Chapter Six

"God bless the freaking weekend. Or at least what's left of it." Harper walked into his house and called out, "I'm home."

"We're in here," Luis answered.

In the kitchen, Luis and David were finishing dinner. "Hey, you two. How was your day?" He kissed David's cheek, pleased to see an almost empty plate in front of him.

"We had a great time. First we went to the library, then the park and had ice cream. Aqua therapy in the afternoon, and David did great. Theo said his muscles are holding up nicely."

"Better than my day." He stretched. "Let me go lock up my gun."

"You want some meatloaf? There's plenty left. I wasn't sure when you'd be home. I know Saturday overtime is a bitch."

"Sure. I'm starving." He ran upstairs, put away the gun, took off his shield, and returned to the kitchen. "You don't have to serve me."

"It's no biggie."

He sat and dove into the meal, not stopping until his plate was cleaned and he took another piece. "Delicious as usual. Beats the hell out of the crap I had for lunch." He took another bite, feeling the weight of Luis's stare. "Okay, what?"

"David and I went to the park today. We had ice cream."

His brow furrowed. "Yeah, you said. That sounds nice. David loves ice cream." He cast a fond glance to David, who licked his lips and smiled at him.

"We met a friend of yours."

Harper swallowed a sip of water and set the glass on the table. "A friend? Who? I don't have friends."

Lips twitching with suppressed laughter, Luis crossed his arms. "Colson Delacourt." Knowing brown eyes met his.

Harper forked another piece of meatloaf into his mouth. "He's not my friend. He's a victim of a crime."

"He mentioned his house had been broken into. Are you handling the case?"

Harper shrugged. "I was there when he walked in on the wreckage." At Luis's grin, he rushed to explain. "I was paying a visit to the lady across the street, and he was there. We walked out together."

"He's very nice."

"What was he doing at the park?"

"He was with his friend and two little kids. They were all getting ice cream, and we were behind them."

"David?" Harper reached over to touch his brother's shoulder.

"They were very kind."

He sighed. "Good to hear." You never knew with people. His job and past relationship had made him cynical in the worst way.

"He's very good-looking. I could see you two together."

"You need to up your fantasy life if you're thinking about me and other guys."

"I'm thinking about your life, period. Colson Delacourt is exactly the right kind of guy for you."

"Why?" he shot back. "Because he was nice to David while standing on line for ice cream? Please."

"No, because he engaged us in conversation and didn't treat David like he was invisible. So many people look right past him, or treat him like he doesn't exist, or as if he can't understand anything."

Harper's heart squeezed tight. "It's not right."

Luis's expression softened. "Of course it's not. But Colson Delacourt wasn't like that."

"And you can tell from one conversation, huh? From vanilla or chocolate?" Harper laughed. "Luis is funny, isn't he, buddy?"

David's head jerked in a nod.

"David liked him, didn't you?" Persistent bastard that he was, Luis pressed David. "The man with all the tattoos on his arms? He was nice."

David made a kissing sound.

"You're pushing, Luis," he warned.

"Nope. Just stating facts." Luis rose. "Now it's time to give David his bath and get ready for bed. He had a big day today."

Harper could see David was sleepy, and he leaned over to rub their cheeks together. "I'll be by to give you your good-night kiss in bed."

Luis bent to whisper as he walked by. "Colson's friend was trying to get him to go out tonight. Loosen up and meet someone. He might be at the O. In case you were thinking of going out to have a drink and relax."

"I wasn't."

"I'll be reading in my room after I put David to bed."

Harper drank some more water. "I have to shower."

Under the hot spray, he groaned, tense muscles releasing after a day at his desk, tracking down leads, then walking the streets talking to people. He was looking forward to his day off tomorrow and had no desire to do anything except lie in the backyard with a cold drink. He never touched alcohol when he was alone with David. In case of an emergency, he'd need all his wits.

But tonight…he hadn't planned to go out. He was tired and should use the time to catch up on sleep. He dried off and entered his bedroom. He could taste the burn of Scotch on his tongue, and maybe he could use a little mind-numbing conversation for an evening.

"Just one drink," he decided as he put on a blue shirt and black jeans.

David was in bed, and Luis was reading him a story. Harper waited until he finished and approached. He could tell David noticed his change of clothes. "I'll be back soon. Love you, kiddo."

