PRIVATE

EYE

Rafe and Jeremy

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PRIVATE EYE by S.E. Culpepper

Copyright 2011 S.E. Culpepper

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

For my husband, Chris, who never gives up on me and my dreams. Thanks for letting me

research the gay soap opera clips from all over the world and not minding too much that it took

away from time with you. I love you.

And to my family…the most awesome of people.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Of course as an author I use creative license while writing, but I wanted this book to come

across as an authentic love story, not simply a novel about a gay couple. I’d like to thank those

who read the manuscript in full or in bits and pieces and gave me honest feedback.

SIX WEEKS AGO

The sound of the shower cutting off woke Rafe like a slap to the face and as he squinted

against the light shining between the curtains, every stupid decision of the night before came
rushing back. A chorus line of idiocy hitting all the screeching high notes, starting with his
buddy Jack Daniels and ending with his ex-boyfriend, Mark Newland. What had he been
thinking?

His brain hadn’t been involved. Obviously.
Rafe hated to be an asshole but he had to get out of there, preferably while Mark was busy in

the bathroom. He rolled over, nearly groaning when his head took a few seconds to catch up with
the rest of him. His tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth and his neck and head ached so
badly he felt like he’d been in a sleeper hold. Shit…maybe he had.

It was too much to hope that waking up in a bed not his own meant he’d only passed out, but

he was naked and there was a very hazy memory of some wall-slam kissing… He pushed aside
the sheets with disgust and found—surprise!—a condom. He groaned for real this time.

Brian as his best friend should have put a stop to this madness! He had some serious

explaining to do. There had to be a damn good explanation why he let Rafe wander off and make
a huge mistake out of the smaller mistake he’d only recently gotten over. But, come to think of
it, Rafe was alone when the Jack Daniels really started working its magic. Brian had already left
by then.

Oh, god. He had no one to blame but himself.
Moving as quickly as he was able, he shuffled around the room, pulling on his jeans and shirt

as he found them. He was digging for a shoe under the dresser when the bathroom door opened.
His eyes closed in defeat. Too late. There was no getting out without a scene now.

“Running off without a shower, then?” Mark asked, his tone not quite hurt and not quite

surprised. Thank god Rafe couldn’t get the guy pregnant; he’d be trapped in a relationship
without a doubt.

“I’ve got a lot of stuff going on today,” he finally spoke up, his voice sounding like he’d been

sucking on diesel exhaust all night. His breath could probably knock someone unconscious too.
“Work doesn’t stop just because…of this.” He waved between them.

Rafe finally got his hands around his shoe and sat back on his heels, refusing to look at his

ex.

“And what was this?” Mark growled, crossing the room and crouching in front of him, his

towel doing little to cover the strong muscles of his legs.

Rafe wrestled his shoes on and shook his head in disbelief. “This was a mistake, Mark. You

know it.”

“You’re such an asshole,” he snapped back and grabbed Rafe by the chin, jerking his face

around so quickly he winced. “Everything was fine last night. You were into it. Now you act like
I dragged you here against your will.”

Rafe thrust Mark’s hand away and pushed to his feet in a move that had his brain doing a

can-can dance to keep up. “It never should’ve happened. You know if I hadn’t been trashed that I
wouldn’t have come home with you. I’ve never tried to lead you on. When I said it was over a

year ago, I meant it. This never should’ve happened.”

“Well it did, Rafe. You slept with your ex, who also happens to be the man you claimed to

love once upon a time. Why can’t you admit that we’re together right now because there’s
maybe something between us? Still.”

Yeah. Like bitterness.
“Mark,” Rafe thrust his hands out, cutting him off. “You were my boyfriend because I cared

about you, but we were not good together. You know this. We wanted different things and we
would’ve been miserable if we stayed together. I was never right for you, never ready to settle
down like you.”

“That’s what you said then, but now…we’re here. Together again. What if that means

something—like maybe you’re ready to be with me now? It’s not as though you’ve been out in
the scene, Rafe. I know you. You don’t skip around from one trick to the next. I haven’t heard
about you pulling tricks every night.”

Rafe’s shoulders sagged and he wanted to choke himself out for being dumb enough to end

up in this situation, explaining yet again that he couldn’t be with Mark. No matter how bad the
day, it was no excuse to get so blasted he’d throw himself into the same situation it took him so
long to get out of the first time around. He never cared about Mark the way he really should
have, and yeah, he probably stuck around too long in the first place because he didn’t want to
hurt him and it was easier to pretend their sex life translated to something deeper. But he
couldn’t get dragged into it again. No way.

“Listen,” he sighed and Mark crossed the room to stand in front of him again, his expression

telling Rafe how much he was hoping this was their big reunion, the rebirth of their long-term
relationship.

“Wait Rafe. Before you get all preachy on me. Don’t you ever think about how it was? I

know you felt pressured and that’s my fault, I totally admit it, but it’s not true when you say we
didn’t have something good. We’ve had a lot of really great times together.” Mark was earnest as
he looked up into his eyes, his voice soft and seductive. “Remember the lake? The trips? The
time we went to California?”

The reminders didn’t do anything for Mark’s cause. He really believed what he was saying

was reason enough to dive back in, which was exactly the kick Rafe needed to put a stop to it
before it got out of hand.

“Last night shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry it did because it’s dredging the past up all

over again. You need to find a guy who can give you what you need. That guy is not me. We’ve
had a lot of fun, yes, but nostalgia isn’t going to make us work. I’m sorry.”

Mark bit down hard on his bottom lip and backed away. “Get out of my house, then. I get it

now. You’ve turned into a using prick.”

“Don’t pull that shit. Who used who in this situation, Mark? You saw the state I was in. You

took advantage of it hoping that we’d end up a couple again, but this isn’t some independent gay
film where all the loose ends are tied up because I was too plastered to think clearly and you
were there to pick me up on the downhill.”

“I told you to leave.”
“Mark. Stop it. We can be adults about this.” Rafe watched as his ex flexed his jaw, his arms

clenched across his chest like he was holding himself together.

His conscience smote him with the reminder of how he’d been about to sneak out like a

coward and do the walk of shame right on home. Not exactly the mature thing to do. He really
didn’t want things to end like this, and not only because he’d be running into Mark in the future.

He hated getting the guy’s hopes up, even if it wasn’t completely his fault.

“Come here.”
Mark’s head snapped around and his lips twisted in a pain-filled scowl for half a second

before a choked breath escaped him. “Forget it.”

“Come here,” he held his arms open until Mark finally gave in and moved into his embrace.

He rested his hands on Rafe’s waist and gave another shuddering breath. “I really am sorry,”
Rafe whispered. “You know you’re better off without me…”

Mark kept quiet, his thumbs moving gently over Rafe’s sides. Even that small amount of

contact proved Rafe’s body was a complete traitor. The light brushes made him want to forget
the serious stuff and fall back on the mattress, in spite of his raging hangover.

He let himself be held for a few moments longer and after one last squeeze, he moved away,

grabbing his jacket and leaving the bedroom. He moved quickly through the house they used to
share together and let himself out. That was right about the time he remembered Mark had driven
the night before and his own truck was a long walk away.

Awesome. He was supposed to get downtown to talk to some cop about an investigation in

an hour. He’d be lucky if he wasn’t still sweating Jack and Coke by then, much less make it on
time. He was about to call a cab on his cell when the door opened behind him and Mark came
out, pulling a t-shirt on over his head. Rafe actually had to drag his eyes away from the
spectacular set of abs before he was caught watching.

“I’ll take you back to your truck,” Mark said quietly. “Let’s go.”
“Thanks,” Rafe murmured.
“Do me one favor?” he asked, half turning towards him with his eyes trained on the ground.

Rafe waited. “Don’t talk to me for a while.” He lifted his face and their stares met.

Dammit, Rafe had really screwed things up this time. He only nodded back as Mark put

another few steps between them. “Get in the car then.”

CHAPTER ONE

“You’ll be thirty-four years old soon. You need to stop wasting time, that’s all I’m saying.

No need to shut me out like I don’t make any sense.”

Rafe didn’t fight the urge to roll his eyes and his mother noticed, shifting into full-on denial

mode, her default setting. “I’m thirty-four in six months, mom, and I’m not wasting time. You
and dad are the ones giving me everything but the old heave-ho. Don’t try turning that around on
me,” he grumbled.

He was used to this, his monthly argument with the ‘rents. Actually, it was more like his

mom’s monthly bitch-fest and his dad’s monthly silent treatment. Really made a guy feel
welcomed and loved. Neither of them could believe, much less accept, that their son might be
doing something so scandalous as liking men. Gasp.

His parents were the poster children of stalwart Catholicism. Nowadays, Rafe had to

practically recite the Rosary on the doorstep just to get into their house. Gay wasn’t really a
medium they could work with, whether it meant “happy” or “queer.” The only thing that could
be worse than their son insisting he’d never be with another woman would be if he suddenly
confessed to tossing babies off a cliff every third Tuesday of the month. They’d probably light
him on fire.

Hence his mother’s delusions that he only needed to find the right girl, and his father’s cold

shoulder until that girl showed up with him some Sunday, preferably with ready-made
grandchildren. To them, his being gay wasn’t even a phase, it was a flu-bug, an itchy rash that he
shouldn’t even consider scratching; only he’d had this particular rash going on thirteen years.
What a rebel.

“You are wasting time, Rafe. Do I need to list the ways?” she asked, and dove in like he

could use a reminder of their many disappointments. “You went to school for a degree in
communications; we were so happy for you. And what do you do then? You become some kind
of thug street detective. You could be killed sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. You’re
not married. You have no children.”

“None that I’ve told you about,” he mumbled under his breath. And come on? A thug?

Really? That was just being nasty.

“Thirty-four years old,” she tsked.
Rafe sighed and considered throwing himself through the kitchen window to make a run for

it. “I’m not having this conversation again, mom. It’s a waste of time. I don’t want a reminder
about how I’ve failed you, or a rundown of your expectations. You can even do me a favor and
stop with the blind dates unless there’s a tall blond guy going to mass—”

“That’s enough!” she snapped. “You will not disrespect me like this in my home. I have tried

to be patient with you, Rafe, I really have, but you never think of what your lifestyle does to your
father and me.”

“Bullshit,” Rafe growled, throwing the dishtowel he’d been using to dry dishes onto the

counter. “You don’t know a damn thing about my lifestyle because I’ve never forced you to
accept it. Obviously.”

His mother jumped and did a few reps of crossing herself. “If you can’t control your tongue,

you will leave. I won’t have this.” She smoothed the fabric of her skirt and then thrust a dessert

plate into his hands. “Take this to your father. Our conversation is over.”

Rafe could think of several more creative ways to end the conversation, but he bit back

everything he wanted to say and left the room. Whatever. Same old drama and he only had to
deal with it once a month.

Back when he’d first come out, he’d tried to bridge the gap and keep their relationship going,

but after being rejected dozens of times, he threw in the towel and decided to make himself
scarce. Thank god he had Brian’s family, The Hatchett’s, who welcomed him with open arms
and made up for a wealth of the crap his parents dumped on him.

Rafe had seriously dated three guys and not so seriously seen a few more, but he’d never

once been able to bring a boyfriend home to his own parents. He took them to the Hatchett’s if
the relationship progressed far enough. No, until the day he came to his folks and begged
forgiveness for “lying” about wanting men, his parents would be happier with his absence.

Today was actually the first time his mom had brought up a blind date in a long time, but he

was well past the point of humoring her. He could tell his father heard some part of their
argument based on the ramrod-straight posture while he sat in his ugly green recliner, his body
practically vibrating with pent-up rage.

“Dessert’s ready, dad, and I’m going so it oughta go down smooth.” He grabbed his keys off

the coffee table and headed toward the door. “I’ll give you guys a call later this week,” he said,
not even turning back to see if his dad heard. With his temper so close to the surface, it was
better for everybody if Rafe got the hell out of there. It was still early, besides. He could grab a
beer and unwind.

He tried not to let it get to him when his dad didn’t speak up and his mom didn’t come out of

the kitchen to see him off. It was times like these he remembered the days they talked to him and
showed a little interest. Now he was an embarrassment and the thing was, he was unwilling to
work for their affection like a dog—to change one part of his behavior and be welcomed back
into the fold. No way. He wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life miserable, married to some
woman he couldn’t love, simply to make his parents smile at him again. Screw that.

Rafe unlocked the door of his truck and climbed inside. His foot was itching to slam down on

the gas pedal and get him out of the neighborhood as fast as possible, but he kept himself under
control. It wouldn’t solve anything to shorten the life of his tires.

Right as he was shifting into gear, his cell phone warbled its ring for an unknown caller. He

pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Albuquerque area code. Could be
anybody.

He flipped the phone open and took a deep breath. “Rafe Bridges.”
There was a short pause, then a deep voice that perked his ears. “Yeah, hey, this is Jeremy

Halliday. I don’t know if you’ll remember me, but I was the arresting officer on that DUI a
couple months ago? You were investigating the guy for fraud or something?”

Officer Jeremy Halliday’s vital stats instantly clicked off in Rafe’s mind and he couldn’t help

the smile that slowly spread across his face. He wasn’t going to forget someone like that very
quickly. Motorcycle cop. Big black boots. Six-two, blond, green-eyed and unfortunately,
completely straight. Though, that didn’t keep him from admiring him when his back was turned.

“Oh, right…Ed Phillips, helluva guy. DUI and indictment for fraud. Sure, I remember.”
Officer Halliday chuckled and Rafe waited to hear the real reason he was calling; it certainly

wasn’t to ask him out. Shite and double shite.

“This is sort of unorthodox, but I’ve got a situation on my hands that I was hoping you could

help me with. I still had your card and some guys I work with recommended you, so…”

“What can I do for you?” Rafe asked. Massage? Date? He smirked to himself. If this was

another job, he couldn’t really take it on right now. He was busy, which was great, but too busy
to give another case the attention it deserved without putting something else on the backburner.

“A guy I work with was sent to start up a missing person report on a girl from my old

neighborhood. I got a call from a friend about the same time and turns out it’s his sister that’s
missing. I can’t get involved in the investigation, and it doesn’t speak well of what this guy’s
family thinks of the department, but he was calling because they aren’t willing to rely on the
Missing Persons Unit to take care of this. They wanted to know if I had any recommendations
for a private investigator.”

“And you thought of me?” Rafe said, running through the last conversation he’d had with

one of his best sources from his old neighborhood, Manuel Abrigo. The guy owned a roach-
coach that catered to the lunchtime crowd from a downtown parking lot. “Is this the uh…the
Aragon case? Daughter’s been missing since Thursday or something?”

Officer Halliday sounded surprised when he answered. “Thursday night, yeah. You hear

about it through contacts in the department?”

Rafe grinned. “Something like that. Now, the guy who called you, he’s an old friend?”
“We grew up together. Carlos Aragon. He works with his dad for the highway department.

Obviously they’re all torn up about this; she’s the only other child and she’s a lot younger than
Carlos, but their father is going off the deep end and wants more noses to the ground than we can
provide. You know, like a friggin’ regiment.”

“So they’re thinking a guy with a license to loiter can pick up all that slack?”
“Pretty much,” Halliday laughed. “Not that I would’ve put it that way.”
“‘Course not,” he answered, digging for the notepad and pen in the center console out of

habit and taking down the important bits. “What’s the daughter’s name?”

“Yesenia. She’s seventeen.”
“And the family thinks it’s impossible she ran away?”
“Well, if you talk to Carlos’ father, Hector, he’s certain she’s been kidnapped by her

boyfriend. Carlos and his mom aren’t so sure,” he sighed. “Yesenia and her dad have been
known to argue now and then.”

“You still keep in close contact with them?” Rafe asked. “How often do you see them?”
“Not that often, really. Unless I’m in the neighborhood visiting my dad and I stop by. I

hadn’t heard from Carlos in months before this phone call.”

Rafe nodded to himself and did a little more scribbling. This was definitely going to be a

time-intensive case to take on if he decided to, which he hadn’t yet, but as usual he was
intrigued. It was probably nothing more than a girl who got pissed at her dad and instead of
slamming doors and screaming how much she hated him, she ran off with a guy who was
promising to make her life better.

“Listen,” he said after a moment. “I’m not saying I can take the case just yet—I’ve got a lot

of jobs I’m trying to tie up right now—but give me tonight to look things over and see if I can
move anything around. I don’t want to meet the family, have them tell me their story, then turn
around and tell them my schedule’s too full. Know what I mean?”

“Sure,” Halliday replied. “I’d appreciate whatever help you can offer. Give me a call when

you know if it will work out for you to take the case. Maybe we can meet in the neighborhood
and I’ll introduce you to them. No offense about your charisma or anything, but they’d probably
feel more comfortable with someone they know being there as well.”

Rafe agreed and ended the call after a few more moments, pointing his truck in the direction

of his one-room office rather than the pub where that beer was waiting for him. He was halfway
there before he recognized that instead of running through his caseload and figuring out his
timeline, he was already shifting things around to accommodate Yesenia Aragon’s case. So
much for tall, blond, handsome and straight having no effect on him. Oh, what his mother would
say if she only knew.

***

Jeremy’s dad was standing behind his screen door waiting when he pulled into the driveway.

He threw him a wave and glanced around at the other cars in the street. It didn’t look like
Bridges has shown up yet. The Aragon family lived four houses down and all looked quiet there,
too.

Exhaustion was licking at his muscles as he opened his car door and climbed out. An early

morning run and a long shift in the sun had definitely taken its toll. He was wiped.

His dad stepped outside and nodded towards his ’72 Barracuda. “Sounds really good. I can

hear you coming three blocks away.”

Jeremy gave a tired smile and looked back over his pride and joy. Last month he’d been able

to get her painted—a sweet custom job in candy apple red with two black racing stripes—and the
new colors, along with the slot mag wheels, had completed all the exterior work he wanted done.
Now he was getting down to a serious interior overhaul. She was the prettiest money pit he could
ever want.

“My goal is to rattle the floor boards three blocks away. Let me know when that happens,” he

said. “Any sign of the investigator yet?”

“Nah,” he shook his head, “but you’re early. Have time for a beer?”
“I probably shouldn’t, what with going over there to talk about Yesenia. I didn’t want to

show up in an official capacity, but I don’t want to get too unofficial, you know? Hector would
have an aneurysm if he smelled beer on my breath.” Jeremy leaned against the porch railing and
crossed his arms. “I’ll wait out here. This guy’s kind of doing me a favor; he switched around all
these cases he’s working on to see if he can help out. We’ve only met once at traffic court and
that was months ago, so I’m surprised he said yes.”

“Pull him over or something?” his dad asked, sinking into one of the patio chairs he kept on

the porch.

“He was investigating a guy I stopped on a DUI. Turned out the dude was guilty of insurance

fraud, too. Faked injuries, disability, medical records; the whole nine. Rafe Bridges showed up at
traffic court and stopped me in the hall to ask me questions.” He paused when he saw a Nissan
truck heading their way. “I think that’s him.”

Sure enough, the truck pulled to a stop and parked in the only available space at the end of

the driveway. Bridges rolled down his window and called out, “Alright if I block you in?”

Jeremy waved an okay and watched as he got out of his car and headed up the walk, giving

Jeremy’s car a double take as he came. He was one of those guys good looking in a way that it
was impossible not to notice—for guys and girls alike. And Bridges probably knew it, too,
sauntering around with slick looking sunglasses and the fit guy appeal, making women drool. He
had to be Italian with all that black hair. Jeremy had him by about two or three inches, but the
detective held himself so well it wasn’t noticeable. It was sort of odd that he had such trouble
remembering what Bridges looked like before. The guy was impressive even in jeans and a
button up shirt. It was sort of irritating, especially since Jeremy felt sloppy after work with no

time for a shower. He didn’t want to come across like he didn’t give a shit.

Bridges got to the bottom of the steps and smiled as he tugged off his sunglasses, throwing a

shockingly ice-blue gaze their way and holding out his hand. Jeremy shook it and then watched
as his dad stood to do the same. “This is my dad, Peter Halliday. Dad, Rafe Bridges.” His dad
nodded and looked back and forth between them.

“I’d offer you something to drink, but Jeremy was thinking you’d be heading right over to

the Aragon’s house.”

“That’s probably best,” he agreed with a natural smile. “I’ve got my bag in the truck, so we

can go ahead unless there’s anything else you want me to know before we leave. You might have
a different perspective on things since you live near them and have seen what’s going on.”

Jeremy’s respect for the investigator went up a peg when the guy included his dad. It was yet

another sign that he was asking the right person to help out his old friends. He was oozing
professionalism and charisma.

“Well,” his dad cast a worried glance in the direction of the Aragon’s home. “There’s

definitely been more traffic in and out, but that’s to be expected. Hector and his daughter fought
a lot. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it’s obvious to his neighbors that he’s overprotective
to a fault. It didn’t really surprise most of us in the neighborhood to hear that she wasn’t around
anymore. He’ll tell anyone who’ll listen that her boyfriend took her. He’s got the market
cornered on that conspiracy theory. Calls Angel a cheating hoodlum.”

“Angel’s the boyfriend?” At his dad’s nod, Bridges said, “Well, is he a cheating hoodlum?”
Jeremy watched with interest the way the detective asked questions. Everything came out so

naturally, like the questions and the answers had no bearing on his investigation. He would bet
money on the fact that the guy probably interviewed people and had all of his questions
answered before they ever realized the interview had begun.

“The kid’s young, that’s all. He runs mostly with his cousins. He’s got a case of machismo,

might be a little too big for his britches, but he’s no hoodlum. I think he probably cares for the
daughter more than Hector realizes. Problem is, she’s not eighteen and Angel is. Hector thinks
he’s taking advantage of her.”

Bridges leaned against the railing at the bottom of the steps, looking thoughtful. “That’s

tough,” he said, flicking his eyes back Jeremy’s way. “Any idea how Mrs. Aragon is dealing
with it? Does she feel the same way her husband does?”

Jeremy shrugged. “Carlos, their son—I told you about him—tells me she’s just trying to stay

quiet. They’ve never seen Hector like this, so they’re stepping lightly. He told me that his mom
was the one who kept letting Yesenia go out with this kid. She reminded Hector that her father
didn’t like him when they were first together. That pissed him off even more, I guess.” He
pushed away from the porch and walked down the steps until they were next to each other.
“They’re worried. Grieving.”

Bridges nodded and held out a hand to Jeremy’s dad again. “Mr. Halliday, it was nice to meet

you.”

“Call me Peter. Thanks for lending a hand with this. They’re old friends.”
“Not a problem.”
“I’ll come back when we’re done over there,” Jeremy added, leading the way back down the

walk and waiting while Bridges grabbed a leather bag from his truck. His dad called from the
porch that his sister was stopping by later as well and Jeremy tried not to groan in front of Rafe
and bring on the questions. Instead, he nodded resignedly.

They walked in silence for a few moments before the detective stopped him. “I’ll do my best

to help them out, but it’s sort of an unofficial policy of mine that I don’t take jobs where the
client is constantly interfering in the investigation. If I wanted to be micro-managed, I’d have
stuck to my communications job.” As he spoke his eyes were focused like lasers on Jeremy who
felt himself fighting to hold the gaze. The guy was not blinking. “I’m not saying this to be
dramatic or anything; I know several other investigators that I’d be willing to recommend, but if
Hector asks me to do this job and continually interferes because he’s too controlling, it’s not
going to work.”

“I hear you. You might even have him pegged, but I don’t know that he’ll be his bulldoggish

self with his daughter on the line.”

Bridges got moving again and Jeremy gave a silent sigh of relief that he was no longer under

such intense scrutiny. It was really odd.

“In front of the family I’ll call you Officer Halliday even though you’ve known them so long,

but otherwise can I call you Jeremy?”

“Jeremy, Jay, Halliday…doesn’t matter to me. Do you prefer Rafe?” Those smiling blue eyes

flashed at him and Jeremy wanted to snort in disbelief all over again at how ridiculously
handsome the guy was. Standing beside the P.I. covered in sweat and grime only made him feel
unprofessional.

“Yeah. Rafe’s good with me.”
At the foot of a short walk that curved through a tiny, but well-manicured lawn, Jeremy

pushed open a low chain link gate and held it for Rafe. They were halfway up the walk when
Pepper, the family’s German Shepherd started growling and barking the way he had ever since
Jeremy first met him. He was used to it, but it took half a second to see that Rafe wasn’t. He’d
cursed and done an airborne Heisman step until he was partially hidden behind Jeremy.

“Sorry,” he breathed, “I’m working on it, but most dogs scare the hell out of me.”
Jeremy’s eyes widened. Well, well, well. It looked like Mr. Calm and Collected had some

issues after all. “This one is definitely more bark than bite. He’s only excited, trust me.”

“Sure, whatever…” Rafe gave the dog another furtive glance and Jeremy watched in

amazement as all signs of discomfort disappeared the second the screen door opened and Hector
Aragon appeared. It was impressive as hell. Rafe was on and down to business.

CHAPTER TWO

Hector Aragon wasn’t a tall man, coming up only to Rafe’s shoulder, but he held himself like

he was taller than Jeremy. His skin was weathered and darkly tanned, and the hand he offered
was rough from work. He watched Rafe with shrewd black eyes and was coming to god only
knew what conclusion. Anger and frustration were palpable in the air around him, though he was
surprisingly quiet compared to what Rafe expected.

The dog—what was its name? Pepper?—was sniffing his shoes and even though it agitated

him more than he wanted to admit it, he had to ignore it. Didn’t instill much confidence when the
investigator you were considering hiring started hiding behind hot blond police officers and
“shooing” off a dog. He took a lot of subtle deep breaths and exchanged eye contact with Jeremy
who, god bless him, had the dog’s collar and was tugging him away. Glorious man.

After a strained introduction and an uncomfortable silence, Hector turned and led them

toward a room stuffed to the brim with a sofa, coffee table, and two arm chairs. “Come and sit
down. You too, Jeremy,” he said quietly.

Rafe found himself looking into the troubled hazel eyes of a woman who could only be Mrs.

Aragon. Hector confirmed it with his introduction and she pointed to an armchair for him to take
a seat. Jeremy moved around the coffee table, offering her a hug that she seemed skittish to
return. There was a glance Hector’s way that made Rafe wonder, and when she sat beside her
husband on the sofa, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, the tension in her body spoke volumes.
She was definitely scared of Hector and unhappy in general.

“My son is working tonight, or he would have been here,” Hector announced in his thick

Spanish accent. “He called Jeremy and asked him about getting a detective who can focus on
getting my daughter back in this house.”

Rafe leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. “Officer Halliday gave me a call

yesterday and told me a little bit about your circumstances. I’m sorry to hear about your
daughter. I’ll do what I can to help.”

“Are you licensed?” Hector asked abruptly, his eyes sharp as an eagle’s on prey.
Rafe reached down next to the chair and tugged open the flap on his bag. Pepper made a

beeline for his hand and he moved fast to get out of the way, grabbing his proof of licensure and
a card to slide across the table. “I’ve been licensed since 1999 and I always bring along reference
information if you’d like a copy of that as well.”

Hector didn’t look at any of the information and Rafe sat through a few more seconds of the

hairy eyeball before Hector saw something that satisfied him and finally got down to business,
with Rafe immediately jumping to start a recording of the conversation.

“My daughter’s been missing since Thursday evening. We have pictures of her for you to use

in your investigation.”

Rafe nodded and pulled out a notepad and pen, asking with a look if it was all right for him

to take notes. Hector and his wife nodded, so he got busy writing down anything that stood out to
him.

Yesenia was only seventeen and her boyfriend, Angel Torres, was eighteen. The pair had

been dating for six months. Jeremy’s description about Hector’s over protectiveness wasn’t even
a drop in the bucket to the way the man was in person. He barely managed to keep himself from

frothing at the mouth when he spoke about the boy, his eyes glittering dangerously under his
lowered brows. Most of what he said led back to Angel. Mrs. Aragon was noticeably quiet and
wound up tight as a spring as her husband went on and on.

Rafe waited for Hector to run out of steam and tried to get a word into the conversation.

“Officer Halliday mentioned to me that you are confident this is not a runaway situation. You
believe your daughter was taken against her will? What happened the night she went missing?”

“Yesenia has been a willful child lately; she knows I disapprove of this boy, but she also

knows that I love her and would never drive her from the home.” Hector’s reasoning did the
opposite of his likely intent: it made Rafe think Yesenia was unhappy enough to run. Hector was
full of excuses.

“She never even threatened to leave that way,” Hector continued. “I think her boyfriend was

poisoning her mind and she was getting involved with the crowd he runs with—nothing but a
bunch of vatos who think they’re something. I went to her room before going to bed at ten to
check on her—she snuck out once before and I won’t allow it to happen again, you see—and she
wasn’t there. Her window was gaping open like someone took her and didn’t have time to fix it.”

“Did the police find any prints in her room? I’m assuming they dusted?”
Hector nodded, his lips tightening meanly. “They found prints from the family members

only. But prints don’t mean everything,” he was quick to add.

“You didn’t hear any odd noises from her room or find any other evidence of a struggle?”
He shook his head bitterly.
“So you firmly believe it was Angel who took her?” Rafe asked, already impatient with the

way he had to dig through moralizing speeches to get to the point.

“That boy. Angel. He’s an ese. He probably got together with some of his hoodlum friends,

took her, and now he won’t let her leave and be with her family. She’s probably scared and
worried wherever she is.”

Rafe nodded and scribbled some gibberish on his pad while flicking glances around the

room, not missing that Mrs. Aragon looked like she was chomping at the bit to speak.

“Do you agree with your husband, Mrs. Aragon? You were here at the time your husband

discovered Yesenia wasn’t home?” he asked and thought that if Hector’s nostrils flared any
wider they’d be shooting out fire. She gave him a sidelong glance, but spoke up anyway.

“I was here,” she murmured hesitantly. “I don’t think she was kidnapped, detective. Yesenia

loves her family. She loves her father, but they’ve been fighting so much—”

“Angelina!” Hector interrupted and Rafe leaned back in his armchair, seeing that Jeremy was

noticing the same things he was.

“I will tell him my opinion, Hector,” she snapped, hands clenching again as she turned back

to Rafe, her eyes beseeching. “It was hard on Yesenia…all the fighting. I work so much and
couldn’t be here as a…buffer, I suppose. She cares so much about Angel, and to have the two
men she cares for most hating each other, I think… I think maybe she overreacted and ran.”

Hector refused to look his wife’s direction again after that, and Rafe felt the snub on her

behalf. It was times like this he was glad to be gay and single—not that domestic abuse didn’t
happen on his side of the fence, but seriously, this was ridiculous. So stereotypical. And
awkward, let’s not forget that part, he told himself.

“Mr. and Mrs. Aragon, I spoke with a contact in the Missing Person’s Unit today. Officer

Halliday,” he looked in Jeremy’s direction for a beat, noticing the way he’d grabbed the dog
again, “might also be aware that your daughter’s boyfriend is in town and your daughter isn’t
with him. There’s also been a statement that you went to Angel’s house and demanded to see her

and found she wasn’t there. If she ran, or if she was taken away,” he added before Hector could
jump in, “she’s not with him right now and there’s no evidence that she’s been with him since
last Thursday. Have the police updated you about that?”

“I think she has friends helping her. She’s a popular girl, my Yesenia. If her friends thought

she needed them, I’m sure they’d help her run away.” Mrs. Aragon avoided answering directly,
her face pale, those eyes of hers continually flickering towards her seething husband. “You know
how children can be.”

Rafe didn’t answer for a minute since he was mulling that last bit over. He wasn’t too sure

Yesenia qualified as a child any longer, and he didn’t have any experience with kids. Running
away seemed like a cry for help to him.

Hector couldn’t remain quiet another second, his voice razor sharp as he spoke. “I said this

boy is a hoodlum; I didn’t say he was dumb. Of course he’s not going to keep her with him all
the time where I could find her and bring her home. He’s smart enough to know that would get
him caught and thrown in jail.”

Rafe didn’t bother bringing up the fact that Hector didn’t seem to feel the same way last

Thursday night when he rushed over to Angel’s for a beat down session.

“Would she find it so easy to leave her boyfriend behind, too, do you think?” he said instead.
“I think she knows the first place everyone would look for her and so she wouldn’t go there,

Mr. Bridges. I think she might come home after she has some time away,” Angelina whispered
softly.

Well, one of them seemed confident. Angelina was awaiting the return of the prodigal

daughter. Guess they’d all see how that worked out. Rafe watched Hector carefully as he brought
up a point he was fairly certain the man was overlooking.

“I know that you want someone looking into this who can provide a little more focused

attention than the police department would be able to offer right now. That’s understandable. I
did want to assure you that the police are working hard on this. The leads they’re following, the
interviews they’re conducting…you understand that I’ll be following the same path, asking the
same questions. There’s no guarantee that you won’t get the answers you want without hiring
me.”

“I want you to find my daughter, Mr. Bridges,” Hector shot back. “I mean no offense to

Jeremy who has been willing to help us out by recommending you, but the department gets cases
pouring into their office. They’re overworked. There’s no way they can focus on this and bring
my Yesenia back before whoever took her makes sure she never comes home. I’ll pay your price.
In return, you’ll get to the bottom of this. That boy deserves to be in jail.”

Rafe knew he shouldn’t, but he took a chance and asked Hector his reasons for disliking

Angel Torres so completely, and got back an earful, none of which really answered his question.
He definitely wasn’t any wiser about why the kid deserved a prison sentence. There was
certainly no proof of statutory rape. Hell, his prints weren’t anywhere near Yesenia’s bedroom
and she didn’t have enough freedom to go out long enough to accomplish much of anything in
that quarter.

Hector Aragon was clear about three things only: He wanted his daughter home, he wanted

her single, and he wanted her boyfriend rotting in a cell somewhere—hopefully one crawling
with rats, a la the Bastille, that held daily whipping sessions.

Rafe didn’t like what he was seeing. If Hector worked himself up any more, there was a

serious risk of violence. He’d have to go to Angel Torres first thing tomorrow and see where it
led. He’d also be making frequent trips back to the Aragon’s home—one of his tricks when he

wasn’t feeling too confident about the story he was getting from a client. It wasn’t often
necessary, but something about the couple was setting off an alarm with him.

The Aragons gave him all the contact information he needed for Yesenia’s friends, family

and boyfriend. The picture they provided of her showed a younger version of Angelina. Light
brown hair, pretty hazel eyes, dimples and a warm smile. She was really quite pretty and looked
younger than her seventeen years. The picture of innocence.

The entire visit and interview took an hour. He left his card and reference information with

them and waited on the walk for Jeremy to say his goodbyes and catch up to him. They didn’t
talk until they were back in front of Jeremy’s dad’s.

“Bet I can name one phone call you wish you hadn’t answered,” Jeremy gave him a sheepish

look.

Rafe smiled as he tossed his bag in the truck, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“That was…an experience alright. There are a lot of things going on under the surface there.” He
hesitated to say more, not wanting to offend Jeremy who’d known this family most of his life.

“Don’t hold back on my account,” Jeremy mumbled, leaning tiredly against Rafe’s truck.

“I’ve never seen Hector like that. Granted, I haven’t been around all that much for the last few
years, but ever since Yesenia got into high school, he’s changed. Everyone is out to get his
daughter and do lord knows what with her, he seems to think. Carlos doesn’t even know what to
make of it.”

“Angelina isn’t well. It makes me worry, watching them together.”
Jeremy nodded, staring through the dim evening light back at the Aragon’s house. “Very

weird. Listen, I’m sorry it’s turning out to be even more to take on than you thought. If Hector
starts making your life more difficult, let me know. I might be able to talk him down.”

“I appreciate it,” Rafe laughed, suddenly becoming very aware of the white-hot masculinity

Jeremy exuded leaning against his truck the way he was. His long body was perfectly relaxed,
and even with the sun already set, his golden tan was still obvious. It was like standing around
shooting the shit with the sun god.

Damn, he needed a boyfriend.
In an effort to distract himself he pointed at the car in the driveway and shook his head in

wonder. “That yours?”

Jeremy’s answering grin was like sex on a stick, it was so hot, and dude didn’t even know it.

Rafe was going to be forever pushing the image of Jeremy behind the wheel out of his mind.

“Yep. That’s my ‘Cuda. Soon as it’s legal, I’m marrying her.”
Rafe choked on his laughter, drowning under a wave of irony. “Your family will be so proud.

Send me an invitation.”

“For sure.” He waved toward the front door of the house. “You’re welcome to come in for a

drink before you leave, if you want. We’d be happy to have you. Plus my sister is here and she
won’t hassle me about blind dates if you’re around.”

Rafe couldn’t laugh at the thought of Jeremy out on blind dates, so he smiled crookedly.

“Your mom still around?”

“Nah,” Jeremy pushed away from the car. “Left when I was real young. Just me, dad and my

sister since I was like three.”

“It’s cool you get along with your dad though. My dad hardly speaks to me.” Rafe clamped

his lips shut on a curse. Was he actually date talking? He was! What was wrong with him? The
last thing Jeremy needed to know about was the way his parents hated who he was. He needed to
get the hell out of there before he started making passes at the guy. “You know what, I’ll have to

ask for a rain check on the drink. I’ve got a couple of things to take care of and tomorrow’s
going to be busy, what with that lynching posse to set up for Angel Torres.”

“Right. I won’t keep you.” Jeremy pushed away from the truck and smiled as he started up

the walk.

Rafe didn’t know what made him say it—why he needed to leave some little loophole for

contact with an obviously straight guy, but he spoke up anyway. “I’ll keep you posted on the
investigation. Let you know how everything’s unfolding.”

“That’d be great. Thanks again, man,” he waved. “See you around.”
God, Rafe hoped so.
When he was sprawled on the couch at home, he pulled out his cell and pushed the speed dial

button for Brian. He got knocked off into voicemail after a few rings and sighed at the beep.

“Hey man, it’s me. I took the case because apparently I don’t know how to say fucking no.

Big surprise right? And damn, this cop that set me up with the job is better looking than I
remembered—‘course I was totally hung over when I met him. He’s like an effing Adonis.
Anyway, thought I’d let you know I caved so you can come and put me out of my misery before
I fall for another straight guy. Bring, like, an elephant gun maybe. Call me.”

***

Angel Torres was about as happy to talk to another detective, as Rafe was to go to his

parent’s house once a month. When he parked his truck, the kid came outside grudgingly,
throwing a couple covert looks around the neighborhood like he was worried who was watching.
He was wearing an extra-long white t-shirt that hung like drapery over the sagged waist of his
jeans. It was the standard issue uniform and certainly a statement, Rafe thought.

“Angel?” he asked, climbing out of the truck, his pocket recorder already whirring away.
“You the P.I.?” Angel mumbled, head tilted like he had something to prove, and Rafe knew it

was going to be a filthy long day.

“Yeah, Rafe Bridges. Like I said when we talked earlier, the Aragons hired me to help find

their daughter.”

“And like I told you earlier, I already told the cops what I know.” He thrust his hands deep

into his pockets. “Why don’t you call ‘em up and ask them what I said?”

“‘Cause I’m not a cop and I can’t be in their faces all the time asking for information they

can’t and won’t give me. I do my own investigation.” He held out his hand and Angel reluctantly
shook it. “I prefer asking questions my own way.”

“I haven’t seen ‘Senia since Thursday morning,” Angel offered up out of nowhere.

“Sometimes her mom lets me stop by when her pops is at work so I can spend time with her
without a fight.”

“Yeah, I got the impression you and Hector aren’t really close, but I’m not taking sides—you

can hate each other forever as far as I’m concerned—my job is finding Yesenia.”

Angel’s answering look was skeptical. Okay, so the kid wasn’t pulling for him. Win some,

lose some.

“Listen, would you be willing to do this over a bite of lunch? My treat. I’ve got two more

interviews after this and I haven’t eaten.”

“Man, I don’t have a lot of time for this,” he griped, aiming for tough but only managing

whiney. Rafe wondered what it was that kept the eighteen year old so busy. He was available in
the middle of the damn day, anyhow.

“Lunch. On me. Thirty minutes and we’re done. Even if I have more questions than time.”
Angel hesitated for a second then shuffled past, banging his shoulder into Rafe’s. A classic

maneuver meant to intimidate; it was possibly more effective if the recipient didn’t dwarf him.

“Clock’s ticking, detective.”
Nice. Angel was a real charmer. No wonder Yesenia liked him so much.
Ten minutes later, Rafe was parking his ass on a bench, juggling a couple drinks and a plate

of foil-wrapped chimichangas.

“Of all the places we could go, you pick a burrito mobile in a parking lot?” He sniffed at the

food like it was laced with rat poison.

“You’ll change your tune when you taste it, trust me.”
Angel shrugged and unwrapped his chimichanga. “I thought you were going to ask me

questions.” He took a huge bite and Rafe imagined holding him by the ears until he dropped the
machismo bullshit.

“Right,” he said instead, letting the opportunity pass. “You said the last time you saw

Yesenia was Thursday morning.”

He nodded, not saying anything.
“Did she run away? Do you know where she is?” Direct and to the point was always a good

tactic.

Angel rolled his eyes and shook his head, like working with an adult ranked somewhere

between cleaning monkey cages at the zoo and having teeth pulled. “She ran. She was ready to
do anything to get away from that asshole.”

“I assume you mean Hector Aragon.” He filled in the blanks while Angel got to chewing on

another bite. “Why did she want to get away from him? Did she talk about it a lot?”

Angel shrugged. “Not really. She didn’t like the way her pops wouldn’t let her see me. She

said he wanted her so close all the time and she hated it.”

“And you don’t know where she is? You haven’t heard from her?”
“No. She called later that day, after I left, and she was still home then. I was supposed to take

her out Thursday night, but her pops heard and they started fighting again. I don’t know who she
went to for help. I don’t know where she went, but she needed to leave.”

“So would you tell me if you knew where she was?”
Angel paused and eventually shook his head. “So you could deliver her right back to him?

Nope.”

Just in the way Angel answered the question Rafe could tell he didn’t know where his

girlfriend was, yet there was something going on, maybe he’d known she was running but she
hadn’t told him where and when.

“Her dad thinks you’re behind it.”
“Shit, what’s new? Anything bad happens, I’m responsible. That’s bullshit. He thinks I’m

hiding her or that someone I know took her. He’s crazy—serious head case, bro. Serious
problems.”

“What kind of problems?” Rafe asked, sinking back against the bench and taking all sorts of

mental notes.

“Man, I got a little sister the same age as ‘Senia, and my pops watches her like a hawk, but

not like the way ‘Senia’s dad watches her. He’d chain her to the furniture if he could. She can
barely leave the house during summer, even if it’s to go to a friend’s that he likes. He treats her
like she’s nothing but a prisoner. He won’t even let her have a part-time job.”

Rafe caught the concern in Angel’s eyes before he turned away and dug back into his lunch.

His jaw clenched forcefully with every bite. The kid was worried about his girlfriend, really
worried, so Rafe was watching very closely as he asked his next question.

“Does he hurt her?”
Angel kept chewing, his brow lowering darkly over his black eyes. “Like do I see bruises,

you mean?”

“Yeah.”
His body went taut and he wadded up his foil wrapper, tightening his hand around it until the

flesh of his knuckles grew white. “There were never any bruises I could see, but that doesn’t
mean anything, you know?” He fixed an angry glare on Rafe. “He controls everything about her
life. He hates me and thinks I’m using ‘Senia. Ask anyone I know, even my parents, they’ll tell
you I’d do fucking anything for her. Why else would I put up with that asshole all this time? If I
were using her, I wouldn’t have stuck around.”

Rafe nodded and cleared his throat, his mind moving fast. “So, Hector’s confused, don’t you

think? He hates you, thinks you’re using his daughter, but at the same time he must know you
care a little because you’re his first suspect for kidnapping. That’s interesting to me. He says
you’re smart enough to take her and keep her somewhere else so when the cops look at you, you
seem innocent.”

“He’s an asshole. I told you he was crazy. What—you think he’s hiding something?”
“Somebody is.” Rafe darted a glance sideways.
“I ain’t using her, man. I already said that. I didn’t take her and hide her either. Strap me up

to one of those lie detectors, you’ll see.”

“I could do that. I’ve got the license,” he bluffed, “but don’t worry. If I thought you were a

liar, I’d come out and tell you straight to your face. For now, we’re just talking.”

Angel’s lips twitched a little. “I’m not lying. The cops know where I was Thursday; my story

checks out.”

“I know. I talked to one of the guys from the Missing Persons Unit and I got him to tell me

that much.”

“Well then?” he snapped.
“When did you first hear she was gone?” Rafe continued, downshifting into the story again.
Angel snorted. “Thursday night. Her pops came to my house, woke up my whole family

banging on the front door and shit. He thought Yesenia was with me and my parents even let him
check my room. Him and Carlos.” He didn’t have to say how furious this must have made him, it
was clear.

“Carlos was with him?” Rafe covered his surprise. This was the first he’d heard of Carlos

taking part.

“Yeah, the maricón dug through my closet!” Angel was too busy growling to notice the way

Rafe stiffened at the Spanish word for faggot. It took him a second to shrug it off as another
immature comment from an ignorant kid.

