Chapter Fourteen

Days later, he couldn't stop thinking about that night. They'd gone home after dinner and hadn't even made it upstairs before he'd gotten Colson naked and riding his dick on the living-room couch. After, he'd sucked Colson off and spent another hour licking every patch of skin, inhaling his scent, imprinting the taste of him on his tongue to last him until the next time they met.

They'd finally made it upstairs and fallen asleep. He'd awoken with a start and gotten dressed, then stood by the bed, watching Colson sleep. For the first time, he regretted having to leave.

And so that afternoon, he'd done the unthinkable.

"Could you work late and give David dinner?"

A wide smile broke over Luis's face. "No problem, man. It's a beautiful night. We'll take a little drive and come home and watch the Mets."

He hated making Luis work overtime—he gave them so much already—but the need to see Colson was like a fever in his blood. He and Nolan had made some headway on their cases, and a few of their perps had gotten stiff sentences, so Harper counted it as a win and wanted to celebrate.

He took a chance and picked up a bottle of wine, some sushi for Colson, and teriyaki for himself. It didn't occur to him to text ahead of time and he cursed his stupidity when he rang the bell and no one answered.

He set the bag on the stoop and texted.

Hungry? Open the door.

Too late he remembered Colson's warning that he didn't pay attention to his phone while writing.

"Dumbass idea," he grumbled and picked up the food. He could always make the excuse to Luis that they knocked off early. Halfway down the steps, the door opened.

"Harper?"

He stopped and turned around. "In the flesh."

"What're you doing here?" Barefoot and looking as if he'd been up all night, Colson stood in the doorway. His hair was messy, he was unshaven and dressed in a white T-shirt and boxers.

And desirable as fuck.

"I brought you dinner."

Colson rubbed his face. "Dinner? What time is it?"

Harper grinned as he retraced his steps. "After six." He leaned in and kissed Colson under his ear. Colson's breath hitched. "You'd better eat first. You're going to need your strength for what I've got planned." The silky flutter of Colson's lashes teased his cheek, and he continued to press kisses to his face.

"If you keep doing that, I can't be responsible for what happens," Colson murmured but leaned in closer, and a very hard, thick dick pressed against Harper's belly. "But I'll give you a hint. It would definitely get us arrested if we continue in public."

Harper pulled him inside. "Don't worry. I have an in."

The door slammed behind them.

***

"I don't know about you, but I'm ready for the weekend." Nolan flicked on his computer and took a long swig of his coffee.

"You know it."

Guilty over not giving David the attention he was used to and having Luis put in too much overtime, Harper had stayed home the rest of the week. Colson had texted him a few times, and though he longed to get together, Harper had declined, claiming work had piled up.

You let me know.

But Harper didn't. He went silent, figuring it was for the best. He shouldn't want what he couldn't have, so it was better to end it now, before that ache in his chest grew any stronger and he did something stupid, like fall for Colson.

Several days passed without Colson texting. Harper figured he must've grown tired of the excuses and moved on. That put him in a lousy mood, and he buried himself in his work to try and forget the sexy Colson Delacourt.

"Let's get to it," Harper said. "Bad guys are having a party at our expense. New gang, old story. I thought our leads would pan out. I'm pissed."

"Same. They never learn, do they?" Nolan read the reports. "Punching people for their phones and purses, pushing them over while they get their keys out to open their front doors…man. Sometimes I wonder." Nolan stared out into the distance, and Harper set his cup on the desk.

"Wonder what?" Unease settled in his chest.

Nolan glanced around, then wheeled his chair over to Harper's desk. "Have you ever thought of hanging it up when you hit your twenty years?"

A chill ran through him. Nolan was forty-five, ten years older than him. "Are you? You've only been a detective for four years."

Nolan's mouth drooped. "Ay, there's the rub."

He chuckled. "You're quoting Shakespeare in the squad room. I bet that's a first. His smile faded. "You really want to leave?"

"Every once in a while I think about it, but I love the job. Just sometimes all the shit gets me down. I think, why bother? Then it's like, oh, because these assholes think they're smarter than us. And it makes me want to collar every last one of them."

Relieved, Harper laughed. "Yeah. I get it. But nothing gives me more pleasure than slapping the cuffs on them. Except seeing them go away for eight to twenty-five."

It was Nolan's turn to laugh. "Now that's a problem if collaring bad guys is your only pleasure." He eyed Harper, who braced himself, knowing what was coming. "Are you sure you're not interested in one of Gina's friends? She knows a guy—"

Alarmed, Harper cut him off. "No, it's fine. I'm not interested."

"Why?"

"I'm just…not." Avoiding Nolan's penetrating gaze, he clicked to bring up the case files. "We have three witnesses to interview and surveillance video to watch. You want to handle it together or split it up?"

"Together." Nolan knocked his foot. "You're not going to dump hours of staring at videos on me. Nice try."

Smirking, Harper drank his coffee.

