by Tessa Bailey
When Polly realized where she’d ended up, she started walking faster. Their hotel. Perhaps he hadn’t known where to find her. Perhaps he was waiting in their room. Even as her brain dismissed that hopeful logic, she was jogging through the lobby and riding the elevator up, fumbling in her pocket for the wallet to extricate the key card as it ascended. Somehow before she’d even turned the door handle, she knew Austin wasn’t on the other side. There was no electricity, no intuition or pumping excitement she always experienced when he was close.
Polly pushed open the door and stopped. But his scent…it hung in the air. Fresh. Like he’d just been there? Or was that her exhausted, desperate mind trying to conjure him any way possible?
Her gaze was drawn like a magnet toward the bed, where it was silhouetted by the outside streetlight. Images lambasted her from all sides. Austin’s head falling forward with the belt’s first strike. Their mutual groans as he took her hard, unrelenting in his quest for her pleasure, so intent on her every reaction.
That man had felt something for her, hadn’t he? It hadn’t been a game. She didn’t care about the money anymore and would have told him, had she been given the opportunity tonight. She only wanted Austin. Had it been the same case for him?
Polly slapped at the light switch, a ceiling fan illuminating the room from above with a soft glow.
On the bed. What—
Tea bags. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of them were waiting in a mountainous pile, their pink tags waving in the fan’s breeze. Polly was across the room in a millisecond, scooping up handfuls of the familiar brand. Distressed whimpers fell from her lips because she didn’t know what they meant. Was this Austin’s way of saying good-bye? No, please.
She pinched one of the bags between her thumb and forefinger, noticing for the first time writing on the pink tag. In Austin’s confident scrawl were three bold words. I love you. Tears fell from her eyes as she picked up another bag and saw the same words. He’d written them on every single tea bag. Her chest constricted to the point of agony. Dammit. Why wasn’t he there to tell her himself?
Polly’s phone went off in her purse, making her jump a full foot in the air. She scrambled to get it out, refusing to pause and wipe the moisture from her eyes. Not Austin. Her father.
“Hello?”
A drawn-out, heavy sigh greeted her. “You’re okay.”
“Of course I’m okay.” She flopped down onto the mountain of tea bags, sending a dozen of them to the floor. “Why…why are you calling?”
Her father didn’t say anything for a moment. “The money. I woke up to go for my run and there were just…stacks of it on the kitchen table. I assumed it was you.”
“No.” Polly’s eyelids fluttered shut, nuzzling her cheek against the fragrant tea bags. “Austin. It was Austin.”
“Right.” She could hear him pacing. “What am I supposed to do with it, Polly? Pick up where I left off? That’s not an option for me. Not anymore. Not without…”
“I know. I think I knew all along it wouldn’t solve or repair anything. I just needed to fix the wrong. The way you two fixed mine.” Her hand felt heavy as she lifted it to massage her forehead. “We’ll figure something out, all right? I just need some time.”
“Where is Austin now?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Maybe he was never here at all. Maybe I’ve been asleep this whole time, dreaming him up.”
“Polly.” Her father sounded worried. What was there left to worry about? Over. It was all over. “You need to get some sleep.”
Sleep was overrated without Austin to hold her.
There will be holding, Polly.
His vow played on a loop as she drifted into unconsciousness.
…
Polly didn’t recognize any of the waitstaff in the diner. It was midafternoon, not early morning as it was when she usually came. She would still be asleep in the hotel room if a hotel clerk hadn’t knocked on the door to remind her checkout time was 11:00 a.m. Unable to leave the hotel without the possibility of returning, she’d called Drake and asked him to book another night on his credit card. The fact that he’d done so without asking any questions only made her love him more.
Acknowledging love for anyone or anything was like prodding an open wound with a fireplace poker. Would she ever be able to feel the emotion again without experiencing such blinding loss?
She slid into her usual booth, waving away the offered menu with a polite but strained smile. “Coffee, please.”