After turning off the light, Luis followed him out. "Looking hot, Harper. Good for you. Go have some fun and get lucky."

"Yeah, sure. See you later." He knew his luck had run out years ago.

***

The night was balmy and sweet with the scent of all the flowers in bloom. He walked slowly, scanning the street and the people walking past him, unable to turn off his internal cop antennae. It worked in his favor as he walked into the O and spotted Colson Delacourt in a corner seat at the bar.

The bartender strolled over. "Hello. You're new and delicious."

Harper's smile was thin. "Johnnie Walker Black on ice."

"You got it."

He took his drink. "Start a tab, please." Harper made a beeline for Colson, who sat with head bowed over his bottle of beer. "I thought Boy Scouts don't drink."

Colson jumped and met his eyes. "What're you doing here?"

He put the glass to his lips. "Having a drink."

"But this place—"

"Is a gay bar. I'm aware." He slid into the seat next to Colson, who gazed at him.

"Oh. I—"

"Didn't know? Why would you?" Harper took another sip.

"I guess you're right. I like to think because I'm a writer, I'm observant and I can see things others can't." Colson finished his beer and signaled the bartender for another.

"Here you go, sweetie."

Now that he could stare, Harper took notice of the tattoos—all different kinds of birds and butterflies. He set his glass on the bar. "Any significance?"

Colson swallowed his beer. "To what?"

Harper reached out and traced one of the tats—a swallowtail butterfly. The bar was almost filled to capacity, yet he heard the sharp intake of Colson's breath. He liked that sound. He'd like to hear it with the man naked and under him.

Whoa. Slow your roll.

"The birds and butterflies. Why only them?" He continued to trace the edges of the tattoo on Colson's strong forearm, taking notice of the goose bumps.

"Because they're so free. They can simply fly away from any and all of their problems. Find a new home." His blue eyes were far, far away.

"Is that what you did?" At Colson's startled expression, he shrugged. "You mentioned your parents didn't approve of you. Did you up and leave everything behind?"

Colson's jaw hardened. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"You know, changing venues never makes your problems disappear. Life with all its miseries follows you wherever you go."

"How extremely deep and utterly depressing, Detective Rose. But coming from you, not surprising." An unexpected and totally charming smile curved Colson's lips, and lust punched Harper in the gut, leaving him trembling. He struggled to regain his balance.

"I can be funny," he grumbled. "I have a sense of humor. If I didn't in my job, I'd lose my mind." He finished his drink and raised his glass. "Another, please."

Sympathy creased Colson's brow. "You must've seen a lot of the ugly side of life."

"You don't know the half of it," he muttered, took the refilled glass, and drank most of it.

"Detective—"

"Harper. We're sitting in a bar, drinking together. I think you can call me by my first name."

"Harper. Are you okay?"

He laughed. "Are you concerned about me, Boy Scout? Don't be. I'm fine."

Colson's lips tightened. "I should've known not to feel sorry for you."

"I didn't ask for sympathy. I came here to get a drink after a busy day trying to hunt down some of your stolen goods along with other victims' property." And not having much luck. That was what had put him in a pissy mood. He hated thinking criminals had gotten the better of him.

"I already replaced my computer, and they're sending me new credit cards and my license." Harper noticed his white-knuckled grip on the bottle of beer. "All I care about is the picture of my grandparents. They can have the damn frame—I don't care. I just want the picture back." Tears rested on those thick, dark lashes, and Colson tossed out a few bills. "I gotta leave. Good-bye."

He took off, disappearing into the sea of men, and Harper waved to get the attention of the bartender to close out his tab. He added a tip and signed the receipt, then took off after Colson. When he finally made it outside, he spied him a block away. Harper easily caught up with him, but Colson stopped in his tracks, his face anything but friendly.

"What do you want?"

Harper gazed at him. "I don't know. You were upset and ran off. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

Colson hunched his shoulders. "It's not you." He began to walk again, and Harper followed, relieved that Colson didn't ask him to leave. "It's the picture."

"You said it's of your grandparents. You were close?"

"Yeah. Very."

They didn't speak again until they approached Willow Street.

"You're staying at your house? Not with your friends?"

