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“We have eyes and ears everywhere. You think you can just get out? Think again. Run away if it makes you feel better. But you better become a motherfucking ghost if you do, because that’s the only way you’re going to be done with me, Henri.”
Henri swallowed, understanding the threat for what it was, and as Victor got to his feet, he lunged at the clear divider and slammed the phone into it, shouting, “Run!”
HENRI STARTLED AND jackknifed up on the couch, his fingers tight around the neck of the whiskey bottle. Shit. He hadn’t thought about that day in years, and as he tried to get his breathing under control, it occurred to him that he was finally…free.
As that word—free—rattled around in his mind, a morbid sense of happiness filled him close to bursting, and then he started to laugh. Sweet mother of fucking God. I’m free! Henri thought, and wanted to climb on the rooftop and scream at the top of his lungs.
He’d spent his entire life looking over his shoulder, and with both Jimmy and Victor now dead, there was no one left to terrorize him. No one left to keep him contained to the shadows. He was a free man.
Well, except from his own demons, but those battles could wait another day. For now, he planned to fucking celebrate.
NEVER HAD TIME moved so slow—of that, Bailey was certain. But as the big hand on his kitchen clock finally landed on top of the small one planted firmly on twelve, his nerves were beginning to set in.
He couldn’t work out if he was more anxious or excited to see Henri again, but when his stomach began to flip-flop at the thought, Bailey had his answer—excited.
Dinner had dragged by at an excruciatingly slow pace, and after they’d finally finished up and he’d gotten rid of his brothers, Bailey was positive Xander had been lingering on purpose in the hopes that Henri would show up early. He didn’t.
In fact, he was now running late. Granted, it was only by a minute or two, but as the second hand ticked around the clock, Bailey told himself not to think the worst.
He chased me down, he reminded himself as he got to his feet and began to pace. He all but stalked me, for God’s sake. But when that little reminder wasn’t enough to quell the doubt creeping in, he walked through to his living room and stared at his front door. The same door he’d shoved Henri up against eight nights ago.
Bailey checked his watch. Ten past twelve.
Maybe he fell asleep waiting? But Bailey quickly shoved that idea aside, because it had taken an act of major restraint to pull them apart earlier. So for Henri not to be here now… Maybe something had happened to him.
Bailey took his phone from his pocket and checked his messages. No missed calls, no texts, and as he stood in his hallway debating whether he should call, his doorbell chimed loudly throughout his silent house, scaring the absolute shit out of him.
Breathe, he told himself as he dropped his phone onto the entrance table and wiped his hands along his jeans. Take a damn breath and calm yourself down.
Bailey stood there for a couple seconds more, and when he finally reached for the handle, he saw that his hand was shaking. Damn. Henri had him as nervous as a teenager going to prom. But when he finally pulled the door open, he found something much more sinful on his doorstep than a high school boy.
Dressed in the same dark jeans and Henley from earlier, plus a leather jacket to ward off the cold, Henri had one shoulder leaning up against the doorjamb, his ankles crossed, and a hand shoved inside the pocket of his jeans.
His hair was ruffled as though he’d been running his fingers through it, and he flashed a smile in Bailey’s direction that was full of one thing and one thing only—sex.
As Henri shoved off the doorjamb, Bailey lost his ability to form words. He let go of the door handle, stepped out of the way, and waited for Henri to walk inside. But instead of entering the house, Henri stopped opposite him, fingered the zipper of his hoodie, and slowly dragged it down an inch. “Shut the door, Bailey.”
Henri’s intoxicating scent surrounded Bailey, but mixed in with it was the distinct smell of whiskey—and a lot of it—and before Bailey could tell his cop brain to shut up, he said, “Have you been drinking?”
A deep laugh slipped free. “Don’t worry, officer. I didn’t drive over here.” Henri’s words slurred slightly. “I took an Uuuber. I haven’t broken any laws, I promise.”
Henri winked and went to kiss him, and Bailey chuckled but put his hands on Henri’s chest to stop him.