The tea bags were still in the hotel room where she’d left them, although the aroma clung to her clothes like a layer of smoke, haunting her. Austin had hijacked the tea’s comforting qualities and made them bitter. Bitter and rife with confusion. She’d woken up positive he’d been saying good-bye. Not just with the tea bags, but back in the street with Reitman. How else should she interpret the regret plaguing his handsome features?
A waitress stopped beside Polly’s table, placing a plateful of blueberry waffles in front of her. For an interminable stretch of time, all she could do was stare, the implications trickling in slowly, like a dam giving way. The thudding in her chest picked up its pace until Polly felt as if she’d just finished a marathon. She didn’t realize she was standing until her hip bumped into a table across the carpeted aisle.
Austin was there.
I need to know that we have breakfast in our future—normal things that make you happy—or my next breath doesn’t mean shit.
Where? She’d been so preoccupied upon entering the diner she hadn’t felt him. Now, though, when she was allowing herself to feel, energy spun around her in a tight funnel. Customers were looking at her strangely, but she noticed only in passing. She was too busy scanning faces, searching for Austin in the bustling afternoon crowd. When she saw him in the far back corner, the brim of his hat pulled down low over eyes that blazed in her direction, her legs were moving before her brain could catch up, making her stumble.
Austin jolted on his seat, reaching out for her with a startled curse, but she’d already recovered. Two more steps and she’d thrown herself across the booth and into his arms. Arms that banded around her so tightly, she knew instantly that she’d betrayed him by worrying. By doubting.
“Ah, sweet. There you are. Jesus, there you are.” He yanked her onto his lap, laying kisses along her jawline. “A day is too long to go without holding you. I could feel myself beginning to fade into nothing. I’m nothing unless you’re with me.”
“Where have you been?” She found his hat offensive for covering even an inch of him, so she knocked it off his head. “I thought you left. I thought—”
Austin pressed their mouths together, cutting her off. “No, you didn’t. You didn’t really think that, Polly.” He searched her eyes, as if looking for some unknown answer. “I was giving you a chance to leave me.”
The energy funnel churning around them slowed to a crawl. “What?”
His gaze cut to the side. “What Charles told you about me…I’ve done things I’m ashamed of, Polly. I’m not the kind of man you can be proud of.” He rubbed his thumb over her collarbone, studying it so closely she wondered if he was memorizing the shape and texture. “I needed to give you my love. And then let you decide if you wanted it.”
“I don’t want it,” she whispered. “I need it.”
His head pitched forward for a moment, as if he were praying, before it lifted again, hitting her with the full force of his happiness. He cradled the back of her head in a gentle hold, his breath striking her lips in relieved gusts. “Oh, thank God. I gave you one night.” His laughter embodied the same exhausted frustration she’d felt until being enfolded in his arms. “I was only able to manage it because there were things that needed accomplishing. Things I’m hoping made me slightly more deserving of you, Polly. But I’m still not even close.”
Her hands lifted of their own accord to frame his face. “You took the money to my father.” Swallowing the desire to avoid an uncomfortable to
pic, she forced herself to keep going. “Did you send the other half to Reitman’s daughter?”
Austin gave a single, pointed nod. “It doesn’t excuse my actions. I’m not sure anything will.” A multitude of emotions swam across his face, regret and hope chiefly among them. “I want to make up for everything I’ve done. Repay my debts. It’s the only way I can justify allowing myself to be a part of your life.”
“Austin—”
“It’s going to take some work.” A heavy silence passed between them. “Will you help me?”
Polly took a moment to think about what Austin’s request really meant. Returning money to the people—mostly women—he’d conned over the span of a decade. Could she do that? It would mean setting aside any and all jealousy, not turning a blind eye on Austin’s past, but acknowledging each and every aspect of it. Was she big enough a person to handle that?