“Would you say you know Yesenia best?” he finally asked.
Angel played with the crushed ball of foil and nodded. “Besides her mom, yeah.”
No question the guy loved Yesenia. Once Rafe started pulling back layers, it was obvious

who Angel’s main priority was and that he’d do anything he could to protect her. That’s why
Rafe didn’t quite trust the alibi.

“So where would you look for Yesenia? Where do you think she’d go?”
“I don’t know, man. Some place her dad would think of last, I guess. I’ve asked around too,”

he offered. “I went to her friends and my friends. She’s got a big family. Anyone could have

helped, but if they did, they aren’t talking and they probably won’t ever talk. They know he ain’t
right.”

“You worried?” Rafe asked and braced himself for Angel’s reaction. And he didn’t

disappoint either, shooting to his feet and firing the ball of foil somewhere near Rafe’s shoes.

“What kind of fucked up question is that? Why wouldn’t I be worried about my girl running

away without telling me anything? All I know is that one minute she was in that house, and the
next, her pops is banging down my door. I don’t know where she is, but I’m glad she’s not there
anymore. If I don’t get to see her again, I’d still be glad.”

Angel was breathing heavily, probably ready to attack Hector if he got the chance and if he

knew he wouldn’t be the first guy the cops came looking for. Rafe stared at him for a long time
until the kid looked away, hands going back into his pockets.

“My time’s up,” Rafe said simply, the uneasiness he felt growing with each person he spoke

to about the Aragon’s case.

“You didn’t eat.” Angel nodded toward the plate still sitting on the bench.
“I’ll get around to it.” He grabbed the food, tossed a wave at Manuel in the burrito truck, and

headed to where he’d parked. His appetite was long gone anyway.

Angel gave Rafe a couple more names of people he might want to talk to before he hopped

out of the truck in front of his house. Names that Rafe was fairly certain he hadn’t told the cops.
The first was one of Yesenia’s many cousins, Grace, and the second was Angelina Aragon, of all
people. For a guy who didn’t want his girlfriend back under the same roof as her father, Angel
was certainly offering some confusing goods now. The last thing he said as he got out of the
truck was about how Yesenia’s mother knew what was going on in that house better than anyone
else, but the cops probably wouldn’t get much out of her with Hector hovering around.

Rafe did some calling around since Angel clammed up when it came to phone numbers, and

finally got in touch with the cousin. She was working as a cashier at one of those massive
grocery superstores and told him she’d meet him when her shift was over, but only for ten
minutes and only in the parking lot. It was definitely his day for high maintenance interviews.
Her friends were shedding light on how big a production it must have been for Yesenia to leave
home, which was the conclusion Rafe was leaning toward. The girl left of her own free will and
with someone’s help.

At three o’ clock he was waiting in the lot, leaning against his truck bed with his eyes trained

on the store’s automatic doors. He spotted her easily—she was still untying her apron straps as
she wandered outside—and he pushed away from the truck, meeting her halfway across the hot
asphalt lot.

“Ten minutes,” she said, looking up through eyelids so heavily lined with gunk he felt his

own watering in sympathy.

“Mind if I record this?” She shrugged. “Where’s Yesenia? Do you know?”
“No.” She ran a hand over her permed locks. “I talked to her on Thursday after the fight with

her dad.”

“Did she tell you she was running away or that she was in trouble?”
They were back at his truck now and Grace took a seat on the rear bumper, shaking her head.

“No. She told me her dad freaked again over Angel, which happens all the time.” She squinted
up at him. “You have a cigarette?”

“Smoking’ll kill you. I’ve already got plenty of other options if I decide a slow death is right

for me.”

Grace made a “psshh” noise and looked away. “Figures,” she said under her breath.

“Did Yesenia sound different at all?” he asked, ignoring her irritation. “Angel told me that

you two spoke a lot.”

“She was pissed. What else is she going to be? Her dad’s an asshole. I’ve been over at her

house when he goes crazy over her being out. He got me grounded once when I took her to a
party. Angel wasn’t even there.”

“Tell me something,” he said, trying to get her to look up at him. “What was Yesenia’s

relationship like with her dad when Angel wasn’t around and they weren’t fighting.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Fucking weird.”
“How so?”
“It was like he was trying to be her best friend. He’d take her out shopping, or keep her at

home with him. She said he liked having her there, didn’t want her getting hurt or whatever.”

“That doesn’t sound all that weird to me,” Rafe answered, sitting on the other end of the

bumper.

“If you saw the way he looked, you’d know what I mean. He’d stare at her, like he was

watching everything she did, or like he knew she was going to leave eventually.” Grace’s voice
had dropped some of the toughness she put on, no longer focusing on the fact that she had
information he needed and using it as a power play.

“So she did run away?”
“I didn’t say that,” she whipped her head around, the wavy locks of her hair falling over her

shoulders. “But she could barely leave the house, how’s she supposed to get kidnapped?”

He nodded. “He thinks she was taken by Angel or some of his friends. Like they busted her

out of her bedroom and now they’re hiding her.”

Grace ran her hand through her hair again, a nervous tick or something, several long strands

getting caught in the rings she wore. “He told my mom, his sister, that she’d gone to the
bathroom and never came back. Guess he didn’t tell you that. The window was open and she
wasn’t there. What kind of parent watches their kids so close they freak if they spend too long
alone in the bathroom?”

She was right; that was definitely weird and Hector had kept that juicy tidbit to himself.
“So say she did run away, do you think Angel’s the type of guy her dad thinks he is? The sort

of person who could do that, then lie about it to the cops?”

Grace’s penciled in brows lowered as she stared out over the parking lot. It took a minute,

but she finally shook her head. “Angel really cares about ‘Senia, you know? Everyone but her
dad can see how he’d never hurt her. He’s not a gangbanger. He’s got a good job and he doesn’t
go around picking fights with people. Uncle Hector just doesn’t want anyone to be closer to her
than he is.”

Grace’s last sentence had Rafe’s stomach sinking to his knees. God, that could mean any

number of things.

“I’m worried about her,” Grace whispered, all pretenses dropping.
“Because you don’t know where she is?”
“I don’t know,” Grace sucked in a breath and let it out fast. “Maybe I’m more worried that

she’ll have to go back home when you find her. She ran for sure.”

Rafe watched her carefully for a minute and her expression didn’t change. “When is

Yesenia’s birthday, Grace?”

She blinked at the unexpected question and frowned at him. “In like three weeks. August

seventeenth. Why?”

Rafe shook his head. “I was just curious,” he hedged. “Her parents didn’t tell me that.”

She shrugged and fanned herself with her wadded up apron. “She’s in town, I bet. She

doesn’t have anywhere else to go. Everyone she knows is here.”

“You two are pretty close.”
“We used to be closer, but she’s got a guy now. I’m not going to be in their business all the

time. We were together a lot before. Things change though. I thought she’d trust me enough to
tell me she was going to run.”

Rafe caught the note of hurt in her voice. “Who do you think she may have told where she

was going? Is there anybody?”

She turned her head slowly and Rafe was shocked she was letting him see the tears welling in

her eyes. “She would’ve told me,” she murmured. “That’s how I know she’s not coming back for
a long time if she can help it. She’s hiding and so she didn’t want to be anywhere her dad would
look.”

“So if not you, who did she tell?”
“I don’t know, okay?” she spat. “I don’t know where she is.” Grace pushed away from the

bumper and started back toward the store.

“Thanks for answering my questions,” he called out to her back, but she ignored him and

kept right on moving.

CHAPTER THREE

Jeremy was on his break, his motorcycle parked in a space a few feet away from the patio

table at his favorite sandwich shop. He could’ve stopped at home for a quick bite, but he wanted
someone else to do the work today. Currently, he was chowing down on pastrami and rye and
hoping the city would be at peace for twenty minutes so he could get away with finishing his
chips and soda for once. Between bites, he checked his messages and it looked like he’d become
pretty popular this morning while he was out protecting and serving. Three new voicemails.

The first was a “go” for softball practice, only thirty minutes earlier than usual. Nice. A full

shift in the heat followed by two hours of fielding and batting practice and he’d achieve true
funkiness.

His sister, Tracey, left the second message. She was calling in a favor, which meant that

blind date he was avoiding was his next really painful situation to endure. In this instance, it was
a dinner party date for Friday…and would he “please come and not throw a fit about it?” He
owed her, but he wasn’t sure he owed her quite that much. It’d end up with Tracey going nuts
with a few buzzed lady friends while Jeremy and his brother-in-law made themselves scarce.

He deleted her message right away. There was no other choice but to lay low for a while.

Pretend he’d left the country, perhaps.

Angelina Aragon called last and her voice wisped over the line, thanking him for finding

Rafe and helping them out. She sounded totally shell-shocked, vacant, and nothing like the
woman he’d known for years. It was almost like someone was hovering at her elbow while she
spoke, and after last night’s interview, he could easily picture Hector doing that. Man, that guy
had changed.

It’d been too long since he spent any real time with the Aragon’s and Hector had some

creepy ways of doing business now. He was wound up tight, jumpy and defensive. Jeremy
couldn’t tell if it was simply because he was scared for his daughter or if there was something
else going on. Whatever it was, Jeremy left their house the night before feeling really disturbed.

He also knew that Rafe wasn’t going to deal with any craziness from the Big H. If Hector

didn’t watch himself, he’d be out a P.I. and back at square one with police he didn’t trust to find
their own asses with a set of directions.

Jeremy tossed the phone back on the tabletop and it made a racket against the metal that had

the girl at the next table over jumping. She blushed and smiled at his apology, flicking her hair
over her shoulder in a way she must think was alluring.

Eh. He was too old for her anyway; she was barely twenty he guessed. Seven years

difference was a bit much, even for him. God, he so didn’t want to do the first date thing again.
Talk about excruciating. Seeing people would be so much easier if he could skip right over the
awkward, but come to think of it…all his relationships had been awkward from beginning to
end.

He nodded politely and looked away, figuring she’d get the picture. She was cute, he

supposed, but there was no wow factor. If she knew how scientifically he was considering her,
she’d get up and walk away. Even women he’d dated for a while hadn’t truly sucked him in with
a steamy glance across the room or anything. Lately though, it was like he wasn’t even looking
—and his day was full of opportunities to see beautiful women. Shit, half of his shift was spent

down near the university campus where young co-eds were like ants at a picnic.

Maybe he was the problem. Like the years were adding up too fast. He didn’t have the urge

to date around. It seemed like a waste of energy to get a relationship going only to realize it
wasn’t working and he’d jumped the gun again. And if the relationship got around to sex, it was
never all that thrilling for him. He made them as happy as he could and they made him…bored.

Jeremy always found a reason not to stay. He’d even lived with a girlfriend for six months

and it was nice…for about a week. Until he realized she was a beautiful wreck of a woman.
Treading water the rest of the five months and three weeks wasn’t something he’d care to do
ever again. He moved out and she stopped talking to him, just like that. Last he heard she moved
to Arizona. No heartbreak on his end whatsoever. How shallow was that? He only ever went
through the motions; it was pathetic.

Jeremy’s phone started buzzing again, interrupting his train of thought, and he took a swig of

soda, glancing at the caller ID with a wary eye. It was Rafe Bridges and he wasn’t sure why, but
he was smiling, big time. He’d chalk it up to the detective being one slick-ass dude.

Jeremy answered quickly, but instead of hearing a greeting, he got a lot of crackling and a

curse in his ear. “Rafe?” he asked, brow wrinkling in confusion.

After a second he heard, “Jeremy? Sorry, man. I dropped my phone in a chimichanga.” He

was laughing as he spoke and Jeremy’s smile grew even bigger.

“Where’d you get the chimichanga?”
“You ever see that burrito wagon downtown by the courthouse? I go there at least twice a

week.”

“Do you do sit-ups all night to keep the paunch away?”
“Screw you. My metabolism’s better than when I was in high school…some days.” There

was another noise and some shuffling in the background, then, “Did I call at a bad time? You
have a minute?”

Jeremy shot a quick look at his watch and winced. “Actually, I’ve only got about ten minutes

left before I’ve got to hit the road. If it’ll take longer than that, we could talk later or meet up.”

Rafe was silent for a beat. “Yeah, I think this might take some time. I swear I’m not trying to

drag you into this investigation—I understand that you have to keep a professional distance—but
I wanted to get your take on a couple of things, seeing as how you’ve been familiar with the
family for a while. I want to make sure I’m covering all the bases.”

“Sure,” Jeremy answered, finding he perked up at the prospect of another sit down with a guy

who could turn out to be a solid contact. “I’ve got softball practice tonight after my shift, but I
can meet after that. Usually the team goes to that pub, Mulhaney’s, on Eubank. Do you want to
meet there?”

Rafe’s voice dropped an octave, his words guarded. “Are you on the police department men’s

league?”

“Yep. Why?” Jeremy was getting interested now. This was an odd twist.
“Mark Newland still first base?”
Oh there was definitely a tweaked tone to that question and Jeremy figured he knew why. He

couldn’t stand Newland’s ever-so-unique blend of smug and cynical. They’d probably had a run-
in.

“He’s still on the team. One of those guys who got a good dose of bitter somewhere along the

line and everybody else gets to enjoy it. An old friend or something?”

“Not quite. There’s some history there best left in the dust,” Rafe mumbled uncomfortably.
“Well, we don’t have to meet there. He doesn’t usually go to the bar after practices and

games though. It’s mostly cops and he works odd hours with the dispatchers on top of that. It’s
up to you, though.”

Rafe cleared his throat in a way that had Jeremy wondering what exactly had happened

between the two men. The detective was acting like he was an eight out of ten on the balls-in-a-
vice scale. “No. Don’t worry about it. Mulhaney’s is fine. I can meet you there.”

“We’ll get out early tonight. Around eight, I’m guessing. I’ll go straight to the bar from there.

Sound good?”

“Sure.” The crackling noise started again and Rafe’s voice cut out. “I’ve gotta eat this

chimichanga, or I’m going to die. I’ll see you tonight.”

Jeremy grinned again and said goodbye, shutting the phone with a quick snap. He was going

to find out about this Mark Newland thing, for sure. Rafe wasn’t the type to get awkward—he
didn’t have to know the guy long to see that—so his reaction was doubly interesting. Maybe he’d
do a little hint dropping of his own to see what he could find out.

He was still all happy glow-glow a few moments later when he looked up and came face to

face with the girl who until a minute ago had been at the next table. With a shy little laugh, she
dropped half of a ripped sheet of notebook paper in front of him and sashayed away, really
working the hips.

Knowing she’d be watching his reaction, he kept the irritation off of his face, but he couldn’t

stop himself from shaking his head when he saw her bubble print phone number on the page.
“Jeannette,” he read aloud. “Sounds about right.”

Even though he’d lost sight of her, he knew she was probably hunkered down in her car

nearby, so he stuffed the number in his wallet and got up to toss away his lunch leftovers.

He didn’t feel anything. No spark of interest. No attraction. Nothing. When he pulled on his

helmet and climbed on his bike, he did some quick math on how many hours were left until he
was supposed to meet Rafe and his stomach churned a little.Why in the hell did that sound so
much better than a date with bubbly Jeannette?

CHAPTER FOUR

Jeremy sighed as he shut down the engine, the distinctive throaty rumble of his Barracuda

taking a smidge of his anxiety with it. He was pretty sure Rafe was waiting inside Mulhaney’s
already, so he hurriedly swiped his face with a towel from his bag and grimaced when it came
back covered in orange dirt from the ball field. He had no idea why it bothered him so much, but
it seemed like every time he saw the perfectly put-together detective he was grunged out and
smelly. Except for that first time months ago at the courthouse. But like Rafe would remember
that when Jeremy kept providing him with Mr. Disgusto images.

And, uh, the bigger problem? Why was this sort of stuff even crossing his mind? Rafe called

him. He knew Jeremy was just getting out of practice. Why should either of them care how he
looked? And why the holy hell was he nervous? Did he want to impress the guy that much?

Jeremy cursed and ran the towel over his face one more time and pushed open his door with a

grunt, wincing against the evening heat on his sunburned skin.

“You look beat.”
His head whipped around and he couldn’t help smiling when he saw Rafe standing at the

bumper of his car with—surprise, surprise—dirt streaked soccer shorts and a jersey on. He was
covered in a nice muck layer all his own.

“You look pretty tired yourself,” he answered, reaching out a hand, which Rafe grasped

quickly. His skin was warm and his grip strong. “Those shorts just a statement, or do you
actually play soccer?”

Rafe laughed sheepishly and brushed a few black locks of hair from his forehead. “I’m a

Stryker in a league here in town. Sorry about the dirt. We had a game tonight.”

Jeremy’s brows rose as he realized Rafe was just as bothered by his own grungy attire.

Totally weird. “How’d it go?”

“Took a knee to the groin,” he smiled as Jeremy winced, “but you know, anything for a win.”
“Ah…so you’re a team player who really deserves a victory beer? How’re you even

walking? Shit.”

“It’s premeditated. I’m trying to impress you,” he mumbled, looking for a moment like he

really meant it. “A beer sounds good though.”

Jeremy tried to shake off the odd sensation settling over him and thumped Rafe in the arm as

he led the way to the double doors of the pub. He felt the thick cords of muscle in the detective’s
shoulder and nearly froze in place. Damn. He was cut too. It figured.

Jeremy growled under his breath. He was acting like such a girl—like being around a good

looking, fit guy was creating all these insecurities within him or something. At this rate, he
should expect to start having periods soon. Pussy, he thought.

“Come on, there should still be an open table or two,” he murmured quietly, desperately

trying to get a grip on himself. He must be coming down with something. He was flushed and
hot. Not to mention his stomach was a little panicky.

Rafe caught up with him and gave him a concerned look that Jeremy felt all the way to his

toes. “Look, I’d understand if you’re not feeling up to talking right now. I’m sure you’ve had a
long day.”

Jeremy’s eyes shot to Rafe’s, and he was pissed at himself for giving that impression. He’d

been looking forward to relaxing at the pub all day. “No, no. Now’s great. I mean, it’s great for
me anyway. Unless you’d like to do this another time,” he blurted before a realization struck
him. Oh shit. Rafe was probably still worried about running into Mark Newland. “If this is about
Newland, don’t sweat it. He worked tonight; he wasn’t even at practice.”

Rafe looked surprised this time and started laughing, which confused Jeremy even more.

“Let’s just go in. I’m fine, you’re fine, and we’re both starving and thirsty. Thanks though.” He
pulled back on one of the doors and held it wide for Jeremy, the familiar sounds of the pub
reaching out to greet them.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, deciding to forget the rest of their conversation and start over

from scratch. “Does a booth sound alright?”

Rafe nodded and followed as Jeremy made a beeline to one of the few remaining booths in a

corner that was as quiet as a place like Mulhaney’s could get. On the way, he slapped palms with
a couple of guys from the ball team and tossed a wave to the bartender. At the booth, they both
aimed for the side that would give them a view of the room, but Rafe got to it first, smiling slyly
as he slid into the seat.

“Dick,” Jeremy laughed and sat down across from him.
Rafe just laughed and grabbed one of the tabletop menus. His hair fell down over his

forehead again and Jeremy froze for a second, wondering what blessed moon the guy had been
born under to get a head of hair like that. He rolled his eyes and signaled to a server, already
knowing what he was going to order.

Lydia saw them first and hurried over as Rafe deposited his menu back in place. She angled a

“Hello, Hottie!” look at him and he flashed a smile back, ordering the exact same club sandwich
and fries combo that Jeremy was getting.

It was starting to feel freakish…whatever was going on inside him. Wasn’t it a little

ridiculous to feel so pleased they ordered the same thing off the menu? A tad gay perhaps? What
was it about Rafe that was making him act like this?

Lydia was gone and back in record time with their beers and Jeremy glugged down a quarter

of his before her back was turned, hoping it would soften the edge to his nerves. Rafe took his
drink a little slower, looking around the pub curiously. His cell phone vibrated on the tabletop
and after a quick glance, he sent the call to voicemail.

“You could’ve taken that, man. I don’t mind.”
Rafe shrugged. “It was my buddy Brian. I’ll call him later. Thanks, though…and thanks

again for meeting with me,” he offered after a few seconds.

Jeremy wiped the beer foam from his upper lip with a napkin and shook his head. “It’s not a

problem. Were you able to find out anything new today?”

“Well, I only had two interviews pertaining to Yesenia’s case, but they’ve added a whole

truckload of what-the-hell to it.” He took another sip of beer and pinned Jeremy with that
thousand-yard stare of his. “The more I hear about Hector, the more I’m seriously concerned
about what was happening in that house with Yesenia. I think it was a lot more than some fights
about Angel.”

Jeremy leaned his arms on the table, frowning. “Like what?”
“Abuse of some kind. Physical, emotional…maybe more.” He cleared his throat and nodded

as Jeremy’s eyes widened. “I spoke to Angel first and he pointed me in the direction of Grace,
Yesenia’s cousin. I talked to her before I called you. Anyway, they both alluded to the way
Hector watches Yesenia. He’s obsessive about where she is and whom she’s with at all times.
Their relationship is not coming across as a healthy father/daughter situation. It’s like Hector is

fixated on Yesenia.”

“Can you give me any more detail than that?” Jeremy asked, his skin crawling at the

possibilities.

“Angel and Grace both told me about the way Hector acts. Now, obviously he’s not going to

act the same way with Angel around, but they both talk about how she was barely allowed to
leave the house—even to see a friend that he approves of—and that if it were up to him, he’d
keep her locked there all the time. Angelina was letting Angel come by and see her when Hector
was at work so he wouldn’t freak out. And get this: Grace told me that the night Yesenia went
missing she’d gone to the bathroom and Hector was concerned she’d been in there alone so long.
He busted in and found the window gaping open and Yesenia gone. I mean, if he’s watching how
long she’s in the bathroom…”

“Hell. He certainly didn’t mention that part to us, did he? Why would he be in such denial

that his daughter could run away? Does he think she was dragged from the house through the
window?”

Rafe shrugged. “I have no idea yet, but that information alone makes it even weirder. There’s

an ownership type thing going on with him from the sounds of it. Angel says he’s never seen a
man look at his daughter that way and Grace said the same thing. Like he wanted her to be his
closest friend and would flash into a rage if he felt that was threatened by anyone else. But we
saw it for ourselves, didn’t we? He doesn’t really come across as rational when Yesenia is the
subject.”

Jeremy stared blankly at Rafe for a minute, images of their meeting with Hector and

Angelina flipping through his mind. What Rafe was saying implied something pretty sick was
going on at the Aragon’s, but he was right, even Angelina looked like she was being forced to act
a particular way.

“God,” he groaned. “I hope it’s not what we’re thinking.”
“You know the family better than I do, but I wasn’t sure this would trigger any memories

with you.”

Jeremy tried to sift through his disgust to any recollections that might stand out and help

Rafe, but he just hadn’t been around the Aragon’s place much since he’d left home. Carlos was
eight years older than his little sister as well, so even when Jeremy had hung around, Yesenia
was always too young to tag along. Jeremy hadn’t spent any time with her since she’d entered
her teens.

“I wish I could say that it’s not even a possibility, but I guess it really is…as terrible as that

sounds. Dammit. She’s only seventeen.”

Rafe made a noise of agreement and then snapped his fingers suddenly. “Speaking of her

age, Grace told me Yesenia turns eighteen soon. The seventeenth of August. Could be that she
couldn’t take her home life for another minute and thought she’d escape until she became a legal
adult. Then she could technically take charge of her life without having to get the okay from her
dad.”

“It’s a possibility,” Jeremy agreed, running a hand over his face. “I can’t believe this.”
Lydia chose that moment to show up with their sandwiches and he clammed up, not wanting

her to hear anything they were talking about. When she moved away Rafe reached out and patted
the table in front of Jeremy’s hand.

“Keep in mind that this is all hearsay for now. It’s still a possibility that Hector’s biggest

problem is that he’s a manipulative, controlling asshole. I still have a lot of questions to ask.”

Jeremy gave a half-hearted smile and forced down a bite of sandwich, chewing thoughtfully.

After a few more minutes of quiet as they both ate, he asked, “Was there anything else that stood
out to you?”

Rafe wiped his mouth and sat back, obviously wondering if he should say anything else to

Jeremy after the bomb he’d just dropped. Jeremy waved him on impatiently.

“From your conversation with Carlos, what was your impression about how he felt about

Angel?”

Jeremy cocked his head as he recalled the phone call. “I guess he sounded kind of blasé about

the kid. Like he didn’t spend much time worrying about a guy whose balls haven’t even dropped.
His words not mine. He even sounded like he was really tired of the way Hector went ballistic
around him all the time. I guess he didn’t care one way or the other. It seemed to me like he
thought his sister ran away and that Angel didn’t have anything to do with it. He was sort of
embarrassed to have to call me up because his dad wanted a P.I.”

Rafe bundled up his napkin and tossed it on the table, looking irritated in a rico-suave kind of

way. “Get this then. Angel said that the night Yesenia went missing, Hector barged into his
house demanding to see Yesenia and that when his parents let him inside, he went through
Angel’s room.”

“Yeah, I remember you saying that.”
“Well, what Angel never said before—not to the guys from the missing person unit anyway

—was that Carlos was there, too. He went through Angel’s closet, which apparently pissed him
off.” He scowled in a way that made Jeremy wonder what he wasn’t saying. “So now it looks
like Carlos is keeping something from us as well. If he didn’t care one way or another whether
Angel dated his sister, why would he go ape shit with his dad that night? And why would he
keep it from you that he went over there—or why wouldn’t he at least tell you he visited Angel
and knew his sister wasn’t there?”

Jeremy sank back into the cushions of the booth and stared wonderingly at the detective. “It’s

like a giant rat hole, man. Like nobody’s telling the truth.”

“The bullshit is starting to get thick. When Angel gave me Grace’s name, he also told me to

talk to Angelina, but without Hector around. I’ll have to sneak over when Hector’s at work and
she’s not. But now we know that even when we were sitting across from her in the living room
she was keeping things from us.”

“I got a message from her today thanking me for finding and recommending you,” Jeremy

offered. “She sounded like she was reading it from a paper or something. Hector was probably
breathing down her neck making sure she said everything just so. Fuck,” he snapped. “I bet you
really wished you never met me now.” Even as Jeremy said the words, he hoped that Rafe didn’t
feel that way. When the detective chuckled, Jeremy nearly sagged with relief.

“Easy, Halliday. This is my job, remember? I’ve had a lot of screwy cases before. This is just

the first one where everyone seems to be holding something back—especially the people who
hired me.”

“Any chance you can bill them extra for that?”
“Paperwork is a bitch,” Rafe winked. “It’ll add up.”
Jeremy went for his glass again and realized it was empty. “You want another one?” he

nodded toward Rafe’s nearly finished beer.

“Definitely. It’s been a long day.”
He gave the high sign to Lydia again as he held up his glass, thrown off when he saw she was

already staring at their table, or more specifically at Rafe, and whispering with another girl she
worked with. At his signal she really got bustling and he held back a smile. Rafe seemed to have

a powerful affect on everybody.

“So what’s next then?” Jeremy asked him before Rafe noticed he was laughing. “Try to talk

to Carlos?”

Rafe sighed and finished chewing a bite of sandwich. “I’ve already been trying. I’ve left

messages at his place and on his cell, but no joy yet. It sucks, but he’s making me pretty
suspicious. I wonder if he was even working the other night when we stopped over at his parents.
I also still have to sit down with both Hector and Angelina alone.”

“I didn’t even think that Carlos might not be totally honest,” Jeremy said, smiling at Lydia

when she dropped off their beers. She didn’t even notice; she had a serious missile-lock on Rafe
who was still oblivious to her. “I really didn’t expect the conversation to go like this when you
called. I figured some personality profile questions and you’d be done with me. I really feel bad
it’s shaping up to be such a hassle.”

“I wouldn’t do this for a living if I didn’t like it,” Rafe answered softly. “Detective work is a

challenge for me.”

“Well, looks like I hooked you up with the right people then, so forget what I said about

feeling bad. You owe me.”

Rafe lifted his glass to Jeremy in a salute and glanced around the pub again, his eyes flitting

from person to person at the bar as though expecting a familiar face to pop out at him.

“Can I ask you a question?” Jeremy asked, swallowing down a couple more french fries.
“Shoot.”
“What’s the deal with you and Mark Newland? Did he screw around with an investigation of

yours or something?”

Rafe shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Jeremy sat up straighter when he noticed the flush

rising up the detectives cheeks.

“Oh…well,” he stammered, “that’s a really long story and I’d have to drag you back to my

college days before I even met Mark to explain.” He searched for something else to say for few
moments, his mind obviously doing back flips to keep it light. “Let’s just say that I’ve known
him for a couple years and we’ve had a few big differences of opinion.”

“A few?”
“Yes. A few.” He glared over his glass at Jeremy. “Look. He’s an okay guy. We just don’t

really mesh on all the particulars, I guess.”

Jeremy snorted through a couple more sips of his beer and pointed at Rafe. “You’re such a

bullshitter. Sometime you’ll have to tell me about those college days because you’re leaving out
all the good stuff, I can tell.”

Rafe stared down at his plate, his eyebrows reaching toward his hairline. “Trust me, Jeremy,”

he said almost under his breath. “You wouldn’t want to know.”

***

Rafe couldn’t bring himself to meet Jeremy’s eyes again, afraid that by saying what he had

that he’d given too much away. How could Jeremy not pounce on it? He’d totally screwed
himself by getting so weird about Mark on the phone earlier, but he was damn sure that Jeremy
wasn’t ready to hear that Mark was one of those long-term mistakes he’d made and that they’d
lived together…in every friggin’ room of the house. If that didn’t have him heading for the door,
Rafe would shit a brick.

“You’d be surprised what I can handle.” Jeremy’s expression was smug.

Rafe smirked. “What?”
“Hey, you’re not the only guy who doesn’t get along with Mark.”
“He’s been through a lot the past couple of years. He hasn’t always been so…” Rafe trailed

off, wondering why he was defending his ex. Guilt, he guessed.

“Bitchy?” Jeremy supplied. “The guy is bitchy.”
Rafe laughed out loud, covering his mouth with a hand. Jeremy had no idea he was hitting

very close to home. Instead, he sat across from Rafe with this happy look on his face over
cracking him up.

“Classic,” Rafe finally managed to gasp. “Nicely done.”
Jeremy lifted a shoulder as if saying he had plenty more where that came from. “No big

deal,” he said, reaching behind him for his wallet. “Considering the trouble I’m causing you by
dragging you into the chaos that is the Aragon family, I’m buying.”

Rafe waved away the offer. “No seriously. You don’t have to do that.” But Jeremy already

had his wallet open.

“No objections,” he said, and then clammed up instantly as a piece of folded notebook paper

fell from inside the brown leather wallet. After the hassle over Mark, Rafe wasn’t about to let
him off the hook.

“What’s this?” He leaned forward, his voice lifting in curiosity, until he made out the girly

swoop of handwriting and what must’ve been a phone number. “Uh oh! Who’s Jeannette?”

Jeremy lunged for the paper, but Rafe got there first, holding it in a tight grip and laughing

maniacally. He’d never admit it aloud, but the sight of a girl’s phone number falling from the
cop’s wallet had actually hurt a little bit. Mostly because Rafe was apparently incapable of
keeping his distance in a situation that would never work in his favor.

“I had to put it in my pocket!” he protested. “She was sitting in her car watching me after she

handed it over—and the only reason she got that far is because I was distracted by being on the
phone with you. It’s actually your fault.”

“Ohhhhh!” Rafe teased. “So you were in uniform? It’s all making sense now. What girl can

resist a guy with boots and a motorcycle?”

What guy could for that matter? Rafe thought to himself.
“She was like ten years younger than me. All fluffy hair and lipstick and giggles. Definitely

not my type.”

“Methinks thou dost protest too much.”
“And me thinks that guys who spout Shakespeare should be smacked in the face with a two

by four,” he shot back, wrestling the piece of paper away, though Rafe was really making him
work for it.

“Ah, don’t be sensitive.”
“I’m not!” he choked out. “You can have her phone number. You might even go for her.”
Rafe’s laughter cut off and he let go, easing back. “Fluffy and lipstick is not what I’m

looking for,” he admitted quietly. Muscled, blond, tan, and a jock…that was another story.

Jeremy eyed him suspiciously, looking like he wanted to ask for a little more detail, but Rafe

didn’t give him the chance. After enduring another few seconds of intense scrutiny, he excused
himself to the restroom and grimaced when he caught sight of his reflection in the small mirror
over the sinks. He was looking ripe…smelling ripe too. Excellent. Just the impression he wanted
to make. With the straight guy that he had zero chance with.

God he needed to go home while he still had a little dignity left.
On the way back to the booth he noticed their server heading toward him with a glint of

purpose in her eyes. She’d been staring at him most of the night and if he swung that way, he
might’ve found her a cute option, but since he kept to the other side of home base, he altered
course casually and met Jeremy just as he finished signing his credit card receipt. He heard Lydia
approaching on his six and grabbed Jeremy’s forearm, pushing him toward the door.

“We gotta go. Let’s move. Come on,” he said so quickly that the words tripped off his tongue

as one.

“What is it?” Jeremy’s eyes widened as he looked around, not even pulling his arm from

Rafe’s grasp.

“Lydia,” Rafe whispered, reluctantly releasing Jeremy’s arm when it seemed like he was

willing to go along with him. Jeremy’s crack of laughter was friggin’ adorable and his green eyes
practically glimmered. “Priceless,” he heckled, pushing through the pub’s front doors and
shuffling to a stop in the parking lot. The sun was down by then, but the sky was still light
enough for Rafe to soak in how absurdly good looking his friend was.

“Fine,” he ground out. “I apologize for bugging you about Jeannette.”
Jeremy only laughed some more as he reached in his pocket and pulled out the folded

notebook paper with her number, tossing it in the ashtray near the entrance. “Don’t sweat it.”

Rafe stared disbelievingly at the paper that was already darkening around the edges from

someone’s smoldering cigarette butt. If only wishing could make someone gay, he thought. He
was doing some intense wishing right then, but since Jeremy didn’t do anything near resembling
the lean in for a kiss, he was SOL.

“Thanks for meeting up with me,” he said a little too wistfully.
“Sure. We should get together again soon and go over whatever else you find out. I’d like to

help if I can, but you know, no pressure.”

“For sure, man,” Rafe agreed, reminding himself to let go of Jeremy’s hand. He refocused his

attention on swirling his key ring around his finger.

“And let me know if you have any more problems getting in touch with Carlos or setting up

any of the other interviews. I might be able to hunt them down.”

Rafe nodded and backed toward his truck parked across the lot from Jeremy’s Barracuda.

“See you around, then.”

Jeremy smiled that Adonis smile of his and jogged to his car, leaving Rafe with nothing else

to do but get in his truck and head home. As he sank down behind the wheel, he cursed at
himself.

“He’s straight, jackass,” he grumbled. “You don’t have some kind of fairy godmother who’s

going to turn that pumpkin into your next ride, so let it go.” He heard a honk behind him and
stuck his arm out the window to wave goodbye. “Yep. Run away, unavailable one. It’s just not
meant to be.” Too bad. They even liked the same food. That oughta count for something.

“Yeah, not in your world, man.”
Grabbing his phone, he called up Brian, looking for an intervention of sorts. When his voice

sounded on the line Rafe spilled.

“I met with him to go over some stuff from this investigation and he was all artfully messy

after his softball practice. He’s fucking straight, did I mention that? I’m sure I did.”

Brian laughed mercilessly. “You’re such a fag, man. That’s where you went after the game?

And no wonder you sent me to voicemail, you dick.” There was some mumbling in the
background and Rafe realized Brian was getting an earful of his fiancé’s disapproval. “Megan
thinks I shouldn’t call you a fag,” he continued, “but I say if the Dolcé and Gabana fits, wear it.”

Brian’s laugh was cut off with a groan and Megan was suddenly on the line.

“This is the cop you told Bri about?” she asked, being her usual attentive self.
“Jeremy, yeah. I’m telling you, Megan, if that was a date we were just on, it would’ve been a

dream come fucking true.”

“Does he know you’re gay?”
“I seriously doubt it. It would suck, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he were the type to run for

the door after hearing something like that. He’s so straight he’s probably afraid of gay rubbing
off on him.”

“Another dream come true, right? You rubbing on him?” she chuckled lightly and Rafe heard

Brian ask why she could tease him and he couldn’t. Megan ignored him. “How do you know for
sure he’s straight? I mean, he can’t look at you and know for sure, so…”

“He’s straight. He had a girl’s phone number in his wallet, though he did say she wasn’t his

type and he had to keep the number because she was watching his reaction,” he thought out loud.
“But seriously, he’s straight. I have no doubt.”

“Well, I’ll leave that to your judgment. What do you think you’ll do about him then? You

can’t really avoid him when you’re working for this family. He’s going to want to know how the
investigation is going, especially since you already included him.”

“I know, right?” he groaned, running a hand over his face. “I guess I’ll just try to keep the

contact to a minimum. Strictly professional. Then, I’ll call you guys so you can talk me down
from my gay-men-who-fall-for-breeders ledge.”

Megan made a sympathetic noise. “Be careful, Rafe, okay? We don’t want you getting hurt

by this guy—even if he never has any idea he’s hurting you. You deserve better than that.”

“Yeah…well. Life’s cruel, I guess.” Rafe glanced around the darkening parking lot and

sighed. “I’m going to head home now. I’ll keep you guys posted on my lack of emotional
progress.”

“Call whenever,” she offered kindly, making a kiss noise over the phone before hanging up.

Ugh. Pathetic. He was so very pathetic.

CHAPTER FIVE

It was ten ‘til seven when Jeremy strode out of the morning brief, a wave of laughter

following him. Lucero, one of the rookies, made the mistake of giving voice to a question his
partner told him to ask. The kid was still in the briefing room getting ribbed. Jeremy high-
stepped it out of there, knowing he wasn’t that far from rookie status himself and it wouldn’t take
much to get the remember whens started and his old embarrassments would come out. Most of
them were much more ridiculous than anything Lucero had said.

A couple friends greeted Jeremy as he moved through the hallways and he waved to them,

jerking to a halt when he caught sight of Mark Newland grabbing a cup of coffee in the break
room. Normally, since Mark was a senior dispatcher, he was at the main dispatch station way out
of town. A couple times a month there were meetings that representatives from the dispatchers
attended at the different stations. This was maybe only the second time Jeremy had seen Mark
outside softball games and practice.

It wasn’t so much seeing him that had Jeremy stopping in mid-stride, though. It was the

image of Rafe at dinner the night before, mumbling through an explanation about the bitchy
dispatcher, or a non-explanation rather. Jeremy smiled grimly and wasted no time diving into
some recon.

“Hey Mark, missed you at practice last night,” he lied happily.
Mark threw a skeptical look over his shoulder at the sound of Jeremy’s voice, not even trying

to smile. We never were close, Jeremy thought to himself, his mouth spreading wide in a grin.

“Yeah, hey,” Mark monotoned him, going back to stirring his coffee, his whole body

shouting his indifference. “Who’d you guys have covering first base?”

“Brooks.” Jeremy moved around Mark and leaned against the counter facing him. “He didn’t

do half-bad.”

“Good to hear.” He took a sip of his coffee, winced and added another packet of sugar,

mumbling something about cops forcing people to drink tar. “I’ll be back at practice on Thursday
night,” he spoke again to Jeremy. “No worries for the next game. Did practice go long?”

Wow. Here they were. Actually carrying out a conversation with one another without it

dissolving into whiney growls from Mark.

“Nah, not too bad.” Jeremy eyed him, wondering what the guy did to cause so much bad

blood with Rafe. The detective seemed like he was straight from central casting as the terminally
easygoing type, so the real story had to be juicy. “We got out a little early. I was able to get
together for dinner with a detective friend of mine. Rafe.” Jeremy dropped the name and felt a
wicked rush of satisfaction as Mark’s body started speaking a whole other language.

Bingo.
“R-Rafe Bridges?” he stuttered, abandoning his coffee to face Jeremy head on.
“Sure,” Jeremy replied innocently. “You know him?”
Mark cleared his throat and tried to act casual by crossing his arms, which didn’t work out

because he kept dropping them to his sides and crossing them again. Back and forth. Jeremy
smirked; he couldn’t help it.

“Of course I know him. We fucking lived together for a year and we knew each other long

before that.”

It was Jeremy’s turn to be stunned. That wasn’t the response he was expecting at all, and he

was sure his smirk had goaded Mark into his display of temper.

“No…shit?” he faltered, struggling to hang onto his humor.
Mark was really glowering now, closing the short distance between them in two angry strides

and automatically putting Jeremy on the defensive. He had to use his forearms against Mark’s
chest to keep the smaller man out of his grill.

“You guys are friends then, huh?” he whispered harshly. “You’ve had me fooled all this time

too. I can usually pick ‘em out of the crowd. I should’ve known though. You must remind him of
that fucking Jason.”

Jeremy used a little muscle to push Mark back and scowled tightly. “What the hell are you

talking about?”

A wicked glint rose to Mark’s eyes and he exchanged his grim expression for one of

superiority. “You don’t know.” It wasn’t a question.

“Know what?”
“Hah!” he burst out. “Well, maybe you need to ask your ‘friend’ a few more questions before

you try pulling crap on people who know him better than you ever will.” Mark patted Jeremy on
the chest in a way that was much too personal, backing off before he could retaliate.

Feeling totally off balance, Jeremy pushed away from the counter and swept past Mark, his

exit not quite so proud as his arrival. At the door he turned back and nailed Mark with a glare.
“Who turned you into such an asshole anyway?”

Mark smiled smugly back at him and retrieved his coffee from the counter, blowing on it

once. “Rafe Bridges, actually. He’s not quite the straight arrow he’s made himself out to be.”
Jeremy turned away with a snort of disgust, Mark’s laughter echoing behind him. When he was
almost to the entrance of the station he heard his name called again but refused to stop, even
when Mark yelled out behind him, “Let me know how that conversation goes!”

***

Five hours into his shift and Jeremy was still hearing Mark’s words in his head. Each time he

felt like he was homing in on what the guy was implying about Rafe, his imagination skittered
away from it, certain he was way off base and not wanting to assume something about Rafe that
would upset him—even if he never told him about it. But then he started remembering different
things that had been said, the way he seemed so uncomfortable when he spoke about Mark, and
that bit about college even.

Oh God, he thought. No way. Rafe could get any woman he wanted. Look at the way he

didn’t have to say a single word to Lydia at the restaurant and she practically stalked him out of
there. That memory only helped for a second because he remembered Rafe’s face as he raced for
the door, pushing Jeremy ahead of him in his haste to depart.

And hell! What about the comment Jeremy made about taking Jeannette’s number for

himself? What’d he say?

“Fluffy and lipstick is not what I’m looking for.”
Shit. Triple shit.
Then there was also the way he’d answered when Jeremy pressed him about Mark. “Trust

me, you wouldn’t want to know.”

As Rafe’s words whispered through his mind, he nearly missed the silver Audi running the

red light. Flipping on his lights and siren, he pulled forward into traffic and accelerated to catch
up. He knew exactly when the driver saw him because his eyes in the rearview mirror said a
decided, “Fuck.” Jeremy was almost ready to let him off with a warning just so he could get back
to making sense of this new life development.

As the Audi slowed, Mark’s bitch voice hit him again. “He’s not the straight arrow he’s

made himself out to be.” And his satisfaction when he said, “You don’t know.”

Seriously? He groaned aloud. How was it possible? And while he was asking himself

questions, he wanted to know who this Jason guy was supposed to be.

Jeremy parked his motorcycle well out of traffic and forced all the distractions from his

mind. He’d end up getting himself shot or worse thinking about shit like this during his shifts.

Approaching the car at a steady pace, he kept his hands swinging free but close to his gun

belt just in case. When he came alongside, the driver, a man in his late twenties, maybe even the
same age as Jeremy, already had his license and registration out.

“How you doing?” Jeremy asked him.
“I’ve been better, Officer,” the guy answered, holding his information out. Jeremy took it and

eyeballed the license for a second.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?”
“I ran the red light and I was on my cell phone,” he admitted immediately.
Jeremy’s brows lifted behind his sunglasses. It was funny how often people answered him

like they were at confession when he hadn’t even seen some of the things they were doing
wrong. Like this guy talking on his cell phone.

“It’s illegal to operate your vehicle without a hands free device for your phone, but you know

that.” The guy nodded. “It’s also illegal to run red lights.” Another nod. “I’m going to have to
ticket you. Talking on your phone distracted you enough to run that light. What if a pedestrian
were in the crosswalk?”

“You’re right, sir. I’m sorry about it.”
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Jeremy replied, taking the license and registration back to his bike

and writing up his fifth ticket of the day. He didn’t usually harp on people when he ticketed
them, but it was either do that right now or ask the guy how he’d react if he found out a guy he
admired was gay, and what he’d do if that same guy had an effect on him that no one else ever
had. It wasn’t until the Audi pulled back into traffic and Jeremy aimed his bike toward lunch that
he really allowed himself to get lost thinking again.

