by Ella Frank
As he wiped some dirt from his eyes and craned his head up to see who it was, Henri jerked back onto his ass and scrambled away from the man now looming over him—Big Jimmy. Joel’s father and Victor’s boss.
All the joy from seconds ago drained from Henri in an instant, as he stared up into flat grey eyes and a glower that was straight out of his worst nightmares. Jimmy was in his usual work pants, suspenders, and white shirt, sleeves rolled up. There was blood splattered on the leg of his pants, and the muscles of his left arm bulged as he gripped the shotgun he held.
“Joel?” Jimmy said as his eyes narrowed on Henri, then he raised his head and called out, “Boy? You better show yourself.”
Henri cowered at Jimmy’s feet, not daring to move or speak as he heard the grass shifting behind him, and not a second later, Joel stepped into the clearing. “I’m right here, Dad.”
“What have I told you about running around out here?” Jimmy’s voice was low, and made a shiver race up Henri’s spine. The one thing he and Joel always tried their hardest to do was avoid Jimmy, which was usually easy, since he didn’t like children and was never around. That was not the case today.
Joel lowered his head, his eyes on the ground under his feet as he answered, “You told me not to.”
Jimmy whipped his right hand out and took hold of his son’s chin, and as he jerked Joel’s head back, Henri quickly clambered to his feet. Something in his too-young mind understood that he needed to stand up, that he needed to stand tall by his friend’s side and help, because unlike normal children, they were the sons of monsters, and they had to stick together.
Jimmy’s eyes shifted over Joel’s shoulder, but he quickly dismissed Henri as a threat by bringing his attention back to his son.
“You look at me when you speak to me, boy,” Jimmy said. “You don’t stare at your feet like a sniveling little girl.”
“Yes, Dad,” Joel said in a voice so quiet that Henri barely heard him.
“Good. Now, I’ve told you time and time again not to come this far out on the property. Haven’t I, son?”
Something in Jimmy’s tone had Henri’s legs shaking, as he watched Jimmy’s fingers dig deeper into Joel’s jaw as he tried to nod.
“What was that, boy?”
“Yes, you’ve told me,” Joel said, and that was when Henri chimed in with as much bravado as a five-year-old could manage.
“Let him go, you big bully.”
“Henri,” Joel said, but Henri’s valiant little act wasn’t over just yet. Instead, his foolhardy quest had him stepping up beside his friend, ready to defend him to the very end. Jimmy shoved Joel back and released him, then turned his attention toward Henri, and just as he was about to reach for him, Joel blocked his path.
“Don’t you touch him,” Joel said in a voice that Henri barely recognized, but something about it made goosebumps break out over his skin.
Jimmy narrowed his eyes and straightened, puffing out his chest in that moment as though he was proud of his son, then he nodded. “Huh, very well. You know what? I think it’s almost time, son. But until then, stay away. You hear me?”
Joel gave a brisk nod, and after a final glance in Henri’s direction, Jimmy turned and headed back into the thick trees of the property.
Henri didn’t breathe again until Jimmy was out of sight, and when Joel turned around to ask if he was all right, Henri nodded and made a vow to always be there for Joel the way he’d just been there for him—but two weeks later, Joel Donovan was gone.
Chapter Four
CONFESSION
If I believed in fate, I might start to think that this is more than a coincidence.
“THIS IS YOU.”
The Uber came to a stop at the front of his hotel, and Bailey thanked the driver and pushed open the car door, ready to get inside and crawl into bed.
He’d had a great time at the reception this afternoon with the grooms and all their guests, but now that he’d stopped, his exhaustion and the lingering buzz from the alcohol Robbie had kept sending his way all day was starting to catch up with him.
It was a wonder he could even stand upright as he made his way to the front entrance and pushed through the revolving door. As the glass panes spun in front of him, Bailey tried to focus on something stationary so he wouldn’t wind up on his ass, but it was touch and go for a moment until he finally got inside and steadied himself with a hand on the closest wall.