***

At six, he powered down the computer, just as his cell phone rang. Seeing it was Luis, his heart pounded.

"Harper?"

"Yeah, what's wrong? Is David okay?"

"Chill out. He's fine. In a great mood, in fact. One of the therapists brought pizza, so he's already eaten dinner."

His panic attack averted, Harper blew out a breath and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "Oh, great. Thanks for telling me. It's been a long day."

"Just letting you know, in case you wanted to make plans, you don't have to rush home."

"Thanks." His desk phone rang. "I've got a call. I've got to go."

"Take as long as you want. I'm not going anywhere."

God help him if Luis ever did.

He set his phone on the desk and answered the call. "Detective Rose."

"Hello, Detective. This is Millie Johnson. Do you remember me?"

He smiled into the receiver. "Of course. How are you? Is everything okay?"

"Are you finished for the day?"

"I was about to go home, yes."

It was a struggle not to text Colson, and an ache formed in his chest, knowing it was for the best, but the bleak loneliness waiting for him at home was almost too much to bear.

"I was wondering if you could come over."

"Is something wrong?"

"I'm not sure, but I came home from the bank, and something didn't feel right." Her voice lowered. "I think I was watched."

He stood and stuffed his phone, keys, and wallet into his pockets. "I'll be right over. Do not let anyone inside. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I hope it's nothing."

"Me too," he said grimly.

The streets were crowded—Thursday summer nights tended to start the weekend—and Harper threaded his way around people. He reached Millie's house and saw her peeking through the lace curtains. She beamed when she saw him on the steps.

"Thank you for coming so quickly." She peered over his shoulder, then closed the door behind him. "Come into the kitchen. It's very cozy in there."

He followed her and sat at the island. A plate of cookies was set in the middle with a vase of fresh roses. It reminded him of his mother—she'd loved baking, and after school or baseball practice, she'd always have something freshly made, either cookies or brownies. Enough for all his friends. Grief threatened to overtake him—the last time he'd had the team over, David had pestered him, and he'd begged his mother to get rid of the brat.

If only…

"Why don't you tell me what happened?" His voice was tight and scratchy.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

"No, I'm fine." From his past encounters with her, Harper knew he'd need to finesse his questioning, as Millie liked to go off on tangents. "Now, about what you told me on the phone? You think you were followed?"

"Yes. I took out money, like I do every week, and came home. I had a feeling…like someone was following me. I would stop occasionally and look around." She lowered her voice as if someone was eavesdropping. "It was creepy."

"And? Did you see anything? Anyone?"

"Well…yes. There were a lot of people on the street coming home from work."

He bit back his frustration and placed a smile on his face. "So why do you think you were being followed?"

She met his gaze. "I've always been told I have very good senses."

"I'm sure you do, but it's hard to investigate on just your senses. I will look around outside, if you don't mind, to see if I can find anything to indicate someone was on your property." The sun hadn't set yet, so he should be able to see any footprints or other evidence of trespass.

"Thank you. I appreciate it." She opened the kitchen door, which led to the yard. "You can get to the garden this way."

He put on his nitrile gloves and began a thorough inspection of the deck. Nothing. He checked each step and took photos of the footprints, and at the bottom of the steps, in the shadow of an evergreen, he picked up a cigarette butt. Millie had been watching him, her head peeking out the window. He held it up.

"I know this doesn't belong to you."

"Definitely not."

He slid it into an evidence bag he pulled from his suit jacket pocket. "I'll take it and have forensics run it. Do you have gardeners?"

"Well, yes, but I've told them constantly there is no smoking. It's bad for my roses."

There went that theory. He'd bet his shield it was a gardener.

After twenty minutes of eyeballing grass and finding nothing, he gave up.

"I'm happy to report I don't see anything."

"Oh, that's good. I'm glad. Now please come inside."

"Well, I need to check the front."

"Oh. You can't get to it from the garden."

He traipsed up the steps of the deck, through the house, and out the front door. Like he did in the backyard, Harper searched through the bushes.

"Hey, what're you doing?" a familiar voice shouted. "I'm gonna call the cops."

Harper straightened up and faced Colson, who stood on the sidewalk at the base of the staircase to Millie's house. At his side was a big, good-looking, blond man. Harper crossed his arms and leaned against the brownstone's balustrade. Well, now. Was Colson on a date?

"Excuse me?" He smirked. "I think it's okay, don't you?"

Colson flushed. "Oh, hi."

"Oh, hi," he repeated and waited. Colson obviously felt uncomfortable, but Harper didn't understand why. They weren't a couple and had made no promises. Still, Blondie needed to put a little space between himself and Colson. He was practically on top of him.

"Th-this is Danny. Danny, this is Harper."

"Detective Rose," he corrected. "I'm here at Ms. Johnson's request."

"I see. We won't keep you, then."

Danny-boy smiled at him. "Nice to meet you."

The pleasure was all Danny's.