So okay. He’d just say it. Try it on for size and see what happened.
“Rafe could be gay,” he murmured to himself. “There. I said it.” It wasn’t so bad. If it were

true, it’s not like Rafe would be the first gay guy he’d known. It wasn’t contagious or anything.

That thought sent him down the wrong rabbit hole, too, because not even a second after it

went through his mind he thought of the impact Rafe had on him. There was always that
ridiculous self-consciousness—totally unlike him—and he was nervous. He hated looking bad in
front of Rafe for crying out loud. Dammit. Didn’t it figure? He was acting like a girl who liked a
guy! Freaking weird! And unnatural… Right? Or was it that he sensed it without knowing that
Rafe was gay and he wasn’t sure how to act around him?

He should have known. Granted, Rafe was very masculine—nothing about him shouted

queer. That hair, though? His style? And sonofabitch! Hadn’t he said something about his dad
not speaking to him anymore? That was probably why.

“It fits,” Jeremy sighed heavily. “Sort of. I guess. In a circumstantial way.”
Rafe hadn’t made a pass at him. Not that he had to. Jeremy might not even be his type, which

didn’t settle well for reasons he didn’t want to touch right then and there. Why wouldn’t he be
the guy’s type though? It’s not like he was ugly or anything. He kept himself in good shape. He
was athletic, funny, and easy to get to know as well. So what was the deal?

“What is wrong with you, man?” he barked at himself. “Why do you even care about that?

You don’t know if any of this is true! And you’re straight.”

He wouldn’t put it past Mark to make him go crazy over something like this. Asshole. So he

and Rafe lived together for a year, what of it? That’s a standard lease, he reasoned.

The gay thing was easier to apply to Mark, however. He wasn’t the feminine type, either, but

with Mark’s words backing up Jeremy’s examination of his behavior, a few things were starting
to stand out. There was definitely some jealousy in the way he’d responded to Jeremy’s reference
to Rafe as a friend, and how he immediately got pissed when asked if he knew the detective.
Mark was all about getting in a guy’s personal space, too. He enjoyed making people
uncomfortable…or he enjoyed flirting where he knew it wouldn’t be returned. In the break room,
he’d gotten close enough to kiss—

Whoa! He was so not going there. All this thinking only made him realize that he didn’t

know much about being gay besides the stereotypes. Not every gay guy was a flamer, obviously,
just like not every lesbian was butch. He liked Rafe regardless. He liked him a lot. The only
thing he didn’t like was his screwed up reactions to the guy.

Jeremy found himself downtown, wending his way through the one-way streets in a near

circle, until he noticed a silver trailer parked in the corner of a lot. Without thought, his face
broke in a rueful smile. It was the burrito wagon that Rafe went to a couple times a week. He got
those chimichangas there.

Not quite sure why, he pulled up next to the curb and shut off his bike, taking in the three

packed chalk board menus. The wagon had everything. He glanced around surreptitiously for a
familiar pickup truck and was equal parts relieved and disappointed that Rafe wasn’t around.

There was a short line in front of the trailer, mostly guys in suits from the nearby financial

and court buildings. A couple of them were off to the side eating, their ties flipped over their
shoulders out of harm’s way. The smell in the air was mouthwatering and he couldn’t resist it
any longer.

Jeremy joined the line, tugging off his helmet and switching his radio around so he could still

hear calls. When he got up to the window, a smiling man leaned down and asked him what he
wanted. Not missing a beat, Jeremy asked for a chimichanga and a bottled water, wondering if
Rafe was really telling the truth about the cooking here. He usually made it a habit to avoid
burrito wagons because he didn’t relish the prospect of painfully reliving food for twenty-four
hours afterward.

It only took a few minutes to get his order and he settled down at one of the benches lining

the lot, resting his helmet on the bench beside him. The first bite was bliss and the rest that
followed nearly had him melting off his seat into a puddle on the pavement. He moaned happily
and ate like someone was threatening to steal the foil wrapped treasure from his grasp. After
guzzling down his bottled water, he pulled out his cell phone and stared at it uneasily.

To call or not to call?

CHAPTER SIX

Rafe had his sleeves rolled up and was using his last dry towel to mop up the deluge of water

his busted dishwasher decided to dump on his travertine tile when his phone warbled from the
countertop. He blew a lock of hair out of his eyes and stood up with a groan. His freaking back
was killing him. Thank god he’d decided to come home for lunch, or his thirty year old Kenmore
special would still be spitting buckets and flooding right on into the carpeted living room.

He couldn’t ignore the call though, especially if it turned out to be Carlos Aragon. The dude

was on the verge of hurting Rafe’s tender feelings by avoiding him with such focus. Alas, the
call wasn’t Carlos. It was someone much better.

“Hey Jeremy, what’s doing man?” he smiled into the phone, puppy-dog pleased that he was

getting a call from the cop.

“Not much…” Jeremy paused and Rafe easily picked up on the hesitance in the other man’s

voice. “I uh…just stopped at that burrito wagon you go to downtown.”

“Oh crap, you’re not sick are you?” He wiped a drop of sweat from his face with his forearm.

“I swear I’ve never had a problem with Manuel’s cooking. What’d you have?”

Jeremy’s low laugh vibrated over the line and Rafe sagged against the counter. “I’m fine. I

had a chimichanga and it pretty much changed my life. I thought you should know.” His tone
was warming up bit by bit and Rafe’s uneasiness began fading. Maybe he’d just read him wrong
at first. “Are you at lunch now?”

Rafe’s eyes swept over his drippy kitchen and he snorted. “That was my initial plan, but

when I got home I found my kitchen flooded out. Fucking dishwasher decided to stick a fork in
itself.”

Jeremy cursed in sympathy and started up with the laughing again. “So you still haven’t

eaten?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Rafe said, nudging the sopping pile of towels with the toe of his Steve

Maddens. I’m going to have to pull the dishwasher out and see if it’s been leaking any longer
than today, which would be particularly awesome because I only finished redoing this floor a
month ago.”

“Would you… I mean, do you want me to bring you something from the wagon? I’m still

right here,” Jeremy offered, stuttering and faltering through the delivery.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed and he stayed silent for a second. Something was definitely going on

with Jeremy. “Can you even do that while you’re on duty?” He finally broke the silence.

“Sure,” Jeremy said quietly. Rafe easily pictured him shrugging in that way he had. It was

adorable, though he’d never say as much to Jeremy. “Tell me where you are and what you want,
and I’ll drop it by. I can always patrol on the way, though technically, I’m still on a break.”

“You seriously wouldn’t mind?” Rafe asked hesitantly, afraid he’d sound too overeager if he

jumped on the offer immediately like he wanted to. God help him, he really wanted to see the
cop again. You know, add more torture to his day by pining over someone impossibly out of his
reach.

“I don’t mind at all. What would you like?”
Damn, Rafe loved Jeremy’s voice; it was so warm it made him tingle in all the right places.

Sign number two million that Rafe was pathetic.

“A beef burrito sounds good. I’ve got stuff to drink here.” He gave Jeremy directions to his

house, and they disconnected at the same time. With lunch rush hour to contend with and coming
all the way from downtown, it’d probably take him fifteen minutes to get here.

He forced himself to get back to sopping up the water and unsuccessfully flushing the image

of Jeremy in his uniform from his mind. Seeing him like that would take him right back to that
first time, when he had to hunt Jeremy down at the courthouse. He first spotted the cop down by
the metal detectors in the lobby and he was only getting the rear view, which was certainly no
laughing matter, but when Jeremy turned around at the sound of his name, he hit Rafe with the
full force of his Greek God stare. He had the jaw, the perfect statue of David nose, and his hair?
Good galldamn it was perfect. Most people never realized how rare it was in his neck of the
woods to see a guy with golden blond hair. There were ashy blonds and light browns by the
dozen, but that gold in Jeremy’s hair was rare. He kept it trimmed like it was always on the verge
of needing a cut: longer in front with no definite part. Tousled bed head. And Rafe wanted all of
it.

Rafe rolled his eyes miserably and grumbled under his breath. He was failing huge. It was

unfair. Another clue that perhaps he needed to get out and meet someone new. Crushing on a
younger guy who was a cop and closely involved with his clients… It was idiocy. He needed
someone who wouldn’t be a waste of time to invest all his deep feelings with. Jeremy was,
however, a perfect investment if the return Rafe wanted was heartbreak.

Nah, he thought wearily, I’ll pass. So what if Jeremy was exactly his type and seeing him the

first time brought back memories of the first guy he’d ever been with in college?

Jason. The older man by three years. Damn if those three years hadn’t given him a world of

experience, though, with Rafe reaping all the bennies. He was a golden blond too, but he wasn’t
as muscled up as Jeremy. And here Rafe was…his turn to be the older man maybe?

Jeremy was a better person than Jason, which Rafe didn’t mean to think of as a secondary

concern compared to his looks; it just happened that way. Jeremy was honest and authentic.
Jason was a lying cheater who took advantage and moved his unreliable ass to Chicago. Jeremy
was easy to be around. Of course, that was without him knowing the truth. Once he found that
out—and he would, it wasn’t that big a secret—maybe he’d turn tail and run. Rafe really hoped
not. He was still sort of partial to the dream of Jeremy suddenly deciding he was gay and
realizing the attraction to women he used to feel was a fluke. How convenient would that be?

Shit, even looking past the stereotypical stuff—the muscle car fetish and the jock bit—the

guy had to have girls oozing into his path all day. Ladies loved guys in uniforms. It didn’t matter
that Jeremy didn’t have a girlfriend; he could be the casual type. He didn’t have to rush finding
someone. After all, he was probably only twenty-six, twenty-seven. There was plenty of time for
him to settle down with some girl and make a million babies. Rafe winced, realizing that was a
comment right out of his mother’s mouth.

“You just need to find the right girl. Everything will fall into place...” Yeah, thanks mom.

Everything will fall into place, except for attraction, passion, sex…

Rafe found another dry towel on top of his dryer in the garage and was dragging it along the

kitchen floor with his foot when the doorbell buzzed. His heart buzzed right along with it and he
sucked in a deep breath before he called out for Jeremy to come in. Best not to be too excited and
pirouette to the door like a true fairy.

“I’m in here,” he yelled over his shoulder and bent to pick up the sopping pile of towels,

careful to hold them away from him so he wouldn’t turn Jeremy’s visit into an impromptu wet
dress shirt contest.

“Holy crap,” Jeremy whistled and tossed the aromatic bag of food on the counter as he

rushed to take some of the towels off Rafe’s hands.

“Easy,” Rafe cautioned, “I don’t want your uniform to get dirty with old dishwasher water.”
“My uniform’s black. And the water smells like lemon soap,” he answered easily, taking half

of the towels from Rafe with gorgeously flexed forearms. “I’m fine.”

Rafe purposely hadn’t really looked at his friend when he walked in, but now his eyes slid

sideways and took in the parts of him he could see. He must have left his helmet with his bike;
his forehead had a light mark across the top and his hair was pointing out at cute angles. His
tanned skin was the icing on the cake and Rafe got busy thinking about repair costs for the
kitchen so he wouldn’t say something stupid like, “Yes, you are fine. I’d like to have you for
lunch instead.”

They dropped the towels on the garage floor and Rafe loaded the washing machine while

Jeremy looked around. When he gave another low whistle, Rafe knew he’d spotted the pair of jet
skis trailered in one half of the two-car garage. He laughed.

“Do you jet ski?” Rafe asked, twisting the knob on the washer until it was rumbling like a

pro.

“I’ve only been twice,” Jeremy answered as he crossed the room and ran a hand along one of

the seats. “These are much nicer than the rentals I’ve tried. I spent more time getting them started
than riding them.”

Rafe moved in front of the trailer and grabbed one set of jet ski handlebars, keeping his eyes

far away from Jeremy’s lean legs trailing down to his boots. “These are a lot of fun. It’s been too
long since I’ve taken them out.”

Jeremy nodded and moved to look at them from another angle. “How long have you had

‘em?”

Rafe kept his eyes down and fidgeted with one of the handle grips as he answered. “Year and

half, I guess. A relic of a past relationship, you might say.”

Jeremy went completely still and Rafe couldn’t help but look up at him. Those green eyes

bored into his, a question wavering in them, and Rafe did the stupidest thing he could’ve done
and held onto that eye contact as his breath quickened. The classic sign of interest.

He waited for Jeremy to speak as sweat broke out on the back of his neck. A straight guy

wouldn’t appreciate the staring and with each second that passed, Rafe begged himself to look
away, to drop his eyes and go back inside, but he freaking couldn’t. He was slipping big time. So
much for keeping his cool.

“I ran into Newland today,” Jeremy spoke up, his face flushing as he dropped the eye contact

for both of them. His long legs fidgeted back and forth accompanied by the sound of squeaking
boot leather.

Rafe’s body stiffened and he gripped the handlebars until the skin of his palms protested. He

knows, he thought. Mark spilled.

“Oh yeah? And what did Mark have to say?” Rafe waited for the inevitable excuses as

Jeremy fled, too embarrassed to get into it. He’d say he had to get back to work, cut the visit
short.

“Rafe.”
The sound of his name spoken so carefully made him want to explode with a rush of

emotions. When he looked up, a pitiful feeling of rejection rose in his chest, and he had to admit
how screwed he was. A few meetings with this guy and he was already falling hard. Stupid.

Jeremy was staring at him again, his perfect body braced on the other side of the trailer, his

forearms tight and gold in the uneven light. Dammit, even his hair poking out around his
forehead mocked Rafe in a way that made him want to fall to his knees and scream, like caring
about what this guy thought of him was some kind of cosmic joke.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Jeremy murmured, channeling his gaze elsewhere and

saving Rafe from proving how abysmal his efforts to distance himself were.

He knew what was coming and that inner feeling of rejection multiplied. His answer was

more of a grunt than anything else. Jeremy kept his attention on the jet skis, his hands pressing
into one of the cushioned seats until his knuckles were white.

“I don’t know how else to ask it, so I’ll just say it flat out,” he began.
Rafe felt like snapping out an ungracious thanks for putting them both out of their misery. It

was so very kind and expedient of the cop.

“Are you gay?” Jeremy finished, his voice going all husky.
And there it was.
Rafe’s jaw clenched and he became aware of a throbbing pain in his chest. “Would it

matter?” he spat. “No—you know what? Don’t answer that. If you’ve gotta ask, it’s probably
because you’re thinking that if I am gay, I’m expecting something out of you. Like, I got you to
come over here to proposition you, right? Fuck that.”

He didn’t know where all the animosity was coming from, but it was raging through him, the

power strong enough to bring Jeremy’s head cranking his direction. The surprise in his eyes only
made it worse.

“Don’t spend any more time worrying, Jeremy. If it makes you feel better, you can show

yourself out,” Rafe growled, turning and stalking back into the house.

“Hey!” Jeremy shouted, following and knocking something over in the process from the

sounds of it. “That’s not why I’m asking. I told you I didn’t know how to do it. I wanted to know
is all. I’m not trying to give you shit.”

Rafe kicked off his wet shoes in the kitchen and spun back towards him. “Why Jeremy?

Why’d you want to know then? Try to explain it to me.”

The color was high in Jeremy’s face and he was clearly upset over their unraveling

conversation. “I-I just did. It’s not a big deal if you are, but you can’t blame me for being curious
about it!”

“Curious how? Like you want to know if it’ll rub off on you? Or maybe that I’ll try to trick

you so I can steal your virtue.”

“No! Take it easy, Rafe. It wouldn’t matter to me is what I’m trying to tell you. We’re

friends, right? That’s part of why I’m asking.”

“Bullshit. If it didn’t matter at all, you wouldn’t need to know so badly. You’re asking

because if I’m gay and someone else found out about it, you know they’d start looking at you
and wondering why you spend time with me. Shit—” He lifted his arms in realization. “That’s
what happened, isn’t it? Mark thinks you’re gay because we hung out.”

Jeremy’s face hardened in a second and he closed the distance between them, prodding Rafe

in the chest with a finger.

“Why don’t you calm down and stop being such a dick for a second. What kind of asshole do

you think I am? Like I can’t handle being around someone who’s gay. Do you think you’d be the
first gay guy I’ve met? Get off the ego trip for a minute and listen to me. I asked because I
wanted to know more about you. End of story. If you still want me to leave, go ahead and make
me, no one’s forcing you to see reason. I’ll keep my questions to myself from now on.”

Jeremy was breathing hard by the end of his speech and Rafe was equally upset, though part

of it was straight-up embarrassment for flying off like a drama queen. Every muscle in his body
was tight and ready for a fight and he didn’t know why he was so jacked. It wasn’t the first time
he’d been asked, but it was the first time he erupted like friggin’ Vesuvius over it.

He just didn’t want Jeremy to be the type of guy that couldn’t handle it. He didn’t want to

lose what little contact he had with him because… Well, because he was all pansied out on
Jeremy even though it was absolutely pointless.

“Yes,” he half-croaked, half-whispered. “Rafe Bridges. Private Detective and a fag.”
Jeremy didn’t back away, or flinch, or rush to the sink to wash his hands. “Yeah, your

reaction sort of clued me in. Damn…” He rested his hands on his hips and looked away. “If I’d
known that was the wrong way to ask, I wouldn’t have asked that way.”

“Forget it,” Rafe waved the semi-apology away. “It’s not your fault. Guess I’m a little touchy

about it right now. I’m not out to convert or seduce every guy I meet, you know? In my line of
work I run into a lot of douche bags that can’t handle it and automatically assume I walk around
with a perpetual hard-on for any dude I see.” He paused. “I didn’t want you to be like them.
Sorry.”

“You mean you don’t walk around with a perpetual hard-on?” Jeremy grinned. “I totally

thought that was true!” He laughed for a few seconds and then raised his hands in surrender.
“Kidding, Hulk. Let’s keep it between the lines, alright?”

The muscles in Rafe’s neck slowly loosened and he shook his head, putting a little more

distance between them. “How’s that for awkward?” he asked, leaning over the counter and
running his hands through his hair.

Jeremy shrugged. “Next time don’t go zero to prick in six seconds. I might be a jackass, but

I’m not that bad.”

Rafe snorted. “Whatever. And what the hell do you mean ‘next time?’ You think I’ve got a

marching band of skeletons in my closet? Not that my being gay is a huge secret or anything. I
simply don’t advertise my personal life.”

Jeremy grabbed the bag with its burrito inside and tossed it at Rafe so fast that he hardly had

time to catch it. “So I gather. You should eat; your hunger is showing.” He glanced into the
living room and then back around the kitchen and dining rooms like he was looking for
something.

“What is it?”
Jeremy kept looking as he answered. “Just wondering where you keep your ABBA

collection.”

Rafe actually cracked a smile then wiped it away with a grimace as he took a bite of his

burrito. “I really am sorry. You didn’t deserve that…explosion, or whatever that was.” He
wanted to say more, but he was afraid Jeremy would catch on to his attraction for him; he was
feeling that transparent.

“I ain’t skeered,” Jeremy quipped, sauntering over to the dishwasher and opening it for a

quick peek within. “I can understand about keeping your personal life to yourself, but what about
uh…guys? Like, are you seeing anyone? Is that how you say it?”

He gave Jeremy a sideways glance and finished chewing. “It’s not like we have a special

code book. It’s pretty much the same as you seeing a girl. Almost all the same descriptions
apply.”

“Fair enough. So what’s your girlfriend’s name?” He jumped out of the way of Rafe’s left

hook and started laughing. “Shit, where’s your sense of humor, Rafe? You walked into that one.”

“I’m not seeing anyone,” Rafe answered after a short silence. “Girlfriend free. Good grief,

what did Mark say to you anyway?”

Jeremy got busy fiddling with the dishwasher some more, for the first time revealing the full

extent of his discomfort. His awkwardness on the phone was making sense now for sure. “He
said that you uh…weren’t the straight arrow you’d made yourself out to be.”

“Clever,” Rafe growled. “Damn that guy. Damn me for going out with him for so long.”
“Yeah, I’m really struggling to figure out what you saw in him. It must be that he wasn’t

always so…touchy.”

“Well, that is partly my fault,” Rafe sighed. He was about to say more, stupidly forging

ahead into long dead relationship woes, but Jeremy’s radio started squawking, saving him.

Rafe was totally jonesing when he saw his friend’s reaction to the call. He got all police

officer on him. Serious face, lean stance, focus, and intensity. It was sexy as hell. Rafe nearly
choked on his last bite of burrito.

Jeremy spoke into the radio mic hanging over his shoulder and his expression cleared a little

as he looked at Rafe.

“Sorry, man, but I’ve gotta get back out there,” he apologized, already moving toward the

door. “Another lovely domestic disturbance and I’m closest.”

It was an abrupt departure, especially after Rafe’s “Great Reveal” but there was nothing

either of them could do about that. The whole thing was making Rafe squirm with anxiety. He
threw out another thanks for bringing food by and followed Jeremy to the door.

“Be careful out there,” he said casually, meaning it absolutely.
Jeremy nodded distractedly and was halfway down the walk before he turned and called out,

“Want me to come over tonight and help you yank that dishwasher out? I’ve got experience with
appliances…”

He was walking backwards now and Rafe fought the almost overwhelming urge to force

himself on the cop until he convinced him to switch teams.

“That’d be cool. Come over whenever; I’ve got stuff to grill burgers.”
Jeremy got to his bike and pulled on his helmet making some adjustments with his radio mic.

Next came the sunglasses and Rafe almost had to cross his legs against the wave of lust pooling
nicely in his groin.

“I get off around three and I can probably be here by five.”
Rafe’s addled brain thought he said something entirely different and he shook his head,

managing a calm, “See you then,” before Jeremy started his bike and pulled out of the driveway
with a rumble.

There was no question Rafe was in way over his head. When Jeremy threw him a quick

wave, he was lost for good. That’s when he got Brian on the phone and made sure he and Megan
dropped all of their plans and came to his house for burgers on the grill tonight. It was definitely
prime time for a buffer before he made a huge mistake by throwing himself at a straight man.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The dishwasher was going to have to stay as it was, looking sulky and downtrodden after

thirty years of hard work. Rafe had bills to pay.

The things he’d learned from Grace and Angel the day before were weighing on him. He’d

managed two more phone interviews with friends of Yesenia’s, but they weren’t as close to her
and didn’t have as much to offer. It was the same old stuff about her and her dad not getting
along, which precluded those friends being able to spend much time with her alone.

Rafe knew he had to talk to Hector at some point and he was dreading it. There wasn’t a

great way that he knew of to hint about an inappropriate relationship going on within that home.
It was a trap he’d have to spring once he had more information—something he needed Angelina
and Carlos for—and he could only set that trap when he was absolutely certain he was right. He
didn’t know Hector well, but then again, it didn’t take years of association to recognize that the
man would not take kindly to hints. For the time being, Rafe was hoping Yesenia ran away and
was somewhere safe, as long as there was a doubt as to what her father was subjecting her to in
that home.

Pulling up a seat at his dining table, he laid out all the contact info he had and the notes he’d

taken. He was blessed with a photographic memory and never had a problem recalling what
interviewees said, but he always took notes afterward just in case. After all, he could get a bat to
the head—not impossible in his line of work—and all those memories might disappear, a
delightfully morbid thought.

Rafe wanted to speak to Angelina very badly, yet he knew that if he called up the Aragon

house and Hector was around, she wouldn’t make a peep that he didn’t hear and possibly make
her pay for later.

He dialed up information and got the number to the office Hector worked out of. It’d be more

difficult to get a hold of him if he was still working on one of the road crews, but he’d graduated
to office life a couple years ago. Information connected him directly and he waited on the line
until a soft voiced answering system spoke up. It took him a couple minutes, but he finally got to
speak to an actual receptionist.

“Good afternoon,” he dove in, praying she was familiar with Hector. “I was wondering if

Hector Aragon happened to come in to work today?”

There was a pause and some shuffling, then, “Mr. Aragon doesn’t work out of this particular

office, he’s actually in planning, but I did see him this morning. Would you like the direct
number?”

Rafe closed his eyes and fisted his hand in victory. “Yes, that’d be great.”
The receptionist gave him the number and hung up. Rafe didn’t really need to talk to him, but

the number might come in handy so he jotted it down and immediately punched the Aragon’s
home number into his phone.

They didn’t have an answering machine, and Rafe let it ring about fifteen times before giving

up. So…Angelina was at work as well.

He flipped through his stack of notes until he found the family restaurant number where

Angelina worked as a hostess and dialed it in. He smiled in relief when she answered on the
second ring. If another family member had answered, he might’ve had to explain to them who he

was and there was no way he could tell if they’d snitch on her or not.

“Aragon Family Restaurant, this is Angelina, how may I help you?”
Rafe sat up, pen tapping against the tabletop. “Ms. Aragon, this is Rafe Bridges, could I talk

to you for a quick minute? I won’t keep you from your work long.”

The background noise faded on the line. Angelina was probably moving away from the main

crowd. “Detective,” her voice quavered, “have you heard some news about Yesenia?”

Rafe grimaced. “No, ma’am, I’m sorry. I’m moving through the interviews though and doing

my best.” God, he felt like an ass. “I actually need to sit down and talk with you, but I was
wondering if it’d be possible without Hector around?”

“Detective,” she began, the “no” already apparent, and he jumped right back in before she

could get it out.

“I’ll be talking to Hector alone eventually. It’s important as I try to find your daughter that I

get all the information I can. In a situation like this, it’s usually more beneficial if I can speak to
the parties concerned separately, that way, I’m getting more rounded information.” Rafe was
talking out of his ass, but he needed to make Angelina feel as comfortable as possible with
saying yes.

“Detective Bridges, I don’t know when I can speak to you without Hector around,” she

finally answered, the reluctance heavy in her tone.

“Is there a time when he’s at work and you aren’t? Or maybe you have a lunch break where

we could meet? I know this puts you in an awkward position, but I promise you, our talking is
essential for this investigation and right now, until I can speak to you and your son, I’m at a
standstill.”

The silence on the line was thick and laden with worry and Rafe rubbed at his eyes as

Angelina made up her mind. “Hector goes to work very early tomorrow morning and I don’t
have to be here at the restaurant until ten. If you don’t want him knowing we are going to talk,
you can’t come to the house. If he finds out you want to talk alone, he won’t allow it. He thinks I
am too emotional and will lead your investigation astray.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot upward. He thought she was too emotional? Ugh, whatever. This guy

was a dick.

“Name the place and time and I’ll be there.”
The background noise got quieter again and Angelina whispered into the phone. “I will meet

you tomorrow at the Wal-Mart right by our house. Do you know it?”

“I do. What time?”
“Seven,” she whispered again.
“I’ll be in a silver Nissan truck.”
“I’ll find you,” she said, and the noise grew louder again. “You can stop by for the catering

menu any time, or we can fax it to you, sir.”

Rafe blinked and smiled at Angelina’s ploy. “Good job,” he praised her. “See you at seven.”
Angelina wished him a good day and hung up. He smacked his hands against the table once

in excitement—he loved when things started to come together—and wrote down the information
for the interview. Rafe was relieved that Angelina was willing to talk to him behind her
husband’s back. To him, it signified that she had things to tell him that would impact the
investigation, but they were things Hector couldn’t know she was providing.

This was definitely one of the oddest investigations he’d ever run. Usually a detective could

count on the fact that parents of missing children would provide whatever information was
necessary to help find their child, including information that might set them in a bad light. Like

maybe they weren’t watching as well as they could and one minute their child was around, the
next she was gone.

But with the Aragons, he was realizing he absolutely couldn’t make that assumption. Hector

and Yesenia’s relationship was complex enough that Hector was staying tight-lipped with the
expectation that Rafe would find her with minimal clues to go on, and half-assed cooperation on
the family’s part. It was as though Hector wanted his daughter found, but at the same time he
didn’t. Maybe he knew that Yesenia didn’t want to come back and that scared the shit out of him.

Rafe was struggling to remain objective. The thought of Hector abusing the young girl in the

picture—the spitting image of his own wife—made his skin crawl. One thing he knew for sure
was that if Hector was guilty, he’d see to it personally that the guy was arrested. For the time
being though, Hector was still “innocent”, no matter that he gave Rafe a terrible feeling in his
gut.

***

The majority of the time Jeremy worked traffic—accidents, tickets, and broken-down

vehicles—but occasionally he got to take part in other calls. The only thing he couldn’t do was
take people to the downtown jail. He always called in a patrol car for that.

The domestic disturbance that took him away from Rafe was actually a backup call. There

was a report of a woman with a knife going after her husband on their front lawn. Apparently the
honeymoon was over. Once the Ginsus made an appearance, love was a distant memory.

When Jeremy pulled up, he parked next to the only cruiser there and dismounted, leaving his

lights winking away. The officer who responded initially, Greg Halpert, approached and waved
toward the curb where a decidedly dejected man was rocking back and forth, holding what
looked like the remains of a t-shirt over a gash on his forearm. The blood had already soaked
through.

“That’s the husband right there. Frank Sordino. I made a call for paramedics to take a look at

that cut. He has a couple more good ones on his back, too, but he’s hanging in there.”

Jeremy looked toward the house and thought he could make out some kind of screeching. He

started to say something when Greg nodded. “That’s the wife you hear. Vicky. She saw me
coming, took one last swipe at Frank here, and ran for the house. She’s locked herself in there
and refuses to respond to orders to come out. You and I either have to get her to come out
quietly, or go in not so quietly.”

“Lovely,” Jeremy sighed. “This isn’t their first call right?”
“Nah, I’ve actually been out here once before. That call wasn’t violent though, just

screaming and yelling until a neighbor had enough.”

Jeremy nodded. “Any kids inside?”
“No kids, but they’ve got a dog,” Greg said dryly.
“Please tell me it’s a Chihuahua or a fucking Pekingese.”
Greg smiled coldly. “Frank,” he called out, bringing Frank’s dazed expression around. “What

kind of dog did you say you have again?”

“She’s a Rottweiler. Sweet as sugar. I can call her and she won’t bite.”
Greg grinned hugely at Jeremy who rolled his eyes. “It’s probably best that you stay away

from the house, Frank,” Greg pointed out. “The paramedics will be here in a minute to look those
cuts over.”

Frank went back to rocking and Jeremy gave his pepper spray a gentle pat. “All right,” he

mumbled. “Let’s go take care of this. I’m leaving my helmet on though, especially since she’s a
knife juggler.”

Greg laughed for a second, and then got down to business. If Vicky were willing to use the

knife on her husband, she’d be willing to use it on them. God, Jeremy hated knives. They could
be more deadly than bullets and the thought of having his guts skewered made him
understandably squeamish.

The throaty bark of the Rottweiler started up the closer they got to the house and the

screeching went up an octave. Greg knocked on the door and hollered, “Mrs. Sordino, we need
you to come outside and talk with us. Your husband’s cut up pretty good and he says you’re
responsible.”

“He would say that!” she shrieked. “He’s worthless and he deserves everything he gets.

Cheater!” Vicky followed that up with a particularly creative string of epithets with their dog
singing the low harmony.

Jeremy decided to give talking a go. “Ma’am, we understand that you’re upset and maybe if

you come outside we can talk about that. There’s no need for this to get crazy. You just come on
outside and we can talk about this. Your husband isn’t even close to the house anymore. No need
to worry about him.”

Obviously.
“I’m not coming outside, you’ll just wrestle me to the ground or something and I haven’t

done anything wrong. I watch Cops on TV; I know what ya’ll say when you want to get your
own way.”

“Mrs. Sordino,” Jeremy lifted his voice over the barking. “You oughta know from watching

that we can’t walk away. Either you come out quietly and we talk this through, or we might have
to spray you, or worse. You’re smart. Come on outside.”

Vicky thought that was the worst idea and said as much, then started up with her

gobbledygook screaming again. There was the sound of more sirens and Jeremy turned to see the
ambulance pull up as well as another backup cruiser. The cop joined them, not a guy that Jeremy
knew too well, and they quickly filled him in.

It didn’t sound like Vicky was hanging around right by the front door, so Greg leaned

forward and tried the doorknob. To their surprise, it opened right up. To their dismay, the
Rottweiler was coming fast and she looked like a hundred eighty pounds of teeth.

“What do you think?” Greg asked as he yanked the door shut just as the dog crashed into it,

snarling and barking with a purpose. “Open the door, let the dog out, and go for her? Distract her
and the dog and sneak around the back?”

Jeremy shook his head. “What’s the dog’s name?”
Greg grinned again. “Sweetie.”
“Yeah? It suits her.” He stepped around in front of Greg and popped the door open a fraction,

bracing his body against the entryway. “Sweetie…” he cooed. “Sweetie. Want a treat?” he
shushed the dog and pulled out whatever insights he could remember from the couple shows
he’d seen of The Dog Whisperer. Too bad he didn’t have enough room to establish himself as the
alpha. He was pretty sure shoving his boot through the door and stomping around would only
end up ruining a good boot.

Sweetie calmed down a little and he opened the door a little wider. There was a low growl

and Jeremy started cooing again until the growling stopped. Vicky was still inside doing an
impression of some type of Eastern Screech Owl, really owning the high notes. Jeremy tried
pushing the door a little wider and the dog nudged her way through until her enormous head was

sticking out the opening.

He tightened his grip on the door enough that Sweetie couldn’t come forward, but she could

back up. He held out a hand that she growled at for a minute, then made himself a little smaller.
The second Sweetie let her pet him and the growling stopped, he pushed the door open wide and
let the dog out, grabbing her choke collar and pulling her off to the side. Another cop showed up
and instead of filling her in on everything, he told her the dog’s name and handed her off.
Sweetie was living up to her moniker now, probably just relieved to get away from the psycho
lady inside.

Jeremy got back to the door and quickly picked up on the fact that Vicky had noticed her

howling accompanist had fled, and she was pissed. They tried reasoning with her another couple
minutes, then went balls to the wall, rushing through the door when she was mid-sentence and
catching her off guard.

Vicky was still wielding a fat butcher knife and while Greg made good on his warning to

Taze her, Jeremy grabbed hold of her wrist with both hands, raising her knife hand off to the side
and out of stabbing range. The third cop tackled and subdued her kicking legs, while each of
them yelled for her to stop fighting and drop the knife. The blade flashed beneath the hall
lighting and Jeremy felt his balls shrivel.

It took another few minutes of adrenaline-fueled struggle from Vicky before the three of

them could subdue her and Jeremy could get the knife out of her grip without her hurting either
of them. She never stopped screaming, even as they flipped her over, snapped on cuffs, and
searched her pockets.

Jeremy let a panting Greg and the other officer lead her to a patrol car, while he sagged

against the wall in the entryway. Old Vicky had to be on something with that kind of strength
flowing through her.

For some reason as he caught his breath, he thought of Rafe. And out of nowhere he felt

tremendous relief that he’d made it through yet another call completely unscathed. He pushed
away from the wall and headed back outside. Now wasn’t the time to think about that.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The doorbell did its buzzy thing at the same moment Rafe was juggling hamburger buns,

ketchup, and a six-pack of beer, but before he shouted a greeting, Brian’s voice beat him to the
punch.

“Alright, you big pansy-ass. I’m here as ordered.”
Rafe smiled even as relief washed through him. His buffer had arrived, or half of it anyway.

Brian wasn’t as easy to control personality-wise without Megan around. He was liable to say
things in front of Jeremy that would make a lesser man weep with embarrassment.

“Where’s Megan?” he asked as Brian rounded the corner into the kitchen, looking exactly

like you’d figure a website designer for a skateboarding company would look: graphic t-shirt,
distressed jeans, sleeve tatts on both arms, and messily-styled hair. Rafe liked it.

“Don’t trust me to be on good behavior for your unrequited love?” He smirked unpleasantly.
“Not even a little,” Rafe sighed, leaving the beer in the fridge and taking all the burger

fixings out.

Brian lazily swung a grocery bag with chips and cookies onto the counter and gave an

assessing glance toward the leftover mess from the dishwasher. “Meg’s working, but she’s going
to rush over here the second her shift ends so you have both of us to keep you from humping this
guy when he says something that inspires you.”

Rafe scowled, his temper flaring. “Thanks. That was very eloquent of you. Douche bag.”
“And kind,” he added, his eyes flashing with humor. He was having an incredible time

watching Rafe squirm. “Give me this guy’s vitals again—not his looks, please; you can spare me
those details. I need the basics.”

Rafe remained tight lipped as his friend washed and dried his hands with a paper towel.

“Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said about him?” he asked impatiently.

“Shit,” he murmured. “I’ve listened to everything, but you’ve given me more crotch talk than

details.” Brian took the ground beef Rafe was massacring and began forming perfect eight-ounce
patties.

“Crotch talk.”
Brian grinned. “When it comes to this dude, you’re talking from your crotch. He’s blond. An

Adonis. He’s got these amazing green eyes,” he sing-songed in what was apparently his best
impression of Rafe. “Oh, and my personal favorite, the pivotal reason I agreed to be here tonight:
He’s fucking straight!” The last burger patty plopped on the plate and Brian nailed him with a
sour look. “Crotch talk, man.”

Rafe couldn’t argue with him about that, as much as he wanted to. Being around Jeremy

made his hormones start pounding like that one time he’d seen Steven Pierson, the high school
quarterback, in the showers. Even so, he hadn’t overlooked how cool Jeremy was as a person. He
was funny and—

Brian was still staring at him, waiting for the info, all humor gone from his expression. He

didn’t want him getting hurt again, Rafe could see that, and because he did Rafe eased up on
some of the resentment.

“Jeremy is incredibly committed to his job. Believe it or not, I noticed that about him right

away, too. He likes helping people—and he’s extroverted.” Rafe found that once he got talking

about all the great things about Jeremy, it wasn’t that easy to stop. “I’m not sure because I
haven’t asked directly, but I’d guess he’s been on the force for about five years. He’s younger
than I am. He has a car he wants to effing marry. He’s got a sister and visits his dad a lot. His
mom left when he was three.”

Brian interrupted him with a groan and dropped his head in his hands. “This is worse than I

thought. Dammit.”

“What are you talking about? I was answering your question.”
Rafe swiped the plate of burgers from the counter and tried not to wrench the back sliding

door off the runners in his frustration. He knew what Brian was getting at, and he was only
pissed because his friend was right.

“You’re falling for him,” Brian said in disbelief, following him out to the patio. “He’s

straight, Rafe. You’re going to get all caught up in him and he’s going to find out and tear your
arms off or something.”

“He’s not some gay bashing homophobe, Brian,” Rafe growled, slapping the burgers onto the

grill.

“Oh yeah? How would you know? Last I heard he was more likely to invite you to a strip

club than guess you’re gay. Hope you enjoy slipping dollar bills in bikini tops and g-strings.”

Rafe closed the grill with a snap and cranked his head around to glare furiously at Brian. “He

knows. He had a run-in with Mark today and that’s how all this shit got stirred up.”

Brian stood there, shocked speechless for a few seconds—a record in Brian terms. “You

mean your Mark? Mark Newland? The guy who hates you because you had the balls to break off
a relationship that was going nowhere?”

“Yes. That Mark,” he hissed. “Jeremy stopped by to bring me some food after my dishwasher

crapped out and he asked if it was true.”

Brian shook his head. “Oh, I bet you just loved that. Did you go off on him?”
Rafe turned his back stubbornly. “I’m not talking about this anymore. I answered your

question about him and now we’re done with it.”

“Ignoring me isn’t going to change this situation, Rafe.” Brian came around to face him and

dropped his hands on Rafe’s shoulders, giving him a quick shake. “You are going to get hurt
because odds are you’re never going to tell him how you feel and he’ll subject you to a long-ass
parade of girlfriends that make you feel like a bigger asshole with each introduction. Even if you
told him you like him, he’d probably shit his pants and never talk to you again.” He paused to
take a deep breath and his earnest expression softened. “I don’t want to see this guy messing with
your head, whether he knows he’s messing with it or not.”

Brian was right. Rafe knew it. The words he was saying were no different than what he’d

been telling himself all day. He had no chance with Jeremy, unless he was just looking for
friendship. He felt a huge mope coming on and sighed.

Rafe dropped his head and whispered, “Why else do you think I begged you to come over? I

need to keep my feet on the ground. Make sure my boundaries are set. If I get that taken care of
now, then the sooner I can get over whatever this is and be Jeremy’s friend.”

Brian squeezed his shoulders encouragingly. “Listen man, I know the last year has sucked for

you and I know how hard it is to find a guy that’s right for you, but it’s going to happen. You
can’t give up, or sell yourself short—besides, things could be worse… You could still be with
Mark.”

Rafe gave a half-hearted smile and was about to speak when the sliding door opened behind

him. His back was to the door, but judging by the surprise on Brian’s face, it wasn’t Megan.

Rafe’s eyes widened and he gave his friend a look like How long has he been standing there?
Brian shook his head. There was no telling.

“Is everything okay, Rafe?” Jeremy asked, his voice deep and…protective maybe?
He closed his eyes, almost in pain. This was going to be frigging impossible.

***

No one answered his knock or the doorbell, so Jeremy tried the knob and peeked his head in.

He was early, but Rafe’s truck and a Jeep he’d never seen were parked in the drive. He called out
and waited, but there was still no response. How awful would it be if Rafe were getting it on with
some dude in his bedroom just as Jeremy arrived?

His response wasn’t as straightforward as he wanted it to be. He definitely didn’t want to see

Rafe fooling around with someone, but not because it was a guy on guy thing—though he’d
thankfully never been a witness to something like that. No. The problem was that he didn’t want
to see Rafe with just anybody. That was all. Yeah. Nothing more than concern for his friend.
There were a lot of idiots out there who would try to take advantage of a great guy like Rafe.

Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to put the beer he’d brought into the fridge, he moved quietly

through the house to the kitchen. The sliding door was open, but the screen was shut and Jeremy
had no trouble understanding how Rafe hadn’t heard the doorbell or his call. Some tatted up
stranger had his hands resting possessively on Rafe’s shoulders and though he couldn’t quite
make out what they were saying, it had to be serious by the look on the guy’s face.

Was this the one Mark mentioned…Jason? Or wait. Hadn’t Mark said Jason sort of looked

like him? That certainly didn’t apply in this situation; he was practically the opposite of this
grabby dude. He had to admit the guy was no dog though.

Jeremy didn’t like it. Something deep within him shifted and he had the sudden urge to

knock the mystery man’s hands off of Rafe. He hadn’t figured that rockers were Rafe’s type—
not judging by Mark anyway; he was pretty prepped out actually. But the guy holding onto Rafe
was slick looking, his brown hair a little long and styled with perfect waves and spikes. Like
Mark, he was slightly smaller than Rafe. Maybe he liked his men smaller than him.

Rafe’s shoulders sagged as the guy said something to him and when he finally spoke back,

Jeremy couldn’t be sure but he thought he heard his name.

Refusing to watch another minute, especially if rocker was bothering Rafe or talking about

shit he didn’t understand, Jeremy silently dropped the beer onto the counter and opened the
sliding screen door with one decisive push.

“Is everything okay, Rafe?” he asked, trying to control the growl in his voice until he knew

what was going on.

Rafe’s head snapped up and there was some kind of exchange happening between him and

his friend. The only thing that gave him a little satisfaction was seeing the latter’s eyes get round
like dinner plates. Rafe stepped back and out from under the guy’s hands and turned with a smile
on his face.

“Jeremy! Sorry man, we didn’t hear you.” Rafe was straining himself to act natural, and if it

weren’t for the high color in his cheeks, he might have pulled it off. Rocker boy moved around
Rafe and offered his hand. He positioned himself rather protectively in front of Rafe and Jeremy
felt a growl vibrating low in his chest.

“Hey, man. I’ve heard a lot about you,” rocker boy said, sans-smile. “I’m Brian Hatchett,

Rafe’s best friend since middle school.”

Funny, Jeremy thought, but Rafe had only mentioned him once in passing, but best friend

was definitely better than boyfriend or date. He’d only found out that very day that Rafe was
batting for the other team; he hadn’t thought his friend would feel comfortable enough to have
him around as a third wheel during a date.

As if he were reading Jeremy’s thoughts, Rafe spoke up. “Brian’s fiancé, Megan, will be here

once she gets off of work. She’s a nurse at University Hospital.”

“No kidding?” he asked, his mood improving a fraction. “That’s great. My sister’s a nurse

too. Did you guys…need some help out here? I brought some beers, if you want one.”

Rafe slapped the grill spatula against Brian’s chest and moved past Jeremy to the house.

“Yeah, let’s grab a couple. The beer I bought is still a little warm.”

Jeremy was happy to leave the awkward patio scene and head back inside. He watched as

Rafe dug through a drawer for a bottle opener, tossing it at him.

“I’m glad you could make it tonight,” he said, giving Jeremy the second dose of serious eye

contact that day and this time, Jeremy held it, not really wanting to look away.

“You sure everything’s cool?”
Rafe blushed and his eyes danced away. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Listen, I’m not sure what you

might’ve heard—”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Jeremy reassured him, really wishing he had now that Rafe was

busy looking everywhere but at him. They’d been talking about him, no doubt about it. He
wasn’t too surprised.

