“Yeah, okay. I can set that up.”
Glad to fuckin’ hear it, Henri thought as he handed over the money in exchange for the small bags of white stuff.
“One week,” Ricky reiterated as though he was the one calling the shots here. “I’ll call you. We’ll meet.”
“One week.”
Oh, how Detective Dick is going to loooove me tonight. Well, at least hate me a little less than usual.
And with that thought in mind, Henri made his way back to the car, turned the key, and called up the first of the Bailey brothers he had plans with. Because once he got that part over and done with, he planned to go and reward himself for a job well done with the other Bailey for forty-eight hours straight.
Chapter Eight
CONFESSION
Don’t blink—or your life might change before your eyes.
IT WAS CALM out on the streets tonight, something Bailey appreciated as he cruised down Barnes Road and scanned the cars ahead of him. He was nearly five hours into his shift, and as the time inched closer to one in the morning, he had to admit he was eyeing the clock in the hopes that it would speed up.
Ever since he’d gotten off the phone with Henri, he’d been replaying their conversation over and over again to the point that it was becoming ridiculous. It seemed he had a one-track mind lately, one that always led him back to the man with the dark hair, smoldering eyes, and a voice that made Bailey’s entire body feel like a live wire.
Henri had sparked something that Bailey hadn’t felt in years, and when he found himself, yet again, grinning like a moron over their upcoming date—or, dates—Bailey was thankful that at his precinct they rode alone when out on patrol, unless training.
The last thing he needed was to be caught all hearts in his eyes by his workmates. He’d never hear the end of it. But while he was by himself and no one was looking, Bailey saw no harm in enjoying the fact that he was one hundred percent, without a doubt, falling for Henri Boudreaux.
His charm. His arrogance. His sex appeal. Henri attracted Bailey in ways that he’d never expected to find appealing, but that wasn’t all there was to him. Sure, they were the things that you first noticed, because how could you not? But once you got past the smirk, the piercings, the leather, and the attitude, there was so much more beneath the surface.
There was a vulnerability to Henri that called to Bailey. A longing for connection that he understood and wanted to give. A yearning for someone to listen and understand, and love Henri despite whatever was uncovered.
Yes, they were both still new to this relationship. But the fact that Henri wasn’t running, and was sharing more and more of himself every time they saw one another, made Bailey feel like they really stood a chance. That this, what they were building, could possibly stand the test of time.
With his mood at an all-time high, Bailey decided the only thing that could possibly make it better was some Milk Duds to munch on for the rest of the night. Something sweet and sugary to get him through the last few hours, until he could go home, grab a quick few hours of shuteye, and then get ready to see Henri.
Spotting a twenty-four-hour Quick Mart up on the next corner, Bailey pulled his cruiser into the lot and parked up front. There was a silver SUV over at one of the gas pumps and another car parked off to the side—the clerk’s, Bailey was guessing. But other than that, everything was nice and quiet.
Bailey got out and locked up before heading inside, and as he pulled the door open and a bell jangled overhead, he headed directly toward the candy aisle, his mission clear. As he walked by the different M&M’s, chocolate bars, and gummies, he spotted the boxed-up candy and came to a stop in front of it.
Mike & Ike. Razzles. Whoppers and Sour Patch Kids. Bailey frowned and walked back down the aisle. You’ve got to be kidding me.
They had everything but… “Excuse me. Sorry. But am I missing the Milk Duds?”
As the question left his mouth, Bailey turned toward the counter, and when his eyes locked on to where the cash register sat, he froze.
There, standing behind the counter, were two men. One whose eyes were wide with fear as he cowered in the corner with his back pressed up against the rows of cigarettes. The other stood in front of an open register. He had one hand in the drawer and the other wrapped around a black 9mm Smith & Wesson.
Bailey’s mind switched gears in an instant, as a shot of adrenaline hit his bloodstream and all his senses went on high alert.