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Luckily for Henri, he’d caught Scooter’s eye the night they’d met, but midway into the hard sell, Scooter learned that Henri was more into men his own age, and was there not for a fuck but to trade information—exactly what brought him there today.
Henri turned the car down a street he knew Scooter worked, and as soon as the Aston Martin made an appearance, so did Scooter. He strutted up the walkway toward Henri in his ripped denim shorts and bright purple crop tee, and when he got to the car, he bent down and rested his crossed arms on the window frame.
“Hey there, sugar. It’s been a little while. You been avoiding me?”
Yes, actually. Not Scooter, per se, but this part of his life. Ever since he’d been on Detective Dick’s payroll, Henri had decided to stay on the straight and narrow for a while, and now that his sights were set on inviting a second cop to come much closer, he figured that had probably been a good move.
Henri took in Scooter’s glossy lips and heavily made-up eyes. “Now why would I avoid you? How you been, Scooter?”
Scooter ran his eyes over Henri and then slicked his tongue over his lower lip. “I’ve been all right. But seeing you just made me better.”
Henri didn’t doubt it. He wondered when Scooter had last eaten a decent meal, and decided once they were done here, he’d take them down to the local diner and feed the guy. “You been staying out of trouble?”
“Have you?”
“What do you think?” Henri said, and Scooter chuckled.
“I don’t think you know how to stay out of trouble, sugar.”
Henri thought about Bailey, and the text he’d just gotten about meeting for dinner, and yeah, he was probably looking for a whole world of trouble there, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him—not anymore. “I think you might be right. Why don’t you come around here for a minute? I wanna talk to you.”
Scooter pushed back from the door and slinked his way around to the passenger side, and once he was in, Henri said, “Buckle up.”
“Buckle up? Are we going somewhere? I’ll charge you extra.”
Henri gave him the side-eye. “I’d expect nothing else. But you need to eat, and I don’t feel like being picked up for solicitation.”
Scooter rolled his eyes. “Whatever. But I’m not about to turn down a free meal.”
Henri didn’t think so, and as he drove off toward the end of the street, he said, “So, tell me. You still selling for extra cash these days?”
Scooter looked at him, his brown eyes skeptical. “Why?”
Smart man, Henri thought. Answer with a non-answer, just in case someone was recording you. Henri reached over, grabbed Scooter’s hand, and shoved it up under his shirt. Scooter sucked in a breath, and when Henri said, “No wire,” Scooter bit down on his lip.
“No, but a whole lotta muscle.” Henri arched an eyebrow and Scooter sighed. “You still didn’t answer my question. Why do you wanna know?”
Henri let go of his hand and turned onto the main street, where he merged with the oncoming traffic. “I’m thinking about doing a little side business of my own.”
“Selling? I didn’t think you were into that.”
“I’m into anything for the right amount of money,” Henri said, his lie all the more convincing because, once upon a time, it used to be the truth.
“I mean, I know a few people. I could probably hook you up.”
“Probably?” Henri made a turn at the next set of lights then looked at his passenger. “Probably doesn’t work for me, Scooter. I want in, and I don’t want to play some back-and-forth bullshit game with a middle man. That’s not my style. I want to know who I need to talk to. You know I’m good for it.”
Scooter fidgeted and then shrugged. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
Henri pulled into an open spot by the curb, and before Scooter could push the belt release, Henri reached across the car and hauled him in close by his crop tee. “See now, I think you’re lying.”
“I’m not,” Scooter said, wrapping his fingers around Henri’s wrist.
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth. I get my stuff from Ricky, and whoever he gets it from, I…I couldn’t tell you.”
“Ricky?” Henri said, loosening his grip but still not letting go. “This Ricky got a last name?”
Scooter shook his head. “Ricky G, that’s all I know. You can usually find him a couple blocks over from where you found me.”
“And you’ve never heard him say any other name? No one he’s in contact with?” Scooter frowned and dropped his gaze, and Henri leaned in close and said, “I’ll keep your name out of it, promise.”
Scooter raised his eyes, his indecision obvious.
“Look, I’ve never got you in trouble before, have I?”
