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But no, he needed to stay the course here, and Sean needed to answer him.
Bailey schooled his features, refusing to be intimidated. “I asked you if you’ve been drinking this morning.”
“What kind of fucking question is that?”
“Based on how you look? Not a strange one.” Bailey shifted in his seat and leaned across the table. “I know you’ve been under a lot of stress the past couple of months, with work and these cases, and I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Kieran cornered me at the last dinner, and he’s worried too.”
“Oh, gimme a break. Kieran’s too busy slipping in and out of every Chicago socialite’s bed since he was crowned hottest fireman to notice anyone, unless she has legs up to her armpits and hair down past her ass.”
Yeah, that was true, but at least Kieran was staying out of trouble and having fun doing it. Bailey often envied Kieran, the youngest of the three of them. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, and seemed happier for it. So who were they to judge?
“We’re not talking about Kieran,” Bailey said. “We’re talking about you. And you still haven’t answered me.”
“Because I find your question fucking offensive.”
“Because you’ve been drinking?”
“Because it’s none of your damn business.” Sean’s tone was so frosty that Bailey was shocked icicles hadn’t formed on the table between them. After an epic stare-off, Bailey shrugged.
“Okay. Then we’ll eat and I’ll leave you to it.”
“What? You’re not going to help me?”
Bailey reached for his orange juice, took a sip, and then placed it back on the table. “Not if you won’t answer my question.”
Sean glared at him, and Bailey knew he was grinding his back teeth together.
“A yes or no is all I need here, Sean. It’s that simple.” But they both knew better, especially if that answer was yes.
Saved by Dawn for the second time, Sean slumped back in the booth as she placed their breakfast down in front of them. But it wasn’t until after she’d walked off and Bailey had added ketchup to his meal that Sean finally spoke up.
“I had a couple glasses of scotch before I came over to meet you this morning, okay? Nothing crazy, no all-night bender. I was just going over the first case file again early this morning and grabbed what was handy.”
Bailey schooled his features as what Sean was telling him sank in. As he searched his brother’s face for any sign that he understood how messed up it was to reach for a bottle of scotch first thing in the morning, all he saw was defiance.
“What?” Sean said when Bailey remained silent, and then Bailey picked up his utensils and piled some eggs onto his fork.
“You know that’s not normal, right?”
“Okay, Mom. It’s not like I do it every morning.”
“No, just the ones where you’re overworked, tired, stressed— Oh, wait, that is every morning.” Bailey shook his head. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”
“I’m not doing anything to my fucking self. I’m trying to solve a goddamn murder. Three murders, actually—which, by the way, would be a lot easier to do if you weren’t fucking my CI and distracting him. I was trying to get in contact with him all day yesterday.”
Bailey wasn’t nearly done with the drinking topic, but he was well aware that his brother had moved on and there’d be no going back now. The way he saw it, he could do one of two things. He could spend the rest of the breakfast dodging questions about Henri, and arguing in circles with Sean about a problem he would rather die than admit to having, or he could nip this particular topic in the bud once and for all.
Bailey shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth and was happy to note Sean was doing the same.
“Up until yesterday I didn’t even know you two knew each other. So it’s hardly my fault he’s avoiding you. Maybe if you were nicer to him—”
“Nicer?” Sean scoffed. “It’s not like we’re dating. I treat him the same way I treat anyone I pick up for breaking the law. We just happened to work out an arrangement to keep his transgression off his record.”
Bailey took another sip of his juice and then nodded. “Yeah, solicitation. He told me. So you actually caught him asking and paying for sex?”
Sean’s eyebrow arched. “Oh, lemme guess. When you two had a little heart-to-heart yesterday he swore black and blue that he wasn’t paying a hooker when I found him down in the warehouse district.”
“No,” Bailey said. “He told me you caught him paying a hooker…just not for sex.”
Sean rolled his eyes. “And you believe him? Really, Bay?”
“As someone who’s slept with him on more than one occasion, yes, I do.” The satisfaction he got from Sean’s slack jaw had him adding, “That man would never have to pay for sex, and I think you know that.”