Shit, maybe he should’ve passed on that last B-52 shot. But all the fun and laughter had been contagious, so he’d rallied, thrown back the drinks, and stayed until the Thornton-Priestleys had headed off for their wedding night away from the Bianchis’ lake house.
Once the world stopped spinning—literally—Bailey made his way through the hotel lobby to wait for the elevator, but as he passed by the bar and looked inside, his feet came to a standstill.
No. There’s no way that’s who I think it is… But as he walked inside, there was no mistaking the man at the far end of the bar.
With Henri’s leather jacket hugging his frame like a second skin and the sun glinting off several rings on his fingers, Bailey didn’t even have to see his face to know it was him. He’d been thinking about the stranger he’d met this morning all day, and now here he was, as if Bailey had conjured him out of thin air.
The place wasn’t too busy yet, since it was just now turning five thirty, but Bailey’s attention was firmly fixated on Henri. He hadn’t moved, not even to take a drink, just sat there staring out at the water in front of him, and Bailey wondered what it was he was thinking about. Probably Priest, if he had to guess. It was never easy to watch your ex tie the knot with someone else—especially a second someone else—if it wasn’t you.
Deciding to leave him alone with his thoughts, Bailey was about to head back to the elevators when Henri looked in his direction, and as their eyes met, a flash of a conversation he’d had earlier with Robbie sprang to mind…
“SOOO, QUICK, QUICK, while Priest isn’t here. Did Henri say anything about the wedding before he disappeared today? I really thought he’d stick around and say hello.”
Robbie all but pouted as he thrust yet another shot glass in Bailey’s hand and did a quick look over his shoulder. It was a couple of hours into the reception, and while Bailey had been enjoying dancing and chatting with the other guests, Robbie now had him cornered, wanting to know more about Priest’s vanishing ex.
“He just said congratulations, that’s all.” Bailey thought it probably best to keep the more cynical side of his and Henri’s conversation to himself.
“And how’d he look?” Robbie asked, his usually sparkling eyes somewhat serious, and the first thing that popped into Bailey’s head was: fucking hot. “It’s just…it’s been a while since I’ve seen him, and I want to make sure he’s doing all right. You know, that he’s…well.”
Okay, so clearly Bailey was thinking along completely different lines to Robbie, because all he could think was that Henri looked like the best night of his life wrapped up in a leather jacket. Whereas Robbie just wanted to make sure he looked “well,” as in, not pining after his new husband—most likely.
“He looked…” When Bailey drew a blank on an appropriate word, Robbie’s lips formed an O, and then he wagged his finger under Bailey’s nose.
“No, no, no. You don’t want to do that.” Bailey narrowed his eyes, and Robbie shook his head. “You don’t want to be thinking whatever it is you’re thinking right now.”
“I’m not thinking anything.”
“Your nose is growing, Officer Bailey. So I’m assuming Henri looked better than well? Tell me, is he still all dark and smoldering?”
And then some, Bailey thought. But before he’d had a chance to deny Robbie’s comment, Priest arrived to steal his groom away for a dance, effectively ending the conversation, and leaving Bailey to think about Henri’s dark, smoldering looks for the rest of the afternoon…
WHICH BROUGHT HIM back to now.
As
his eyes collided with Henri’s across the room, a restless, needy feeling washed over him. He was fascinated by Henri, intrigued by the man with the mysterious eyes who had vanished without a trace this morning. And while he would never normally pursue something he knew would go absolutely nowhere, something about Henri made Bailey want to throw caution right out the window.
With their eyes now locked in a scorching standoff, Henri ran his tongue along his full lower lip, and Bailey had a sudden image of him doing that same thing over the head of his cock.
Shit, what would that be like? To have a man like that, who was so obviously sexual, so clearly confident in what he wanted, down between his legs, driving him out of his mind?
It would be a night like no other, that’s what it would be like, Bailey thought, as he shoved aside all of the logical reasons he should leave, and instead found himself walking over to Henri.