“Oh…it wasn’t anything bad. Brian’s known me for a long time and he was making sure I

wasn’t about to do something stupid.” He met Jeremy’s assessing gaze again and lifted his hands
like he was trying to calm him down. “Don’t worry. Like I said earlier today, I’m not going to
put you in an awkward position. Brian doesn’t want me getting hurt is all.”

Okay. He really wasn’t making sense now.
Jeremy cleared his expression even as a small, but loud part of him started kicking up a

protest. Not every straight guy was prepared to hurt another person because he was gay. It pissed
him off that Brian automatically assumed he could be like that. Look at the gay guys Rafe had
been involved with. Mark was an asshole. Jeremy was at least better than him. And he may not
know who the hell Jason was and why he was so significant, but chances were that he’d taken
advantage of Rafe somehow as well.

The most important thing was that Jeremy didn’t want to hurt Rafe. The thought made him

sick.

“Are you sure he wasn’t telling you to stay away from me because he thinks I’m a

homophobe?” he asked softly. Rafe was completely unaware of how close Jeremy was to kicking
through the screen door and asking Brian exactly what his problem was.

“I told him you know about me. He knows you’re cool with it.”
“Alright, but do you believe that? I’m not around to make your life more difficult, you know?

Why’s he the only one who passes the test to be your friend?”

That last question was sort of giving his anger away. Not really the calm and collected

approach he was going for.

“No, no. That’s not it. He’s just been keeping an eye on me for a long time. He didn’t know

that you were cool with it. He still thought you didn’t know,” Rafe rambled.

Jeremy nodded and turned to pop open a couple beers. “I can understand that, I suppose,” he

eventually admitted, smiling a little at the relief in Rafe’s sigh.

“Want to go back out?”

“Sure, does Brian want a beer?” He’d call it a tentative truce for now.
“I wouldn’t doubt it. Here,” Rafe hurried ahead of him to get the door, a bag of chips in one

hand, “let me get that.”

Jeremy wasn’t sure what made him do it—that Brian was watching them, or that Rafe was so

close—but as he slid past him through the door, he paused for a second, his face close to Rafe’s.
“I’ll never hurt you,” he whispered, leaning in closer to Rafe’s ear.

When he pulled away, the expression on Rafe’s face made his heart pound unexpectedly.

Jeremy could totally see the draw men would have to go after those blue eyes with their subtle
glow. Shit, Rafe even had him wondering.

Brian cleared his throat. “One of those beers for me?”
Jeremy held out the hand with one beer in it and very slowly let his eyes fall from Rafe’s.

“It’s an IPA, is that alright?”

Brian stared hard at him for a moment before begrudgingly taking the beer offered to him.
“The burger’s are done, Rafe, and Megan just texted. She’s on her way.”

CHAPTER NINE

Rafe was stuck in the doorway, his whole body locked on to Jeremy’s. Had that really

happened? Did Jeremy lean in on him and tell him he’d never hurt him? He licked his lips and
struggled to keep his heart from throbbing out of his chest. Since he first turned and saw the cop,
he’d been unable to deny that his reaction to Jeremy was getting stronger each time he saw him,
as if his friend’s unavailability was making it even worse.

He looked showered and fresh, his hair styled perfectly with that no muss no fuss look, and

god, the black t-shirt and worn denim he was wearing made Rafe want to pant it was so
distracting. His hard chest and stomach were out there on display and it didn’t take much effort
by his imagination to picture the thin cotton going up in a poof of smoke.

And while Jeremy’s looks and body were all well and good, it was the way he was acting and

the words he was saying that were seriously getting under Rafe’s skin. First, he was Mr.
Protective when he arrived and saw Brian talking to him, and then what he’d said in the kitchen
and just now as they walked outside... It was like Jeremy was purposely trying to make Rafe fall
in love with him. A thought that served only as another bit of proof that Brian was right and Rafe
was well on his way to that conclusion already.

If only… He sighed.
“Rafe?” Brian’s voice cut into his thoughts and he jerked his attention away from Jeremy,

realizing it wasn’t the first time his name was called. Crap, how long had he been staring.

Jeremy’s attention was on the grill, thankfully, and he managed to pull himself together

before anyone realized he was drooling over the cop.

“I said that the burgers are done and Megan’s on her way. Do you have a plate for these?”

Brian was scowling at him, his eyes telling Rafe they hadn’t missed any of what was going on.

“Yeah, sure. One sec.”
Rafe hustled back to the kitchen, grabbing condiments, plates and buns and bringing them

back outside. Jeremy met him at the door and took several things from him to set on the patio
table. Brian got busy plating the burgers and throwing scathing looks at Rafe over his shoulder
while Jeremy’s back was turned. He could only shrug back.

Megan’s voice rang through the house as she called his and Brian’s names. Brian tossed the

plate of burgers on the table and went inside to greet her, leaving Rafe and Jeremy alone again.

“Did you want to work on the dishwasher after we eat? I brought some tools in case we need

them. They’re in the car.”

Rafe blinked, imagining Jeremy shirtless with a tool belt slung low on his waist. “A-actually,

that sounds great. I figure we can move it into the garage until I get a new one and the delivery
guys can take it away. I’m afraid that plugged in and sitting in a puddle of its own juices, the
thing’ll start fire and kill me in the night.”

Jeremy laughed and tossed him a bun. “That’d be incredibly tragic. I’d much rather go out

hanging from the fuselage of a helicopter or something. Death by dishwasher doesn’t have quite
the same ring to it.”

Rafe grinned and felt his tension ease. Jeremy had such an amazing way about him—how

quickly he could diffuse people—it only made the guy even more fucking endearing. Exactly
what Rafe didn’t need to know.

Brian led Megan out onto the patio and Rafe was spared the trouble of trying not to flirt with

Jeremy by pulling her into a quick hug. She was still wearing her aqua-colored scrubs with her
long brown hair back in a ponytail, but she always looked great. Rafe had an inkling of what
Brian might have told her while they were alone, but the catlike curiosity on her face was all the
proof he needed. She was going to be examining everything that happened this evening and
reporting back later.

Megan immediately introduced herself to Jeremy, who shook hands with her and offered up

that his sister also worked for one of the area hospitals. She took the bait and got her burger
prepared as they bantered back and forth. When they all sat down to eat, it was still only Megan
and Jeremy chatting, with Brian giving the occasional betrayed look, and Rafe staring at Jeremy
every second he thought Brian wouldn’t notice.

He found himself regretting the invite to Brian and Megan—not that he didn’t love the hell

out of ‘em—he was just selfish enough to admit that he wanted Jeremy to himself in spite of the
dangers. He wanted to know how his day went and what happened on the call that yanked him
out of Rafe’s kitchen and back to work. It took five more minutes of back and forth before Rafe
could butt in without making an ass of himself.

“Jeremy, what happened on that call today that had you rushing out of here? You said it was

a domestic dispute?” There, Rafe thought, that came out casually enough. It was a subtle change
in subject, one where Rafe could gratuitously hoard tidbits about Jeremy without anyone being
the wiser.

Jeremy rolled his eyes and shook his head. “It was a lot crazier than I thought it’d be,” he

chuckled. “The wife went after her husband with a knife in their front yard and slashed him up
pretty good, then locked herself in the house when she saw the patrol car coming. She was inside
screaming about how she’d seen Cops on TV and she wasn’t going to come out. We could’ve
subdued her a lot of ways if she didn’t have the Rottweiler in there with her.”

Rafe’s eyes had widened at the start of Jeremy’s story, but at mention of the Rottweiler, he

froze in place, a chip half way to his open mouth. “There was a Rottweiler?”

Jeremy’s grin widened at the look on Rafe’s face and he nodded. “Yeah, her name is

Sweetie.”

Megan laughed and leaned in over her plate. “How’d you get the woman out with the dog in

there? Please don’t tell me you sprayed the dog!”

“No way, and piss her off even more?” He took a quick swig of his beer and wiped his hands

on a napkin. “The wife left the door unlocked and while she was distracted, I lured the dog out
once I knew she wasn’t going to gnaw my face off.”

“How big was Sweetie?” Megan asked, eyes sparkling. Rafe was too busy trying not to gag

on his chip to give her a dirty look for encouraging him.

“Big. She had a head the size of one of these plates. Once she got outside though, she was

totally calm. I left her with another officer and we eventually had to rush the wife and tackle her
to get the knife away from her.”

Brian cracked a chip in his mouth, playing disinterested, while Rafe and Megan simply gaped

at Jeremy. “You lured out a huge, angry Rottweiler and then wrestled a woman with a knife?”
Rafe choked out.

Jeremy noticed suddenly how upset Rafe was and grabbed onto his shoulder for a quick

squeeze, his concern obvious. “Stuff like that doesn’t happen every day,” he said reassuringly. “I
wasn’t alone and the dog was actually really well behaved.”

Rafe opened his mouth to argue, but quickly remembered their audience. “You probably got

the knife out of her hand, too.” When Jeremy didn’t deny it, Rafe’s eyes shot up. “You didn’t.” It
wasn’t a question.

“I wasn’t doing it alone,” he protested. “It was the arm nearest to me and I didn’t want to get

skewered. She was high on something, so it took three men to keep her down.”

“Oh that makes me feel much better. God, you need to be more careful,” Rafe growled and

picked up his burger again, sullenly taking a bite.

“Rafe, it’s not that big of a deal. I was being careful and they Tazered her as soon as I got the

knife away.”

Rafe held up his hands, stopping Jeremy from continuing. “I don’t want to hear the rest. That

lady would have chopped you up and fed you to that rabid dog.”

Megan couldn’t keep from snickering and Jeremy laughingly began defending himself again

until his cell phone interrupted him. The table got very quiet, which said a lot because Megan
and Brian had been doing a great job at being invisible—Rafe was certain Brian was fuming
inside. Jeremy took one look at the caller ID and sent it to voicemail. Not even five seconds after
he apologized, the phone rang again.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Do you mind if I take this inside?”
Rafe didn’t have any problem with that until he heard Jeremy say into the phone, “Tracey,

what’s going on?” Had he known it was a woman he would’ve grabbed the phone and tossed it
into the neighbor’s yard. The looks Jeremy had given him and the words he’d spoken were
working their magic and Rafe had convinced himself for a beautiful moment that there was more
to their story than he thought. Then Jeremy burst his bubble with the Tracey bit.

He couldn’t hear his friend’s conversation and with a jerk of his hand, he flung his napkin

across his plate, his appetite disappearing.

“What’d I tell you?” Brian speared him with a scowl. “He’ll flirt and get close to you and the

next second a girl will call and you’re old news.”

“He wasn’t flirting,” Rafe sputtered, his cheeks flushing brightly at the suggestion.
Megan gave him a knowing look and Brian stared at him in disbelief. “Even I can tell that’s

what he’s been doing since he got here, so don’t bullshit me.”

“He’s flirting,” Megan agreed, though she said it with pleasure rather than censure. “Are you

totally sure he’s not gay?”

Rafe wanted very badly to say no. He wanted to use the arguments Megan gave him the day

before that surely he couldn’t know for certain unless he asked Jeremy. That only meant he was
trying too hard and wishing too much. Sure, there were a couple things that Jeremy had done that
felt a little flirtatious, but Rafe couldn’t focus on that. He couldn’t bring himself to hope when he
had more evidence on his side that Jeremy was straight, like his reaction that afternoon to
learning the truth about Rafe.

“It’s a power play,” Brian started in again. “He knows you’re attracted to him and he’s using

it to boost his ego. Rafe. Please don’t let this guy drag you through the dirt. You’re beyond the
point where you let some immature guy taste your…you know…your forbidden fruit. Did you
not just hear him answer that phone? He’s talking to a girl and he couldn’t do it in front of you.
Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“Brian, let it go.” Megan nudged him in the arm, seeing how upset Rafe was getting. “Rafe is

an adult. He knows what he’s doing.”

Brian pushed back in his chair and stood. “Then he knows that he’s being used and I don’t

want to sit around and watch.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Rafe snapped. “I trust Jeremy. He’s my friend like you’re my friend.

I’m not going to let him walk all over me. But maybe you should hit the road and come back
when you’re not in such a bitchy mood.”

Brian tossed a longsuffering look heavenward and buried his hands in his pockets. “I’m not

trying to piss you off. I want you not to get hurt like with Jason and the others. That’s all.”

“Look, I get it. I appreciate it, even. You have to trust that I’m keeping my eyes open, not

walking around blindly.”

Megan stood and wrapped her arms around Brian, locking his hands in his pockets. “You’re

sweet, Bri, but you can be a pain in the ass. Let’s get out of here… I have the early shift
anyway.”

“I’m sorry about the interruption,” Jeremy’s voice sounded through the screen door as he

opened the slider. He got a quick look at Megan and Brian getting ready to go and lifted his
brows in surprise. “I didn’t mean to break up the party. It was my sister; she needed help with
something.”

Rafe couldn’t quite hold back the smug smile in front of Brian, and seeing it, his friend rolled

his eyes again. “No worries. Megan has to work early tomorrow and she wants to get home and
relax,” Rafe quickly filled in.

Megan shook hands with Jeremy and when she moved to hug Rafe, Brian made his move.

“Jeremy, mind if I take a look at your car? Rafe says it’s awesome.”

***

Jeremy glanced at Rafe who was smiling uneasily. “Sure,” he finally answered. “Right

now?”

“Why not? We probably won’t be running into each other often.”
The way Brian answered it was obviously meant to be a dig, but Jeremy didn’t want to read

into it and blow things out of proportion. He moved to follow Brian out of the house and the
moment he was too far to go back to the patio, he heard Megan tell Rafe, “I didn’t get a chance
to say this until now, but there’s a Resident at the hospital—the one I told you about a couple
weeks ago? I know for sure he’s gay now and he’s really interested in meeting you.”

Her words cut right through Jeremy’s concentration and he stalled on the threshold of the

dining room, intensely curious about what Rafe’s response would be. It looked like they both had
other people forcing relationships on them. Brian noticed he was frozen in place and cocked one
brow as though he knew exactly why Jeremy was waiting.

“Everything all right?” he asked meaningfully.
“Y-yeah. No problem,” Jeremy answered, swallowing down his irritation as he dug for his

keys. Son of a bitch. There wasn’t any way he could bring that up with Rafe later. Fan-friggin-
tastic.

Jeremy didn’t care that it was rude of him, but he couldn’t wait until Brian left. Megan was

okay, but Brian was acting like a major ass-wipe and he was getting tired of the way he
scrutinized every thing he did.

“Megan wants to set Rafe up with a doctor she works with. She’s been laying the

groundwork for a couple weeks now. He’s supposed to be a really great guy,” Brian offered.

His delivery was a little too perfect. The way he so casually slid the information under

Jeremy’s nose, the way he watched him from the corner of his eyes. Jeremy’s temper, not quite
settled after the call from Tracey, flared immediately. He understood protectiveness, but this—it
was like Brian was trying to prove Jeremy was going to cut and run as soon as he got

uncomfortable with Rafe’s sexual preference. Fuck that.

“So, let me see if I’m right. Rafe’s supposed to jump on the guy strictly because he’s got a

good job? That doesn’t really sound like something he’d do, frankly.”

Jeremy unlocked his car and cracked the hood as Brian watched him with narrowed eyes.
“Well, not strictly speaking,” Brian’s voice was cool. “Rafe knows a catch when he sees one

and I’ve known him for a long time. He’ll probably go for it.”

Jeremy wanted to growl, really let rip with a chest vibrating, rib-cracking growl. Then he

wanted to tackle Brian and rub his face in the dirt. The all-knowing attitude, like he could read
everything about Rafe as a person, was irritating the hell out of him.

He pasted a wooden smile on his face and rounded the car to lift the hood. “Knowing a

person for a while means you can sometimes miss things about them. I mean, the way you
explain things, you might as well say that he should date this doctor just because he’s gay. Like
it’s an opportunity so he should take it.”

Brian’s body tightened at Jeremy’s innocent look and he leaned over the engine, the tendons

in his neck bulging with tension. “It’s not easy for him to meet guys, you know? Why not jump
at the opportunity? The doctor is close to his age, successful, available, and gay.”

“Shit, how shallow do you think Rafe is? He’s not some social climber, and being gay

doesn’t mean a man should be forced to answer to the whims of his straight friends who happen
to run into another gay guy that by some miracle can read and write.”

“The way you talk, it almost seems like you could be gay.”
That’s it, Jeremy thought. “You want to set me up with Rafe then?” he fired back, his voice

soft, commanding. “I’m young and available with a steady job. I’m not a doctor, so you’d have
to make an exception, but at least I care more about who he is rather than that he’s gay and can
pay his bills.”

Jeremy stared at Brian, letting him take that little speech any way he wanted. He could think

Jeremy was gay all the livelong day and it wouldn’t matter. Brian was supposed to be best
friends with Rafe and he’d spent more time disrespecting him tonight than anything else.

“Listen up, Jeremy,” Brian whispered harshly. “I don’t want Rafe taking a chance on a guy

who from the start knows he will only end up hurting him. Don’t fuck with his heart. I’m not
kidding.” Brian glared at him in a way that made Jeremy want to wipe the sneer off his face with
his fist, or maybe the baseball bat in his back seat. “Rafe likes you, man. If you’re screwing
around for shits and giggles, you’ll regret it.”

Jeremy leaned in and didn’t think twice about what his words might mean on a deeper level.

He only knew he cared about Rafe and he didn’t want to see him hurt just as much as Brian. His
voice was low and even, and though he was really throwing himself out there in a way he wasn’t
totally sure about, he knew it felt pretty good to piss Brian off.

“Thanks for the heads up, but his heart is going to be in good hands. You can tell that doctor

to go fu—”

“Pretty great car, right Bri?” Rafe called from the front porch, his presence doing a lot to

diffuse the tension in the air. Jeremy was still aware of the way Megan’s eyes shrewdly took in
the situation.

“Are you saying you’re not straight?” Brian hissed under his breath.
“That oughta keep you worrying tonight.” He smirked and tossed his head Rafe and Megan’s

direction. “Rafe asked you a question.”

Brian stared at him for a beat and slowly turned back to his friend. “It’s something alright,”

he answered.

CHAPTER TEN

Rafe watched as Jeremy slammed the hood of the Barracuda closed and then grabbed his

tools from the back seat. Something had passed between him and Brian and the likelihood that it
would be upsetting was pretty good. Jeremy rounded the car and stopped in front of him,
glancing over his shoulder in the direction Brian’s Jeep had gone.

“Your buddy doesn’t care for me much,” he said, his tone unconcerned.
“What the hell just happened out here?” Rafe had to know now.
Jeremy shrugged indifferently. “You were right. He’s protective of you.” Rafe started to

agree, but Jeremy wasn’t finished. “He doesn’t understand though, and it’s important that he
should.”

Rafe’s mouth dried up at the new light in his friend’s eyes and it took him three tries to

speak. “What doesn’t he understand?” His voice sounded like sandpaper on wood.

Jeremy tossed his keys up and caught them in the same hand. “I’m protective of you, too.”
Rafe swayed a little, his stomach doing a can-can dance against his kidneys. “Why?” he

gasped.

The keys went up and down again. Toss-catch. Toss-catch. “Does it matter?”
“I-I’m not—”
“No. It doesn’t matter.” Toss-catch. “Come on. Let’s fix your dishwasher.” Jeremy was

whistling as he swept past Rafe and back into the house. Rafe took a shuddering breath and let it
out slowly before he finally followed.

“He’s gay,” Brian said without preamble that night on the phone. Rafe actually pulled his cell

back away from his ear to stare at it for a second.

“Who are you talking about? Wait—is this about the doctor Megan wants to set me up with?

I know he’s gay. It’s kind of a prerequisite with me.”

“No, asshole,” he sighed in irritation. “Well, yeah, the doctor’s gay, but so is fucking

Jeremy.”

Rafe laughed. Hard. Until Brian’s cursing drowned him out. “Fucking Jeremy would

probably be a pretty gay thing to do.”

“Stop laughing. I’m serious, here. He practically spelled it out for me in those big, sparkling

Broadway letters you homos like so much.”

Rafe’s laughter slowly dried up and he had to immediately push down the hope rising in his

chest that by some fluke, Brian was right. His blood began pounding traitorously through his
veins.

“We’ve been over this,” he said roughly. “Jeremy’s straight. He likes women.”
“So he’d like you to think.”
An image of Jeremy leaning toward him in the doorway—the way he promised not to hurt

him—the subtle looks he’d thrown Rafe’s way all night. Rafe would catch his eyes on him at
different times and when he smiled, Jeremy had only stared back, his expression deep and
unreadable. And though Rafe tried to deny it in front of Megan and Brian, he’d picked up on the
flirting, too. It wasn’t obvious, but it was there. Jeremy touched him more often now—nothing to
write home about, but a totally new dynamic for the two of them.

God, he hoped Brian hadn’t been right about Jeremy using him only to inflate his ego. Some

guys were like that. They tried to see if they could screw with a gay guy, get him to care about
them, and then ditch the scene when real feelings got involved. All because they were insecure.
He prayed Jeremy wasn’t like that.

“Why would Jeremy want me to think he’s straight when he’s really gay?” Rafe argued.

“That’s a big thing to have in common. It makes no sense for him not to tell me.”

“It makes plenty of sense if he plays hard to get, or if you’re his first time!” Brian barked.

“He told me flat out that he liked you. He said your heart was safe with him. Not from him, but
with him. Argue with that, dickwad.”

Rafe blinked, wanting to believe it, but seeing way too many holes. “First of all. That doesn’t

mean he’s gay. If he’s straight, he can still like me as a person, and of course my heart would be
safe. He isn’t interested in it. Secondly, what’s with all the name calling, ass face?”

“He’s gay, Rafe. I’m telling you. I’m also telling you to run like hell the next time you see

him coming because he will roll over you and out the other side of your bed before you can say,
‘Good morning, honey!’”

“What a lovely picture,” Rafe grumbled. “It’s really offensive the lack of confidence you

have in me to take care of myself.”

Brian snorted. “Need I remind you of the times you’ve been screwed over? Name names,

maybe? There’s Jason—the Jeremy clone, Sean—the dirt biker, David—the restaurateur—”

“Enough! I know the shit storm of your past before Megan, and there are a helluva lot more

names than you’ve got on me.”

“Yeah, but—”
“What? You left them? You’re right. You’re the healthier one here.” Rafe took a deep breath

and forced himself to calm down. “P.S. Jeremy isn’t a Jason clone.”

“Look at you!” Brian hollered. “That’s what you choose to focus on? Straight. Gay. Bi.

Whatever. This guy will fuck you up. You should run, not walk, to the good doctor and hump
him until he won’t let you go.”

“Sounds romantic,” he said in a cold, dignified voice. “I’m done talking about this. I’ve got

an early meeting.”

“Rafe. I only want what’s best for you,” Brian rushed to say.
“Yeah. I’m going.” Rafe hung up on his friend and sank back against the couch cushions.

What Brian really wanted was for Rafe to do what he thought was best. Not the same thing.

Whatever was going on with Jeremy was his business alone. He’d shut the vault on it and

leave Brian out. So he’d probably get his heart dragged through the dirt, stomped on, and
julienne fried, but at least he was the one making the call.

He thought of the comically irritated look on Jeremy’s face as he confessed what his sister’s

phone call had been about. Neither of them could catch a break as far as nosy people setting
them up, but if nothing else, the conversation burst any bubbles that might’ve been tempted to
form in Rafe’s mind when Brian “outted” Jeremy. He said he’d been through countless setups by
his sister’s hand.

Part of Rafe’s pathetic little brain reminded him that his own mother was always trying to set

him up with eligible women and he didn’t want anything to do with it. Perhaps something was
there…?

Rafe groaned and ran his hands through his hair until his scalp let out a protest. Why couldn’t

people leave well enough alone? Why always try to take matters in their own hands as though
they couldn’t be happy until they played cupid and it paid off? Now, on Friday night, Jeremy
was forced to go to a stupid dinner party and schmooze with some girl, while Megan and Brian

set their doctor buddy loose on him until Rafe turned his head and coughed.

He and Jeremy would probably both be happier hanging out together doing something like

they had tonight: ripping an old, rusted dishwasher out of the wall and going over the damages.

Rafe closed his eyes and allowed a small smile as he pictured Jeremy squeezing between the

dishwasher and the cabinets as he tried to remove the cord so they could pull the broken piece of
metal from the wall. His black t-shirt had inched up, exposing the rutted path of his abs. They
weren’t as golden as the skin of his arms, but they were plenty tan. What did the guy do to get
himself tan like that? He wasn’t the type to go to a salon; that was a little too high maintenance.
Maybe he washed his car without a shirt on. And in shorts. And—

Easy. Whoa there. Rafe’s body was all aboard with the fantasy sesh, but he couldn’t let

himself go there. That was another recipe for disaster. God, he probably wouldn’t be able to look
Jeremy in the eye the next time he saw him. Every time they made eye contact, he’d picture
rubbing one out to him.

No way. Not smart.
But he was oh-so-willing right now.
Rafe stood with a start and growled to the empty room. “Great. Happy now? I’m taking a

fucking cold shower.”

***

Rafe slept like hell and even though he was used to being up much earlier, he was yawning

and rubbing at his tired eyes as he waited for Angelina Aragon to make an appearance. He was
exactly where he’d agreed to be on the phone the day before, parked in front of Wal-Mart, five
minutes before seven and waiting for her to find him like she said. The store wasn’t open yet, but
there were plenty of cars in front of the neighboring grocery store and he was blending in.

He didn’t remember what type of car Angelina drove so he took special notice of any new

arrivals, staring until the drivers noticed him and he had to turn away. It was while he was
squinting at a woman behind the wheel of an old Chevy truck that Angelina appeared and
knocked on his driver’s side window. Rafe jumped a little bit, but she was thankfully scouring
the parking lot herself and didn’t notice.

Rolling down his window, he asked her to come around and hop in. She gave one last look

around and complied, settling herself gently in the passenger seat with her fingers cinched tightly
together in her lap. His ever-present recorder was on the dash and she blinked a few times when
he pressed record.

“You caught me off guard,” he admitted with a smile meant to put her at ease. “I didn’t

remember what kind of car you drove.”

She smiled weakly and nodded. “I walked. It’s not far and that way if Hector calls later I can

tell him I was walking.”

“Forgive me, Ms. Aragon, but if he were to find out you met with me, would you be in some

kind of trouble?”

Angelina lifted wide eyes to him, her mouth open on an “o” of surprise. “Hector has never

hurt me. He would never hurt me.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again. “I wanted to be sure you’d be alright, especially because

we have to meet like this. It made me wonder.”

She got her fidgets on then, tucking her hair behind her ears and playing with the zipper of

her light jacket. “You have to try to understand Hector. He loves his family more than anything

else. When he thinks of one of us coming to harm, his temper can get unmanageable, but never
has he acted out against our children, or me. He never even spanked Yesenia.”

Rafe had to swallow back a wave of disgust at the thought of what Hector might have done

instead. He had to tread carefully here. If he revealed too much to Angelina, she would likely
confront Hector and he couldn’t have that until he had some solid evidence. If he was wrong and
Hector found out, the investigation would grind to a halt and who knows how he’d treat
Angelina. His questions had to be posed in a way that she wouldn’t catch his drift.

“I’ve spoken to Angel, Ms. Aragon, as well as your niece, Grace. They both told me to talk

to you without your husband around so that I could maybe get to know more about the dynamic
between him and your daughter.”

“He loves her very much, Detective. He only wants her to come home.”
Rafe let her words hang in the air between them as he considered her profile. She was still a

very beautiful woman, though lines of stress and worry were prominent around her eyes. He felt
for her and if this investigation turned out the way he feared it would, he’d feel even worse, but it
would be coupled with the thought she could’ve possibly stopped what was happening in her
home. There seemed to be a curtain of denial hanging in front of everything having to do with
her husband’s true nature. She thought him harmless.

“Can you tell me again what happened the night she went missing?” he began, watching her

reaction closely.

The fidgets started up again and Rafe watched her expectantly, not too surprised by her

apparent discomfort. No one liked rehashing the disappearance of family members.

“Hector and Yesenia had another disagreement about Angel. He doesn’t want our daughter

dating anyone right now, and he especially doesn’t care for Angel because he believes that he’s
caught up in a gang.”

Her words implied her lack of agreement. “You feel otherwise.”
She licked her lips and sighed. “He’s a good boy. I would let him come by now and then

when I knew Hector wasn’t going to find out about it, or come home to see him there.” Angelina
met his gaze with a pleading look in her eyes. “You have to understand, Detective. I don’t like
going behind my husband’s back. I love him. I respect him. But I had to do everything in my
power not to lose her. Every day I thought, ‘This is the day she’ll run from her father’s anger.’ If
I could keep that from happening by allowing her time with Angel, then that’s what I would do.
They were never alone in our house. I was always with them. Yesenia knew I would let her see
Angel when her father wouldn’t. I couldn’t lose her, you see? And now, it’s happened anyway.”

“You think that last argument was what made her leave?” he asked, taking note of the way

she said she couldn’t lose her daughter. It was possible that need alone could be at the root of her
denial.

“I think Yesenia is young. I think that even with a mother willing to help her, she saw only

one path open to her and she left so she could see Angel whenever she wanted.”

“Yet, police reports and even my own investigation show that she’s never once contacted

Angel since she went missing. She hasn’t been near him. Why do you think that is?”

Angelina shook her head and went after the loose strands of hair around her face again. “I

don’t know. Maybe she’s waiting for emotions to die down. She might be thinking that if her
father has time to calm down—or if her absence settles in with Hector and it’s worse than the
thought of her dating Angel—that this whole situation can be figured out. Yesenia is smart. She
knows her father well.”

Rafe bit down on his tongue to keep from saying that she might have known her father a little

too well and against her will.

“When is Yesenia’s birthday?” He wondered if she would put together the same thing that

Grace had revealed.

“Very soon, actually,” Angelina answered with surprise. “I’d forgotten with everything else

going on. She’ll be eighteen.” Rafe only stared back at Angelina and slowly lifted his brows as
the light dawned in her eyes. “Yesenia will be a legal adult then,” she whispered. “You think
that’s why she’s waiting to come home?”

“I think it’s a possibility,” he murmured. “You’re right, she’s young. Sometimes drastic

measures are the only way to go when youth gets in the way of experience. She might be
thinking that it’s the only way to solve the problem: wait until she’s of age and return home, but
then she has the ammunition that she can date whomever she wants because she’s a legal adult.”

Angelina nodded, hope glowing in her eyes. “If that is the case, she could be home very

soon.”

Rafe hated having to rein her in, because he had no idea if Yesenia was waiting for a

birthday, or worse case scenario, hiding out from a father who abused her regularly. “Ms.
Aragon, can you go back to the night she went missing? What happened after the argument?
What time was it?”

It took a moment for Angelina to get back on board with the interview since her mind had

obviously made the leap to her daughter being snug at home in three weeks time. Her hands
tightened in her lap and she stared at them for a long time before turning her whole body to face
him.

“I wasn’t home,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “That night. I don’t know what

happened exactly because I wasn’t home.”

Rafe blinked once, slowly, but gave no other indication that her confession was staggering to

the case and put her husband even further up shit creek. He took a deep breath to steady himself
and get the sudden tumult of questions in order in his head.

“You stated in my initial interview with you that you were home when your husband

discovered that she was missing.”

She nodded guiltily. “I told Hector I would go along with that story because it was more

important that Yesenia be found than anything else.”

Rafe agreed and disagreed at the same time. “Why would it matter though? Why would Mr.

Aragon need you to say that? It would be very easy to get the records from your work that say
where you were that night. You’ve also lied to the police about this. Why did you have to be
there for his story to stand up?”

Angelina rested her face in her hands and shuddered before looking back at him. “I don’t

know, Detective. He didn’t want anyone thinking he hurt her or kicked her out. If I were home
then, I could agree with what he said and the police could get to the bottom of where she is.” She
clasped her hands together beneath her chin like she was praying to him or begging. “I’m telling
you the truth now. I promise. No more lies. I just want my daughter to come home.”

Rafe didn’t have much to say to that. He already knew Angelina wanted Yesenia to return,

but he was baffled by the way the family, the people who hired him, seemed to be using their
time to interfere with the investigation rather than help it along. It was bullshit.

“When did you get home that night?”
Angelina swallowed and sat back, her hands dropping woodenly to her lap. “He called when

he discovered she was missing—before he called the police. Nine thirty maybe; I can’t
remember it all. I came home and he called the police then. They couldn’t do anything until

she’d been missing twenty-four hours, but he explained that it looked like she’d been stolen from
the home, not like she ran away, so the police came. He wanted someone looking for her right
away. I decided later that she must have ran.”

“So your husband called you at work, you rushed home, and he showed you the bathroom

with the window open and no Yesenia?” Rafe switched the locations on purpose to see if
Angelina was still lying. If she knew Yesenia went missing from the bathroom, she wouldn’t
correct him—at least he hoped not, but with Hector calling all the shots, it seemed unlikely he
would have told Angelina the same thing he’d let slip to his sister.

“Well…yes. And no. He showed me her bedroom. That’s where she went missing from.”
Rafe ran a weary hand over his lips and stifled a sigh. She wasn’t lying. She wanted to get to

the bottom of this, so much so that she was meeting him behind her husband’s back and
admitting her other lies. He debated correcting her and letting her in on his knowledge, but he
couldn’t chance that she would give anything away to Hector, who was practically glowing with
suspicion on Rafe’s radar screen.

“Her bedroom. Right.” He stared out the windshield to disguise the concern in his eyes. “Ms.

Aragon, would you say that aside from the disputes over Angel that Yesenia and your husband
were close?” he asked, carefully changing subjects.

“Oh yes. She is the world to him. Since the day she was born. He likes to keep her home and

close, and when she goes out, he worries that she will be hurt or get caught up with the wrong
crowd. He’s so very protective of her.”

“That’s what Angel and Grace said,” he agreed. “They said he watches her all the time.”
Angelina was definitely not tracking on the same page as he was as she nodded. “He hates

the thought of her getting hurt, that’s all.”

“I appreciate you taking the chance to talk to me about this alone, Ms. Aragon. I know it isn’t

easy to wonder where your daughter is.”

He’d surprised her again and she shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat. “That’s all the

questioning you have?”

For her it certainly was. She wasn’t the one at the bottom of this sinkhole. “That’s it,” he said

kindly. “If there’s anything else I can think of, I’ll call you. I also will not tell your husband that
I spoke to you alone.”

She thanked him and offered a shaky hand. “I’m sorry that I lied to you. I promise you that I

did not lie to you today,” her voice quavered and he patted her hand in comfort.

“Forget about it,” he murmured. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I know more.” He kept it to

himself that if he got all of his evidence in line that he’d have to present the information to the
investigating officers on the force and their was no guarantee that lie she told could stay
forgotten.

Angelina went for the door handle and just as she was about to close the passenger door

behind her, he called her name. “Has your son been away? I’ve been trying to get a hold of him
for an interview and he’s not returning my calls.”

“He’s home,” she admitted with a curious expression. “I spoke to him yesterday. I think he’s

been burying himself in work, you know, to cope.”

Rafe felt guilty for instantly doubting that was the case and cursed mentally. Nothing was as

it seemed apparently. He gave her another wave and started his truck. “I’ll just keep trying, I
suppose.”

Angelina said goodbye and headed off across the parking lot in the direction of home. Rafe

shook his head in disappointment. So far, the only good thing that had come of this job was

getting to know Jeremy, and it looked like he was going to need the guy’s help hunting down
Carlos.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jeremy started his car and cranked the air conditioner on all the way to the right, praying it

would help slow down the aggressive sweat he had working. He cracked the windows until the
air kicked in and pulled out his phone. It was the first free moment he’d had that day to return
calls, and of the two calls from his sister and the single one from Rafe, he knew which was
higher on his list.

He dug through his contacts until the display highlighted the detective’s name and then

pushed send. The phone rang into voicemail and Jeremy had to swallow down an emotion very
near disappointment as he left his own message for Rafe.

“Hey man, it’s Jeremy. Got your message from earlier today, but I haven’t had a free minute

until now. I just got off my shift, but I think I can help you out with the Carlos thing. I know
where he lives at least, so if you get this, maybe our best bet would be to pull a drive by and see
if he’s home. There’s no reason he should be avoiding your calls—if that’s what he’s doing.
Anyway…call me when you get this. I’m on my way home.”

As Jeremy hung up he wondered what Rafe was up to that was keeping him from the phone.

He’d only been getting to know the guy for a few days, so he wasn’t sure how his P.I. gig
worked day-to-day. He knew a lot of other shit, though.

Like: Rafe was gay. And that he was excellent at his job and well respected by guys on the

force. He played soccer and liked bacon double cheeseburgers. He even ate weekly at a burrito
wagon downtown. He’d dated a guy named Jason once. And that asshole, Mark. He didn’t get
along with his dad. His best friend was doing everything but pissing a circle around Rafe to keep
Jeremy away.

That was a lot of important information most people wouldn’t find out about a new

acquaintance in such a short span of time and Jeremy was already in the know. They’d spent a
fairly good bit of time together now and he’d even helped the guy drag his one-ton dishwasher
from under the counter and into the garage. Where he got another glimpse at the jet skis Rafe had
bought with Mark.

Barf.
But… Rafe was really, really… What was he? He was really great. Laid back. Funny.

Vulnerable.

Jeremy flinched at the memory of the look on Rafe’s face when he confessed that his friend

was worried about him getting hurt by Jeremy. He still wanted to shut Brian’s head in the hood
of his car for being such a dick about that one. Looking at Rafe last night as he told him he
wouldn’t hurt him had done something to Jeremy. The way Rafe’s jaw tightened in pain and his
eyes practically glowed cut Jeremy deeply.

He’d meant every word of what he’d said and he was still too pissed at Brian to really think

about what the guy might tell Rafe about him. All he knew was that as he said Rafe’s heart was
safe with him, it felt…good. It felt right.

He could try and tell himself that he simply meant that Rafe didn’t have to worry about

Jeremy breaking his heart because he wasn’t gay and wouldn’t mess with him, but he wasn’t
naive either. You didn’t have to be the same sexual orientation as someone else to change them,
or make them care about you. And when he said what he did, he hadn’t been thinking of it that

way. Jeremy had only thought of Rafe being safe with him. Like he would protect him. The guy
was already his friend and friendship was a big deal to Jeremy.

When he got home he headed straight to his bathroom, shucking his sweaty clothes into the

hamper and cranking on the shower. He was glad he’d gone running early that morning and
didn’t have to worry about a workout now. He was beat; the sun had leeched the strength right
out of him.

Standing beneath the steady stream, he rested his hands against the tiled wall and let the

water course over him. He dropped his head and groaned at the sensation as his muscles relaxed.
He stood that way for a while before straightening and grabbing for the soap. Working it into a
lather, he went over his body perfunctorily until his hand grazed the weight of his balls and an
almost electric shock went through him.

He turned his back to the water and tried to remember the last time he’d taken care of

business. It’d been a while since he’d had sex—he wouldn’t dwell on that—and maybe a week
and half since he’d worked himself over. No wonder that moment of contact already had him
hardening.

Jeremy threw the soap back on his shower rack and ran his still-lathered hands down his

stomach until his right grabbed hold of his cock and he gave a slow, purposeful stroke. A low
growl escaped his throat and he let his head fall back into the stream of water as he found a
rhythm that had his blood pounding through his veins.

As he closed his eyes, flashes of images shot through his mind: hands, eyes, a body, sex. His

stroking increased, his arm flexing tighter as he pulled at himself and his left hand latching onto
the wall as he moved.

Out of nowhere, a pair of ice blue eyes filtered into his vision, then a strong-jawed face

framed by rich black hair. The lips spread in a secret, knowing smile as though the figure were
there watching Jeremy’s every move.

His cock jerked in his hand and he moaned again, unable and unwilling to push the image

from his mind. He was alone. Only he knew what was happening this very moment.

The image in his mind trailed lower over a strong chest and solid abs encased in olive skin

that glistened with sweat. Then, the image reached out to Jeremy, one hand stretching to touch
his body.

Jeremy’s entire body tightened in anticipation and he grimaced against the exquisite torture

of the moment. Fuck yes! Touch me, his mind begged. His head shot back again and another
groan escaped.

The image in his mind smiled slowly, intentionally, as the hand grabbed his throbbing cock

and stroked once. Twice. A third time.

A choked cry ripped from Jeremy’s throat as he came, the liquid hot spurts running down

over his hand and stomach. He touched himself until he was too sensitive to continue and then
sank to the floor of the shower, his breathing ragged as his body recovered.

Tears unexpectedly filled his eyes and he fought back a hysterical sob. Rafe? He’d just done

that to himself thinking of…

God, what was happening to him? What was wrong? He didn’t know himself anymore.

***

Jeremy’s phone rang later that evening while he zoned out on the couch to a show about car

auctions. He’d spent every second since his shower pretending he hadn’t done what he’d done,

but the sight of Rafe’s name on the phone’s display had it all rushing back. He told himself for
the hundredth time that it was a weird fluke and meant nothing as he answered the phone—like a
dream he couldn’t keep from happening. Acting like nothing was up and being his normal self
would fix this. It had to.

“Rafe, did you just now get my message?” he asked, wondering if his voice would give him

away.

“Hey man. Yeah, sorry about that. I had soccer practice tonight. We’ve got another game

next week.” There was a shuffling noise in the background and Rafe paused for a minute. He
must’ve been opening his door, Jeremy thought. “Is everything okay?” Rafe asked. “You sound
upset.”

Jeremy probably went overboard on the hell-no-I’m-fines, but he couldn’t help it. Another

image of that slow smile spreading over Rafe’s features flashed through his mind and he threw
the remote across the room. Hard.

“What the hell was that?” Rafe breathed, obviously not buying Jeremy’s shit for an instant.
“Nothing,” he mumbled back. “The remote fell.”
“Sounds like it exploded.”
“It’ll make it another day,” he admitted grudgingly and realized how thoroughly he was

failing at acting casual. Part of him wanted to blurt out that he’d rubbed one out thinking of Rafe
—like he was looking for penance, forgiveness…or fucking therapy. The rational side of him
managed to grab the first bit and strangle it into submission. “So, you’re having more trouble
with Carlos?”

After a strained pause Rafe answered. “Having trouble with him is sort of impossible because

I can’t get a bead on him to have trouble. You say you know where he lives?”

“He’s in the apartments on Wyoming, the nicer ones. I only know because his mom told my

dad a while back during one of their neighborhood conversations.” Jeremy cleared his throat and
told himself to get it together as he asked, “Do you want me to take you there?”

“Not yet. I’m going to find out if he’s working nights and give him the benefit of the doubt

one last time. I left him another message today. Tomorrow if I haven’t heard anything I’ll go
by.”

“You want backup?” Jeremy offered, abruptly disliking the idea of Rafe going to see Carlos

alone and not sure why.

“That could work out. You don’t have anything going on Thursday nights?”
Rafe popped a beer in the background and Jeremy smiled, feeling more like himself. He ran

through his schedule, and then groaned into the phone.

“Shit. I’ve got another softball practice—though it might be canceled.” Jeremy thought for a

second. “If I can’t go after work, I can either meet you during the day on duty or go the next day
as long as it’s not in the evening. My sister’s stupid dinner party is Friday.”

Rafe laughed unsympathetically. “I forgot that was so soon. Well, I can let you know if

Carlos gets in touch with me, and if not, we’ll figure out the next part after that. I need to talk to
him sooner rather than later. My meeting with his mom has me uneasy.”

Jeremy stood and turned off the TV without the remote, hearing the concern in Rafe’s voice.

“So she showed?”

“Yeah. Best part is that she admitted to lying to me and the cops about being home the night

her daughter went missing from her bedroom.”

Jeremy cursed.
“Exactly,” Rafe agreed tiredly. “She’s also oblivious to some other things I’ve heard through

questioning Angel and her niece that make Hector look pretty dirty.”

“You still think…he really might have done something to her?” Jeremy asked, his stomach

rolling at the thought.

“I won’t say for sure yet, but something is seriously wrong with their relationship. Angelina

has been so focused on keeping her daughter home that she’s been in denial about Hector’s
actions. She’s willing to make excuses for her husband up one side and down the other like it
doesn’t even occur to her that he might’ve harmed Yesenia. I’ve got to get Carlos’ perspective.
He’s dodging me; I know he’s around because he talked to Angelina yesterday. Hector is the
next big interview.”

Jeremy sighed and collapsed back onto the couch. “I’m sorry, man. This is a shit storm. I feel

really bad about it.”

“You’re not starting up with that again? It’s my job. If it’s not this, then I’m hunting down

people for insurance fraud or doing boring background checks,” he chuckled. “This is better for
keeping me on my toes. And besides, without the job you wouldn’t have me for a friend and
you’d be missing out.”

