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The spark of mischief in Logan’s eyes told Henri that this man knew Priest well, because if there was one thing Priest didn’t like, it was a surprise, and Henri being there was going to shock the shit out of him.
“Henri.”
“Good morning, Joel. There’s someone out here to see you.” There was a pause, and when Logan rolled his eyes, he instantly earned a spot in Henri’s good books. Then he nodded and said, “Yes, yes, I know. I know. Are you done? Mhmm, he says you know him. His name is Henri.”
Henri caught a few terse words from the other end of the phone, and after Logan said his goodbyes, he hung up and crooked his finger. “If you’ll come this way, I’ll take you to him.”
Logan stepped out from behind the desk, and Henri followed. Directly to his right was a massive corner office that was encased in glass walls and practically took up half the floor. Logan turned down the hallway, stopped at a door midway down the corridor, and knocked. An all-too-familiar voice called out, “Come in.”
Henri’s shoulders straightened. He wasn’t sure what it was about Priest that always made him feel like he was going to the principal’s office, but when Logan looked at him and said, “You need some help in there?” Henri realized he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
“Nah, I’ve been handling Joel for a long time. I’ll be fine.”
“Really. Well, I’ll just have to remember that when I need some help,” Logan said, as he pushed down on the handle and opened the door. “Good luck in there, and remember you have a witness that you were here, so…”
Henri chuckled, liking Logan more and more as he stepped by him and into the lion’s den. As the door shut behind him, Henri looked across the office to Priest and reminded himself that he was there for one thing and one thing only.
To get the phone number of Officer Bailey, not to fall in love with Joel Priestley all over again.
THE HEAVY POUNDING on his front door made Bailey’s eyes snap open to look at the clock on his bedside table. Shit, it’s nine in the morning?
He snatched up his phone, and when he saw the date, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Wow, he’d slept all through yesterday and last night, and when a text popped up from Xander—Bringing over breakfast—he knew the culprit for his rude awakening.
Damn. Bailey had known he was exhausted, but it seemed the extra stress of no sleep—or restless, frustrated sleep—had really gotten to him. Yet another reason to be annoyed at Henri Boudreaux.
Stifling a yawn, Bailey threw back the covers and reached for his sweats, and then made his way toward the front door.
As the banging continued, he called out, “I’m coming. Jesus,” and rubbed a hand over his head. When he reached the door and pulled it open, he greeted Xander with a scowl.
Xander chuckled. “Well, you look like hell.”
Bailey let out a sigh as he eyed his forever camera-ready friend—and ex. Alexander Thorne, the number one news anchor at ENN, never left his house looking anything but put together.
In fitted jeans and a lightweight charcoal sweater that matched his midnight and gunmetal hair, Xander made a hard, fast, sophisticated impact. So did the famous smile now aimed Bailey’s way.
“Late night?” Xander asked as he stepped inside and lowered his eyes over Bailey’s bare chest. The two coffee cups he held in a tray were the only reason Bailey hadn’t slammed the door in his perfect face.
“What do you think?” Xander opened his mouth to respond, but Bailey held up a hand. “On second thought, I don’t care what you think. But you better have a—”
“Caramel walnut roll for you?” Xander held up the brown paper bag in his other hand and swung it under Bailey’s nose. “I got you two. How long have I known you?”
Too damn long, Bailey thought, as Xander headed into the house, his deep chuckle echoing up the hall, reminding Bailey that it had once been the swaying argument as to whether or not he liked boys or girls.
He remembered that day in junior high very clearly. He’d been eleven; Xander was thirteen. His girlfriend, Nora, had been sitting with him and Xander at lunch, and he’d told them a joke. She’d giggled, and Bailey felt so proud of himself for making her laugh. But then Xander chuckled and rolled his eyes, and Bailey’s cock had made it very clear who it wanted and it was his best friend—not the girl to his right.
Luckily for him, his dick had grown out of that habit around ten years ago. Getting hard for Xander, that was, not men in general.
Xander put the paper bag and coffees on the kitchen island then went to rummage through Bailey’s cabinets for a plate, and when he turned back around, he shook his head and opened up the sack.