Yes. Neither of them was strong enough to accomplish such a difficult task apart, but together they were formidable. One hundred feet tall. For so long, she’d hated him for being a con. Now, here he was, wanting to make amends for the actions she’d condemned. If anything, she felt pride in his decision. Not trepidation or anxiety. As long as Austin was by her side, there wasn’t a damn thing she couldn’t handle. His love was hers. No one else’s. And that wouldn’t change. She’d never been more confident in that fact as she was right at that moment.
“I’ll help you. We’ll do it together.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than Austin crushed his mouth down on hers, his tongue parting her lips on a deep moan. A single brush of his thumb over the exposed skin of her waist, a subtle roll of hips, and Polly almost lost the ability to reason. Or remember the fact that they were in public. When Austin finally pulled away a minute later, they were both gasping for breath. “Polly, tell me we’re going to be together. Tell me I’ll wake up beside you tomorrow morning.”
“We will. You will.” She savored the fervent prayer he whispered against her lips. “You told me you loved me on a pile of tea bags,” she murmured, heart twisting inside an invisible fist. “It was romantic, but I needed you to be there. To hear you say it.”
Austin tilted her chin up, hitting her with eye contact that robbed her of the ability to inhale. “I’ll love you straight through into the next life, Polly Banks.” He tipped her head to the side and planted a hot kiss beneath her ear. “And the next one. And the one after that…”
Oh, she was going under. But before she could drown in Austin’s sensual spell, she pressed a hand over his heart. It was pounding. “I love you, too, Austin. Everything you are. Everything you’ll do. I love you.”
Epilogue
Henrik pounded his boxing gloves together, wishing it were a bare-knuckle fight so it would hurt more. Make him forget more. Shouting of various volumes blended together behind him. Everything blended lately. He was living in a flip-book that went back to the beginning every morning. Wake up, go through the motions, repeat the following day. It was all black and white to him.
Maybe that was why he’d decided to go through with this unsanctioned fight, even though his participation was never supposed to happen. It had only been the setup for Austin’s con. Yet he’d found himself unpacking the cardboard box containing his old boxing gear, laying it on the kitchen table where he passed it for hours, considering. When the time had come to make a decision, he’d realized it had already been made.
He was one sorry fuck. Living in a shitty one-bedroom in Arcadia Terrace. Friendless. Jobless. And he’d gotten that way over a girl with whom he’d exchanged one single goddamn sentence. One.
He’d been just outside the park on his lunch break, leaning against the hood of his police vehicle and scanning the sports page. He’d never know what made him glance up, but the sports page had been forgotten in his hand. A green dress. She’d been wearing an emerald-green summer dress that made her hair shine like burnished red-gold in the sunlight. Ailish had run those hazel eyes over Henrik’s badge before giving him her undivided attention.
There had been shadowed rings beneath her eyes. Fatigue in the set of her shoulders. But nothing could have detracted from her stunning beauty. It outshone everything in the vicinity. Made the birds’ chirping sound dull and desperate. He could remember commanding himself to breathe, but only being able to manage a quick pull of oxygen the entire minute he’d encountered her.
Looking back, he knew even if they hadn’t exchanged that one sentence, he still would have fallen for her. Right then. One look and he’d sunk to the lowest ocean floor, unable to hear a sound, save her husky voice.
Do you ever wonder which side you’re really on, Officer?
She hadn’t been mocking him. She’d truly wanted to know. The distress in her tone had gripped him by the throat, rendering him incapable of responding. She’d moved on before he could formulate an answer. Or help her, as every bone in his body demanded. Save. Fix. Mine.
So a month later, when she’d been implicated in her father’s crime? He’d made up for that day in the park when she’d silently begged for his help.
Or. Or, it was possible he’d imagined the entire exchange. Seen it for something it wasn’t. And he was legally insane. Probably something he should have considered before staking his career in law enforcement on it.