Jeremy snorted and ran a hand down over his face. If Rafe only knew. He remained silent

and simply listened to the background noises coming from Rafe’s end of the line.

“Hey,” Rafe blurted, “I’ve got a ton of burgers leftover from last night if you haven’t eaten.

Feel free to stop by. There’s still plenty of beer, too.”

Jeremy’s body flashed over and he shook out the front of his t-shirt to get the air flowing

again. He coughed and watched as his leg started twitching a mile a minute.

“You there?”
“I’ll be over in fifteen,” Jeremy said and ended the call in defeat.

***

He fell asleep on Rafe’s couch. Jeremy ate a burger, made it through half a beer, and while

Rafe was taking a shower, he slouched down and took five…or twenty. He didn’t hear when
Rafe came back out to the living room, or when he sat down in the chair nearby and went to
work on his notes. Rafe just let him sleep.

Jeremy didn’t wake up until the gentle shuffling of papers slowly invaded his semi-conscious

state. His eyelids flickered open and he found himself sprawled out on the couch and looking up
into Rafe’s concerned gaze.

“Sorry,” his friend whispered guiltily. “I was trying to be quiet.”
“Shit…” Jeremy mumbled. “How long was I out?” He noticed that at some point since he’d

fallen asleep, Rafe had moved him so he was stretched out over the length of the couch with his
feet hanging off the edge.

“A couple hours,” Rafe answered softly. “You looked so tired I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“What time is it?”
“Close to ten.” Jeremy groaned when he heard the answer and apologized. “You can stay

here tonight,” Rafe spoke over him. “I have a guest room and a second bath.”

The idea was tempting for a number of reasons, and Jeremy thought it out as he stretched the

kinks from his body. For one, he was so comfortable that he didn’t want to move, much less drag
himself out to his car and drive home. And he didn’t know how else to describe it, but it was sort
of nice to wake up because someone was trying to be quiet around you… Sort of sweet of Rafe
to look out for him like this when he probably preferred that his guests stayed awake to chat.

He frowned and rubbed his hands over his face, knowing he had to get up and get a move on.

After the weird events of the night before where he said every outrageous thing that came to
mind to Brian, and the whole shower thing—which he immediately reminded himself he wasn’t
going to think about—he was getting way too weird around Rafe. Jeremy needed to go home and
concentrate on getting his head on…well for lack of a better word…straight. Shit.

He opened his eyes, ready to say his goodbyes, and froze. His stretching had pulled his shirt

up a fraction and Rafe’s gaze was fixed on the patch of exposed skin. The expression in his ice
blue eyes was hot. Jeremy felt the look searing through his body and he had no idea how to
proceed.

It was only the second time Rafe had ever dropped his guard enough to let Jeremy see he

might be attracted to him. There’d been moments of eye contact that his friend had held a little
too long for comfort, but never anything as blatant as the desire Jeremy saw now. His throat went
dry and his mind shot back to that moment in the shower, the way Rafe stared creating that same
heavy buzz beneath his skin. His body was so warm it felt feverish.

He closed his eyes and sat up with a jerk, too freaked out to stay still. When he looked up

again, the passion he’d seen in Rafe’s eyes was gone and he was back to being the concerned
friend. If Jeremy hadn’t caught that moment before, he’d have been none the wiser. Rafe was an
old pro at hiding his thoughts—he had to do it everyday on the job.

“It’s really okay if you need to crash here. You look like you’ve got a wicked sunburn, which

is probably making you feel twice as tired.” Rafe even sounded normal. It wasn’t fair.

Jeremy was thankful the guy had no idea what was going through his head. He wasn’t tired

anymore. He was friggin’ wired.

“Nah, I appreciate it,” he mumbled, “but I better head home. Sorry about this. I didn’t mean

to come over and pass out.”

Rafe chuckled and Jeremy’s skin tingled to the point he had to shake out his hands a couple

times to get feeling back. When he stood Rafe began to follow, but he waved him away and gave
him a quick thump on the shoulder in goodbye. There. Confused people didn’t do stuff like that.
Jeremy was going to make it out of Rafe’s house in one piece after all.

“Thanks for the burger and beer…” he said quickly, then realized his hand had settled back

on Rafe’s shoulder and wasn’t moving at all. Rafe was staring up at him with a veiled
expression, his reaction well hidden. “Um…yeah.” He lifted his hand like Rafe was white hot
and moved to the door. “Next time you can come to my place and crash on my couch.” The
words were out before he really thought them through and he winced at the image this created.

Rafe laughed, low and throaty. “We’ll call it even then. Oh—and I’ll let you know what

happens with Carlos tomorrow. Give you a call once I find out what’s up.”

“Sure…tomorrow,” Jeremy said, and then with a quick wave, he was out of there and

practically gulping for air.

This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t go on. And what the hell was this? His curiosity…

or sudden obsession…or whatever it was, shouldn’t be making him act this way. Jeremy felt an
overwhelming urge to both march back inside and force Rafe to tell him what the hell was going
on between them, or drive away from the house and never see Rafe again. Both scared the shit
out of him.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Rafe watched Jeremy leave through the blinds of the front window. His lungs clenched up

tight when Jeremy seemed to pause and hover, like he was considering coming back in the
house. Rafe wanted him to turn around badly, which is exactly why he knew it was for the best
when Jeremy got moving again and pulled from his driveway.

How sad was he? Rafe felt like he could already recognize the sound of that Barracuda

anywhere. He was probably going to be scarred forever once his investigation was over and he
wasn’t seeing Jeremy as often, or ever. Any time he heard the throaty roar of a muscle car, his
head would probably get to swiveling for a glimpse of a tall blond.

Yet at the same time, the sooner he finished this investigation, the better. The prospect of not

having an excuse to see Jeremy whenever he wanted saddened him, but he couldn’t deny that
being near him was becoming more difficult by the day. Rafe was struggling to keep his looks
and thoughts to himself. He’d had his share of crushes on straight men, but this was the worst yet
and the first in a long time. Rafe had grown accustomed to being able to flirt when he was
interested, to hold the eye contact, or to touch a guy casually... Now, here he was, totally into a
guy and unable to do any of that without either making Jeremy uncomfortable or giving his
feelings away.

It was already too late for him. Rafe knew it through and through. His attraction to Jeremy

was instantaneous, the hard-to-get factor making it worse, and all the time spent with him was
ruining Rafe. He honestly meant to work this evening while Jeremy slept; he even got out his
notes intending to look through them. Instead, he watched him rest. Jeremy liked to sleep with
his hands on his stomach. He didn’t snore. Rafe found it fascinating to watch the subtle rise and
fall of his chest as he breathed, and seeing Jeremy like that made him wish the man were his…
That they were together and this was just another night for them.

Jeremy woke up though, and so did Rafe, though he nearly knocked over all of his carefully

built walls at the sight of Jeremy stretching. That golden skin of his stomach, so tempting to him,
nearly made him cross over to the couch and kiss Jeremy senseless. He wanted to show his friend
how beautiful it could be, but then Jeremy would likely disagree. Thank god, he hadn’t noticed
Rafe’s slip.

He had to be all business from now on, Rafe decided. No more wishing for a relationship that

was never going to happen, or fantasizing about a man who didn’t want him. He would
concentrate on doing what he had to do to finish his investigation and if he could keep Jeremy
out of it, he would. No more calls to talk through what he’d learned, either. There was more than
one way to get Carlos to stop ducking him; he didn’t have to go through Jeremy.

Rafe was turning over a new leaf and he prayed it would keep him from hurting. It was too

late to avoid falling for Jeremy. That was a done deal. It wasn’t too early to protect himself and
put some distance between them, though. Brian was right; Jeremy would break his heart if he let
him. And Rafe wasn’t going to let him.

Rafe wandered out to the kitchen the next morning to the sound of his phone beeping with a

message. He dialed up voicemail and clenched his fist in victory at the sound of Carlos Aragon’s
voice.

Rafe was right, he had been working nights. Sometimes the benefit of the doubt actually

worked out. He smiled. Carlos had to work again tonight, but he could meet Saturday or Sunday
afternoon and would call later with a time.

“Yes,” Rafe breathed in relief. “One step closer to wrapping this thing up.” And getting on

with my life outside of Jeremy, he finished silently.

A quick glance at the clock told him Jeremy would be at work, and if he were on the road, he

wouldn’t be answering his phone. Like a coward, Rafe dialed up his number and sank down at
the dining table when he was sent straight to voicemail. He cleared his voice after the beep and
dove in.

“Jeremy, I wanted to tell you that Carlos called and we’ll be meeting this weekend. He’s

been working nights,” he said by way of explanation. “Thanks again for the offer to help out.”
Rafe paused for a second, wanting to say more, like goodbye maybe, but instead he sighed.
“Good luck on your date Friday. I hope she’s a really nice girl and that your sister got it right this
time. Bye.”

He hung up with a quick flick of his wrist and laid his head down on the tabletop. It was the

first step in a long process, but it was done. Distance would only help. He hoped Jeremy would
be too busy to care.

***

Jeremy’s morning was much more hectic than he thought it would be and after three failed

attempts to grab a minute to check his voicemail for a message from Rafe, he finally managed at
lunch. He didn’t know if he should hope they could get together, or if he should try to keep out
of it. If Rafe needed him, he’d help, but the more he mulled it over, the more he was sure that he
needed to make himself scarce. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship and he didn’t know how
to proceed, so absenting himself seemed to be the best option for now.

The sound of Rafe’s voice made him forget all of that. He was different. Quick, business-

like, almost cold in comparison to other messages he’d left. But then there was a sigh—a kind of
sad sigh—and a comment about that ridiculous dinner tomorrow night. It was almost like Rafe
wasn’t going to call ever again.

Jeremy listened to the message twice more, each time his frown deepening. What was Rafe

doing? Why did he sound so…different? Had Jeremy imagined that look the night before, or the
heat between them when they touched?

He shook his head to drive away the doubts. Relief was all he should feel. Jeremy should be

glad that Rafe obviously wasn’t as taken with him as he’d previously thought.

He closed his phone and tried to finish his sandwich in silence, not quite sure how to pinpoint

what he was feeling. Rafe had come to mean a lot to him. What if he’d inadvertently hurt him
somehow? The thought made his breath quicken in concern and his appetite disappeared.
Shoving the leftovers in the trash, he rushed to get back to work. He didn’t want to think about
any of this for the rest of the day.

Rafe didn’t call him again and he went to practice that night like he normally would. Jeremy

kept his distance from the other players, but couldn’t quite avoid Mark, who targeted him like a
missile. That wasn’t usually enough to bother him because everyone was used to Mark’s shitty
attitude. It was what he said that nearly had Jeremy slamming him back against the chain link
backstop and giving him hell.

Rafe had called Mark instead. He’d apologized again for everything that happened between

them.

Jeremy didn’t even consider that the guy might be lying. The words were like a sucker punch

to the gut and it took all of his energy to throw out something sarcastic and get back to practice
like it didn’t matter at all.

So what if it looked like Rafe was getting back together with Mark? That was Rafe’s

business. And Jeremy and Rafe were…just friends.

On the way home from practice Jeremy tried to figure out what his problem was. He thought

of the afternoon at the sandwich shop and the girl who gave him her number. She was attractive,
confident enough to approach him, interested for sure…so why wasn’t he? Why hadn’t he
followed through? He didn’t even want her number. He could name half a dozen guys off the top
of his head that would’ve already called her and taken her out if they were in his place.

Not him. Any dating he’d done recently ended in an excuse how it wouldn’t work out. He

didn’t feel anything, even with a couple of girls he should have liked and who were actually
really terrific. He always backed off. They’d call, he’d ignore them, and eventually they
disappeared completely. Maybe he was turning into a passive-aggressive hermit who only cared
about his car and J.C. Whitney catalogs.

Oh god.
At a stop light, Rafe’s face shot into his mind like a strobe and Jeremy saw him again the

way he’d been in his garage, leaning over the jet skis and trying to stay calm. How he’d looked
up at Jeremy and kept on looking, those ice blue eyes of his unblinking and revealing what Rafe
had hidden well until that point. Attraction. Desire even. For him. Jeremy knew he hadn’t made it
up.

That wasn’t what had him sitting through the green light with a dumbstruck expression on his

face. It was admitting the way that Rafe’s interest had affected him that day and since—the way
he’d felt in that second before he tamped down the foreign thoughts and reconciled them into
something else. Thing was, he went through more in that small space of time with Rafe’s eyes
boring into his than he had when a gorgeous woman landed in his path.

He’d been refusing to think of his reaction as anything more than a little curiosity brought on

by the confirmation that Rafe was gay, but days later, with his defenses down, he was blindsided
by the truth. He cursed, swallowed, and cursed again. The symphony of car horns behind him
forced him through the intersection and onward to his house but the only thing rolling through
his brain was: You felt it too.

And he had. Before he shut it down, laughed it off, and denied it, he’d wanted Rafe back.

Talk about a double-fisted squeeze of the gonads. His face flushed and his body temp shot
through the roof.

No way. This wasn’t happening. Was it? No, no, no. It couldn’t be.
Could it?
He swore again, more colorfully this time. His hands shook on the wheel and he suddenly

wanted a drink very badly. He never reacted to stress this way. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Jeremy squeezed the steering wheel as he tried to get his riotous thoughts in order. He even

tried the straight man’s Lamaze, but breathing seemed sort of unimportant with the gorilla-sized
realization that he liked Rafe spilling from some tweaked out part of his brain.

Jeremy made a valiant effort to box the thought back up, mold it into a form that he could

work with once again, but it wasn’t budging. What if—okay—what if maybe it was just that
being around a guy who was charismatic, interesting, and gay made him evaluate for a second
what it would be like? Sure, he was attractive. A guy could say that about another guy…

He smiled. That’s what this was. It wasn’t attraction, it was admiration. There was a big

difference.

Like a harping tattletale, his reasoning was smacked down when the ill-behaved part of his

brain whispered Mark Newland’s name.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The anger simmering in Jeremy’s chest surprised him most. He was making his way up

Tracey’s front walk, wishing he could get away with kicking over a few of her potted plants in
the great tradition of brother/sister infighting tactics. If he followed through with the plan,
however, his brother-in-law would be pissed too, and right now Jake was his only ally against
Tracey’s meddling.

Jeremy was early on purpose, simply so he could tell her how sick he was of the set-ups and

the “Oh-my-goodness-look-who-showed up!” crap. He was ready to leave the second he made
his point, only he hadn’t expected to feel so pissed about the dinner, or the forced invite, or the
idea that he needed help meeting someone. On top of that he was irritated with the girl he was
supposed to be meeting tonight. He’d never met her and already he didn’t like her.

Bottom line: he was in a foul mood. No way he could endure a night of this crap. It was made

worse when he remembered that even if he were alone at home tonight, Rafe might very well be
out with Mark or Dr. Feel Good. Like it wasn’t difficult enough to deal with a sister who never
stayed out of his love life, or that Jeremy was coming to terms with the fact that Rafe had
somehow wormed his way into the forefront of his thoughts, but add onto that the image of Rafe
caring about asshole Mark and he was ready to light something on fire.

Look at what was becoming of him. He was jealous. Jealous wasn’t normal for buddies. To

hell with it—he launched a potted plant across the yard with a swift kick. The daisies inside held
strong, looking up at him pitifully from the dirt, only half dislodged from their container.

He was losing it. Seriously. How could it be that he wanted to laugh hysterically, weep, and

scream all at the same time? And what was up with the ridiculous urge to call Rafe and demand
to know if he was out with Mark the Man-eater? That would be a hell of an awkward
conversation, especially once Rafe got around to asking why he cared.

The front door opened and Tracey came out onto the steps to take in her demolished daisies,

the dirt strewn across the lawn, and Jeremy’s raging expression in one sweeping look.

“What is wrong with you, Jeremy?” she shouted in her big sister tone, her blond hair falling

around her shoulders. Jake appeared in the doorway behind her and seeing the evidence of
Jeremy’s breakdown, his brows shot upward.

“I’m not doing anymore fucking setups.” He thrust his hands in his pockets and refused to

move another inch up the walk if it meant he had to sit across the dinner table from some lady his
sister expected nieces and nephews from.

Tracey gaped at him and he glared back for almost a minute before he gave in and stomped

into the yard, grabbed the sad looking daisy planter and put it back in it’s spot with a loud plunk.
After that, he transferred the spilled dirt back into the pot one handful at a time until the daisies
were standing with offended dignity.

Jake and Tracey watched his every move with varying degrees of bafflement. When he was

finished brushing the dirt off of his hands he finally looked at them. “I’m sorry about the plant,”
he grumbled in a way that pretty much canceled out sincerity.

“What’s up with you? You agreed to come over here, remember?” Tracey asked, her

astonishment fading into real hurt.

“I’m just going to go and…yeah,” Jake muttered, disappearing back into the house like an

apparition. Smart man.

To his utter mortification, Jeremy half-coughed, half-sobbed one breath and his eyes started

leaking out of nowhere. He ran his hands across his face roughly and clamped down on what was
apparently sincere contact with his feminine side. Tracey made a sympathetic noise and was at
his side the next second, throwing an arm around his waist and guiding him up the stairs, through
her house and to her bedroom. Jake was conspicuously absent, probably in his garage doing
manly things.

By the time Tracey had him seated on the bench at the end of her bed, he was under control

again, but it was flimsy at best. He was sure one word too kind, one look too concerned, and he’d
be off to the races again.

“This is such a fucked up mess,” he whispered in a heated rush.
“What is? Tell me, Jeremy.” She was scared now. And she should be, he thought. He was

certifiable. All his hard work to finish school, join the force, become a motorcycle cop, and he
ended up crazy. “I’m sorry about the setups,” she murmured. “I didn’t know you hated them so
much; I only wanted to help. You don’t have to do it.”

Jeremy dropped his head, his hands gripping his temples, like he had to hold his head

together to keep it from bursting. “God, it’s not about the setups,” he groaned. “Well, it is, but it
isn’t.”

“You’re really worrying me here. I’ve never seen you like this.” She wrapped an arm over

his shoulders and pulled him closer.

He couldn’t say anything; his mind was too busy wading through a collage of faces. The

women he’d been with, the breakups, and finally Rafe. He sucked in a ragged breath and moaned
in frustration.

“I can’t tell you this. It’s unbelievable. I don’t even get it and if I weren’t thinking it, I’d say

it was impossible.” His words tumbled over each other and he knew he wasn’t making any sense.
He could feel Tracey’s tension. When he peeked through his fingers, he realized for the first time
that she had a tablecloth wadded up on her lap like she’d been putting it on the table when she
noticed him punting her potted plant.

“Jeremy, you’ve always talked to me…ever since we were little. I thought you could tell me

anything. At least, I’ve been here if you wanted to.”

He shook his head. “Nothing like this, Trace. This is…not me. I don’t even know how to say

it—”

“Start at the beginning,” she interrupted. “Take a deep breath and talk to me.”
“What about dinner?” His protest was weak and she saw right through it. He was in her

clutches now.

“Jake has it all under control. Don’t worry about it. I can call and cancel if I want. It’s my

party.”

She didn’t press him after that, but waited in silence as he chewed on the right words to

describe what he was going through. Nothing seemed to fit. How did he explain this to his sister
—the one who was on the quest to find the perfect woman for him? And what if she told their
dad?

“I met someone,” he finally admitted, knowing all the assumptions she’d make, but she

didn’t send a volley of questions his way about who the lucky woman was, or how they met.

“Okaaaay,” she drew out the word. “You say that like it’s bad.”
He took a deep breath and abruptly sat up, hitting her full force with the turmoil in his eyes.

“I-it’s not bad… Ah, hell.” Jeremy clenched his fists on his knees and spat it out. “Yes it is. It’s

bad. I met someone. A guy. I met a guy.”

Tracey’s face went blank and it took a few, but he saw the exact moment when the pinball of

a thought bounced down into understanding. “Oh,” she breathed. “Oh.”

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he whispered in a rush. “I swear this is the first time

I’ve ever felt anything like this and honest to god, it’s freaking me out.”

“So…you’re not trying to tell me that you’re…um…gay?”
“Geez, Trace, I can’t even deal with that question right now. It’s weird enough that I’m

thinking shit like this. Can’t you just help me figure things out so I can get back to normal?”

Tracey shifted until she was facing him, one leg curled up beneath her on the bench. “No

labels, then. Tell me about him.” She was using the tone again.

Jeremy gave her an awkward look and got busy staring at his shoes. The toes of his new

sneakers were smudged with dirt from his earlier stunt. “I met him on duty about six weeks ago.”

“Is he a cop?”
He shook his head. “Nope. He’s a private investigator.”
The light went on and Tracey sucked in a breath, gripping one of his hands in hers. “The one

you have working for the Aragon family? The one dad’s met?”

He glanced at her and looked away again. “Yes. I met him at traffic court; he was

investigating a guy I pulled over on a DUI and had to ask me some questions.”

“D-did you start seeing him then?”
The question acted like an electric shock to Jeremy and he shot to his feet, pacing in front of

his sister’s dresser. “No.”

“Jeremy, why don’t you try something on for size?” Tracey snapped. “I’m asking questions

because you’re not explaining. If you go ahead and realize that I’m not judging you for anything
you say now, or in the future, then maybe we could get to the bottom of this within the next
week.”

“I’m not seeing him,” he bit off the words in the same tone she’d used with him. “We didn’t

even speak again until Yesenia went missing and her family wanted to hire an investigator. He
has a good reputation and I’d already met him, so I called. Just like you already know.”

“What’s his name again?”
He met her eyes when he answered, unable to hide what saying it did to him—not that he

understood the why of it. “Rafe Bridges.”

“And is Rafe—”
“Yeah, he’s gay. I suspected as much and then asked him earlier this week.” He filled her in

on the details of that particular visit from the point when he’d asked and Rafe had gone through
the roof.

“Why’d he go crazy like that when you asked? If he’s out, what’s the big deal?” Tracey

asked confusedly.

“He thought I was going homophobic on him. I mean, there we were in his garage and

well…”

“Jeremy? What happened?”
“I asked him if he was gay because I’d heard something like that and…he looked at me.”
“He looked at you.” She was trying really hard to do the math, but it wasn’t working out.
He dropped his hands to his side and faced her, exasperated. “Straight guys don’t stare into

each other’s eyes meaningfully, Trace. Two seconds max…maybe more if it’s a big-time serious
subject, but they don’t look into each other’s eyes. Rafe looked at me. That was like the last clue
or whatever. So I asked him—totally bungled it, too.”

“Oh, so he thought you were accusing him of trying to take advantage of you?”
Jeremy snorted. “I believe his words were something along the lines of me thinking his gay

would rub off.”

Tracey didn’t even try to hide her smile; she even let out a tiny laugh. “Did it?”
“Come on! This is already hard enough. If dad and Jake hear about this—”
“Jeremy! Take it easy. I’m not saying anything to anyone, not even Jake,” she huffed. “Sorry,

I shouldn’t have teased you.”

He ignored her apology and started pacing again, too distracted by the multitude of thoughts

raging within him to stick to one thing too long.

“Okay,” Tracy dove back in, proving how brave she was. “You met Rafe and you’ve been

spending time with one another. You find out he’s gay. He looks at you…and…? What’s going
on with you now? Is it—do you like him?”

Jeremy walked to the window that looked out on his sister’s backyard and shrugged.

“‘Course I do. Take away all this craziness and he’s a really great guy. Down-to-earth, fun to
hang out with, knows his stuff, and he doesn’t put up with crap from anybody. He’s a friend, I
guess.”

“Dad was impressed by him,” she answered softly.
He nodded. “I know. He has that affect on people; he puts them at ease and gets them to gab

without them even realizing he’s doing it.”

“He sounds really nice.” Tracey was fishing for more and he knew it, but it was almost as if

saying it aloud made it too real. Too serious. He couldn’t leave it as it was though; she’d never
let him get away with it and it certainly wouldn’t keep him from exploding into a million pieces
of gay curiosity.

He sighed. “When he looked at me in the garage I just knew he cared about me, you know,

and it took me a while to admit it, but I-I like him, too.” Jeremy turned his back to the window,
casting his face into shadow. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. It’s crazy; I mean this is me we’re
talking about. But for the first time ever, I’m floored. Does that make sense?” He didn’t wait for
her to answer, too far in to back out now. She could only watch him and listen.

“I’ve been going out of my mind thinking about this and I realized that so many women in

the past I’ve dated for the sake of dating, not because I was interested in them. I found them
attractive in a casual sort of way; nobody has ever stood out to me. And I’ve never looked at
another man romantically—ever. I just…I haven’t. Then Rafe comes along and I can only think
about what he does to me…how he’s different. It even pisses me off that his best friend doesn’t
like me around because he’s afraid I’ll break Rafe’s heart.

“I don’t even know what I’m saying here. He’s in my head, Trace. He’s in my fucking head

and he won’t leave it.”

“So you’re attracted to him for real? Maybe even more than you’ve ever been attracted to

someone else?” Her voice was tender.

Jeremy sat down next to her again and it was like his whole body slumped under the weight

of his confusion. “Yeah. I think so. Yes.”

Tracey nodded and latched onto one of his hands again. “Okay,” she breathed. “Do you think

he knows how you feel?”

He ran his fingers nervously over his lips and grunted once in the negative. “No way. He

even knows I’m supposed to be meeting a girl tonight. I probably over-advertised the fact with
the way I’ve been wigging out lately. We’ve mostly talked on the phone here and there, but he’s
been silent the last two days, like he’s avoiding me. His job keeps him as busy, if not busier, than

mine.”

“You said he’s attracted to you, though. Has he shown any interest since that time in the

garage?”

Jeremy thought of the look on the couch and the few touches between them. “I think so, but

I’m not used to identifying it. I don’t want to assume a look from him means something it
doesn’t. And trust me, I’ve been hypersensitive about it. If the conversation strays to personal
stuff, he keeps it far away from anything about his love life and never straight up asks me about
mine. What if that’s it, though? What if I’m only feeling this way because he’s the first gay guy
I’ve ever been close to and it’s screwing with my circuits or something?”

Jeremy heard the frustration in his voice and was astonished by it. It’s like he had a split

personality with one side of him working behind the scenes to set things up with Rafe and the
other side catching him and trying to ruin things.

“I don’t think that’s how feelings like this work, Jeremy. You’re not the first guy to have a

gay friend and you’re not the first guy to be going through this. It sounds like it bothers you that
he isn’t showing interest anymore.”

“He’s out with his ex tonight. I know it.” He sidestepped all of the sense she was making and

stabbed at the open wound in his chest again.

“Who’s his ex?” Tracey’s brow furrowed.
“A dispatcher. Do you believe that?” he asked with a smirk. “The guy even plays on the

softball team.”

“Oh no, have I seen him at your games?” She sounded almost too delighted to be having this

conversation, like they were gossiping old women.

“You’ve seen him,” he admitted grudgingly. “He’s the first baseman. Mark Newland.”
“Don’t hold back,” she teased at the way he growled the name. “Tell me how you really

feel.” She gave him a sidelong glance and pursed her lips. “He’s good looking. Dark hair, right?”

He refused to answer her, sneering at the bait.
“What’s Rafe look like?” she asked then, genuine interest in every word.
Jeremy shifted uncomfortably. He so wasn’t ready for this. Granted, his sister was taking the

news incredibly well, but was she actually asking him to describe the guy he…oh hell. He
swallowed thickly. Uck.

“I’m not going to—”
“Shut up and tell me what he looks like or I’ll figure out a way to see him that will make you

wish you told me,” she ordered. “Is he tall?”

Jeremy’s lips tightened momentarily and she arched a brow. He recognized the look and gave

up; she was serious.

“He’s not as tall as me. Six feet even probably. I’ve never measured him, Trace.”
“Grumble, grumble.” She reached up and thumped him in the shoulder with her free hand.

“What else? Is he fit?”

Jeremy pictured the different ways he’d seen Rafe: jeans with button up shirts, soccer shorts,

ratty old t-s…

“Yes. He’s fit. Likes to play soccer,” he answered in a hushed voice, still too weirded out to

really dish. “His hair is black. Killer black, you know? He’s always put together; the type who
makes it seem effortless. He’s got crazy blue eyes, the same color as your shirt, actually.” His
face flushed at the last bit and he had to look away. Leave it to him to notice something so sappy.

“He’s gorgeous then?” she pressed.
Jeremy cleared his throat and managed a quick nod. “Yeah. He is.”

“You are, too. He’s got good taste at least.”
He tried a smile, but it was pretty pathetic. She gave him another squeeze when he leaned

forward and rested his chin in the hand she wasn’t holding.

“What does this mean for me, Trace? Seriously. I’m freaked. How can I feel this way? How

can I be thinking stuff like this that I’ve never thought before? It’s not like I’m suddenly drooling
over every dude that passes by, but when I’m around Rafe…there’s this energy…something. I
don’t know. And what if—how do I tell—”

“Hey, hey,” she soothed, and he let her pull him into a hug. She cradled him in her arms and

he was right back on the verge of blubbering again. There was too much unknown. Too much
uncertainty. “It’s going to be okay, little brother.”

She rocked him and placed a kiss against his hair. “It’s okay to feel this way, alright? I’m just

glad you could talk to me about it. And no matter what, I want you to know that I’m with you,
okay? You’re not part of a family that hears something like this and casts you out forever, at
least not as far as I’m concerned,” she insisted. “But here’s the thing, and I don’t want you to get
upset about it. Hear me out.”

He nodded against her and she reached up to run a hand through his hair. “Maybe you should

see where this goes. Let him know somehow. If he’s as good a guy as you say he is, he won’t
belittle you or use this as some kind of weapon, he’ll help you figure it out. My guess is that he’s
still struggling with his attraction to you, thinking you’re interested in women.”

Jeremy wanted to protest and say he was interested in women, but he lacked the conviction

and a woman to carry the argument through. He left it alone.

“He never brings up his personal life, probably out of respect for you, and because it sucks to

have a crush on someone knowing you don’t stand a chance. Put yourself in his shoes for a
second. I mean, here he is meeting you and liking you and you’re unavailable as far as he knows.

“It’s easy to get caught up in how huge this is for you—I really can’t blame you for that—but

if he’s your friend, maybe you could tell him what’s happening. If nothing else, it could clear all
this angst up. You might even find it was a random fluke. If you discover that it’s more than that,
then you cross that bridge when you come to it.”

Jeremy breathed in the scent of his sister’s perfume as well as the fabric detergent she used

on the cloth, which was now crushed between them. He was too messed up to feel entirely
relieved, but there was a significant part of him thanking the powers that be for Tracey. That
he’d come into her house, dropped a huge bomb in her lap and she’d stayed with him step-by-
step.

He sniffed and blinked away the suspicious signs of moisture in his eyes. No freaking crying,

he told himself.

Tracey kissed his hair again and then his temple. “You should call him and see what he’s

really up to. I bet he changes his plans to see you. And if you find you can’t get any of the words
out—our family isn’t exactly eloquent—I recommend grabbing him and laying one on him. It
worked with me and Jake.”

Jeremy groaned in uncertainty and she laughed. Damn, she already had them making out! He

didn’t know if he could go that far yet.

“Seriously, Jeremy,” she chuckled. “Call him. I release you from this dinner and all future

setups unless you ask for them. Go. I’ll tell Jake you needed to take care of other things.”

She was right about one thing: he certainly didn’t want to spend the next few days feeling

miserable. If he got things figured out now, he could be done with it. Either he was attracted to
Rafe or not. There was no time like the present to figure it out. He had to knock off the sissy

business and move ahead.

Jeremy gently pulled away and stood to his feet. “I’ll call him,” he told her, his heart

hammering at the thought.

She smiled approvingly and waved him away with one hand. “Well, go then. Let me know

what happens.”

He nodded and walked to the door. “I’m sure I’ll be totally mortified about this later, Trace,

but thanks. You made that a lot easier than I thought it’d be.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Hell, I
didn’t ever plan on telling you.”

“Go, before I change my mind about dinner.”He cringed and was out the door, hearing her

laughter as he retreated. Jake may have called out from the kitchen, but Jeremy didn’t pause to
find out and say his goodbyes. He had to take care of this before he wussed out.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The evening was getting brisk when Rafe locked the door to his office and headed toward his

truck. He would have stuck around longer trying to put the pieces of the Aragon investigation
together, but instead he’d been roped into stopping by his parent’s house on what was supposed
to be a non-visitation weekend.

His mother hadn’t told him why she wanted him to come over, but she hadn’t implied it

would be for a long visit. They’d likely decided they were totally done with him and would greet
him at the door with a box of his old shit. Here’s your stuff. See you when you’re straight.

None of this should bother him now. He knew they’d go crazy when he came out years ago

and they hadn’t proved him wrong, but there was always the hope that they’d realize they
couldn’t change anything and stop with the denial. It always sucked to think about it, which was
why he rarely did, but the weekends were hard at times. He missed the way things were a lot.

Rafe shifted into gear and was backing from the parking spot when his phone buzzed. He

stopped and dug through his pocket, wincing when he saw the display.

“I thought you were on some kind of blind date,” he said into the phone, his voice soft.
“I told my sister I’d rather not endure another one, thanks.” Jeremy’s voice bounced back

over the line and it was deep and warm…as usual. Rat bastard.

“How many would tonight make?”
“I don’t even know anymore. I lost count a couple years ago. Fifty maybe. A hundred.” The

sound of Jeremy’s heavy rumbling engine was loud in the background and Rafe nailed him.

“Hey, Officer Halliday, isn’t it illegal to drive and talk on your cell at the same time in this

state? I can hear the ‘Cuda,” he said, shifting his truck into park again.

“Great detective work, Bridges,” he mumbled. “I’m still parked in front of my sister’s house.

Called to see what your plans were…for the uh…for tonight.” Jeremy sounded a little off and
Rafe sat up, pressing the phone more tightly to his ear. The last time his friend sounded like this,
they had that big blow out in his garage. Plus, he’d just barely managed to get to the point where
he wasn’t constantly thinking of calling Jeremy and now the guy wanted to get together for
dinner?

“You all right? You sound weird.”
There was a sound like a throat clearing and then, “I’m fine. Great. Yeah.”
Rafe didn’t buy it, but he wasn’t going to dig for the guy’s gold. Hell, all the work he’d

already done to remain distant was ending up a waste of energy. He was a little too excited to get
another random call. From his totally straight friend. Just a friend, he told himself again. There
was no hope.

Jeremy was making it really difficult for him to stick with that mantra, however. The cop was

like an addictive chemical. He thought of the possible reasons he could say no to getting
together. He thought of them and immediately discarded each one. Two days without talking to
Jeremy had been surprisingly difficult. He wanted to see him badly.

“I’m supposed to stop by my parents for a few minutes tonight, but we can go grab a beer or

a bite to eat afterwards. I’ll have to meet you. Mom never calls and asks me to come over; it
should be awesome,” he muttered, sarcasm dripping off of the words.

“I thought you only go there once a month,” Jeremy said. “It could be good they want you to

come over, right?”

“In theory, sure. In reality, no. Not with the way mom sounded on the phone,” Rafe admitted

reluctantly.

“Well…I could go over with you. Strength in numbers, man. You could drop by my place

and pick me up, then we can grab some food right after that. Save gas, think green or
whatever…”

Was that a waver in Jeremy’s voice? He actually sounded nervous, he realized. Then it hit

him, he was probably concerned Rafe would look on it like an official date or something. He
rolled his eyes and bit back a sigh. I get it! he thought. You’re not into men.

“Nah, you don’t have to do that,” he offered, giving Jeremy an out. “My parents are really

hard on the digestion; I wouldn’t want to put you through it.” His grip tightened around the
phone.

“Don’t be stupid. Come and get me and we’ll go stop by their place. In and out.” Jeremy was

serious. He was actually willing to meet the two people in Rafe’s life who made being happy
with himself nearly impossible.

“Jeremy, I appreciate it, but I’m not kidding when I say my dad and mom are…intense. Dad

can barely handle being in the same room with me; in fact, he’s usually storming out the second I
appear. Mom is delusional. I mean, you’ll probably never see another case of denial like this.”

Jeremy snarled something that Rafe couldn’t quite make out, but before he could question

him, he spoke up. “I don’t care. Stop arguing about it and come get me. I’ll probably get to my
house the same time you do.”

Rafe fell quiet and considered it. They’d only have to stop for a few minutes—Jeremy didn’t

even have to go in. If they both went in the house there was no telling what might happen, but it
likely wouldn’t be good.

“I don’t know—”
“Good. It’s settled,” Jeremy stopped him. “See you in ten minutes.” Then he hung up.
“Yeah…ten,” Rafe said to the empty line.
Moments later, he was grumbling under his breath as he pulled out of the lot and turned his

truck in the direction of Jeremy’s place. That was more high-handed than Jeremy had ever been
with him, and Rafe was pissed because he couldn’t simply appreciate it as something nice a
friend would do. Instead he found the protectiveness attractive.

What was he trying to do to himself? Rip his heart out over a guy surrounded by caution tape

and no trespassing signs? Or worse, he might be doubly interested in Jeremy because he knew it
would go nowhere. It would keep him out of drama like he’d find with someone like Mark. So in
essence, he was possibly trading one type of self-destructive behavior for another. Way to grow,
dickhead.

He shook his head, totally riled up now. How wonderful to take his dream guy home—the

one who liked girls—to meet the parents who were two steps away from disowning him. It was
so juicy and Jeremy didn’t have the slightest idea what he was getting into.

This crap had to stop. If he couldn’t get his feelings in order, he was going to have to move.

To Alaska. The infatuation was screwing with his head and he was barely getting any damn work
done.

When he pulled up in front of Jeremy’s house, his friend was leaning against the bumper of

his car, arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing an effing distracting pair of distressed jeans
with a plain white t-shirt and black jacket. It was like looking at an Abercrombie and Fitch ad.
Rafe whispered a Hail Mary. He was so not immune to this blond.

He lowered his window and looked at Jeremy over the top of his sunglasses. “I’m here to

deliver you to the lion’s den,” he said, grinning when Jeremy made a face and pushed off the car.
Rafe unlocked his door and moved the paperwork he’d left in the passenger seat to the back.
“You can wait in the car while I go in; it might be easier that way.”

Jeremy grabbed his seatbelt and buckled it. “When did you turn into such a pussy?” He

frowned and began drumming his fingers on his knees. “I can handle it. If it helps, tell them you
work with me from time to time.” His bravado was misleading, but the sudden case of fidgets
wasn’t.

Rafe had never seen the guy so shifty, even after the great gay reveal of a few days ago. He

called you, he reminded himself. If Jeremy wanted to spend the evening uptight and
uncomfortable, that was all on him.

They talked a lot on the way over, to Rafe’s relief, but it was all about the neighborhoods

they both grew up in, his background, where they both went to school. Nothing groundbreaking.
Five minutes in though, Jeremy relaxed and started acting like himself, so Rafe kept digging up
random information about himself to keep the conversation flowing, studiously avoiding
anything remotely related to his love life. At one point he might have mentioned that he liked
cheese; he was that unfocused.

It took them around fifteen minutes to get to his parent’s house in the foothills. Back when he

was still in college and his folks wanted him around, they bought the house and moved out of the
three-bedroom adobe he’d grown up in. The place they had now was three stories with five
bedrooms and a huge living room that looked down on the city view. They wanted space for the
aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews that were always visiting—oh, and for the grandkids he was
going to be giving them someday. Yeah…uh-huh.

As he pulled into their neighborhood, Jeremy let out a breath of surprise. “They live up here,

huh?”

“Moved here when I was in college,” he answered, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

God, what a profile.

“Nice.”
Exactly. Rafe grunted in response, the sense of impending doom growing worse the closer

they got to the house. He pulled into the curved driveway surrounded by the usual xeriscaping
found in all the housing developments built since the nineties. The house was well lit and he
thought he caught a glimpse of his mom through the front window.

“We’ve been spotted,” he murmured and Jeremy’s eyes followed his.
“In and out,” he encouraged, opening his door and stepping out.
Rafe wanted to drag him back inside the cab and go back the way they’d come, but it was too

late. Jeremy was standing in front of the truck, his hands in his jacket pockets and an expectant
expression on his face. No way he could get away with tucking tail and running.

Rafe climbed out and brushed past him to lead the way up the walk. In case he was still being

watched he kept a good distance between the two of them so his parents didn’t take Jeremy’s
presence the wrong way.

He hadn’t felt like he could simply walk in and call out a hello for years, so he knocked and

waited while Jeremy’s brows rose meaningfully. At least he stayed silent, but he ruined Rafe’s
whole plan by stepping up infuriatingly close to him. He was so aware of Jeremy’s every move
that he was sure his brain was morphing into the consistency of Velveeta.

His mom opened the door almost immediately, so she’d probably been watching their every

step through the peephole. Her smile was brittle, but polite, and Rafe walked forward to give the

air near her cheek a kiss. “Hi, mom.” Happy to see me? he wanted to ask.

“Rafe,” she said coolly.
He scowled, unsurprised by the welcome, and stepped back to gesture toward Jeremy. “This

is Jeremy Halliday.”

To Rafe’s embarrassment, she eyed Jeremy up and down suspiciously until Jeremy offered

his hand, saying, “Mrs. Bridges, it’s nice to meet you. I work with your son from time to time.”

The relief that lit up her expression was disgusting. “Oh! So you’re also a detective then?”
Jeremy smiled and surprised the hell out of Rafe by patting him once on the back

encouragingly where his mom wouldn’t be able to see. “No, I’m a police officer, but we consult
him on cases from time to time. He’s got a great reputation with the department.”

Rafe actually laughed and had to turn it into a cough. What a lie. He was fairly certain Mark

had thoroughly debunked that “reputation” by now.

As expected, his mom didn’t fall for flattery where her son was concerned unless the flattery

was about how he couldn’t get enough of women. She opened the door wider for them to come
in, still holding onto a dishtowel she’d brought from the kitchen and twisting it nervously in her
hands. Rafe could almost feel the wall of cold disapproval from his dad who was standing at the
far end of the entryway, his back to the kitchen.

“Richard, this is a co-worker of Rafe’s. Jeremy, my husband, Richard Bridges.” She

introduced them and Rafe’s dad turned his indignant gaze Jeremy’s way.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Jeremy offered a hand that was completely ignored, and eventually

let it fall casually to his side without even a look of disappointment.

“Rafe doesn’t have co-workers, Lydia,” he growled, and swept past all of them into the living

room.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed as he watched his dad leave and he said through clenched teeth, “I’ll be

back in a minute, Jeremy,” and moved to follow him to the living room. Jeremy’s hand shot up
and lightly grabbed his elbow.

“Listen, Rafe,” he leaned in and said under his breath. “It’s cool. You don’t have to worry on

my account.” Rafe gave one shake of his head and Jeremy’s hand fell away after a light squeeze.
It was crap like this that made keeping his distance from the guy so impossible.

His dad was already parked in his recliner, a foul glare on his face when Rafe stalked into the

living room. “Your mother and I wanted to tell you we’re leaving town for a while, spending
time with some of the family in Texas,” Richard blurted, a surly frown painted on his features.

“Fantastic. You could have said as much over the phone. Or was being an asshole to me

important enough that you wanted to call in a visit?”

His dad shot to his feet and rounded the coffee table. “You’ll watch what you say to me in

my house, you hear me? All you do is hurt this family and we’ve had enough. If you can’t stop
yourself from this…this depravity…then you can forget about ever coming here again. You’re
responsible for this, Rafe. You.”

Rafe’s jaw dropped for the half a second it took for his rage to come to the rescue. So they

were finally doing it? Truly disowning him. He turned halfway back the way he came and caught
a glimpse of Jeremy and his mom talking uncomfortably in the entryway. Jeremy took a step his
direction, a question in his eyes, but Rafe stopped him with a look. He wouldn’t even know what
to tell him; his brain was too busy piecing everything together.

“You hate me so much?” he finally whispered with a gut-wrenching laugh.
“Look at what you’ve become,” his dad fired back. “You live a life of sin. What you do is an

abomination. For years we have put up with your choices, but no longer.”

“I’ve never forced you to be a part of my life, or to meet anyone I’ve cared about,” Rafe shot

back, his voice loud enough to carry to where Jeremy and his mom were standing. “I don’t know
what’s kept me hoping all this time that you were the same man who raised me not to hate
people. You two are my parents and you still can’t accept me! You’d rather treat me like a pariah
and never see me again. Fucking hypocrites! I’ll have you know I’ve seen more love from people
you’d consider hell-bound than I’ve seen from you two since I came out.”

Rafe backed up a few steps, somehow aware that Jeremy had moved closer to him, trying to

offer encouragement. He was so livid now it was impressive he was even capable of forming
sentences. “Alright, dad. You don’t want me to be a part of this family anymore, I won’t be.
Done.”

“We will not call you, or write you, or contact you any way whatsoever,” his father hissed,

nearly frothing at the mouth with his own fury and Rafe saw that his dad never expected him to
react this way, to give in. He figured the threat would be enough to make Rafe renounce his
decisions and fall at their feet like a prodigal son.