Colson's smile was wry. "I love my friends, but they have two little kids, and one night was enough. They don't need me underfoot, and I'd prefer not to be."

Harper's stomach twisted in a knot. "You don't like children?" David might be an adult in years, but the responsibility was as all-encompassing as caring for a baby. He'd thought Colson Delacourt was different, especially after what Luis had said earlier.

"Funny enough, I love their innocent way of looking at things and the way they have no filter. They say the truth about what's on their mind. But they live in a two-bedroom, and I'd be on the couch. Seems silly when I have the big house."

"Makes sense."

They passed Millie Johnson's brownstone. "I got her the video camera this morning and set it up."

"Now she just has to remember to use it."

Colson laughed. "Exactly. I also put a new lock system on my door." At the foot of the stairs, they stopped. "I appreciate the walk home, but it wasn't necessary."

"Are you sure?" He raised a brow and met Colson's eyes. Desire, as dangerous as a live electrical wire, sparked between them, and when Colson didn't answer but mounted the steps, Harper decided to follow. Once inside, Colson dropped his keys on the table by the door.

"What—"

Harper dipped his head and settled his mouth over Colson's, cutting off his words. Every nerve ending sprang to life, and he wrapped an arm around Colson's waist, hauling him closer.

Colson shoved him to the wall and thrust his tongue past Harper's lips. Surprised but excited by the passionate response, he grunted as their teeth clashed and tongues battled. Though they were of similar height and weight, Colson had given him the impression of being much more passive.

Damn, was he wrong. And glad of it.

Colson's weight pressed him harder, while his mouth ravaged Harper's in a kiss that sucked all coherence from his brain, leaving him unable to think. Only feel.

And what he felt was the thick, heavy prod of Colson's dick against his, and he ground his hips into Colson's, all while hungrily sucking his tongue and biting his lips.

Colson flung his head back. "Fuck," he muttered, blue eyes glittering as Harper scraped his teeth along the strong cords of his neck.

"Oh God, yeah, that's gonna happen," Harper rasped before crushing their lips together again. Jesus Christ, he was an animal for this man.

Colson groaned, and they bucked and humped each other. Colson's tongue, slick and wet in his mouth, blew Harper's self-control apart, and his toes curled. This wasn't what he'd expected from the paradox known as Colson Delacourt. Tattooed, gruesome-murder author. Apple-pie baker, helper of sweet old ladies. Greedy tongue sucker, whose kisses stole the breath from Harper's lungs. For fuck's sake, he didn't even like kissing all that much, but he couldn't keep his lips from mauling Colson's.

They stood together, foreheads touching, chests heaving, Harper a hair trigger away from exploding. He gathered what was left of his brain.

"Aren't you a surprise?" Harper murmured, trailing kisses along Colson's jaw and sucking his earlobe. Colson shivered, and Harper tightened his hold on him. "Cold?"

Colson stepped away from him, ignoring the question. "You think I'm a surprise? Seriously?" He folded his arms, and Harper wanted to know how much more ink covered his body. And where. "First you treat me like a criminal—"

"Justifiably, I might add." He smirked. "If you're going to talk in a public place about murdering your neighbor, you better expect the consequences. Plus, you were ruled out pretty quickly."

"Only to become a victim." Colson touched his lips, and Harper's tongue moistened his own. They felt swollen and puffy, and if they looked anything like Colson's, he'd need to fix that. Fast. Luis would never let him live it down. Hopefully he'd be asleep by the time Harper returned home.

Colson had a funny expression on his face.

"What?" Harper asked.

"Is this something you do often?"

"What? Kiss men? News flash. I'm gay. I've kissed men before."

Colson's blue eyes darkened to stormy midnight, and Harper grinned to himself. He enjoyed riling the man up. "Yeah, I'm sure you're hot stuff. I mean, have you done this with other gay male victims?"

Disbelief trickled through Harper. "Excuse me?" He took a step toward Colson. "Are you accusing me of using my position to have sex with crime victims?"

Colson's eyes bore into his. "Have you?"

Harper turned around, opened the door, and walked away. It was the best thing to do, otherwise he might've punched Colson in that pretty face of his. By the time he arrived home, he'd cooled off, and after washing his face and putting on a pair of athletic shorts, he peeked into David's room.

Luis was wrong. So was Nolan. This was all he needed.