As Bailey took the barstool beside him and gestured for the bartender, no words were exchanged. But he could feel Henri’s eyes on him when he finally placed his order.
This was crazy. He’d never been so aware of another person in his entire life, and when he finally turned to stare into Henri’s enigmatic face, a smirk that landed on the wrong side of trouble crossed Henri’s lips.
Heat instantly flooded Bailey’s body under that stare. This guy epitomized the phrase bad boy, but as the bartender placed a whiskey sour in front of him, Bailey thought, I don’t care. I want him anyway. And if it’s only for one night, then there’s no harm in that…right?
MHMM…
HENRI COULD hardly believe his eyes—or his luck—as Blue settled down on the stool beside him and ordered a drink. He’d just been wishing for a distraction to keep his mind from straying back into unwanted territory, and like the universe remembered how good Blue had been in that department, it had hand-delivered him on a fucking platter.
Blue was exactly what Henri needed, the final ingredient to make him forget why he was sitting alone at a hotel bar getting wasted, and he planned to take full advantage of it.
“Well, this is an unexpected surprise.” Henri twirled his glass between his fingers as he looked over his new drinking companion. “If I believed in fate, I might start to think that this was more than just a coincidence.”
With his tie a little looser than this morning, and a much more relaxed grin crossing his tempting lips, it was obvious Blue had been doing a little drinking of his own today.
“Or,” Blue said, “maybe it’s just that this is the closest hotel to the Bianchis’ lake house.”
Henri scoffed at that pragmatic response. “Now why you gotta go and ruin my little fantasy? Here I was sitting all alone wishing I had someone to talk to, and then you showed up.”
That delicious blush Henri had seen earlier lit up Blue’s cheeks. “That’s all you were wishing for? Someone to talk to?”
Well, hello. It appeared that Blue had definitely loosened up since Henri had last seen him and was more than interested in exploring this chemistry between them, which was fine by Henri. If he had his way, he’d strip the guy naked right now and fuck him against the closest surface he could find.
“Talking seems to be the politest thing I can do with you in a bar.”
Blue took a long swallow of his drink and then licked along his lower lip, and Henri’s eyes followed that slick path. “And who asked you to be polite?”
At that blatant tease, Henri had to stifle a groan. “Careful now. I’m in the exact right mood to take you up on that offer.”
“I’m always careful. Tonight I want to be a little less so.”
Henri tapped his finger on the rim of his glass and gave Blue another once-over. It was obvious that he wanted this. But Henri didn’t get a one-night hookup vibe off Blue at all. “You sure about that?”
Blue took another sip of his drink—liquid courage, maybe?—and said, “I think so.”
“Mhmm. Well, you let me know when you know so.”
Blue lowered his gaze to his glass, and Henri wondered what he was thinking. Was he changing his mind? He had no idea, but then Blue cocked his head and said, “I passed your message on for you today.”
Henri’s lips curved. “Oh? And how did that go?”
“About as well as I think you expected it to. So I was wrong earlier. It was Priest, not Julien, who you used to date.”
Henri downed the rest of his drink in one long gulp, as Blue continued.
“I have to say, I like to think I’m pretty good at reading people. But I never would’ve guessed Priest.”
“And why’s that?”
Blue studied him for a moment as though trying to decide what to say next, and then he lowered his voice and said, “I don’t know. You just seem very…”
Henri shifted closer. “Very…what? You don’t think I’m going to let you stop there, do you?”
When Blue’s teeth scraped along his lower lip, Henri made a promise to himself that by the end of the night, he was going to be the one doing the biting.
“Come on, tell me what you think,” Henri said, placing a hand on Blue’s thigh, and when Blue automatically widened his legs to give him better access, Henri hummed.
“You just seem very—” Blue paused again, as Henri slipped his palm up the inside of Blue’s thigh.
“Yes?”