“Sounds exactly like what a couple of cowards would do!” Rafe bit off the words, not caring

who heard. “Two people who are too scared to love their son for who he is.”

“Get out of my house, then. And take that other faggot with you.”
“Fuck you, dad,” he spat.
And all hell broke loose.
His dad flew at him with clenched fists, the right swinging back in what was going to be an

eye-popping hook. Rafe didn’t have time to react beyond crouching and bracing himself for the
blow, but it never came.

Jeremy shouted his name and leapt in front of him, taking the full brunt of the punch on his

left temple and cheek. Rafe’s mom screamed and rushed at his dad, pushing him away from Rafe
and Jeremy with as much strength as her little body could muster.

Jeremy went down on one knee and weaved back and forth as he clutched where he’d been

hit. He was bleeding and the sight of it against the skin of his cheek and hand tore something
open inside of Rafe.

“What is wrong with you?” he hollered, lunging at his father and knocking him backward

over the coffee table and onto the couch. Knick-knacks and a vase full of flowers went flying and
his mom screeched, rushing to her husband’s side. “I will never forgive this, you son of a bitch!”

Rafe’s chest heaved and it was only the sound of Jeremy murmuring his name over and over

that kept him from falling on his dad and delivering blow after blow. A hit for every bit of pain
they’d ever inflicted on him.

He crouched by Jeremy’s side and wrapped his arms around him, helping him to his feet and

steadying him when he wobbled.

“God, are you okay? Jeremy, I’m so sorry.” He ran his hand over his friend’s uninjured

cheek and wanted to erupt all over again.

“Let’s…just…go,” Jeremy answered, looking at him from under his eyelashes as he clutched

his brow. “Come on… You don’t deserve this horseshit,” he directed the last bit at Rafe’s
parents on the couch. Blood was dripping from his hand and face onto the pristine white carpet.
“Say the word and I’ll fucking press charges.”

Rafe gave his parents one last withering look and spotting the dish towel still clenched tightly

in his mom’s fist, he stalked toward her and yanked it out of her hand. “Don’t worry,” he
growled low in his throat, “I’ll replace it.” They stared back, even his father looking
dumbfounded that he’d actually thrown the punch.

Rafe didn’t waste goodbyes on them, hurrying to press the towel to Jeremy’s temple and lead

him from the house. Later, he couldn’t remember if he apologized the whole way back to
Jeremy’s, or if it was just a loop in his head. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. This is terrible. His whole
being was agonized with remorse and embarrassment.

Jeremy sat next to him, his head tilted back against the headrest as he applied pressure with

the towel. Halfway to his house, he reached across his body with his right hand and squeezed
Rafe’s where it rested on the gearshift.

“Easy, buddy,” he whispered. “I’m okay. Let’s get home, alright?”Rafe couldn’t say a word.

If he did, he would fall apart.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jeremy leaned heavily against the screen door as Rafe took care of unlocking his house. His

head wasn’t hurting too bad, but he was definitely on the woobie side. Funny, he figured that
right about now they’d be sitting down to dinner and he would be struggling with the words to
say to Rafe that he might have a crush on him. Or that he did have a crush on him. Okay—so he
wanted to give Tracey’s plan of laying one on Rafe a try the longer he was next to him.

“Where’s your first aid stuff? Do you have anything around?” Rafe asked as he finally got

the door opened and stepped out of the way so Jeremy could go in front of him.

“Band-Aids, maybe some gauze,” he mumbled, walking very slowly to the kitchen table and

trying not to touch anything with his bloody fingers.

“Sit tight, I’ll take a look.” Rafe left the kitchen in a hurry and Jeremy listened as he banged

around in the bathroom. “You have a blow-dryer?” he shouted at one point and Jeremy moaned.
“All you need is Aquanet and you’ll be like half my graduating class.”

“You’re older than I thought, then.”
Jeremy shrugged out of his jacket and slumped down in his seat, closing his eyes against the

light hanging above the table. How did he end up here exactly? One minute he’s having a casual,
if stilted, conversation and the next everybody’s yelling, Rafe’s dad is throwing blows, and his
face is running interference. It was fucking tragic. At least he wasn’t nervous anymore; head
trauma pretty much killed the mood. If he confessed his little issues now, Rafe would think he
was concussed.

It didn’t matter how many times he’d been slugged in his life, which didn’t actually add up to

many, but that shit from good old Papa Bridges hurt like a mother fucker. His brow and temple
were doing a low level throb with each heartbeat and he was pretty sure the towel he was
pressing to the cut was glued to his head now. It’d be a real treat to rip it off. A perfect way to
end the day.

“Found it all,” Rafe announced as he came back into the kitchen. Jeremy cracked his eyes

open and watched as his friend rolled up his sleeves. His fingers were still covered in dried
blood. Jeremy’s blood.

“I brought you some ibuprofen; it should help with the swelling.” Rafe wasn’t saying much

and even with the flimsy jokes, Jeremy could tell he was sick over what happened. It made his
stomach ache hearing the pain in his voice.

Rafe filled a glass from the counter with water and dropped the pills into his hand. “Take

them,” he ordered, passing off the glass.

Jeremy silently did as he was told, hoping it would kick in fast and keep him from looking

too much like he’d face planted into the front end of a Buick. He was aware of Rafe pulling up a
chair and scooting in close, but he was back to the eyes clamped shut routine, all his anxiety on
the job again.

“Let me see it,” Rafe said, his fingers touching Jeremy’s hand where it was still tightly

pressed to his temple.

Jeremy’s eyes shot open and he jumped a little, moving his head out of reach. “Don’t worry

about it. I can take care of it.” Though his version of “taking care of it” would be downing a shot
of whisky and collapsing into bed, towel still glued to his forehead. His nerves were taut and the

thought of Rafe’s hands touching him again had him busting a sweat.

This was going to kill him. He knew it. There was all this weirdness the past few days—

thinking crap that scared the bejeezus out of him.

“You won’t clean it and it’ll get infected. You’ll be ticketing people with a big oozing mess

over your eye because you’re being a nancy about letting me help.” Rafe’s hand encircled
Jeremy’s wrist lightly and the warmth of skin against skin sent a shock through him.

Jeremy didn’t move this time, but watched carefully as Rafe pulled his hand out of the way.

When the towel caught on some dried blood, he hissed, cursing. Rafe ducked in closer and made
a growling nose in his throat that had Jeremy’s eyes widening so quickly he winced again.

“I’ll never forgive him for this. Never.” Rafe’s mouth was tight as he spoke, his voice

shaking with pent-up fury.

Seeing his friend’s reaction, he forgot about whatever bullshit was making him crazy and

searched for something to say that would help. “You warned me, man. You said he’s a hard ass
and he proved it. Just…try to forget about it.”

Rafe pulled Jeremy’s hand farther away from the cut and tilted his head so it was under the

light. “Yeah, I’ll forget all about it. No problem. It was only my dad attacking someone I care
about because he hates me.”

Jeremy didn’t know if it was the combination of Rafe’s words—how he said he cared, not

just some crap about being buddies—and the gentle way he was looking after the cut on his
temple, or if it was the serious mind screwing he’d been going through, but the atmosphere in the
room shifted. When Rafe’s thumb brushed his cheekbone, his fingers undeniably tender,
Jeremy’s eyelids fluttered closed. He swallowed thickly. All he could think about was what
Tracey had told him earlier. Talk to him. Tell him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it coming,” Rafe said after another long silence. “I never thought my

dad would try to…hurt me because I’m not who he wants me to be. I didn’t…” He cleared his
throat and dropped his hands from Jeremy’s face to dig through the packages of gauze and tear
one open. “I’m really sorry.”

Feeling too uncertain of himself to say much or look at Rafe again, he shook his head. “Not

your fault.”

“Liar,” he half-laughed, half-sniffed, the sound so quiet in the room that Jeremy couldn’t

keep from sneaking another peek in spite of their proximity and the way it was messing with his
head.

Rafe wasn’t looking at him as he went to town on a piece of gauze, soaking it with peroxide

and reaching back up to swab at the bloody mess on his brow. It stung so bad that he had to bite
down on his cheek to keep from yelping, his nostrils flaring wide. His friend’s hand was gentle,
all of his attention on patching up the damn cut; he didn’t even notice how Jeremy couldn’t look
away from him.

Rafe’s features were chiseled and rock solid. At first glance, he seemed like he’d be an

arrogant ass, all aristocratic as hell, but he wasn’t. The guy was blessed with the best head of hair
—black and wavy. Throw in those ice blue eyes and damn, even the straightest dude would have
to admit the guy was something. The only word Jeremy could think of that truly fit was beautiful.

Rafe was beautiful.
Jeremy waited for his insides to freeze up, for the oh-shit-what-are-you-thinking to kick in,

but it didn’t happen. A warm sensation pooled in his stomach and it crept up his body until he
was sure his face was beet red. With Rafe around, thoughts like this didn’t feel crazy anymore
like they had when he was with Tracey. He’d been all torn up inside for the past week, dragging

himself through the dirt for being so…curious. So bothered by Rafe being with someone like
Mark. Now, he was alone with him and they were close and dammit!

He was hip-deep in a new awareness of Rafe and only getting deeper. How could Rafe not

notice this? Or was he pretending he didn’t to make Jeremy more comfortable? God, what a
mess.

The warmth intensified as Rafe worked and when he blew on the cut, Jeremy snapped. The

image of his friend’s father raging toward his son, ready to drop him, flashed through his mind.
He’d thrown himself between them without thinking. He couldn’t stand the thought of Rafe
getting hurt one more time by an asshole of a father who’d never see his son the way he should.
It was so freaking sad and horrible, and in that moment Jeremy had only wanted to spare Rafe, to
take on any pain he could to make it easier. And what did Rafe do? He apologized for his father.
He took care of the aftermath.

Jeremy’s heart was pounding now as he stared at him. They were only inches apart and Rafe

was still amazingly oblivious to his turmoil. Slowly, giving himself time to pull back if some sort
of inner alarm began sounding, Jeremy lifted his hand and lightly grazed Rafe’s cheek. His
fingertips moved along the strong lines of his jaw, running over the faint shadow of whiskers.

Rafe went completely still, his eyes centering on Jeremy’s chest while his breathing ratcheted

up a couple notches.

Jeremy’s blood pounded through his body, ignited with new purpose. He didn’t know what

he was supposed to do next. He wanted…

He needed to be closer.
His jaw tightened as he hesitantly inched forward, closing the distance to Rafe while his

senses went on full alert. Rafe’s fingers trailed like a scorching brand along his jaw until they
came to a stop at his chin, holding him but ready to drop away in an instant.

Jeremy wasn’t backing off now. He had no idea the depth of what was driving him forward,

or just how much he needed to do it until he got started. There was no pulling away. He was
going slowly, excruciatingly slow, but he didn’t know how else to do it. He could feel the heat of
Rafe’s body and smell the lingering traces of aftershave and it was making him weak with need.

As his heart hammered in his chest and his lips parted, words and pleas from an unnamed

part of him rose on his tongue and disappeared before they could reach the air.

“Rafe…”
He waited for the inevitable wave of revulsion, the inner cry to back the hell away, but it

never came, and as Rafe’s eyes widened, Jeremy closed the distance between their lips in one
final, swift move.

Rafe’s lips were warm and soft, the sensation of touching them unlike anything he’d ever

experienced. It was unbelievable. Perfect. Smooth like silk falling to the floor. Powerful like a
body blow. His breaths were so shaky and loud he should’ve been embarrassed, but all he could
think was that he wanted more. More.

Rafe’s hand still held his jaw and a groan that came from God only knew where burst from

Jeremy as his other hand curled into the hair at the nape of Jeremy’s neck. His lips parted further
as he tried to deepen the kiss, aching, needing more of Rafe’s mouth against his; fear only
fueling the fire in his blood.

Rafe moved against him for the briefest and sweetest of moments and then he was gone. In

what seemed less than a second, he was across the room, his chair falling backwards with a crash
and his arms braced in the doorway. He was breathing as hard as Jeremy, his eyes bright with
desire and caution. The look he was sporting was akin to hurt and Jeremy didn’t understand.

When Rafe spoke, his voice was hoarse and an octave lower than Jeremy had ever heard it.

And big shocker, it was sexy as hell.

“Jeremy… You don’t know what you’re doing. This is not the night to fuck around with my

emotions.”

Jeremy stood in one liquid move, hunger in every line of his body and his injury forgotten.

“I’m not.”

“You can’t kiss me like that. That’s what you did, you know that, right? You kissed me.

Tomorrow, you’ll wake up and wonder what got into you and you’ll end up blaming me.”

Jeremy didn’t stop. He kicked Rafe’s chair out of the way and closed the distance between

them until their chests were almost touching. Rafe’s bottom lip was shaking in a way that made
Jeremy feel powerful and fragile all at once.

“I know what I’m doing, Rafe,” he whispered. “If it makes you feel better, I take full

responsibility.”

“Don’t—”
He kissed Rafe again, gently, carefully, paying attention to every flicker of feeling inside as

their lips touched. He was drowning in Rafe’s smell, the pressure of his mouth and the strength
of him that was hiding below the surface.

Rafe’s arms were still braced in the doorway, and though he allowed the kiss, he stayed still

as stone, that bottom lip still quivering slightly. Jeremy ran his mouth over Rafe’s one last time
and opened his eyes, feeling oddly bereft when he wasn’t grabbed and pulled back. He’d thrown
himself out on a limb and it was pretty friggin’ lonely out there.

Rafe’s torn, blue gaze nailed him to the floor and made him want to beg, and hide, and run at

the same time.

“I think I should go,” Rafe said huskily. “Yeah… I-I should go.”
Jeremy, shocking both of them equally, grabbed a handful of Rafe’s shirt, keeping him close.

“I’m not taking it back,” he answered in the middle of the heavy silence.

“You will. Tomorrow.” He sounded so pained that Jeremy was able to see a glimpse of the

boatload of crap his friend had been through over the years. Guys who’d hurt him, lied to him,
used him. He was astounded at himself, but he wanted to hunt them down and beat them
senseless. He wanted to protect the man in front of him even though there was no doubt he could
take care of himself.

Rafe dropped his arms and pulled out of Jeremy’s grasp. “I have to go.”
“Okay,” Jeremy followed, his voice pleading, “but hear me out. I’m not trying to—”
Rafe silenced him, his hand slicing through the air and cutting him off. “I can’t do this right

now, Jeremy. Get it? I can’t.”

“Fine, I’ll call you later,” he said as Rafe flung the door open and practically fell onto the

porch.

“No. Just…” He wavered where he was standing, for a second looking like he wanted

nothing more than to come right back at him and pick up where they left off. Instead of being
frightened and disturbed at the prospect, Jeremy’s heart shot to his throat with something like
hope. Desire. “Forget about this, Jer.”

Jeremy watched from the doorway as Rafe strode to his truck and climbed inside. He wanted

to do a hundred things. He wanted to think over every second of the last hour and he wanted to
drown out the thoughts at the same time. He wanted to jump in his own car and chase after Rafe
and he wanted to be alone. It was the worst and best he’d ever felt. How typical that his life
would suddenly mimic Charles Dickens. Fucking best and worst of times.

He didn’t know what to do now and had no idea how he was supposed to fix things. This was

not the reaction he expected from Rafe—not that he’d been planning this.

Jeremy rolled his eyes and grabbed his head, feeling the pain again. Oh, who was he trying to

fool, he’d been getting way too interested in Rafe’s personal life for days now. Kissing him was
inevitable, especially after that talk with Tracey. But gone were the thoughts that one time would
wake him up and get all that stuff out of his system. He was definitely in a bigger predicament.

He was alone and falling apart. He was changed. Different than he’d been before Rafe ever

came into his life and had him questioning everything he thought he knew about himself.

And he was fucking terrified.

***

Rafe slammed his fists against the steering wheel as he drove away from Jeremy’s house. He

was shaking with the emotions coursing through him. And he wasn’t responsible this time. First
his dad goes ape shit, then Jeremy pulls his little kissing stunt, which was a low fucking blow.
Here man, I know you’ve had a shitty day, how about a makeout sesh for your troubles. P.S. I’m
only into women. What the fuck?

For a tiny moment, Rafe’d been able to carry on like Jeremy wasn’t on his mind constantly.

He’d done the right thing and pushed the attraction he felt to the side for the sake of his own
sanity and out of respect for his friend.

His friend who was supposed to be straight. Not bi. Not gay.
His mind ran a bit too eagerly through the kiss again, looking for any sign he might have

been sending signals, but he came up empty. For once Rafe hadn’t been thinking about his buddy
like that, he was all caught up in his dad pulling that Rocky bit and how he never should’ve let
Jeremy go to his parents with him. The kiss was the last thing he expected. It was all on Jeremy.

With the guilty party all figured out, the kiss was absolutely better than any stupid fantasy

he’d ever had and it’d taken every last ounce of his self-control not to take advantage of the
situation. But he didn’t want to wake up tomorrow morning with a whole new set of problems
and guilt. Like hurting Mark the way he had didn’t nag at him already.

Jeremy might be kissing him—twice!—tonight, but come morning he’d be back at the far

end of the gay/straight spectrum, blaming Rafe for seducing him. And he was tired of being used
to satisfy someone’s curiosity one minute, then being pushed away like he had some kind of
disease the next. He sure had a way of picking the guys who were so far in the closet they’d
believe they were in Narnia before they’d believe they could be attracted to another man. That,
or he found guys like Mark who should’ve been right for him and no matter what they did,
something wouldn’t click.

And it pissed him off that he could still feel Jeremy’s fingers against the skin of his cheek, the

way he was so tentative as he moved in for that first kiss, then practically stalked him across the
room for the second. Rafe nearly busted the doorjamb clinging to it like he was, and when
Jeremy grabbed his shirt, pulling him close…

Son of a bitch. He’d wanted to take over and show him how amazing it could be.
His cell phone buzzed an alert and he tugged it out of his pocket, not sure who he wanted it

to be. Maybe a client—someone he could count on being normal around him, or Mark—god that
was a lousy idea, or Jeremy—probably apologizing for his “mistake.” Rafe could see it now:
That was a straight kiss, not a gay kiss. Don’t make anything out of it.

He cursed and looked at the display where Jeremy’s name was glowing brightly. Rafe was

only a mile from home, so he waited until he was parked in the driveway to flip the phone open
and select the message.

Don’t run from me now, plz. Talk 2 me.
Rafe groaned and rested his head on the wheel, wavering between turning around and

rushing back to Jeremy’s house to figure everything out, or swallowing enough sleeping pills to
wake up, say, next week.

His fingers hovered over the keys, and he was struck by his own weakness, how he hadn’t

been this lost since he came out. It was like he was stumbling through the tall weeds again. One
thing was undeniable, though. Even with Jason, his first, he hadn’t been this confused.

Jason was the one guiding him then, but with the major difference being that Rafe had been

fairly certain he was into guys and mostly ready to accept it. He wasn’t sure he had the
wherewithal to be that person for Jeremy. Jeremy…who was straight.

God, he was so stupid, falling for yet another unattainable man.
He snapped the phone shut with a crack and shoved his door open. He was halfway up the

walk when his phone started warbling. Rafe jerked to a halt, fighting the urge to answer.

What would he say to him? And what would Jeremy want? No way could he deal with this

now.

He sent Jeremy to voicemail and unlocked his house, slamming the door behind him. His

place was dark and empty. Depressing. So—quick damage assessment: parents, gone…
boyfriends, zero… friends, nowhere to be seen…

Tossing his keys onto the table, he went straight to the fridge and pulled out a beer, twisting

off the cap and guzzling half of it before collapsing into a chair at the table. That’s when he
noticed the blood still on his fingers and sighed.

His phone started ringing again and he just stared at it. Five minutes later it rang again, and

then again five minutes after that. Shit.

The voicemails were stacking up. When the next text message came buzzing in, Rafe was

finishing his second beer. He wasn’t strong enough to keep from reading it, and his heart shot
into his throat when he saw what it said.

Rafe, call me plz. I need 2 hear ur voice and talk thru this. I’m not taking it back. Plz call.
He stared at the words for a long time, his jaw clenched, his fingers tight around the phone,

and then he punched the sound off. When he went to his bedroom, he closed the door behind him
and fell onto the bed, exhausted and furious.

He wanted nothing more than to call Jeremy and have everything work out like it was a

movie, but sometimes it didn’t matter what he wanted. And he just didn’t have the strength to
think about losing another person he cared about tonight. That shit would have to wait.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jeremy jerked the wheel of his car into Rafe’s driveway and shut off the engine, staring

grimly at the darkened house. Hours had passed without a single word and he wasn’t going to
wait another minute to confront this bullshit situation. The time had dragged from the second
Rafe left, stumbling away from him like he couldn’t stand the sight of him. His silence was all
Jeremy needed to drive home the truth that what was happening between them meant too much
to leave things the way they were. Either the guy unloaded on him and they worked through it,
or… God, what if Rafe still refused to talk to him?

Jeremy glared at the time on his cell phone and watched as the minutes moved past midnight.

He had to be up early for a double header, but he didn’t give a shit. His game was going to be
way off anyhow. So it was either stay up trying to get Rafe’s attention, or stay up tossing and
turning at home. When he’d given sleep a try, he found it too easy to torture himself over what
happened, then he’d accidentally rolled over on the ugly bruise covering the side of his face and
launched out of bed with a curse. Sleep was out.

Obviously, Rafe’s reaction wasn’t what he would have envisioned; instead he kept picturing

what did happen over and over again. Jeremy was skipping around the big “gay question”, but
not because he was appalled at the thought. Not anymore, that is. All he wanted now was to get
Rafe talking to him so they could figure out what to do next. And maybe it was presumptuous,
but he really wanted it to work out that they took care of this together. He needed Rafe to
understand.

Rafe was… He was all Jeremy could think of. He cared about him, truly. Seeing him so upset

and watching as he ducked out of the house like the hounds of hell were chasing him, made his
chest ache. When he left, Jeremy actually felt his absence. A gaping hole that was quickly filling
with what ifs.

He was worried—not only because they’d kissed and Rafe didn’t seem pleased—but also

because of the other crap that Rafe was going through with his dad. It had to be really terrible to
see your own father so full of loathing that he was driven to violence. Jeremy’s gut twisted when
he thought of it, wondering what his own dad’s reaction would be if he knew what Jeremy was
up to right then—chasing a guy to his home so he could lay it all on the line.

He didn’t want to make excuses or apologize. He wasn’t even sure he had anything to

apologize for, unless Rafe was offended, which seemed halfway likely. And no question, this
conversation was going to be awkward. What else was he supposed to think with the way Rafe
refused to answer texts or return all those calls? With every single message he left, his spirits
sank lower and lower until he wondered if he’d ever get the chance to talk to Rafe, who was
probably getting ready to flee the state.

Maybe Jeremy read him all wrong before, but he was sure that somewhere deep down Rafe

wanted to be close to him too. There weren’t as many signals as there’d been at first, but he
remembered well the full on eye contact, the sidelong glances, the checkouts—all totally discreet
—as well as the way Jeremy had been reaching out to him. Like he’d been flirting too and hadn’t
realized it. So why the hell was the dude MIA after Jeremy had given a lip lock the old college
try?

Jeremy whispered an oath and thrust open his door, slamming it shut behind him. Not caring

if he woke the neighborhood, he stalked to the front door and didn’t hesitate with the pounding.
He rang the doorbell with his other hand and started praying.

“Rafe!” he hollered. “Get up and open the damn door. We need to talk. Rafe!”
There was no sign of life inside and Jeremy kept up the chorus of ringing and pounding,

finding a decent rhythm that would wake the dead.

“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me. I’ll stay here all night, dammit!”
Pay dirt.
The light in the living room blinked on and moments later the door leapt away from his

closed fist. Finally, the man he wanted to see was in front of him, close enough to touch. The air
left Jeremy’s lungs like he’d been punched in the stomach and for a second he couldn’t say
anything.

Rafe was wearing an old pair of sweats and he was shirtless. Damned if it didn’t make

Jeremy forget all the really impressive stuff he planned to say. The glare on the other man’s face
wasn’t exactly a so-good-to-see-you-come-on-in, either.

Not even three seconds passed before Rafe’s hand whipped out and grabbed hold of Jeremy’s

wrist, tugging him inside.

“What is wrong with you?” he snarled. “I’ll be getting complaints from the fucking

neighbors now!”

“Are you serious?” Jeremy lashed back, his senses returning, fueled by his own anger.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you answer my texts or call me?”
he asked point blank, intensely aware of the way Rafe hadn’t dropped hold of his arm. “This is
important, Rafe. Did you even get them—listen to them?”

“I got them. I listened to them, too.” His voice was much quieter now, but his body was still

taut as a wire. He didn’t like admitting that he’d received all the messages. It looked as though
standing less than a foot away from Jeremy ranked somewhere below Chinese water torture or
gouging his own eyes out. His expression was cold and distant and Jeremy’s heart cracked at the
sight.

“If you listened to them, why didn’t you call me back? I mean, even if tonight didn’t happen,

I figured a guy like you would understand when someone needed him, and then do something
about it. And the thing is, tonight did happen, and you ran away. For hours I’ve been going out
of my mind about you and you’re too busy ignoring me and hiding to talk.

Rafe bristled. “Well, you took care of that, didn’t you? We’re talking now!”
“Yeah, after you left me hanging, wondering what’s going on—wondering what all this

means. How about some courtesy at least? Maybe a text message telling me you were going to
ignore me or that you hope my balls shrivel off. Something.” Jeremy yanked his arm from Rafe’s
grasp and pushed past him into the living room. He began pacing, his hands at his hips, then as
quickly as he started, he stopped. “Shit, are you going to take part in this, or is even that too
much for you?”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms over his spectacular bare chest, his eyes ice-

cold blue as he gazed at Jeremy, who was fast losing hope they could discuss what was going on
like adults.

“Do you think this is the first time I’ve been in this situation, Jeremy? Honestly? You think

you’re the first guy who’s found out I’m gay and ended up doing something like kissing me to
satisfy some sort of residual high school curiosity?” He followed Jeremy into the living room,
but kept his distance as he got into the swing of his speech.

“Let me tell you something about being used, about having a person you care about play

mind games with you because they’re too fucked up to find out who they are and stick to it. You
kissed me tonight; I don’t know why. Forgive me for not really wanting to hear how you’re
straight and never meant to do what you did. I’m sick of people being too scared, too cowardly,
and too immature to care that someone else’s feelings are involved.”

Jeremy jabbed a finger Rafe’s direction. “This from the guy who ran—who tore out of my

house like he couldn’t wait to get gone—then was too busy with this woe-is-me bullshit to deal.”
He flung his arms out wide. “If that’s all you have to say to me, you can keep it to yourself. I’ve
been trying to figure this out on my own, thanks. Did you ever think of that? Did you ever
consider that now’s the time when I’m freaking out and could’ve used some help with what
happens next? Shit! I even told my sister how I felt! And what do you do? You bail. Talk about
cowardly.”

Jeremy’s mention of his sister clearly knocked Rafe for a loop, but he wiped the stunned look

off his face and scowled even deeper. If Jeremy weren’t so upset and fucking heartbroken, he
would’ve been impressed by the way Rafe buried his emotions.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not some game you can play, Jeremy. I’m

not a lab experiment for the straight guy to try out. You saw that I had feelings for you—I have
the balls to admit to them—and you decided to test it out.”

Jeremy staggered back a step as though Rafe had delivered him a blow right in the chest.

“That’s the impression you got, huh? Tell me, was it the dozens of phone messages begging you
to talk to me, saying over and over again that I wasn’t taking anything that happened back that
made you think I could treat you like an experiment? Or was it the way I told you I have feelings
for you and wanted you to be a part of my life?” Pain spasmed through him and he had to pause
to get a grip.

“Fuck you, Rafe. I’d never play games with you. Never. I may not understand what’s

happening to me, but to hell with you for thinking I’m such an asshole. Dammit! This is the
second time you’ve thought you had me all figured out. Wrong again. You should grow up.”

Jeremy ran an unsteady hand down his face and shook his head, scared that he was actually

going to embarrass himself and start sobbing, or something equally ridiculous, like begging.

“Just forget it,” he gasped, walking past Rafe to the front door. This was it. Over. All this

turmoil, all this bullshit for nothing.

Jeremy gripped the doorknob and wished he could yank the whole door off the hinges,

anything to make himself feel better. Pound his chest. Yell and scream some more. But that
wasn’t happening. He was finished with this; it was only making him crazy.

Before he could open the door an inch, Rafe’s palm smacked against it and slammed it shut

as Jeremy’s emotions went into overdrive.

Rafe didn’t drop his hand and for a few moments the only sound was their breathing. Neither

of them was anywhere near under control. Jeremy felt the heat of Rafe’s body close behind him
and he pictured what they must look like: His body nearly blocked in by Rafe’s arm and almost
touching. He itched to turn and face Rafe, but was too worried he’d only find more rejection.
Some we-won’t-work-out eye contact. To top it off, his bruised head was sounding all alarms and
making his stomach ache like he was digesting quarters.

When Rafe leaned into him and rested his forehead between Jeremy’s shoulder blades, he

forgot about all of that. Rafe’s other arm, slowly—tentatively—slid across Jeremy’s waist until it
was wrapped firmly around him.

Jeremy’s heart thundered in his chest and he was shaking with the aftershocks of believing

Rafe was going to let him go without lifting a finger. He wrapped his arms over Rafe’s, holding

tightly to him as that suspicious pressure built behind his eyes. Oh god, he couldn’t start crying,
but he wasn’t certain how much longer he could stand like this as his vision blurred and his
shoulders began to tremble.

Tell me to leave, or make this right, Rafe, he thought to himself.
Rafe murmured something Jeremy couldn’t understand and wrapped his other arm around

him. His skin was warm, his grip strong as he held on, and it was the most wonderful sensation
Jeremy had ever felt. Like he finally found something right.

“Jeremy,” Rafe whispered then. “God… Tell me why. Tell me what you need from me.” His

voice was low and husky.

Jeremy shook his head, unable to speak for the space of a few moments. When he finally did,

each word shook with the weight of his feelings. “We haven’t known each other long, Rafe, but I
would never use you. I kissed you because…shit…I wanted to, and hell yes, I’m scared, but how
could you let it go like that? Ignoring me? I wouldn’t disrespect you that way. Ever. I’m fucking
lost here.”

Rafe pulled Jeremy into him, his chest pressed hard against Jeremy’s back, and he groaned.

“I know,” he whispered. “I’m handling this all wrong. I thought that after the scene at my parents
—”

“What?” Jeremy interrupted, gathering his courage and moving in Rafe’s arms until they

were face-to-face, mere inches apart. Rafe’s pain-filled expression was almost too much for him.
“You thought I’d do that as a quick fix? A Band-Aid for your father being a violent, close-
minded asshole? Give me some credit, Rafe. I’m not so arrogant that I’d expect one kiss from me
to solve all of your problems, and even if I were, I haven’t really made it a habit to kiss other
men.”

He searched Rafe’s blue eyes and saw his own turmoil reflected there. Being so close to a

man was new to him, but when Rafe pulled back to give him room, Jeremy grabbed his
shoulders and held him where he was. He wanted him close. He wanted things he didn’t even
know how to ask for.

“Was it so hard to believe for maybe even one second that I kissed you because I wanted to?

Because…I care about you? Because for some reason I want to be close to you and protect you?
I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Rafe. Not any woman I’ve been with certainly.
When did you stop seeing your value? Or did you never see it?”

Rafe was watching him with wide eyes that glowed with intensity. His body was frozen in

Jeremy’s grip, but warm and so very pleasant beneath his touch.

“I know I’m not experienced at this. Maybe to be fair, part of it was curiosity.” Jeremy ran

his hands down Rafe’s arms and sucked in a breath as he saw goose bumps trail over the skin he
touched. He could only marvel at the rightness of what he was doing. “I know I can’t explain
why being around you has been different for me since the beginning,” he said. “Are you even
hearing me? I like you. You draw me in, Rafe. You’re in my head and I can’t get you out, and I
don’t want to get you out, but you’ve got me feeling like such an ass. Like I’m standing in front
of a firing squad praying their guns jam. So you tell me what to do. You tell me what you need
from me. And I’ll do it. Swear to god I will.”

Rafe was silent for a long time, his eyes dropping to Jeremy’s chest as he bit down on his

bottom lip. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he murmured, lifting his hands
between where Jeremy still held his arms and running them through his hair. Jeremy was so
relieved Rafe wasn’t forcing him out the door that he couldn’t answer.

“I know you’re confused right now,” Rafe said, sending Jeremy’s heart skittering to his

throat as he dropped his hands to rest them at Jeremy’s hips. “I don’t want to take advantage of
that. Know what I mean?”

Jeremy had to clear his throat to speak. “Yeah, I do.”
“I don’t want to be that guy. ‘Cause if you decide this isn’t what you want, you’ll start

looking at me differently, even if you don’t think so now. That would kill me. And as selfish as it
sounds, I’m not sure I’m ready to be left in the dust if you suddenly realize you’ve made a huge
mistake. You’re important to me, Jeremy; I don’t want to ruin this. But I also can’t be some guy
that you fool around with now and then, and ignore whenever we’re not alone.”

“I’m not going to—”
“No, Jeremy. Let me finish,” Rafe interrupted and Jeremy’s mouth snapped closed. “I’ve

done my share of seeing men who hide who they are from everyone. It’s not fun and it never
ends well. Secret relationships are for people who don’t have a choice, or for cowards. What
you’re considering is a life changing decision—I mean, you saw my parents. They’ve disowned
me. But this isn’t just a life changer for you. It is for me, too. I want you. I want you every way I
can have you and I’ve wanted you since I first met you, but not if you’re going to run. I know
you’re in a tough spot with your job. It’s not the best environment for a couple of guys to—ah
hell… Even with my work I have to be careful, as unfair as that is, but for you…”

“Rafe.”
He went completely still and his vulnerability was so heart wrenching that Jeremy forgot his

nerves and tugged him closer until their lips were only a whisper apart. Rafe’s fears were making
it easy for Jeremy to forget his own, but he’d said he wanted him and for now, that was all he
needed to know. He knew he had a lot at stake—figuring out who he was, telling his family—it
was daunting to consider. Rafe meant too much to him to walk away though.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he growled.
“Listen, neither of us knows what’s going to happen—”
Jeremy cut off his words with a kiss that started off slow and sweet, a gentle brush of lips on

lips. It took seconds for the contact to escalate as his body roared in satisfaction. Pushing Rafe
back against the wall, he let himself go, his body rocking with pleasure when Rafe didn’t hold
back. Their lips mingled powerfully, their tongues wound with one another’s as they gripped
each other so tightly there was barely room enough to breathe. Jeremy felt Rafe’s hands as they
seared a trail over his shoulders and neck and wound in his hair, but that was nothing compared
to the white-hot feel of Rafe’s skin and the play of his muscles as Jeremy moved against him.

Instinct kicked in and Jeremy released Rafe’s mouth only to leave a string of smoldering

kisses down his neck and shoulder. He breathed deeply of his scent, that familiar aftershave, and
nipped at the skin there, loving the taste. When Rafe hissed with pleasure, Jeremy smiled in
gratification and captured his mouth once more, giving a moan of his own when Rafe reached for
his hips, pulling Jeremy hard against him.

Rafe wrenched his mouth free, his chest heaving with the effort it took, and he met Jeremy’s

eyes and held his gaze. “Are you sure about this?”

A slow smile of certainty spread over Jeremy’s features and he nodded. “I’m sure,” he

rasped, and closed the distance to Rafe once more.

There wasn’t much between them and even through his jeans, Jeremy felt Rafe’s arousal hard

against him, his own response pulsing inside his AE jeans with each heartbeat. Jeremy let his
hands do the walking as they reached around Rafe’s back, easily pushing beneath the waistband
of the sweats until he was returning the favor, locked onto the firm skin of Rafe’s glutes. He
ground himself against Rafe’s body, moving his mouth to Rafe’s temple as a groan of passion

ripped through him.

Jeremy’s body shook with his breaths and he whispered gutturally, “I-I want more of you…”
Rafe murmured something against his skin and nodded, grabbing Jeremy’s hand and tugging

him toward the bedroom. The light wasn’t on, but Jeremy didn’t give a shit as he shucked his
shirt, tossing it god knew where, and ditching his shoes along the way. When he would’ve gone
after his belt next, Rafe was there, brushing his hands away.

“Let me do that,” he breathed, his arousal so strong Jeremy thought he could taste it. His

hands didn’t falter as he unbuckled the belt and instead of going further with the jeans, he bent
his head to Jeremy’s chest and gently ran his lips over the skin there, doing something wicked
with his mouth on Jeremy’s nipple.

“God your taste…” Rafe said in a throaty whisper. “I’ve got to lay you down.”
Jeremy had no chance to respond. One second he was on his feet at the end of Rafe’s bed, the

next he was sprawled across the top and watching as Rafe lowered himself down over him. His
sweats, slung low on his hips, left little to the imagination. The sight made Jeremy’s cock jump
inside his jeans and he lifted his hips without thinking, rocking closer to Rafe who gave the
sexiest laugh Jeremy had ever heard.

This was happening. It was really happening.
“Patience, my man. Patience…” Rafe growled low.
Jeremy wasn’t afraid like he thought he’d be. There was only Rafe and the moment, and he

was caught up in both. He realized he’d wanted this from the beginning. He needed Rafe, not
simply because of the way he would give pleasure to his body, but because he had to have him
there every step of the way, even if it was only to say that what was happening between them
was as perfect to him as it was to Jeremy. Being with him, watching the way desire and the
countless other emotions stormed through Rafe’s eyes, everything was…perfect…for the first
time in his life. The only fear he felt was that he might lose it all before it ever belonged to him.

Rafe eased himself over Jeremy, resting his weight on his arms as he looked into his eyes, the

dim light casting shadows across the planes of his face.

“We’ll go slow,” he murmured as his hair fell across his forehead.
Jeremy shook his head and lifted his mouth to Rafe’s for a long, scorching kiss. “I’m not

scared. I want this, Rafe. I want you.”

Rafe gave a sexy smile, all power and experience, and pushed back out of Jeremy’s reach

again, giving him another shot of his cock straining against those sweatpants before he bent and
languorously continued the work he’d started on Jeremy’s jeans. Obligingly, Jeremy lifted his
hips as Rafe eased the jeans down over his legs and off his feet.

His breaths came faster as Rafe stared down at him, his eyes traveling over his pecs and abs,

finally coming to rest on Jeremy’s rigid shaft peeking out of the waistband of his boxer briefs.
His tip was weeping, he was so ready. Rafe’s eyes flared and his own breathing became shallow
as Jeremy ran his hand down over his stomach and touched himself through the fabric.“Is this
what you want to see?”

“Fuck… I love your body. Your skin…” Rafe whispered and Jeremy awarded the sentiment

by gripping the band of his briefs with a thumb and tugging them down farther, revealing more
of himself as he stroked his shaft. Rafe’s shoulders heaved and his back arched, his cock fighting
against his sweats.

Jeremy leaned up on one elbow and grabbed a fist full of Rafe’s sweats. “Either you take

these off, or I rip them off,” he ground out.

Rafe grabbed Jeremy’s arm and tugged him closer, licking into his mouth for a gut rushing

moment, then releasing him as he pushed up onto his knees. Never taking his eyes from Jeremy’s
face, he pulled the sweats the rest of the way down his hips and off. Jeremy watched as each inch
was revealed, from his throbbing erection to his strong, flexed legs.

Oh…yeah… This was so much better than any fantasy. His body had never been this hard

and ready.

Done with being apart, Rafe rushed him, taking his mouth again and laying the length of his

body against him. Jeremy met him touch for touch and wrapped his arms around him, luxuriating
in the hard weight of Rafe on top of him. It was as if the feel of his skin alone could make
Jeremy come any second.

“I have to tell you something…” Jeremy said breathlessly, knowing the words would likely

be a shock. A hesitant light entered Rafe’s eyes as he nodded. “The other day, in the shower…I
fantasized about you…”

The heat in Rafe’s eyes blazed and he kissed Jeremy hard, the contact telling him who was

really in control. “So did I,” Rafe admitted with a hot little smirk, then took his mouth again.

Rafe trailed kisses down his chest, taking his time over each nipple and moving lower to his

abs. With one hand on the waistband of Jeremy’s briefs, he looked up at Jeremy with parted lips
that made him restless for something more. In his eyes was a question. Jeremy nodded and
swallowed convulsively. “Take them off,” he choked.

Rafe slowly dropped eye contact, and reverently curled his fingers around the elastic as he

left another trail of blazing kisses across Jeremy’s hip, purposely keeping his hand away from the
surging evidence of Jeremy’s arousal. He pulled the briefs down one hip at a time, the process
amping up Jeremy’s need to the point his whole body ached.

Rafe kissed down his legs and back up once the briefs were out of the way, his hands going

ahead of his mouth until they were gripping his hips. In one graceful move, he was settled
between Jeremy’s legs and using that grip to lift Jeremy’s hips from the bed. Rafe’s eyes shone
in the dim light and Jeremy could only stare back as his body broke into a sweat.

“You’re fucking beautiful…” Rafe rasped, but Jeremy could’ve argued that Rafe was the

beautiful one, with his shoulders flexing and his wide chest taut under Jeremy’s weight. He was
past the point of finding words that fit and his body had to do the talking for him.

Speaking an age-old language that was easily understood, he looked up at Rafe holding his

body off the bed, both of their cocks stiff and ready, and his hips jerked upward as his head
snapped back. His whole body arched with pleasure and need. Rafe rewarded him with that same
laugh again, his grip tightening perfectly.

Jeremy felt breath on his skin moments before Rafe’s lips touched his shaft, and at the light

pressure of that satin mouth, his body pulsed again. Rafe took his time, teasing his way up one
side and down the other before taking all of him in. The warmth of Rafe’s mouth as he sucked at
him had Jeremy writhing on the bedspread as his lungs heaved for air.

Rafe got him under control easily, wrapping one solid muscled arm around Jeremy and using

his weight to push him back to the bed. With his other hand, he gently touched the twin weights
between Jeremy’s legs, earning a groan from him. Jeremy’s body rocked against Rafe, but the
man’s hold was like iron, pinning him beneath the passionate ministrations, so close to sending
him over the edge.

Never had he felt like this. Never had it been…like this.
Rafe rode out the waves of pleasure pulsing through Jeremy’s body, bringing him to the edge

of orgasm and backing off. He wound his way up Jeremy’s body and used his tongue to plunder
his mouth. Jeremy pulled him in tighter and tasted himself on Rafe’s tongue. His heart really

started working then, pounding like crazy.

“Do you want to come?” Rafe whispered, licking at his bottom lip.
He didn’t give Jeremy a chance to answer as he sank back down and continued what he’d

started with his mouth, torturing him with pleasure until he was sweating and writhing. “That’s
it, my man, come for me,” Rafe said huskily, using his hands.

His words sent Jeremy over the precipice and when he came, it was as if his cock exploded,

warm jets of fluid shooting against his stomach and chest as his back arched into the orgasm.
Rafe held him through the spasms of pleasure, his body a warm weight against him.

His breath was ragged as he pulled Rafe to him, then in one swift move, Jeremy rolled them

both over until Rafe was gasping beneath him, the warm fluids of his orgasm touching both of
them and turning Jeremy on all over again. Taking Rafe’s wrists in one hand, he locked them
over his head and with his free hand, traced the lines of Rafe’s stomach downward until he was
palming his stiff cock and gently stroking. Two could play at this game.

Rafe’s body became one tight cord, his muscles hardening as he surged in time with Jeremy’s

hand. “Fuck,” he cried again and Jeremy swallowed the words as he took Rafe’s mouth again,
their tongues moving in and out and making both of them hot with thoughts of where this was
headed.

Bracing his arms on either side of Rafe, Jeremy leaned in until his mouth hovered over his

ear. “What you just did to me…” he whispered and waited until Rafe nodded into his shoulder.
“Ask me to do it to you.”

Rafe made a noise that made Jeremy smile wickedly until he got distracted nibbling at his ear

lobe and down his neck.

“Rafe.” Jeremy’s voice was low and demanding. “Do you want it?”
Pushing hard against Jeremy’s shoulders, Rafe forced him to look into his eyes. The

hesitance Jeremy saw there made his jaw flex.

“You don’t have to do—” Rafe began.
Jeremy kissed him. Hard. A punishment with his mouth. “Do you want it?”
Rafe swallowed and his fingers dug into the skin of Jeremy’s shoulders. Finally, after a

moment heavy with possibility, he rasped out a yes.

“Ask me, Rafe.”
“Please…” he whispered then, his body rising against Jeremy.
“Please what?”
“T-take me in your mouth,” he moaned and Jeremy kissed him again before dropping down

Rafe’s body in one slow, hypnotizing movement. God, he’d never seen anything so gorgeous as
Rafe and as he took that hard length into his mouth, he found unbelievable pleasure in making
him feel so good. And the man was definitely feeling good. Rafe groaned and wound his fingers
through Jeremy’s hair as he worked him over. It was a night of firsts and Jeremy was discovering
he wasn’t half bad.