Across the ring, Henrik’s opponent was smiling, but he wouldn’t be for long. One thing he knew from being a Chicago cop was this: a wounded animal was the scariest animal of all. A wounded animal came at you with triple the strength. Triple the determination. And Henrik was wounded as hell. He wasn’t just an animal tonight. He was a motherfucking monster.
The spectators were out for his blood. He could hear the word “cop” being spat like an epithet behind him. Didn’t they know he was one of them now?
Henrik estimated he had another minute until the bell rang and he could release the aggression pounding inside his temples. He actually felt bad for the other guy and the way he’d feel tomorrow. If anyone deserved a good beating, it was Henrik. After all, his aggression was directed squarely at himself. No one else.
He’d compromised himself for the girl.
And then he’d lost her.
Her location was pinned to his refrigerator at home, courtesy of Austin’s late-night delivery, during which the cocky Brit hadn’t said a single word. If Henrik were capable of feeling pity for anyone else, he might have felt it for Austin as he stood outside Henrik’s door, pale and agitated, muttering words beneath his breath. Or a name, rather. Polly.
Yeah. Pity wasn’t exactly in Henrik’s arsenal at the moment. He needed to distract himself from the insane compulsion to drive to Ailish’s location. To make sure she wasn’t in danger. Or being held against her will. God help everyone within swinging distance if she was hurt or scared.
This girl with whom he’d exchanged one sentence.
The bell rang and Henrik punched himself in the head with his right fist. Then his left. As he closed in on his opponent, his agonized growl rent the air.
…
Austin shut off the shower spray and flattened his palms on the slick tile wall. Frigid water ran down his face and chest, making his skin feel tight. The cold shower hadn’t helped his aroused state—not in the least bit. Between his legs, his flesh hung heavy, ready. In the five months since he’d moved into Polly’s apartment, now their apartment, his existence seemed to ebb and flow in varying states of need. Upon waking most mornings, he didn’t hesitate to tuck Polly’s ass against his lap and fuck her into a heightened state of wakefulness. It served her right for giving him no respite from the wanting of her, even in sleep.
But they had been up all last night working on a project. A project that would bring him slightly closer to atoning for his past. Polly and her dexterous fingers needed their rest. So he was being a conscientious boyfriend and letting her sleep. The situation—meaning his rigid cock—was not helped by the fact that no matter where he paced in the apartment, her naked, slumbering fo
rm seemed to be visible.
Austin flipped the cold water back on, wincing at the icy blast. His state could be remedied if he focused on a vision of his Polly and stroked himself off…if he didn’t consider it sacrilegious to expend pleasure anywhere but inside her lithe, beloved body. She hadn’t requested he keep himself only for her; it was merely a personal rule. And while he’d stopped forbidding her to touch herself, he knew she followed the same personal dictate. One he frequently rewarded her for, some days on an hourly basis.
He stuck his head directly beneath the shower spray and attempted to focus on something else. Anything to distract him from the knowledge that Polly’s delectable backside was peeking out among their bedsheets like a tight little trophy, begging for him to come win it. Remind her whose name was engraved permanently on those smooth cheeks. Fuck. Austin’s hand curled into a fist on the shower wall. By sheer force of will, he prevented himself from giving in and jerking the flesh dying for attention.
Something else. Think of something else.
In addition to Polly’s nude body, his need this morning sprang from the ever-present desire to reassure her just how thoroughly she owned him. They’d spent the night tracking down one of his past marks, now living in Denver, and arranged for a transfer of funds. The woman was only the third on a long list that required repayment. Each time he and Polly fulfilled another debt, his shoulders felt lighter.
He and Polly had waited until after Reitman was formally charged with several felonies, including illegal gambling and extortion, before going to Derek and explaining their mission. In addition to their work on the undercover squad, they were now assisting state witnesses in maintaining their low profile while awaiting trial. Much like she had done for Bowen and Sera, Polly not only consulted with Chicago PD about how best to protect witnesses, she actively kept them invisible on the web and necessary financial databases.