Blue swallowed, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down his strong throat, as he looked Henri straight in the eye. “Different than Priest. That’s all.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know, he’s…”
“A serious pain in the ass?” Henri said, and then grinned, deciding to leave out the fact that he meant that both literally and figuratively.
“Serious. Yes.” Blue chuckled.
Hmm, good, he’s enjoying this as much as I am.
“That’s definitely the right word for Priest. But you seem less, I don’t know, contained than he is. Like a…lone wolf or something. Someone who likes to run free and do whatever he wants.”
Huh. Blue was spot fucking on with that assessment. He really could read people well. Henri got off his stool to hide his wandering hand, as he finally moved it over the top of the hard-on between Blue’s legs and squeezed.
“Ahh,” Blue said before he could clamp his mouth shut, and Henri put his mouth by his ear and said, “I’d say that’s a pretty good assumption. For example, Joel would never consider fucking someone before he knew their name. Me, on the other hand? I can’t think of anything I’d rather do right now.”
Blue’s lips parted slightly, as Henri flicked the tip of his tongue over Blue’s earlobe.
“Wanna get out of here?”
Blue nodded, and Henri straightened to his full height.
“Your room or mine?” Blue asked as he buttoned his jacket, trying for a little decorum.
Yeah, good luck with that. As it was, Henri’s cock was so damn hard right now that it would be a miracle if he could walk out of the bar. But the fact that the two of them were on the same page made him really fucking happy.
He wanted to forget that today had ever happened, forget about the man who’d chosen everybody else but him, and focus on the one who was here now with him.
He was going to enjoy tonight, revel in it, sink inside the man staring at him as though he was down for anything—and in the morning, well, Henri just might do it all over again.
“Yours. I’ll meet you there in ten.”
Chapter Five
CONFESSION
So this is what it’s like to have déjà vu.
Two Weeks Later…
THE INCESSANT VIBRATING of his phone was just another annoyance to his already sleepless night, as Henri reached for the blasted thing and squinted at the screen. When a familiar number flashed across it, he groaned and rolled to his back.
Motherfucker. That was the last person he felt like dealing with at three in the goddamn morning. But when the vibrating stopped, and two seconds later started up again, he accepted the call a
nd brought the phone to his ear.
“Yeah?” His standard non-greeting was met with stony silence for a beat or two. Henri could hear gravel crunching underfoot and assumed the one who’d called him was moving to a more private location.
He rested his forearm across his eyes as he waited for his caller to come back over the line, and a minute later he heard, “You in town?”
Henri thought about lying but said, “Yeah. What’d you need?”
“Déjà Vu Showgirls—you know it?”
He did—it was a strip joint over on the South Side. After he’d relocated to Chicago, he’d done a few…odd jobs here and there in that area. “I know it. What’s going on?”
“Get down here and I’ll tell you.” The order was clear—and annoying as fuck—but then again, Henri had put himself in this position, hadn’t he? So he let out a sigh and looked at the time.
“I can be there in…thirty minutes.”
“Make it twenty. It’s not like you’re above breaking a law or two.”
“Fuck you.”
“This ain’t a date, Boudreaux. Don’t make me wait around for you.”
Before Henri could respond, the call ended, and he cursed, threw his phone on the bed beside him, and shoved back the covers. When his feet hit the hardwood floor, he stretched his neck from side to side, and then got up to head into the bathroom to get changed.
Several months ago, he’d purchased this downtown loft and decided to settle in and call Chicago his new home…for now. Up until then, he’d been a kind of nomad, wandering around wherever his jobs took him. But he always somehow found himself back in New Orleans, despite his fucked-up history with the place.
Maybe because it was familiar, or maybe because he was sick in the head, he had no idea. But it was time to cut ties there for good now. After what happened with Jimmy, he’d known he would never set foot in that place again, not even under a fake name.
It was time to start over for real, time to start somewhere new, and part of that had included a diversion of some sort, a misdirection that would keep certain eyes off him and make what he did for a living an asset, as opposed to something suspicious that needed to be investigated and stopped.