“Jeremy,” Rafe gasped, “I’m too…close.”
“It’s your turn to come for me,” he answered, not backing down for a second. He teased with

his tongue and stroked with his hands until Rafe pulled him away and jerked upward as his own
body rocked with the force of his coming. He groaned and Jeremy wrapped his arms around
Rafe’s body, holding him close as the erotic waves washed over him.

Rafe was shaking as he returned the embrace, trembling against Jeremy’s body as every inch

of them touched.

“Jeremy…” he finally managed to whisper. “You…”

He tightened his grip and tenderly kissed Rafe’s neck just below his ear. “Shhh.” He was

feeling too much to talk. Jeremy was shocked at the range of emotions coursing through him, not
the least of which was sexed-up bliss. He couldn’t quite believe what he’d just done, and to
another man, but mostly he couldn’t believe how right he felt. It was embarrassing to sense the
pinprick of tears forming in his eyes. There was no stopping them, however.

“Jeremy, are you—are we—okay?” Rafe’s voice was unsure and he held Jeremy tighter as if

uncertain he wouldn’t run from the room.

He nodded into the crook of Rafe’s neck and kissed him again. “We’re good,” he stammered.

“We’re so good.”

It didn’t take Jeremy long to fall asleep, as overtaken by the events of the day as he was, but

it was even easier with Rafe murmuring gently into his ear.

Hours later, Jeremy surprised both of them by waking and starting all over again. When he

asked for more, Rafe hesitated only a moment before reaching for two condoms from the bedside
table and covering them both. When Rafe moved over him, he was incredibly gentle and slow.
He ran his hands over Jeremy like he was the finest treasure, and when he took him, it was such
an exquisite mix of pain and pleasure that Jeremy roared with his release. As he lost himself,
Rafe was there, holding him tightly.

It was impossible to stay the same after a night like this.
Before he drifted to sleep again, Jeremy placed a kiss against Rafe’s hair. “I-I need you…”

and Rafe’s answering sigh was exactly what he wanted to hear.

***

Rafe wasn’t sure what time it was when an unusual noise woke him, but his bedroom was

just growing light. Through a haze of sleep, the events of the night before—all the events—came
back to him. His heart quivered as he reached out in the bed for Jeremy, wanting only to touch
his skin one more time and prove he hadn’t dreamed every last delicious detail. When his hand
met empty air and cold sheet, his eyes shot open again and a wave of panic hit him.

He left! He snuck out while I was sleeping just like I knew he would, he moaned to himself.

Rafe deserved no better. Hadn’t he done the same thing to Mark before?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up yet.”
Rafe’s heart stopped for a beat or seven, then got busy again at the sound of Jeremy’s voice.

A moment later, the bed moved and he was being pulled into a rib-cracking embrace. In his
relief, he clasped on like he was never going to let go again.

“Did you think I left?” Jeremy asked gently. “You can be honest.”
Rafe nodded against Jeremy’s chest and laid an apologetic kiss on his shoulder. “Worried me

there for a second,” he spoke up, his voice rough from sleep.

Jeremy surprised him by chuckling and finding Rafe’s lips in the darkness. His kiss was

warm and tender as he took his time putting Rafe’s mind at ease. When he pulled back, he
breathed a deep sigh.

“I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to. I’ve got a double header that starts early this morning and

it’s at a field up north. I have to get my gear and drive about an hour.”

Rafe looked around for his clock, but it had apparently been launched from the bedside table

during the night. Go figure. “Damn, what time is it anyway?”

“Five fifteen and I need a shower.” There was a smile in his voice. “I’m pretty sure smelling

like sex and your aftershave would raise some eyebrows.” Rafe actually blushed and thanked the

powers that be that Jeremy couldn’t see him clearly in the dark bedroom.

“I didn’t mean to wake you until I was on my way out,” Jeremy continued, “but I’m having a

hell of a time finding my shit. I can’t leave here in only sneakers—what would the neighbors
think?”

Rafe laughed sleepily and offered to help but Jeremy wouldn’t have it, telling him to lie back

while he hunted around. It took him another couple minutes, which reminded Rafe that he should
probably pick up after himself and do some laundry for once, and then Jeremy was back at his
side.

“I think I’m wearing one of your shirts because one: it’s dark and I can’t tell, and two: it

seems a little small, but I’m running out of time. Oh—and my underwear is still around here
somewhere. You’ll pay big time if I find out you’ve put it up on eBay.”

Rafe did his best to chuckle, but he was in such deep smit, total crushville, that he couldn’t

do it justice. How did he get so lucky?

“Be careful out there today; you’re not working on much sleep and it hasn’t even been

twenty-four hours since you got clocked.”

“And yet, I feel pretty good,” Jeremy laughed. “I’m so sorry, but I really have to go. If you

feel up to a game, we’ve got one at eight and another at noon.”

Rafe smiled. Had Jeremy actually invited him? Like the way a guy invited someone he was

with? If he didn’t go to the game, he wouldn’t get to see him until much later in the day, if at all.
He didn’t like that.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised, really hating the idea of Jeremy leaving. “Call me

when you get some free time today if I can’t make it up. I definitely want to get together.”

“Good,” Jeremy whispered against Rafe’s lips.
“Don’t disappear on me, got it?”
“Wouldn’t dare.” Jeremy gave him one last lingering kiss and moved to the bedroom door.

“See you later…and thanks…”

“Jeremy,” he called out as his friend...or whatever...was one foot out the door.
“Yeah?” he answered softly.
“It was so my pleasure.”
Rafe was left with the sound of Jeremy’s sexy laughter and when he fell back to sleep it was

with a wide-ass, crushed-out smile.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Rafe took the chance that Carlos wouldn’t call him to meet until later that day or the next

afternoon and made the hour drive to Santa Fe where Jeremy was having his double header. The
only reason he knew where the ball fields were was oddly because of dating Mark. He spent
about fifteen minutes of the trip trying to figure out if he’d ever seen Jeremy at any of the games
he’d attended to cheer on Mark. How could he have missed him? The blond, tall, hot thing was
sort of right up his alley. No way he could’ve been on the team back then.

Rafe was a little late for the start of the first game so he had to park pretty far from the fields,

and then navigate around to the farthest one where Jeremy was playing. He was nervous. Jittery.
Sure, Jeremy had invited him, but he probably hadn’t been thinking of Mark getting an eyeful of
them together at the time. Rafe was also a little worried about how Jeremy would react to him
being there if they got the chance to talk. Last night was a huge deal for both of them, but it was
Jeremy’s first experience and he couldn’t expect the guy to drop his glove and charge him for a
kiss the first moment he saw him in the light of day. He could’ve been more disturbed by it than
he was letting on. Rafe had to remind himself not to get his hopes up for anything, or for Jeremy
to go any faster than he was comfortable. All he had to do was remember what it had been like
for him after his first time with Jason.

He was wearing a ball cap and he tugged it lower over his eyes, telling himself it was

because of the sun but knowing it was because he didn’t want Mark noticing him. The bleachers
were full, but he spotted a seat halfway up and made his way to it. The couple beside him smiled
in greeting, the woman eyeing him a moment longer than the guy. It took Rafe less than two
seconds to forget all about them when he caught sight of Jeremy in position as shortstop.

His lean body was crouched slightly as he rocked from foot to foot waiting for the next hit.

Neither team was on the board yet, but there was a guy on first—probably dealing with Mark’s
snide comments—and the batter was one strike away from being booted back to the dugout.

The hit shot right between first and second base and Jeremy lunged sideways to cover second

while the baseman caught the ball with the tip of his glove. He twisted and shot it back to Jeremy
who tagged the base what seemed a fraction of a second before the runner came gunning for him.
Jeremy rocketed a throw straight into Mark’s glove for a sweet double play.

Rafe let out a good yell and clapped along with everyone else. He had the urge to turn to the

couple next to him and say something like, “That’s my boyfriend,” but how gay was that? And
he had no idea what he and Jeremy were to each other now. He contented himself with watching
Jeremy’s every move and admiring him from a distance, his thoughts continually skipping back
to the night before and the feel of Jeremy’s body against his. His heart hammered in his chest as
he pictured it and all he wanted to do was go back home to pick up where they left off.

Jeremy was up to bat the next inning and as he left the on-deck circle, Rafe sat forward in his

seat. He was about to shout some encouragement when the woman beside him shifted again and
he sensed her gaze. She wasn’t looking away, so he met her eyes hoping that she wasn’t after his
number or something. She smiled and put a hand up to block the sun, then surprised the hell out
of him by asking, “Are you Rafe by any chance?”

He sat back, flicked a glance to Jeremy lined up with home plate, and cleared his throat.

“Yeah…I am, actually.”

The woman’s smile grew bigger and her eyes seemed to sparkle at him as she held out her

hand. “I’m Tracey. Jeremy is my little brother.”

Rafe had automatically taken her hand, but when she introduced herself he chuckled. “No

kidding? I had no idea you were going to be here.”

Tracey nodded. “We decided to come at the last minute—this is my husband, by the way,

Jake Humphrey.” Jake looked around Tracey and distractedly offered a hand, his focus on the
ballgame as he mumbled something that sounded like “good to meet you.”

Rafe looked back at Jeremy and wondered how he should proceed. Hadn’t Jeremy said he

talked to his sister about the two of them? Did that mean she knew about last night? He decided
the best option was keeping his trap shut.

“Jeremy’s told me a lot about you,” Tracey spoke up again. “I’m really glad to finally meet

you. Dad really enjoyed meeting you, too.”

Rafe wanted to say something, but was saved from figuring out what when Jeremy connected

with a fastball and launched the sucker out between left and center fields for a double. Rafe,
Tracey, and Jake shot to their feet hollering and clapping and when Jeremy glanced up at the
stands after brushing the dirt off his pants, he looked right at Rafe.

His smile was huge and Rafe’s mouth stretched into a grin at the spark that fired between

them. The eye contact lasted only a moment before Jeremy’s head was back on the ball field, but
that look stuck with Rafe the rest of the game.

***

Jeremy’s team won and as the guys pulled together to discuss when to meet for warm-ups for

the second game, he was itching to leave the dugout and get to the stands. He’d noticed Tracey
and Jake, and any concern he had about meeting Rafe in front of them was secondary to his
desire to grab a minute alone with him. That look they’d shared after the double in the second
inning had distracted him throughout the game.

Not that he didn’t want Rafe there. Jeremy was pleasantly surprised he was able to make it at

all and having him watching and cheering made Jeremy feel nice and pansied out.

The guys on the team dispersed and Jeremy realized he’d missed whatever they’d been

discussing. The catcher, Mike Ronowski punched him lightly in the chest as he passed. “Throw
some ice on that face of yours, it’s looking grotesque.”

“Thanks man. I appreciate the compliment.” Jeremy smiled easily, grabbing his gear to leave.

He kept forgetting about the cut and bruise until someone new got a peek at it and gave him a
horrified glance. Even with his hat covering most of it, he was getting the holy hell eyeball from
everyone. It looked worse than it felt.

Jeremy slung his bag over his shoulder and turned right into Mark who was blocking his

way. “What’s the hurry, Halliday?” he asked. “Hot date with the girl who gave you the shiner?”

Jeremy didn’t even waste time looking at him, pushing past until Mark was forced to move

out of the way. “Your fly’s been down the entire game, Newland,” he tossed the words over his
shoulder. Knowing that Mark immediately swiveled to look, he snickered. “Later, man.”

He pushed through the gate and had barely made his way around one of the guys on his team

before Tracey and Jake found him. They were about to offer their congratulations when they
caught sight of his face. Tracey’s eyes grew round and her mouth opened in horror.

“Who did that to you?” she demanded. “Was it him?” She jerked a thumb Rafe’s direction

and scowled.

“Absolutely not. It’s a long story and now’s not the time.” Jeremy gave her a meaningful

look and her mouth snapped shut. Jake clearly wanted to pursue the topic, but his sister’s hand
on his arm cut off what he was going to say. “Call us later. We want to know.”

Seeing she wasn’t going to budge until he said yes, he nodded. “Thanks for making the drive

up here. It was nice to have a cheering section.”

“Yeah, your buddy helped us hold down the fort,” Jake answered, missing the look Jeremy

and his wife exchanged at the word ‘buddy.’ “Did you hear us yelling for you to slide that last
time coming into third?”

Jeremy laughed. “I heard, but I still wouldn’t have made it in time.” As he answered, his eyes

moved past them to see if Rafe was still there and Tracey picked up on the hint fast.

“We can’t stick around,” she interjected, accidentally cutting off Jake again. “We’re

supposed to meet Jake’s parents for lunch.” Tracey was practically vibrating with the urge to
question him about everything that had happened since their conversation last night, but there
was no way he was going to get into the gory details in front of Jake and while Rafe was waiting
for him.

“I’ll call you later, okay?”
Tracey nodded and grabbed Jake’s hand to head for the parking lot. “As soon as you can,”

she ordered with a look.

He waved, watching them go for a second before taking a deep breath and turning to Rafe.

His heart flipped sideways and started punching his lungs the second their eyes met.

Rafe smiled hesitantly and slowly made his way down the bleachers. He was sexy in his ball

cap, his black hair looking like it needed to be touched.

Jeremy wasn’t sure how to act—if he should touch Rafe and what people would think if he

did—but Rafe solved the problem by stopping on the bottom bleacher and taking his bag of gear
from him. Something about the way he did staked his claim. He sort of…liked it. Okay, he
fucking loved it—and the light in Rafe’s eyes.

“Congrats on the win,” he murmured, his lips barely moving, and Jeremy remembered the

way they felt. Soft, velvety.

“Thanks for coming,” he grinned, knocking the bill of Rafe’s hat with his free hand in an

attempt not to look as unnerved as he felt. “I like it.”

“Yeah? I’m incognito.”
Jeremy’s body stiffened before he could hide it. The only person Rafe would be hiding from

was Mark, which begged the question why. Was it because he didn’t want Mark to see him in
general, or because he didn’t want to be noticed spending time with Jeremy in particular?

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice dropped as his brows lowered in concern. “What’s that look for?” He

stepped to the ground and left Jeremy’s bag on the bench so he could get closer. When Rafe
ducked his head to get a better look into his face, Jeremy glanced away.

“If you didn’t want to be seen, why would you drive all the way up here?” he finally

mumbled, doing his best to brush off the way it stung. “I’m not going to tackle you or anything.”

“Jeremy, are you out of your mind? I’d grab you and kiss you right now, then hold your hand

all the way out of here if I thought you’d be cool with it. I’m not hiding that I came to see you.”
As if to illustrate his point, he tugged off the hat and ran a hand through his hair before tossing it
on top of Jeremy’s bag. “I didn’t want Mark hassling you about me, or making up some bullshit
about me coming to see him.”

It was the perfect answer, but Jeremy couldn’t erase Mark’s words about Rafe calling him to

apologize. He wasn’t going to sit on the worry until it drove him nuts, so he blurted, “Did you

call him the other day to apologize for what happened between you two? He was under the
impression you wanted to start something up with him again. Said he knew the signs from past
experience. I thought you guys broke up like a year ago.”

Rafe gaped at him for a second and let out a crack of laughter. “I never called him, Jer. I

swear. You can go through my phone right now if you want. There’s nothing I have to say to
him, and if I did call—even to apologize—he’d take it like I was interested. That’s why I’d never
do that.” He shook his head in disbelief. “What an asshole.”

Jeremy’s chest warmed up and he finally met Rafe’s gaze again. “Well. I wouldn’t know

better… It was part of why I decided I had to tell you what was up yesterday—I mean, before
your dad slugged me.”

Rafe froze in surprise. “You were going to tell me before you decided to just kiss me

instead?”

Feeling shy all of a sudden, Jeremy shrugged. “Of course. That’s why I wouldn’t let you get

out of spending time with me, even with you avoiding me the last couple days. Don’t think I
didn’t notice. You’re in my head, you bastard.”

“Well…I’m glad I am.” Rafe’s laughter made Jeremy want to touch him, but there were still

a lot of guys from the team hanging around, not to mention Mark, and Jeremy was kind of
freaking out.

“If you don’t have to be back for a while; we could grab some lunch. I can’t guarantee we

won’t run into a lot of the guys on your team, though.”

Rafe had picked up Jeremy’s bag again and was glancing around at the groups of people

nearby as he waited for Jeremy to answer. He was trying to make sure he didn’t put Jeremy in an
awkward situation and his effort went a long way to calming his anxiety, but he couldn’t quite
throw the uneasiness he felt about Mark and how strong his influence really was with Rafe. It’s
not like it was a subject that Rafe would want to start talking about right away.

“Lunch is good,” he finally spoke up. “Wherever you want.”

***

Rafe offered to drive and Jeremy followed him across the sport complex to his truck, kindly

not mentioning how he must’ve arrived late since it was practically a mile hike to the car. They
were both quiet and a tension was beginning to grow that Rafe didn’t like. All things considered,
this probably wasn’t the best way to initiate their relationship—or whatever it was they had
going on.

Jeremy wasn’t ready for full on PDA and Rafe wasn’t really the type to expect that. He just

hadn’t realized it would be so difficult to restrain himself. He didn’t want to push him too fast. In
a way, he wished that they could throw all their expectations on the table, but he wasn’t secure
enough to say that. The risk of losing Jeremy was too great with a move like that.

And fucking Mark was doing his best to throw a wrench in the works every chance he got.

Rafe hated doing it, but he had to lie. It had been one moment of weakness after he’d decided to
put space between him and Jeremy. Thank god he came to his senses before he did something
much stupider than dial an old number. Mark had exaggerated a tad about what he’d said. He
certainly didn’t want to get back together, but—dammit he wished he never made that call.

Way to start off, asshole. Finally find a guy you care about and you fucking lie to his face.
Rafe put Jeremy’s gear in his truck bed and unlocked the cab. As he slid in behind the wheel,

Jeremy squeezed his hand and pulled him closer.

“I wanted t-to say…” He was very flustered and his eyes kept tracking to Rafe’s mouth. As

he licked his lips, it was obvious what he wanted to say and do, but was too nervous to try.

“Come here,” Rafe whispered, reaching with a hand around Jeremy’s nape and pulling him

close.

When their lips gently touched, he sighed and melted into Jeremy, his guilt pushed to the

backburner. His hands glided their way up into Jeremy’s hair, knocking his hat askew. He
smelled like soap and sun. Rafe pulled back first because he was so tempted to let the kiss go on
forever, and when he opened his eyes, Jeremy was looking right into him, his desire close to the
surface.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I had to leave this morning,” he murmured. “Sorry.”
“Don’t ever apologize for that. Damn, who taught you how to kiss?”
“Whatever. It comes naturally.” Jeremy’s eyes twinkled as he spoke and it was only when he

sat back in his seat and buckled up that Rafe remembered they were supposed to be going
somewhere.

He pointed the car toward an out of the way sandwich shop in hopes they could find some

privacy. Jeremy watched the road for a while, his hands relaxed in his lap, until he shifted in his
seat and gave Rafe a quizzical look.

“What?” Rafe asked, seeing his expression with a quick sideways glance.
“How long ago did you come out? Do you mind my asking?” His face was serious and a bit

intimidating, but Rafe wasn’t too surprised by the question. Especially not after last night.
Jeremy had to be busy thinking about what their actions meant about his future, or if he would be
facing the same type of situation if he chose to come out. And Rafe absolutely believed he
should, not only for selfish reasons, though he was still a little worried about Jeremy pulling the
straight card and ditching him.

He puckered his brow in thought as he did the math. “It was in college. I dated this guy

through my sophomore year and told my parents during my junior year. Twelve years ago.” A
humorless laugh escaped. “After spring break, I came home and sort of blurted it out to them.
They wouldn’t talk to me for a long time after that.”

“It was that bad? I mean, did you expect them to be even a little okay with it, or say that even

if they didn’t like it, they at least still cared?”

Rafe frowned at the memory. “I told them like you’d tear off a Band-Aid. I knew they

wouldn’t believe it, but I didn’t think they’d react the way they did. You can probably imagine
from yesterday that dad didn’t welcome me with open arms. I thought he was having an
aneurism. Mom… Mom screeched like a true Italian mother. She’s straight from central casting
as the guilt-ridden catholic poster child and she blamed herself—probably still does. I was living
in the dorms and after I confessed they told me to leave the house and they cut me off.”

“They cut you off?” Jeremy’s face told his shock and there was fear in his eyes that Rafe

didn’t miss. He hoped that Jeremy’s family was better at dealing with shock than his own. His
sister seemed cool with it at least.

“How’d you live after that, Rafe?”
“Room and board was paid through junior year at that point. Senior year I had an interning

job that took care of the bills, but the guy I was seeing had an apartment and he let me crash with
him,” he answered calmly. “Come to think of it, I’m not sure why. He was in a serious
relationship with a guy in Chicago that he never told me about and he left to be with him when I
graduated. One day we were together and the next he was telling me about some dude named
Craig and asking for my key to the apartment. He kept me around as long as it served his

purposes. Turns out he liked being the guy to indoctrinate fresh from the closet homos. Thank
god not every gay guy is like that, but I did learn a lot.”

“Holy shit,” Jeremy breathed. “Who was this prick?”
Rafe shook his head. “Nobody important anymore. He was always very much into making

himself happy first and if you happened to get lost by the wayside in the process… Well. It was a
long time ago.”

“He was your first, too?”
Rafe stared out the windshield and saw a lot of memories rather than the crowded

intersection. He was softening the story for Jeremy’s sake, yet at the time the shit went down, it
was like Jason had punched a hole through his chest. Rafe could still see the way he’d held out
his hand for the key, his signature smirk in place. What had he said? Oh—right. Something like,
“You didn’t honestly think we’d end up together, did you?”

Romantic and inexperienced as he was, he really had thought it would work out. Seeing the

anger in Jeremy’s eyes on his behalf made him thankful all over again that it hadn’t.

“Yeah,” Rafe finally answered. “Jason was my first.”
Jeremy growled and Rafe’s head cranked around at the sound. “Jason?” His voice was cold

as he waited for an answer.

“Jason Watts. Yes. Don’t tell me you know him, too?”
“I don’t know him, but the day I found out you were gay Mark said you must like spending

time with me because I’m like him.”

Rafe swore and thought of a couple choice words he’d like to say to Mark. Like fuck off, or

get bent, or pound sand. He turned sharply into the parking lot, found a space and killed the
engine before arching one arm over the steering wheel and turning to Jeremy.

“The only thing similar about you and Jason is you’re both tall and blond. The biggest

difference between you and Jason is that you’re a good person that I care a lot about. Jason made
it impossible to see the good in him, probably because there wasn’t much of it.” Rafe sighed and
wrapped a hand around Jeremy’s wrist. “Why do you listen to Mark so closely, Jeremy? He says
shit like that to get under your skin, and you can probably count on the fact that anything Mark
says to anyone is meant to drive them nuts. He’s not really the sweetest chocolate in the box,
know what I mean?”

A pinprick of guilt, which was becoming all too familiar, made itself known in Rafe’s chest.

Mark would be a lot less neurotic if he hadn’t pulled some pretty Jason-like crap on him.

“How can you expect me not to listen?” Jeremy fired back. “It was about you and

considering how little I know, he seemed like a good enough authority. You fucking lived with
him for a year.”

“And at least half of it I was completely miserable and digging for a way out.” Rafe was

surprised at the anger in Jeremy’s answer. The direction their conversation had taken was onto
really touchy ground.

“Does it honestly matter, Rafe? He’s been after you ever since you broke up. It’s obvious he

can’t let go.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed and he jerked Jeremy toward him, catching him on one shoulder as he

nearly sprawled over the center console.

“What the fu—”
“Is this because—shit—are you jealous? Of Mark?”
Jeremy stared back at him stonily for a few breaths and finally glanced away. “I don’t know

what I am. He knows about you. I’ve been with you one night out of one week spent together;

how is that supposed to compare to a slew of nights with a guy you shared more than a year of
your life with? Every time I run into him, he makes it clear I don’t have a leg to stand on. I mean,
you can’t even count on me right now because as far as everyone knows, including you and me
—up until this week at least—I’ve been straight.”

Rafe grasped Jeremy’s shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “Jeremy, listen to me. Are you

listening?” It took a moment, but he eventually murmured a yes. “You’re right. There’s no
comparison between you and Mark.”

Jeremy hid his hurt well, turning his eyes to look out the windshield, but Rafe forged ahead.

“You surpass him in every particular and I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. One
night with you made any night I’ve ever had with someone else pale in comparison.”

The hope that slowly began to trickle into Jeremy’s face had Rafe grinning. He was so

friggin’ in love with this man, and he didn’t care that it was too soon to say it out loud. It beat
through his blood just the same.

“I bet Mark never told you that practically every time I slept with him I had to be drunk?”

When Jeremy shook his head, Rafe shrugged. “I didn’t think so. And he probably never
mentioned that he met me when I was shit-faced at a bar right after my parents started talking to
me again and they made it clear it was only to rehabilitate me?” Jeremy shook his head again.

“Mark might know some things about me that you don’t know yet, but not one thing is earth

shattering or truly meaningful. It might sound bad of me, but he’s not even a blip on my radar
screen anymore. You already mean more to me than he ever did.”

Jeremy cursed and rubbed at his eyes. “Look at me. I’m a fucking emotional mess around

you and of all the shit to bring up, I decide to ask you about your ex-boyfriends.” He groaned
loudly and dropped his face into his hands. “I’m breaking all the rules. Awesome.”

“I disagree,” Rafe smiled and squeezed his shoulders again. “Jeremy, you need to recognize

that I’m not holding you to some kind of time table here. We can take this slow. I’m not
expecting you to slide right into this like an old pair of shoes. Give yourself a break and give me
some credit. I can be patient. You’re kind of too important for me to get pissy about the
particulars right now.”

“But what if I don’t know what—”
“Take some time, man,” Rafe interrupted. “We’ll work it out. And if you ever have a

question, just ask me like you did today. I don’t usually bite.”

Jeremy’s eyes flared and he turned away with a secret smile. “No, you don’t. Not usually.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Jeremy felt himself relaxing at the sandwich shop. He was giving himself pep talks that he

never dreamed he’d be giving, including statistics about Santa Fe staking claim to a large gay
population. Surely no one would have a conniption fit if he were to reach out and say, hold
Rafe’s hand where it was resting on the table? That was mild behavior compared to what they’d
done last night.

The memory of Rafe’s hands all over him, his mouth trailing kisses over his body, worked

like a charm and got his blood boiling. Rafe was oblivious sitting across from him and
examining his sandwich for the next perfect bite.

Once the decision was made and he’d kissed Rafe, it was over for him. He was shocked at his

lack of doubts. Jeremy didn’t know the correct way to put it, but if he was going to “turn gay” he
wanted it to be with Rafe. Of course he was terrified that his dad would hear about it and react
the same way Rafe’s had. He’d spent most of his drive up to Santa Fe trying to remember
everything his father might have said about gay people and ended up blank. It was never a big
topic of conversation in the Halliday household. Every time Jeremy’s doubts did surface, he
remembered Tracey’s reaction.

Oh shit. How was he going to explain this to Jake? His brother-in-law would think it was a

joke. Unless he brought Rafe with him to confirm.

The thought had him wigging out again, so he forced his attention back to his food and tried

to concentrate on the fact that the guy he wanted was across from him, and if that was all that
ended up mattering in the end…then so be it.

Rafe was watching him closely, a question in his eyes that he never got to ask because his

phone rang. Saved by the bell. His brow lowered and he answered in his professional P.I. voice,
which meant it was a stranger or a client.

“Rafe Bridges.”
Jeremy watched the emotions play across his face and though the conversation wasn’t long, it

was clearly important. When Rafe ended the call he looked up with regret in his eyes.

“I’ve got to head home. That was Carlos. He can meet me in two hours,” he sighed and

adjusted his ball cap. “I’m really sorry, Jer. If it hadn’t taken so long to get a hold of him, I’d
reschedule.”

Without thinking, Jeremy grabbed Rafe’s hand and interlaced their fingers. “It’s okay, Rafe.

That you even made it up here for one game was…I don’t know…really nice. You’ve been
trying to get this guy to talk to you all week. Just go.”

Rafe was staring at their hands with a wistful smile. “God…I wish we were somewhere alone

right now. I wish we had all day together.”

Jeremy smiled and gave a quick glance at the other diners to see if they noticed two dudes

were holding hands in the same room, but if they’d noticed, they weren’t watching. “I’ll find you
after I get home. The game should be over in a couple hours and I won’t stick around up here.”

“Good. I want to see you. Soon.” He gave Jeremy a smoldering glance that had his toes

curling up inside his cleats, then reluctantly wrapped up his sandwich. Jeremy did the same and
wondered if it meant he was truly sapped out on someone if he already missed him and he was
standing less than two feet away. Probably so.

Rafe drove them back to the sports complex and pulled up behind Jeremy’s car in the lot.

“Call me when you can,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to answer for sure, but if I can, I
will.”

Jeremy reached for the door handle, wishing he weren’t too scared to touch Rafe again,

wishing it didn’t matter one way or the other—shit, he was wishing a million things.

“Thanks for the ride and uhm…lunch. Thanks.” Genius delivery there. Not a bit of awkward.
“I’ll see you in a few hours.” Rafe winked and Jeremy barely kept himself from lunging

across the cab. The internal torture must have been obvious on his face because Rafe chuckled
and squeezed his hand that was resting on the console between them. “It’s okay, Jeremy. I
understand. Play well.”

Jeremy stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide if Rafe really wasn’t upset. He was

still smiling gently though, and that would have to be good enough. Jeremy looked around the lot
another time and then thought, fuck it.

Moving fast, he grabbed Rafe with both hands and pressed a hard kiss to his mouth. “Have a

safe drive,” he whispered against his lips, then shot out of the cab before Rafe could say or do
anything in response.

He was almost to the bleacher area when he heard his name called behind him. Rafe was

grinning and calling out the passenger window. “Your gear’s still in the back, Jeremy.”

With a violent flush on his cheeks, he jogged back, grabbed his bag and leaned in the

window. “Try not to enjoy this so much,” he grumbled and turned away.

But he smiled when he heard that favorite laugh following him.

***

Carlos was waiting at a small table outside a fast food joint when Rafe pulled in. The only

reason he’d spotted him was because he was a slightly taller version of his father, right down to
the grim lips and hard jaw. He looked about as approachable, too.

“Carlos?” Rafe asked, extending a hand.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he replied, slowing coming to his feet and returning the handshake. He

carried himself like he was working on too little sleep under too much stress.

“I appreciate you meeting with me in spite of your schedule. Can I get you a drink or

anything?”

Carlos shook his head and sat back down, flipping his sunglasses down from the top of his

head. The sun was completely behind a neighboring building. Okay. So he didn’t want Rafe to
see his eyes… Got it.

“I’ll just get started with the questions then—maybe you’ll be able to get back home and get

some sleep.”

“I won’t lie, man. That’d be nice right about now.”
Rafe gave his friendliest, good-guy chuckle meant to put people at ease, and leaned back in

his chair. As usual, he didn’t take down any notes. “Alright. Why don’t we start with the night
your sister went missing? Were you there? How did you find out about what happened?”

“I wasn’t there. I was at home when my pops called me and told me Angel and some of his

buddies broke into the house and took Yesenia from her bedroom.”

“What’d you do then?”
“I drove straight to my parents house and tried to calm my parents down. The cops were

there asking questions and dad was doing most of the talking.”

Yeah, Rafe didn’t doubt that. Angelina was probably ordered to speak only if spoken to.

“Was your mom there when your sister went missing?”

“She was supposed to be at work that night, but she said she didn’t feel well and stayed

home.”

Lie number one from Angelina and Hector to their son. “So, the cops questioned you and

your family, dusted the bathroom for fingerprints—”

“No, they only dusted for prints in the bedroom.”
Rafe nodded. “Sorry, my mistake,” he hedged, pretending he was simply mixed up. Carlos

seemed out of the loop on several of these details. But behind Carlos and behind Angelina was
Hector who had major points stacking up against him. The more Rafe thought about the
investigation, the more he wanted to bring Hector in. He was confident the guy was dirty and
poor Yesenia had been his victim—possibly her entire young life.

“I spoke to Angel a few days ago and he said that you and your father came to his house that

night to confront him about Yesenia. Is that true?”

“I went, but I gotta tell you, it was because my dad was too amped up to be alone. He’d have

gone crazy by himself. I didn’t want him making a bigger mess out of things than he already was
by going over there. I went through the motions,” he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Rifled through his closet and dragged my dad home after that.”

“At the time, though, your father said it was Angel who took her. You weren’t angry when

you went to his home? You didn’t want to take action against him?”

Carlos shuffled his feet and absently scratched at his elbow. “Dad said Angel took her, but he

jumps to conclusions sometimes. If she was gone, he’d automatically believe her boyfriend had
something to do with it. I got to the house that night and I guess you’d say I was in shock or
something. I didn’t go to threaten Angel. I went to keep an eye on my dad.”

“I’m fairly certain Angel didn’t see the kindness in that gesture.”
And Carlos didn’t appreciate the humor in that remark. He turned his sunglasses Rafe’s way

and gave him that Aragon pug stare. Tough crowd. “Are you close with Yesenia?” Rafe
continued, unruffled.

It took a second, but Carlos finally decided the sooner he answered, the sooner he could

leave. “There’s a big age difference. I’m eight years older than she is—I was out of the house
when she was ten and I was busy making my own way. We only got to see each other once or
twice a week. She’s closest to my pops.”

“Was there anything unusual about their relationship to you? For instance, was he too

protective in your opinion?”

“I don’t know. Probably. I got away with all sorts of shit growing up. She can hardly leave

the house because dad’s afraid she’ll end up in trouble. If he keeps her at home, he can keep an
eye on her. I guess in some ways it makes sense.”

“How?” Rafe cocked his head curiously.
“That way he always knows who she’s with. She can’t run with a bad crowd if she ain’t

allowed to run. Know what I’m saying?”

Rafe nodded, disappointed. He wanted so badly to wrap this investigation up—to have real,

solid evidence. Carlos wasn’t offering anything new.

“When was the last time you saw Yesenia? Spoke to her?”
Carlos made a face like he had to think back. “I haven’t seen her since probably a week

before she disappeared, but I talked to her a couple days before that. She and dad were okay
then. No big fights for a few days. You’ve probably heard by now that they fought a lot, and they

did. Over Angel and her friends mostly.”

“What do you think of Angel? Do you think he would kidnap your sister to get her away

from your father?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think about him one way or the other. I’ve never seen him do anything

wrong to her, so unless that happens, we have no problem.”

“So you don’t think he had a part in your sister’s disappearance?”
Carlos nudged his sunglasses further up his nose and shook his head slowly. “No. I doubt it.”
“I figure I already know how you’ll answer this because of what you said about going to

Angel’s house, but do you think she was kidnapped?” Rafe asked the big question that everyone
but Hector answered the same way.

Carlos stayed quiet for a while, his face turned to take in the parking lot. He was doing a lot

of thinking. Eventually, he wiped a hand over his mouth nervously and sat up straighter. “She
ran from her problems with dad, I think. She was probably planning it for a long time because
she did it without telling friends or going to family. No one’s seen her or heard from her that I
know of.”

“Your mom was hoping she might come back on her own. Do you think she might?”
“Shit. She’s going to have to learn to do something besides run. I bet she knows dad is

looking for her, too, and that might make her come home. I don’t know.”

With most of Rafe’s questions answered, Carlos seemed to fade visibly, like the exhaustion

hampering him was suddenly too much. There was nothing he said that was new or earth
shattering, but even without finishing his line of questioning, Rafe knew he wasn’t going to
uncover anything new. Yesenia was still out there somewhere, likely hiding from her father.
Carlos and everyone else he’d interviewed hadn’t seen or heard from her.

Rafe pulled a card out of his wallet and passed it over. “If you think of anything or hear

anything that you think might help, call me. Thanks again for taking the time to meet with me.”

Carlos looked almost delighted to end the interview and took the card with a smile. “See you

around. Say hi to Jeremy if you see him.”

Rafe tried not to feel discouraged as he walked to where his truck was parked. This was all a

part of the job right? A dead end. And back to square one.

***

Rafe parked in Jeremy’s driveway and shut down his engine. If the second game ended when

Jeremy said it would, he should be getting home soon. Rather than wait for a call, Rafe had
decided to drive over and hang around like a stalker. He hoped none of the neighbors thought he
looked suspicious. An arrest was just what he didn’t need.

Reclining back in his seat, he crossed his fingers behind his head and sighed. He’d really

wanted to greet Jeremy with news about a breakthrough, but instead, he had all the same answers
he did before from a semi-tight-lipped source and he’d missed a chance to spend more time with
Jeremy.

Yeah, sure. He understood this was his job—he had a duty to get it done as quickly as

possible, but not one person he’d questioned so far was making it even slightly less difficult.
Two people—the ones responsible for hiring him—had lied to his face already. What was he
supposed to do with that? Everyone could forgive him for taking a selfish moment to spend
exclusively with the guy of his dreams.

Rafe heard the distinct rumble of a muscle car and he immediately raised his seatback up, a

grin splitting his face. The Barracuda wasn’t in sight yet, but it didn’t matter. He knew it was
Jeremy.

Climbing out of his truck, he leaned back against the door with his arms crossed over his

chest, a swell of contentment rising within him. When Jeremy turned onto his street, Rafe’s smile
stretched even bigger and the afternoon sun was at the perfect angle to tell him the exact moment
Jeremy saw him. Rafe sucked in a tight breath at the look on his face, thrilled more than he
thought he’d be that they were finally going to be alone and he could show Jeremy how much
he’d been looking forward to it.

Rafe met him at the driver’s side and opened the door for him, taking in every inch of him,

which was still covered in baseball pants and a loose baseball shirt. Jeremy’s tan skin tempted
him until he thought he’d explode right there in the driveway. He’d have to be hosed off the
pavement.

“Hey,” Jeremy sighed. “This is a nice surprise.”
“You don’t mind? I figured I’d wait for you here instead of meeting up later.”
Jeremy’s cheeks reddened and he ducked his head slightly, using the moment to tug his gear

from the passenger seat. “I like that you’re here,” he said quietly.

Rafe took the bag from him and moved back out of the way so Jeremy could climb out of the

car. He slammed the heavy door and led the way to the house. He didn’t look back at Rafe, but
his hand shook a little as he unlocked the front door.

“Come on in. It’s not the cleanest right now, but…” he trailed off and Rafe took a moment to

look around. He’d been too upset the night before to notice much of how Jeremy decorated the
place, which was actually pretty nice, if a little sparse.

“I dig it,” Rafe laughed. “Your dining chairs are sturdy as hell.” The reference to their first

kiss and Rafe’s response finally wrung a less nervous smile out of Jeremy. “Where do you want
me to put your bag?”

Jeremy acted surprised as though he’d forgotten all about it and he jumped forward to take it

off Rafe’s hands. “I’ll take it. I usually toss it in the laundry room because it’s out of the way
there.”

Rafe followed him through the living room, the combination dining room and kitchen, and

into the laundry room. The house wasn’t as large as Rafe’s, the rooms were all smaller, but the
way everything was set up it didn’t feel that way. When he took a break from his tourist role, he
found Jeremy staring at him with that flush back on his cheeks.

“You sure it’s alright that I’m here?” Rafe had to ask with the looks he was getting from

Jeremy. “I don’t mean to get in your way or anything.”

“No, no, no. You’re not in my way at all,” he rushed to say. “Let me take a quick shower and

we can go from there, cool?”

Wanting to make it easier on Jeremy, Rafe nodded and calmly walked out to the living room.

“Mind if I watch some TV while you clean up?”

All of Jeremy’s awkwardness left him as he explained the entertainment system setup and

Rafe pretended that he was totally interested when all he really wanted to do was take that
shower with him. Jeremy tossed him the remotes and headed through the door off the living
room that led to the bedroom and bath.

He lowered the volume until he heard the sound of the shower kicking on and contented

himself with just listening. He closed his eyes and pictured the water flowing over that tanned
skin, touching Jeremy’s body in all the places Rafe had touched him last night. His cock grew
hard as he remembered. He saw Jeremy arching back against the flow of the showerhead, his

hands combing through his hair…

Rafe stood abruptly and shut off the TV, pushing through the half-opened door to the

bedroom only to stop at the sight of the bathroom door standing wide open. The shower was still
running and as he took a step closer, he prayed for glass doors—see-through glass doors—rather
than a curtain. He didn’t know how Jeremy would respond to him coming in here, but he
couldn’t stop himself.

Rafe quickly stepped out of his shoes and pulled off his button down shirt, leaving only his

jeans and black tank undershirt on. Slowly, he rounded the dresser to the open door and froze in
his tracks.

It was a standing shower stall and the door was see-through all right, but that wasn’t what

stopped him. Jeremy was leaning into the stream, his arms braced against the wall as the water
washed over his muscled shoulders and back. He was turning his head from side to side as it hit
his neck and Rafe found the movement almost hypnotic.

As if Jeremy sensed he was no longer alone, he looked over his shoulder and met Rafe’s

eyes, the heat instantly arcing between them like electricity between live wires. His mouth
opened in surprise and water trickled down over his cheek. He didn’t say anything, but in one
seductive move, he turned his body toward Rafe, grasping the top of the glass walls until his
body was fully on display.

Rafe licked his lips and let his eyes wander from the smooth planes of Jeremy’s pecs, down

his ridged abs, finally coming to rest on his hardening shaft. His mouth widened in a smile at the
sight and he slowly shook his head.

With a measured step, he approached the shower and called Jeremy’s bluff, opening the door.

He didn’t flinch as the water soaked his skin, seeming to sizzle everywhere it touched. He
reached to turn off the shower, but Jeremy stopped him, grasping his wrist and tugging him
under the spray. He was soaked in seconds, his tank and jeans clinging to his body like a second
skin.

Jeremy’s fingers traveled slowly up from his wrist, a gentle caress that sent shivers down

Rafe’s spine, until he was touching his neck and jaw, and finally his lips, which parted at the
pressure. Rafe’s eyes closed and he leaned back into the spray, reveling in the sensation of their
nearness. When Jeremy’s mouth fell on his own and the water washed over their lips and
tongues, he moaned.

There was a tug at the hem of his tank and he automatically lifted his arms, breaking the kiss

for the single moment they needed to pull the shirt over his head, then they were kissing again.
He pulled Jeremy closer and ran his hands greedily over his shoulders and back, stopping to
massage his perfect ass.

Jeremy pulled away to remove the jeans and gave a gasp of surprise when he discovered no

briefs beneath and Rafe’s arousal springing free. He knelt to the shower floor and gently tugged
the jeans off his feet, and then slowly, methodically, he ran his hands upward over thighs and
hips until his lips were lightly grazing the sensitive skin of Rafe’s shaft.

Rafe arched almost violently and threw out his arms to steady himself. When he felt Jeremy’s

tongue, his body shook again as a hoarse cry loosed from his throat. Wanting that mouth on his
once more, Rafe grabbed at Jeremy’s arms and pulled him up. Their bodies never breaking apart,
they kissed again as water coursed over their faces and down their shoulders.

As if they were of the same mind, their hands dropped to one another’s cocks, stroking in

long fluid sweeps as their tongues intertwined. The energy between them crackled as they drew
each other closer to orgasm, even their breaths swelling in tandem. Their bodies melded tighter

as release neared and Rafe felt the strong pulse of Jeremy’s fist against his abdomen.

Soon after, Rafe knew nothing but the exquisite explosion of pleasure that Jeremy drew out

of him, and the way he milked the same response from him. They both moaned and collapsed
against each other, their lips still touching as they breathed together in the aftermath of their
coming.

Without thinking, Rafe gently reached to hold Jeremy’s face and whispered the words he

knew he couldn’t take back. “I’ve fallen for you,” he whispered roughly as Jeremy’s eyes
widened with an expression he couldn’t interpret. He dropped his eyes, the intimacy of the
moment almost more than he could bear, and whispered again. “I love you…”

Jeremy said nothing, but instead caught Rafe’s mouth with his own and gave him a deeper

kiss than they’d ever shared. It was too soon for him to return the feelings, likely too soon for
Rafe to have said them, but he couldn’t change that. It was enough just knowing that he was
special in Jeremy’s eyes. Enough for now, anyway.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Jeremy watched Rafe leave as he leaned in the front doorway. They’d shared a goodbye

inside, away from the prying eyes of his neighbors, and seeing him go brought on a surprisingly
empty feeling. Rafe could’ve stayed the night, but Jeremy realized he’d shocked even himself by
dropping the big “L” bomb. He was trying not to be pushy, or expect too much too fast, so he
was giving Jeremy some room.

It was room he didn’t need. Yeah, it shocked the hell out of him; it was actually the last thing

he expected to come out of Rafe’s mouth. Since he’d said those three little words, they’d never
left Jeremy’s mind. He kept running through it, part of him wondering if the words weren’t
simply the result of a really great orgasm. It’d been known to happen with guys, but wasn’t it
usually before the orgasm? Rafe had grabbed him to make sure he was paying attention, and then
said he loved him. Twice, pretty much.

