess looked sharp, put together and…about to walk out the door.

  “Henri, hi,” Robbie said as he reached for a black puffer jacket hanging on a hook by the door. He slipped into it and then reached for a scarf. Henri noted the perfect hair, dark eyeliner, and lip gloss, and hoped Robbie wasn’t about to tell him he was—

  “I’m sorry, I just got a call asking if I could come in tonight because someone is sick.”

  You’re fucking kidding me, Henri thought. Of the three men who lived in this house, Bright Eyes had been the one Henri was relying on to keep him alive when he delivered his news. But now that Robbie was leaving, that left Henri with—

  “Priest is still at work. He has a big case right now and his hours have been insane, but Julien’s upstairs. It’s his night off, and he’s great to talk to.”

  Henri opened his mouth, about to say, Thanks, but no, thanks, but Robbie took a step forward and put a palm to his chest.

  “Now before you say no, and turn around and get in Priest’s fabulous car and drive off, just remember: Julien is practically Bailey in this situation.” Robbie paused and screwed his forehead up for a moment. “Well, you know, minus the sexy police uniform and the power to put you in prison. But what I mean is, when Julien and Priest got together, Julien had to accept and deal with everything that came with him. So did I.”

  “Then why can’t I talk to you?” Henri asked.

  “Because he’s leaving,” Julien said from behind Robbie. “And I’m not.”

  Henri wasn’t sure how long he stood in that stare-off with Julien. But when Robbie leaned up, pressed a kiss to Henri’s cheek, and said, “Be nice. Julien is very sweet,” Henri returned his attention to the princess and promised he would.

  Robbie waved to Julien, who winked at him and ran out the door, and Henri found himself in the least likely scenario he could imagine: standing in Joel’s house with his first husband…Henri’s replacement.

  “Bonsoir, Henri. Won’t you come in?” Julien didn’t bother waiting for an answer; he turned on his bare feet and headed up a short flight of stairs that led from the entryway to the first floor. Resigned to his fate, Henri followed.

  It was crazy that even after all these years there was still a very real tension between the two of them. Each man knew where the other stood, and they’d even been civil to one another on occasion, but never had they found themselves in this scenario before—alone, with no buffer, no one to intercede and remind them the
y needed to be friendly.

  Julien walked across the living room to the bar. He was wearing these loose white yoga-looking pants and a fitted black t-shirt, and there was no denying he was incredibly attractive, which annoyed Henri to no end. Was it so much to ask that there be one thing wrong with him?

  Julien looked over and noticed Henri standing at the top of the stairs. “You can come in, you know.”

  “I know,” Henri said like some petulant teenager, and when Julien smirked and turned away to grab two tumblers from the cabinet behind him, Henri let out a sigh.

  Jesus, what is it about this guy that makes me so petty? It’d been years since that horrible day in L.A., and not only were Julien and Joel happily married to each other and Robbie, Henri had fallen in love with someone along the way too.

  Granted, the status of that relationship was currently unknown, but there was no need for him to act like an immature teenager with Julien just because they had a past. Especially when there were far more serious things at stake here tonight.

  So, yeah, if his brain could get that memo, that would be amazing.

  “Robbie told me you needed to talk to someone tonight. That you needed a friend.”

  Oh my God. This was worse than he thought. Going home to his empty house sounded so much more appealing than it had earlier.

  “Henri?”

  Henri let out a breath and then looked over to Julien, who was sliding a glass of whiskey across the bar.

  “I know I’m the last person you came here looking to talk to tonight. But from what Robbie told me, I’m probably the best.”

  Henri narrowed his eyes on Julien, who picked up the tumbler and held it out. Henri eyed the drink, and as he thought about that final look in Bailey’s eyes, the distance and sadness, his stomach again twisted around itself. He thought, what the hell? He’d wanted a drink ever since he’d woken up in Jamaica last night, so he might as well drink their whiskey.