He watched them walk across the street and up the steps to Colson's town house. His jaw tightened. He and Colson might not be dating, but that didn't mean he liked knowing Colson was going to have sex with someone. Danny-boy had that gleam in his eyes, and who could blame him? Colson was hot as fuck in his button-down with the sleeves rolled up, showing off those tats and sexy, strong forearms. His faded jeans looked painted on to his thick thighs and fabulous ass.

"Detective?" Millie's voice pierced through his haze of angry lust.

"What? I'm sorry. I don't seem to have found anything out of the ordinary."

"Come back into the house, please."

Colson had found someone else. It was what Harper had wanted…wasn't it? He'd made it clear there was nothing between them but sex, so seeing Colson with another man, someone who could give him all the time and attention he deserved, shouldn't hurt. He shouldn't want to punch the guy in the nose and tell him to get away from Colson. That he was with Harper.

God, I'm so fucked.

Harper needed to leave. Or throw up. He should take a long walk to release the tight knot of misery in the pit of his stomach. Instead, he walked up the stairs and into the kitchen, where Millie gave him a cup of tea and pushed cookies in front of him.

"I wouldn't worry about Colson and that man."

He choked on the tea. "I'm sorry, what?"

Her eyes twinkled. "I may be old, but I still have eyes. And the first time you were here with Colson, you couldn't take yours off him." Her kind face glowed.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm sure you do, but I'll respect your wishes if you can't talk about it. I'm assuming you once had a bad relationship, but you can't let it keep you from opening yourself up again."

It was definitely time to leave, but he couldn't do what he wanted, which was bolt out the door and start running. Because Harper knew, with the first step taken, he wouldn't be able to stop. Over the years, he'd learned the one thing he couldn't run from was his life.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Johnson, but you really are wrong. Mr. Delacourt and I are…I mean, we aren't…" He sighed. "There isn't anything to say." He'd obviously lost his ability to speak and form sentences.

"That's unfortunate."

A laugh escaped him. "And why's that? I'm perfectly fine as I am."

"I know you think I'm an old lady who says and does silly things." She became serious. "When I was young, I danced with a world-famous ballet company in Europe and lived a dream life. All the doors were open to me, and I mingled with royalty, as well as artists and designers. I had my own money and wasn't beholden to anyone. I picked my lovers and did whatever I wanted. I thought it would last forever."

Fascinated, Harper asked, "What happened?"

"Life, dear boy." She gazed at her swollen hands. "I grew older, and they replaced me. Once I was no longer onstage, memories of my accomplishments faded, and so did I. People moved on and stopped inviting me. I was left alone, with my pictures and faded dresses and dreams."

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head, and her expression turned surprisingly fierce. "You're young, and I hate thinking of you alone."

"I'm not alone." Now that the first words had been spoken, he couldn't stem the flow. "I have a brother. He's brain-damaged and wheelchair-bound, and he lives with me." Millie's evident shock was nothing compared to his own and the knowledge that he was revealing this most intimate part of his life to someone he barely knew. And yet Harper couldn't help feeling it was the right thing to do. "He's been like that since a bus accident when he was five. David's twenty-five now. I have someone who cares for him when I'm not there." His chest heaved as if he'd run a marathon.

"Oh, Detective. I'm so sorry." Millie looked truly stricken. "Your brother is a very lucky man to have someone so caring. And you keep him at home with you? You've never considered having him live in a specialized facility?"

"Never," he responded, swift and firm. "He's my brother. I promised to always take care of him."

"Promised who?"

"My mother." He blinked as if he'd woken from a fog. "I have to go. I'm sorry. I'll get that cigarette butt to the lab and let you know if we find anything."

To his relief, this time Millie didn't insist he stay. As much as he liked her, Harper didn't think he could face her again. She was a sweet lady, but if she called, he'd make sure Nolan handled it. Her suggestion that he and Colson could have a relationship…Millie's own loneliness had precipitated that remark. The wishes of a lonely lady trying to live vicariously through him.

But he knew better. Colson might say he was a homebody, but he would want a life that included dining out and travel. Events and parties. Things couples did. Things Harper couldn't do on the regular.

Passing by Colson's house, he gazed up and saw the light was on in the bedroom. Were they in there together? Naked and touching each other? Kissing?

His ragged breath roared in his ears, and his hands balled into fists. Harper had a vision of going in, pulling that jerk off Colson, and kicking him out of the house.

Then the bedroom went dark, and Harper stood there, ugly thoughts swirling in his mind, his emotions battering and bruising him from the inside of his heart. He put his head down, and unwilling to think about what might be going on between Colson and his date, he walked away.

He strode the length of the Promenade and back, wrestling with the devil on his shoulder. It was eight o'clock, and he needed to get home to David and say good night. The love of his brother was the only thing Harper needed. Everyone else could go to hell. But that didn't stop him from walking past Colson's house on his way home. No lights were on. He kept on moving.