Jeremy had wanted to say those words back. He wanted to crush Rafe to him and never let

go, but he couldn’t yet. Was he wrong to think it was too soon for him to return the feeling? Rafe
had been in other relationships with men; he had to know what was up with his own thoughts,
and there was no mistaking the intensity in his gaze as he confessed how he felt. Jeremy not only
had zero experience with liking a guy, but love? How was he supposed to figure it out? He’d
never even really loved his old girlfriends.

He knew he cared about Rafe a great deal. He found him fascinating, addicting, and

beautiful. To Jeremy it was obvious he was caught up in something serious because Rafe was a
man for crying out loud. That was huge. He was dating and sleeping with another man. This was
definitely more than a crush.

Their relationship was moving fast. With love on the table, he had to assume that Rafe

considered him his boyfriend, or at least a serious prospect for the job. While he enjoyed the
idea, he wasn’t totally at ease. He kept going back to their conversation at lunch. Rafe said all the
right things, but something was missing.

After they’d parted at the ballpark, he’d expected someone to have noticed how close he and

Rafe were and bring it up, but not even Mark had anything to say to him. The one opportunity he
had to make a dig at Jeremy, he’d only stared at him. Jeremy couldn’t swear to it, but it looked
like his eyes were red-rimmed, like he’d been crying. A year after their breakup and Rafe could
still draw him to tears? It made him think there was more to the story than he was told. That was
a long time to nurse a broken heart.

Rafe made it out to be a rough and tumble relationship that was never really good, but it was

possible he was shielding him from the reality. Maybe they’d been really great for a while.
Maybe one of them cheated. Maybe Mark was the one who kept taking Rafe back… Maybe
something happened between them recently that made Jeremy’s presence in Rafe’s life
incredibly painful to Mark. The guy definitely hid his emotions behind sarcasm and snide
comments. While he was never a bundle of joy to be around, it’d been much worse for the last
month or so.

It was possible that all the conjecture was pointless and would serve only to make Jeremy

feel even more insecure with Rafe than he already was, but the doubts nagged at him and he
didn’t know how to proceed. He’d be throwing himself out there to openly date Rafe. What if he

was going to be the next Mark Newland?

He sighed and tried to drive the thoughts away. He didn’t want Rafe to leave, but some time

alone to think wouldn’t hurt. So there he was, watching Rafe go dressed in a very loose fitting
pair of his own pants and one of his favorite t-shirts. Rafe’s jeans and tank still needed to be
wrung out and thrown in the dryer.

Jeremy waved as Rafe started his engine and shifted into reverse. He made the universal sign

that he’d call. At least they still had Sunday to spend time together, and if Jeremy was being
honest, he was actually exhausted and could do with a little lights out action. He certainly hadn’t
done much sleeping over at Rafe’s last night and after a double header in the sun, he needed to
catch up on some rest.

When Rafe’s truck was out of sight, he closed and locked the door and headed straight to his

bedroom. His face was still tender as he laid his head against the pillow, but it didn’t matter. He
was asleep in no time.

***

Rafe’s cell started warbling after midnight. There were only a few people he knew who’d call

at this time, so that meant either Brian and Megan were in some kind of trouble, or Jeremy was
calling. Scrambling through his wadded up sheets, Rafe reached for the phone on the bedside
table and squinted through barely opened eyes at the display. The number was unavailable. He
thought of sending it to voicemail. But still. It could be important.

Punching the send button, he answered his usual way, sounding like he’d been swallowing

gravel for a few hours. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Rafe Bridges.”
“You’re a detective?” a young woman spoke up after a pause and Rafe ran a tired hand over

his face. It didn’t happen often, but occasionally folks who needed a detective called him up in
the middle of the night like he was running a 7-Eleven and would gladly jump up to find out if
their spouse/significant other was doing the bump and grind somewhere else. He’d take the
business during business hours, thanks. Emergencies were one thing and from the sound of her
voice on the phone, Rafe figured it was something that could wait until morning.

“Yes, I’m a detective. Is this an emergency call?”
Another pause and some background breathing. “Yes. I need you to do something for me.”
Rafe pushed himself up against his headboard and flipped on the light, resigned to his fate.

“What can I help you with?”

“This will sound bad, but I need you to stop looking for me.”
He froze and stared blankly at the wall for a few beats. “Yesenia Aragon?”
“Yes.”
“You’re safe somewhere? Out of danger?”
“I’m okay,” she answered. “Better than I’d be if I were at home.”
“Has someone taken you? Are you being held somewhere?” He was running down the

laundry list of questions as the remaining puzzle pieces of his investigation began to click into
place. Once he was sure she was okay, he’d take the time to get mad.

“No one took me. I left on my own and I need you to stop looking for me. I’m asking you to

go to my parents and tell them you can’t keep the job any longer.”

Oh sure, Rafe thought. All the run around he’d been through just to turn down getting paid

because she asked him nicely. Hmmm. No deal.

“Let me get this straight. You want me to pretend I didn’t hear from you and that I’m giving

up the search. After a week. No matter the amount of effort that I normally put into an
investigation, or the obvious ethical dilemma you’re presenting.”

“I’m almost a legal adult. After my birthday in two weeks, I’ll go back and get my stuff and

leave for good.”

“Why’s it so important for you to get out of there, Yesenia? Is it the fighting with your dad?”
The line went silent and Rafe waited for her to answer. He could still hear her breathing. “It’s

a lot of things I can’t deal with anymore, okay? I’m not going to talk to you about it though. I’m
asking for you to help me out and stop looking for me. I’ll be home after I turn eighteen.”

Her self-absorption was what ended up pushing Rafe over the edge and his usually easygoing

bedside manner dropped away.

“It’s really convenient that you can do something like that, you know? Call off an

investigation—no big deal. Do you have any idea the amount of people putting energy into
finding you right now? I’m not the only one on the job. The police have detectives assigned to
your case as well, so the entire time that you hide away, perfectly safe and healthy as you wait
for a birthday, they are wasting their efforts to find you. Those efforts could actually be going to
a child or an adult who is in serious trouble and is praying day and night for someone to come
along and help. Maybe it would happen if the cops weren’t busy with investigations that end up
being a waste of their time. Did you ever consider that? You might be cozy where you are, but
sure as hell there’re people out there who are lost and scared. You may be turning eighteen,
Yesenia, but if this is the way you solve your problems, you’re a long way from being an adult.”

There was an outraged gasp in response and Rafe shook his head. What did she expect him to

do? Give in no problem?

“You don’t know what I have to go through, detective. What makes you think that I don’t

have something bad to get away from?”

“I didn’t say that you didn’t. I simply said in my own roundabout way that running from

home isn’t the best option. I’m actually pretty positive that there is something going on in your
home, probably has been for years, and it’s definitely not good, but the thing is, there are ways
that you can get help that don’t involve disappearing until you’re old enough to run from trouble
permanently. And while you’re hiding, other people in more immediately serious situations are
being lost along the wayside. I could help you if you were just honest with me and gave me the
chance.”

“I can’t go back home. I won’t.”
“Fine. Super. Don’t go home, but I can’t drop by your parent’s house and tell them it’s too

hard and I give up. I have a responsibility to them. I’d have to tell them I heard from you and that
you’re safe but that you refuse to come home. I also have to inform the police department so they
can redirect their resources to people that need them. You seem to be looking at this from inside
a bubble, like your actions aren’t having an impact on anyone else except for making them worry
a little. Nothing is ever that simple.”

“I can straighten all that out when I come back home after I’m eighteen.”
Rafe rolled his eyes. She wasn’t hearing him. “Prove that you’re more mature than you’re

acting right now and confront your problems before that, because what you’re actually saying
isn’t that you’ll smooth the rough edges when you’re eighteen and return home. You’re saying
you’ll go home, give your mom a hug and pack your bags to run again. You’ll have to find a
place to stay, or impose a little longer on the person you’re hiding with currently, then it’s on to
getting a job and possibly dropping out of school because you can’t support yourself on a part-

time wage. If you want my opinion, which I’m sure you don’t, your plan sucks.”

“You act like I’m trying to hurt people when that’s not what I want. But I can’t show up at

that house and pretend everything’s okay.”

“First of all, you’re not trying to hurt people right now, you’re accomplishing it—directly

and indirectly. Second, I understand that what you’re facing at home is a lot worse than you’re
dad not liking your boyfriend—who, by the way, is one of those people worried sick about you. I
can’t help you unless you let me, but if you give me a chance, there is a way that we can confront
this problem and get it taken care of while keeping you safe.”

“What do you know about what I go through there? No one knows everything. No one.”
“If you mean that you haven’t been honest with others about what’s happening under that

roof, I agree completely, but that doesn’t mean that it can’t be deduced if you ask the right
questions. I’m a good detective, Yesenia.”

“I think you’re bluffing,” she snapped, sounding close to tears.
“How ‘bout I tell you a couple of things I’ve learned since beginning this investigation,

okay? Then you tell me what you think.” Yesenia sniffled, but didn’t answer. “Is it a deal?” he
prodded.

“…Yes.”
“I haven’t discussed this with anyone in your family, so I don’t want you to worry that as

soon as I suspect something I bring it up to them. I’d end up shooting myself in the foot that way.
I know your dad is lying. He’s had your mother lie to me as well, but she had the guts to admit it
to me. She’s in denial about what’s really happening in your house.

“Your dad says you disappeared from your bedroom, that you were taken and dragged out

the window. I know you made a break for it from the bathroom. So obviously, your dad already
wanted to point the investigation in a direction that made it look like you were kidnapped rather
than you leaving on your own. He was the only one home when you left, but your mom lied for
him and said she was around. That’s odd that he didn’t want it to look like he was alone with
you.

“Now, your mom says your dad wanted the police to look for you right away and they have

to wait twenty-four hours if it’s a normal missing person case. A home invasion with the
daughter missing will get them on the lookout sooner. All of that to say that your dad isn’t just
worried about you, Yesenia, he’s obsessed with getting you home. Not only did the police assign
a team, but I got a call within a couple days of your disappearance and went to work.

“From the get-go in this investigation your dad has been frantic to have you under his roof.

It’s amazing I’ve made it a week without a phone call from him. Everyone I’ve talked to, aside
from your mother and your brother, say that your relationship with your dad isn’t right. He
watches you. He keeps you home with him as much as he can. He hates it when you’re with
Angel. He is only happy when you’re where he can see you. He monitors what you do—
including how long you’re in the bathroom, who you’re on the phone with, and what you talk
about. He checks on you every night before he goes to bed. That’s more than over
protectiveness. If you want me to spit out what that looks like to me, I will, but you tell me if I’m
on the right track. You tell me if your dad’s been doing anything wrong.”

Yesenia’s sobs cut at him, but he didn’t regret being harsh with her. She wouldn’t have

stayed on the line this long if she didn’t need a little tough love. Rafe let her cry for a few
moments longer before asking her to talk to him again.

“I don’t want anyone to get in trouble,” she cried, the words coming out garbled.
Rafe dropped his head back against the headboard and sighed. That dirty, rat bastard Hector.

His daughter hated what was happening to her so much that she’d run, but she still loved him
enough to want to keep him out of trouble. He didn’t deserve her protection.

“I know it’s hard,” he finally answered. “I know you care about your family, but what you’ve

been through is wrong, Yesenia. Deeply wrong. It will reach out with tentacles like a cancer into
every part of your life if you don’t get help. No one has the right to do what he’s done to you.”

“I’m scared to go home when I can’t leave again right away. I…can’t go through that again.

He’ll…he’ll want to. If he thinks anyone knows…he’ll be furious.”

Rafe gritted his teeth against an angry curse and had to take several deep breaths to calm

down. With barely restrained disgust and fury, he asked, “How long has he been sexually
abusing you, Yesenia?”

Hearing the words aloud brought the sobs on even harder and Rafe waited a long time for her

to cry herself out. He tried to offer comfort when he could, but it was more important for her to
get out some of her pain.

He was surprised when she didn’t need him to repeat the question, and he was actually

relieved he didn’t have to ask it again. Asking—not to mention hearing the answer—made it
very real.

“He’s been…he’s done things…since I was twelve. He would tell me not to say anything,

that he loved me in a special way. I-I…I can’t take it anymore. I feel like trash. I’m all alone
with it and I can’t do anything about it.”

Rafe swallowed the lump in his throat. “Hey now. You’re not alone anymore, got it? I’m

going to help you fix this. You are not trash and this is not your fault. It is not your fault.” He
paused and sucked in a deep breath. “We can work together and make sure you’re safe, but you
have to keep being honest with me. Keep talking to me. Can you do that?”

“I don’t want anyone to get in trouble,” she sobbed. “My mom didn’t know. I wanted to tell

her so many times…but I thought she wouldn’t believe me. No one knows.”

“I know. I know this is hard, but please let me help you. I know a lot of folks that can work

with us to make sure you get the help you need.”

“I can’t go home, detective. Please…don’t make me go home,” she begged, sounding like

she was becoming frantic again.

“Yesenia, listen to me. No one is going to force you to be in the same place as your dad. It’s

not safe and we wouldn’t put you in unsafe situations. You have to trust me, though. You have to
work with me.”

“I-I don’t know if—”
“There will never be a fix to this terrible situation if you don’t let me or someone else help

you. Tell me where you are and I can come get you and make sure that you’re taken care of.”

“I cant… I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t go home! I won’t go home.” She was losing it again and Rafe had to scramble to

keep up. “No one in the family will believe me. They’ll hate me.”

“Yesenia, you will not have to be in the same place as your father. I have a responsibility to

report his behavior, do you understand? You will be protected, do you hear me? I promise you
will be safe.”

“No. I can’t do it now. I’ll call you again, but that’s all I can do. I-I won’t go home. I won’t

have them saying I’m a liar after everything…he’s done to me. Please don’t report him. Not yet.
I’ll call you again. Promise you’ll wait.” Her voice broke again and before Rafe could plead with
her, she was saying goodbye.

“Yesenia!”
“I’ll call again soon. Don’t tell anyone yet, please,” she said and hung up.
“Fuck!” Rafe yelled and tossed his phone down. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
How in the hell was he supposed to help her? How was he going to fix this shit?

CHAPTER TWENTY

Rafe did a lot of pacing that night. Several times he nearly jumped in his truck to drive the

streets looking for Yesenia, but that would be an astronomical waste of his time. She was well
hidden wherever she was. And she was cramming him nicely between a rock and a hard place.

As far as he knew the time she wanted him to wait for her to call again was actually time

she’d take to run farther away. After admitting what her dad had done to her, she might be too
freaked out to come home and face the way it would seriously disrupt her family’s world. But
this couldn’t go on. Whether she was home or not, her father could not go without being
confronted or unpunished for his crimes. There was no question of Rafe going to tell the police
everything he’d learned.

Without Yesenia though, he was just making an accusation. The only evidence he had was

circumstantial, if that good. He couldn’t very well tell the detectives assigned to her case that he
had an unavailable phone call and a crapload of hearsay to back him up. Yesenia had to call
back. She had to keep her promise if she was going to get any justice out of this.

Rafe would give her one day. That was it. If she hadn’t called him by the same time

tomorrow, he was dropping everything and making a visit to the police department. Hector could
go straight to hell.

He eventually fell asleep on the couch and much too soon a loud banging at his front door

had him rocketing from the brown leather like it was boiling hot lava. He heard his name called
and his hopes fell when he recognized Brian’s voice. If it were Yesenia, he could get to the main
event with a surprise ending of Hector in handcuffs. If it were Jeremy, he could get a comforting
hug and a little sympathy at least. Brian’s thumping didn’t bode well, however.

He tugged open the door and had to jump back out of Brian’s way as his best friend blew

past him. Rafe looked around to see what time it was and saw on the DVD display that it was
barely eight.

“Hey asshole,” Brian blurted. “Guess who drunk dialed me at the crack of dawn and

subjected me to his tale of woe?”

Rafe rubbed at his eyes and grumbled. “I don’t know. Jimmy Hoffa. I hope you recorded it.”
“You know what? I wish it were; I’d be famous. But no it was your favorite ex, Mark, who

had some very interesting details he shared with me over his sixty-third vodka soda.”

Rafe felt a headache coming on, or a gut ache, or an ass ache. He wasn’t sure. Leaving the

door open and light shining in through the screen, he shuffled to the kitchen. “Do you want
coffee before you continue with your lecture?”

“No,” Brian snapped back. “You shouldn’t have the luxury of coffee while I tell you this

because you weren’t the one dealing with the call that wouldn’t end from pretty boy Mark.”

Rafe was about to tell Brian exactly what kind of calls he’d been receiving, but kept his

mouth shut.

“Is this shit true? About Jeremy? Are you two together?”
Rafe groaned and sank into a seat at the dining table. God, this early? Seriously? “What in

the hell did Mark say to you?” Damn he was ready to strangle that guy.

Brian was all business, his tatted arms braced on the back of a chair. “Is. It. True.”
Rafe wouldn’t look at him, choosing instead to stare out the back sliding door at the blue sky.

“I don’t know what we are.”

Brian cursed and pushed away from the table to pace for a second. “So he really is gay?”
“You sound shocked. You were the one calling me and telling me he was.”
“Stop playing fucking games. I love you man, but you’re acting like a major prick,” he said

with a full-on scowl. “You and I both know there’s no love lost between Newland and me, but if
what he said is true, you’re messing with his mind.”

“I don’t mean to. I didn’t make him any promises.”
“Oh, he’s well aware of that, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t create an expectation. He saw

you with Jeremy at the ball game yesterday. Didn’t you think of how that would affect him?
Even if nothing is going on between you, exercise a little discretion, why don’t you. This isn’t
high school. Or do I owe you an apology because there’s really nothing going on between you
and Jeremy?”

“Brian,” Rafe growled, his voice rising, “when did you become my keeper? When did you

become the expert on gay relationships? None of this is your business unless I make it your
business.”

“Bullshit,” he crossed the room, pointing a finger right in Rafe’s face—a move he knew

would instantly piss him off. “You made it my business when you sapped out on a guy you
thought was straight, and when you ended it with Mark and stayed at my place, and when he
called me for an explanation on how to deal with someone he’s madly in love with who doesn’t
give a shit about him. So here I am, talking shop.”

“Well then, what’s your pleasure, Bri? You want to know if we’re together? If we’re

fucking? If I love Jeremy? Or if I love Mark?”

“I want to know why you’re screwing around with a guy’s head if you are together with

Jeremy, or fucking Jeremy, or in love with Jeremy—not to mention why you’re risking things
with Jeremy at the same time, too. I mean, you’re the one who’s had encounter after encounter
with Mark since you broke up a year ago. You’re the one who slept with him like a month and a
half ago, pushed him way, and then called him up this week just to say hey. What are you doing?
You’re creating your own whirlwind of shit that your straight best friend shouldn’t be involved
in.”

Rafe let out a pained moan and dropped his head to the table, right before his morning went

from bad to a nightmare. A horrible, ball-shriveling nightmare.

“Is that true?” Jeremy’s voice sounded through the screen door.

***

Jeremy didn’t know how he kept managing to show up during personal conversations

between Rafe and Brian, but he’d done it again. He wasn’t even halfway up the walk when their
voices reached him. Both of them were fired up about something. Here he thought his car would
be loud enough to bring Rafe to the door, but with the way those two were yelling, he wasn’t
surprised they missed his arrival.

He debated going back to his car, but decided against it when he thought Brian might be

persuading Rafe to never see him again. If that was the case, he wanted to get his own two cents
in.

At the screen door, he lifted a hand to knock when Brian’s words cut right through his

intentions and froze him to the pavement. His heart sank and he waited, prayed actually, for
Rafe’s denial—that he hadn’t slept with Mark so recently, or called him like he said he hadn’t.

No denial was forthcoming.

“Is that true?” he rasped, biting on the side of his cheek to keep himself in check.
Rafe swiveled around and the way the blood drained from his face, Jeremy knew. And here

he was, standing on the porch like a jackass with a bag of bagels in one hand and Rafe’s freshly
cleaned clothes in the other. It was like a really bad movie where the audience is cringing right,
saying stuff like, “Poor bastard.” He should have seen this ending coming.

“Shit,” Rafe said, jerking to his feet as Jeremy stepped inside the house. “I—what are you—”
“Don’t fuck with me, Rafe. Have some balls and tell me if you lied to me.”
“Listen, you have to give me a chance to explain this. It sounds terrible the way you heard it

and—”

“Dammit! You can’t even admit it now when you’re caught.” Jeremy wasn’t in the mood to

listen to a bunch of excuses, but at the same time, his mind was clamoring to have Rafe explain
everything away—to be lied to, in other words. He chanced a look at Brian and was surprised to
see that he wasn’t gloating or smirking; he was staring resolutely at his feet, looking like he
wanted to be far away from them both.

“It’s not like that. I haven’t been with Mark in like six weeks. I was drunk and he showed up

and I ended up drunker… Like an idiot, I went home with him.” He moved toward the doorway
with his hands outspread in supplication. “The next morning I told him it was a mistake and that
it shouldn’t have happened. Brian can vouch for that. I swear it was the only time I’ve slept with
him since we broke up the first time.”

“Liar. You fucking liar.” Jeremy shook his head, thinking he was going to be sick. “I heard

what Brian said. ‘Encounter after encounter’ since you broke up.”

“I didn’t sleep with him. I didn’t do anything with him before the time I just told you about.

He was trying to get back together and he’d seek me out. That’s it. Ask Brian if you don’t
believe me.”

Jeremy’s eyes shot to Brian who slowly nodded that Rafe was telling the truth. “I didn’t

mean sexual encounters,” he mumbled shamefacedly.

“Jeremy.” Rafe approached him until he held up a hand to stop him. “I don’t want to be with

Mark. You’re all that I want. Please believe me. If I’d known that you were going to come into
my life, I never would’ve been with him.”

It took Jeremy a second to remember that he didn’t really have the right to be angry about

what Rafe and Mark had done together before he was on the scene, but it hurt to think of the way
he’d been mislead. He should’ve listened to Mark—the one guy who would know how Rafe
would act once a relationship started.

“What about the phone call? You know, the one you said you didn’t make because Mark

would think you were interested.” Jeremy fought to keep his voice down. He was seething with
anger and incredibly embarrassed to be hashing out his first gay experience in front of Rafe’s
best friend.

Rafe took another few steps closer to him until the warning in his eyes stopped him. “A week

ago I didn’t think that I’d ever get the chance to be with you, Jeremy. I liked you too much and I
was afraid that I’d end up ripping my heart out over you, so I decided to put distance between us.
You only wanted friendship as far as I knew. So…I avoided you. In a stupid, pointless moment
of loneliness, I called Mark. I did apologize for how I’d treated him, but I didn’t say that I
wanted to get back together, or meet with him, or sleep with him. I guess I wanted to reach out to
someone who sort of knew what I might be feeling. I said what I said on a message though. I
haven’t spoken to him since then, though he’s called. You gave me a chance and…I couldn’t

believe it.”

Rafe was choking up and Jeremy was horrified to feel his own throat closing in response. His

eyes were even beginning to sting.

“I did give you a chance,” he whispered hoarsely. “I went out on a limb for you because I’d

never felt anything like I did when I was with you. Then yesterday, I asked you one simple
question: if you called him like he said. None of this would be happening if you were honest
with me. If you’d explained it then. You lied to my face and the really sad part is that I knew
something was wrong. I knew it and I didn’t listen to my gut.

“Mark lost it over you. Do you know that? And I thought to myself, man, what type of

relationship must they have had for Rafe to still be able to get to him like this a year later? Turns
out, it’s more like he’s dealing with a one night stand where you walked out on him, and a phone
call that made him think he might have risen back under your notice again.”

Jeremy sighed and had to take a second to get his wobbling voice under control. “He warned

me. Mark Newland warned me about you and it looks like he was right. Maybe you’re more like
your mentor, Jason, than you thought.” He walked over to the sofa, side-stepping Rafe as he tried
to reach for him. “Here are your clothes. They’re clean. And, I brought breakfast. You two can
enjoy it together.”

Turning his back as his eyes filled with mortification, he dug for his keys and stopped to look

back at Brian. “Looks like you didn’t have to worry about me breaking Rafe’s heart. He was
only keeping his options open.”

Brian winced and ran his hands through his hair as he cursed. Jeremy nodded, thinking he

couldn’t agree more, and turned to leave again. Rafe was blocking his way.

“Don’t leave like this, please. I’m so sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have lied, but I was

scared he’d come between us and I want you to be a part of my life. Please.” He clasped his
hands to Jeremy’s nape and tried to pull him closer.

“Rafe,” his voice cracked as his eyes welled up. “Get your hands off of me. This may not

seem like a big deal to you, but it’s huge to me. I was ready to change my life for you. You were
too busy being selfish to realize that.”

Rafe’s eyes were frantic and he refused to back away or let loose of him. “No, Jeremy. I

swear I only wanted to protect what we have.”

“Had. What we had,” Jeremy bit off the words. “You weren’t protecting us. You were

protecting yourself. I’m not going to be a part of this any more. Maybe I should thank you for
making my life suddenly so much easier.”

When Rafe pulled at him, he tugged his body away roughly and shoved himself past Rafe to

the door.

“I’m not getting any further involved if I can’t even trust you with the small stuff.”
Rafe lunged for him one last time and Jeremy stopped him with a teary-eyed glare. Since he

couldn’t keep the tears at bay, he might as well use them, he thought.

“I meant what I said yesterday,” Rafe murmured. “I love you. I’m not letting us end like

this.”

“You don’t have a choice,” he answered and shoved open the screen door. “I’m done.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Jeremy tore out of the driveway, forcing himself not to look at Rafe as he ran out of the

house after him. He was bare-chested and wearing the same sweats he’d worn the first night
they’d been together. Seeing him like that intensified the sickening wash of emotions he was
trying so hard to weather.

He was furious; more at himself than anyone else because he’d taken a stupid chance and had

it blow up in his face. If he did the math right, they’d had almost two days together. His shortest
relationship on record. Jeremy didn’t even have any one night stands to beat it. In that moment,
how he wished to god he did.

Jeremy drove without a destination. His phone rang a few times, but no voicemails came in.

His hands shook against the wheel every time he pictured Rafe’s face as he’d asked him for the
truth. He found himself choking down another stab of pain as the words they both said ran
through his mind again.

What made him most upset—what he couldn’t make a lick of sense out of—was that he was

sitting behind the wheel wishing he’d left the house five minutes later this morning, wishing he
never heard Brian say those things so he could go on in blissful ignorance with Rafe saying he
loved him and all that other crap. How pathetic. He was pathetic.

Rafe was with Mark six weeks ago. Jeremy met Rafe six weeks ago…and he’d been worse

for wear that morning at the courthouse. They’d probably fucked the night before. Jeremy cursed
at the awful images in his head.

Why did the brain work this way? When he was upset, his mind always found those little

tidbits of information that were overlooked or forgotten and presented them all over again until
he saw everything through a whole new set of eyes. It only made him angrier.

Jeremy found himself driving through his old neighborhood, roaring past the street his dad

lived on and ending up in Tracey’s driveway. He sat staring at the house, not wanting to answer
any questions, but not wanting to be alone. When his sister came outside and waved at him, he
got out with the energy of a tired old man.

He trudged more than walked her direction and the look on his face must have said a

thousand words because she opened the door and offered coffee.

Jake was at the table and Jeremy pulled up a seat beside him, resting his chin in his hand. His

brother-in-law gave him a long look. After a strained silence, he rifled through the parts of the
paper he’d read that were laying on the table and handed Jeremy the sports section.

“There’s a good article in there on that senior who took his team to State last year. He’s

already getting scouted during their summer two-a-days.”

Jeremy took the paper for what it was, a giant life ring, and pretended to read. The only

headlines he actually saw said stuff like: Comfy In The Closet, Naïve Idiot Duped, or Hopes
Smashed: Young Cop’s Gay Adventure Gone Wrong. He wasn’t totally sure, but he might hate
himself. Maybe. Possibly.

Tracey set a cup of coffee on the table in front of him and it took him a few tries, but he

finally managed to swallow some down. The words in front of him blurred together and all he
could see was Rafe’s face and all he could think about was letting himself get screwed. Literally
and figuratively. It was surprising how similar this felt when compared to being the victim of a

hoax. Rafe found out he could get a guy who always thought he’d been straight…and Jeremy got
kicked in the teeth. Exactly what an immature jerk like himself deserved. If it wouldn’t make
him out to be a total ass, he knew he could probably muster up some impressive sobs.

He didn’t want to cry about being lied to or jerked around. He didn’t want to sob over losing

a guy he cared about—though that was a pretty good reason. He wanted to roll over and close his
eyes to the world because without Rafe, his life didn’t automatically go back to normal.
Pretending he was the same guy that he was a week ago was certainly an option, but he didn’t
want to go back there.

Being with Rafe changed everything he knew about himself. And now that he was alone, it

was like a stranger was living inside his own skin and he didn’t have an excuse not to figure out
who that person was.

***

Rafe ran back into the house and immediately dove over the couch to grab his phone. Of

course Jeremy wasn’t going to answer his calls, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try to get
through. Brian was standing exactly where he’d left him with a look on his face like he’d just
killed a puppy.

After ringing through to voicemail three times, he didn’t hold back, rocketing the phone into

the couch cushions. He spun with anger like a cloak around him, and nailed Brian with a
thunderous glare. His best friend was already nodding as though Rafe were really laying into
him.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he gestured out the open screen door. “I didn’t hear him

coming.”

Rafe stood there, jaw clenched tight, still unable to speak he was so furious.
“Do you want me to talk to him? I can find him and try to straighten all of this out.”
Brian was one of the most important people in Rafe’s life. He’d been there for him through

some of his most difficult times and even if he got a bit parental now and then, like coming to
yell at him for making Mark looney, he did it because he was a good friend. Rafe knew
absolutely that if he told Brian to find Jeremy and give it a shot, his friend wouldn’t hesitate.

“Nothing you could say to him is going to change that I lied to him and treated him like he

couldn’t handle something difficult to hear,” he admitted, his anger twisting inward from Brian
to himself. “Jeremy wasn’t even close to being used to me as a boyfriend, nor was he
comfortable being attracted to me, but he was putting a lot of trust in the fact that I wasn’t going
to mislead him. I was supposed to be the one person he could count on right now when he’s
totally confused, so it’s not only that one lie he’s upset about… It’s that I wasn’t who I made
myself out to be in the first place.”

He sank down onto the couch and rested his head in his hands. Impressive how expertly he’d

fucked this one up, and in record time. Woohoo. Jeremy said exactly the right words to drive
home what a good job Rafe had done at it. The Jason comment in particular nearly had him
begging for forgiveness on his knees. Hell, if that was what it took to get Jeremy to give him
another chance, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Jeremy was a stubborn guy, though, and it was going to
take a lot to get him to listen for more than a second.

“Rafe,” Brian eased down beside him, the bag of bagels Jeremy left crumpling behind him.

“I’m really sorry this happened. I didn’t know you…well, that you love him.”

“Didn’t take long, did it?”

“That’s relative, I guess.”
“I can’t let this be it, Brian,” he lifted his eyes as his shoulders seemed to sink lower with

pain. “He’s like no one I’ve ever met. From the first day, we just got each other.”

“Man, he can’t drop all of his feelings in one day. Whatever he saw in you that he liked so

much is still inside him. He can’t walk out of your house and forget everything you’ve made him
feel—good or bad. You have to get him to remember the good. To do whatever it takes to prove
you can be who you promised.”

Like a true wuss, Rafe reached for the clothes Jeremy had brought over and buried his face in

them. Sure enough, they smelled like him. He groaned.

“He won’t talk to me,” he muttered.
“Make him. Go to his house,” Brian answered. “He’s already carrying a load of rejection. If

you’re too scared to feel the same thing, then you should give up. If you really want him, wade
through the shit and keep going back to him until he talks to you.”

“God, I wish I told him the truth. I wish I never called Mark. It was a stupid moment of

weakness that’s probably ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Rafe, go do something about it. Fix it.”
“He’s going to say no.”
“Then at least you know ahead of time,” he said gently. “Listen, if I can do anything to

help…”

Rafe sighed and threw the clothes back on his couch. “It’s not your fault.”
“It’s sort of my fault,” he retorted.
“Okay, it’s sort of your fault.”
Brian nodded. “You gonna go?”
“Yeah. I’m going.”

***

Rafe went to all the places he could think Jeremy might be. He didn’t have any idea where

Tracey lived and he doubted Jeremy would want to hang out with his dad right now, so he ended
up with his rear end parked on Jeremy’s front porch, ready to wait as long as he had to for him to
show up. Of course, he was under no illusion that he’d be allowed to stick around once he got
home, but like Brian said, he’d keep coming back until they could talk.

He was in for a long wait. The neighbors outside working on their lawns kept giving him

suspicious glances, but his truck was familiar by now even if his face wasn’t.

There wasn’t much to do to pass the time, so he spent a lot of it fiddling with his cell phone

and arranging a pile of pebbles in front of his feet. He hadn’t eaten and his stomach was
seriously protesting the lack of breakfast and lunch. It looked like dinner was a pipe dream as
well. He leaned against the stair behind himself and tried to get comfortable.

Close to five thirty Jeremy’s car made its turn onto the street and pulled into the drive. He

had a plastic bag of groceries in one hand and his keys in the other as he walked toward the
house. Not even sparing Rafe’s truck a glance, he acted like he was going to walk right over the
top of him on the porch steps. Rafe braced himself.

Jeremy still didn’t acknowledge him as he squeezed past and unlocked his front door,

dropping his things gently in the entryway.

“Jeremy?” Rafe stood and winced at the cramps from being in the same position so long.
“Go home, Rafe. I’m not going to do this,” he answered, still refusing to turn and look at

him.

“Please hear me out,” Rafe pleaded. “I won’t take much of your time, I promise.”
“No. Go home.”
“I waited here for you all day and I’ll come back tomorrow and the day after that until you

talk to me.”

Jeremy spun and took such a quick step toward Rafe that he backed down the steps in

surprise. “Do you want me to feel bad for you or something?” he growled. “Well, I don’t. You
did this to yourself. You did this to us, whatever the hell we were, and I don’t want to see you
right now, or tomorrow, or the day after that. Take the speech you planned and leave. There’s
nothing you can say that I want to hear.”

“What about second chances? Years from now, don’t you think you’ll wonder what if?” Rafe

took a step closer to him and was encouraged that Jeremy didn’t push him off or instantly back
away. “I fucked up. This is on me. You trusted me—not just to tell the truth, but also to be the
type of guy you could count on—and I was scared and sold you short. I lied and made you out to
be a guy who isn’t strong enough to have an equal part in this relationship. I’m an asshole.”

Jeremy shoved his hands in his pockets and got busy staring at his feet. Rafe didn’t miss the

way he bit down on his bottom lip like he was trying to hold something back.

“Jeremy, you mean more to me than anyone else and I’m so sorry I was selfish and assumed

things about you that aren’t true. You’re one of the bravest guys I know because you were
willing to give me a chance no matter how many outs you had. I know I haven’t proven that I
can be the boyfriend you deserve, but I will never act like I did again. I can make you happy—as
happy as I am because you’re in my life.”

Rafe hesitantly closed the remaining distance between them and gently ran his fingers down

Jeremy’s arm until he was clasping onto his hand. “Please forgive me, Jeremy,” he whispered.
“Please give me another chance. I love you.”

Jeremy trembled and tried to move back, tears filling his eyes as he shook his head. “Rafe,

it’s not that easy—”

“I love you. It is that easy. I love you.”
With an expression like it physically pained him, Jeremy tugged his hand free and lightly

pushed Rafe back with one hand on his chest.

“I have too much to think about right now. Life is different than it was a week ago and

there’s a lot to figure out. I can’t hide behind you, or a relationship with you, and I won’t.”

“Well, I won’t give up,” Rafe said hoarsely, grabbing for the hand that was still on his chest,

but it was pulled away from him before he could touch it. “I’ll be back here tomorrow.”

Jeremy looked over his shoulder into the house and shrugged, his lip trembling. “I guess I

can’t stop you, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I love you,” Rafe repeated. “I’ll be here.”
He stepped back down the short porch steps as Jeremy moved to go inside. As he closed the

door behind him, he mumbled, “Do what you want.”

***

“You called just in time, Yesenia. I’m not waiting any longer to take care of this,” Rafe said

by way of greeting the moment the “unavailable number” popped up on his phone. She didn’t
say anything and he rubbed at his tired eyes. He so didn’t need this to be difficult. “You should
know that I’m recording this conversation, because it’s no good if you disappear and I have

nothing to explain why you felt you had to.

Yesenia made a noise that spoke of how torn she was. “Will he go to jail?”
“He will be taken into custody, yes,” Rafe answered, trying to figure out how to downshift

into why that had to happen so she wouldn’t back down. “Yesenia, you’ve said you can’t live
like this anymore. You’ve said what he was doing to you was why you left, so you must
understand that it’s wrong.”

“I-I know it’s… I know it’s wrong for him to do those things to me. He’ll be so angry, and

the family—my aunts, uncles, cousins—none of them will believe he could do something like
that to me.”

“Yesenia, I absolutely disagree. I know Grace will believe you. I’ve interviewed her and she

knows something was going on in your house that wasn’t right.”

“You talked to Grace?” she gasped, sounding on the verge of tears again. He couldn’t blame

her. If he were in her shoes, he’d cry all the time.

“I did. You’ve got to try to remember that you’ll have support in this. Even if it’s only your

cousin and me. I know that it’s scary to think of how you might upset people, but it’s no excuse
at all to not confess what you’ve gone through. You shouldn’t have to continue suffering in
silence because a few people are unwilling to take you at your word. Go into this knowing there
are people who won’t buy your story and it’ll make it less of a surprise when they don’t.

“Here’s the thing though, I know your father sexually abused you for years because you’ve

been honest with me about that. I know now. No matter what you do, I have to tell the police and
they will investigate what I’ve told them. Basically, it’s out of your control because there’s no
way in good conscience I can either wait until you’re eighteen so you can get lost for good, or
refuse to tell the police about this. I waited twenty-four hours because you wouldn’t tell me
where you were, but I’m going to talk to them today regardless.”

“I know…” she whispered, sounding almost like she was trying to muffle her voice into the

phone. For the hundredth time he wondered who she was hiding with and why she had to call at
such odd hours.

“Why couldn’t you tell me where you were yesterday?” he asked, pacing through his living

room now that their conversation was really moving.

“I’m not sure what to do. I’m scared…” she trailed off.
“Okay, that’s understandable, but if you tell me where you are, I can pick you up and make

sure you’re in a safe place—away from your father and family—when the police go to question
your father.”

“I’m safe where I am now. I’m not coming home until it’s done.”
“Yesenia, the police will need to talk to you about this, too. I can show them this recording,

but they’re going to need you to tell them your story.”

“I-I can’t—”
“Yes. You. Can.” Rafe didn’t like that he had to get so forceful with her. She wasn’t in the

best state of mind to understand it was for her own good. He wasn’t trying to inflict more pain
upon her, but with such a touchy situation, it wasn’t really avoidable. “Someone will be with you
every step of the way. You don’t have to be alone. Your father has to take responsibility for his
actions the way all of us do.”

“I’ll give you a number to call after you go to the police, but I’m not going in before that.”
Yesenia was making no sense. Obviously she was scared, but delaying the inevitable wasn’t

going to fix things. “I’m going first thing this morning and I’ll give them the number, too.
They’ll likely go to your parents house right away whether you’re at the department or not.”

“What about talking to me?”
“Better safe than sorry,” Rafe bluffed, hoping they’d take the recorded phone call as good

enough to get the ball rolling, or that Yesenia would give in and come to the police department
with him. “You can come with me, though.”

“Here’s my number,” Yesenia answered, rattling off the digits so fast he was scrambling for

a pen even though he could run through the recording to get it. “I won’t go until you’ve talked to
them. I can’t do it yet.”

“Yesenia, this is happening and you can’t control it. Please come with me to talk to the

police. I can meet you somewhere neutral and take you, or a police officer can pick you up.”
Jeremy instantly came to his mind…not that he’d want to help him out right at the moment.

Rafe was answered with silence and pulled his phone back to look at the display. “Shit!”

She’d hung up.

His eyes shot to the clock. It was nearly five. Rafe hurriedly rifled through one of the end

tables in the living room for a fresh notepad and sat down to write. Less than five minutes later
he was in the shower. At ten after five he took all of his notes, his phone and the recording and
left the house.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

A folded note was taped to his door and dangling in the light breeze when Jeremy walked

outside on his way to work. His name was scrawled on top and he didn’t have to pick it up and
read it to know whom it was from. He debated leaving it for a minute, but knew he’d patrol all
day long like a lovesick cow with the note in the back of his mind.

Tugging it free of the door, he headed to his car and flipped on the dome light as he unfolded

the sheet of paper. Rafe’s handwriting was crisp and strong, slanting to the right because he was
a lefty. Jeremy was instantly irritated with himself for getting sentimental and tried to shake off
the feeling.

He couldn’t let Rafe affect him like this. Last night he’d nearly collapsed in Rafe’s arms,

managing to hold himself off long enough so his head cleared. It was like being under the
influence of laughing gas. Rafe got that close and he just wanted to chuckle and curl up with him
—forget everything that happened. He couldn’t do that to himself, though. Right now he needed
time to think about whether something with Rafe was really right for him—if he should be with
anyone while he figured out who he was.

With a ragged breath, he began to read:

Jeremy, I would be here to wish you good morning and see you before you head off for work,

even though that’s the last thing you probably want. With everything that happened yesterday—
in other words, after all the shit I pulled—I didn’t get to tell you that I heard from Yesenia early
yesterday morning. She says she’s in a safe place for now, but wouldn’t let me come for her. She
finally admitted what she was enduring in that house and it’s as bad, if not worse, than I
thought.

I gave her one day before I told her I’d go to the police and she called again this morning.

I’ll be at the department to tell them what I know and go from there. She’s too scared to go to
the police herself. I’m hoping after everything’s done that she’ll come home.

Anyway, that’s why I’m not here. I love you and I’m not giving up on us. I’ll keep saying it

until you really hear me. ~Rafe

Jeremy read through the note one more time, more surprised at the contents than he thought

he’d be. He was glad the investigation seemed to be coming to a close, but he was incredibly
disturbed by hearing what Yesenia had been through. He had several memories of Hector from
when he was growing up, and now everything was tainted with this new knowledge. Every look
Yesenia’s way…every word spoken. Disgusting. What a filthy bastard.

After the dead end Rafe thought he’d reached the other night, the situation seemed to be

falling together almost too easily. Why would she call him? How’d she find out he was the
detective unless she was in touch with one of the people that Rafe had already interviewed? And
even though Rafe had talked to him a little about whom he’d spoken too, he wasn’t for sure
about all of them. It could be anyone he questioned.

He started his car and found himself hoping he’d run into Rafe to ask him if he’d considered

that at all. He was a good detective and Jeremy was sure he didn’t miss things, but this was
coming together fast and with all of the stuff going on in his personal life, he might have

overlooked it in his haste to take care of Yesenia. Jeremy could always call…

He immediately negated the thought. Rafe was on top of things. No need to worry.
And no need for him to be looking for an excuse to obliterate the rest of his crumbling

resolve. One sweet note and a visit shouldn’t make him forget he had a lot of shit to figure out
before he jumped into bed with someone.

***

Rafe had to wait more than half an hour to talk to one of the detectives assigned to Yesenia’s

case. Sam Pierce was a straightforward, no-nonsense kind of guy and Rafe liked him
immediately. He rushed out of his morning meeting, attempting unsuccessfully to wipe a coffee
splatter off of his tie, to greet Rafe and his crooked smile was authentic.

“You must be Detective Bridges,” he said in a gravelly voice that surprised Rafe. Add a

couple of guitars, a sax player, and some drums and the guy could probably do a slamming
Springsteen impression.

They took over a small interview room and Rafe laid out all of the information he had:

interview transcripts, timelines, and the recording he’d made less than two hours ago. Pierce
looked through all of it and listened to the recording with an expression that grew grimmer the
more he learned. The police hadn’t spoken to Grace, and Angel had made it difficult for them to
get much out of him, so a lot of the things he’d learned from interviewing them was new to the
department. They’d also interviewed the Aragons at the same time—Carlos actually made an
appearance for that one.

Pierce was of the same mind as Rafe on detaining Hector Aragon. He brought in a few more

people to discuss whether the recording and interview transcripts he’d collected would serve as
probable cause to arrest Hector so they could get right to it while the warrant was issued. The
general consensus was to go for it. Every cop who heard about what Yesenia had said in her first
phone call couldn’t wait to drag Hector back to the station.

One young detective took the number that Yesenia had given Rafe and left the interview

room. He came back after a few minutes, shaking his head.

“Nothing. Just a computerized answering machine. I’ll run the number and find out who it

belongs to.”

Rafe and Detective Pierce decided that the best route to keep tempers in check was for both

of them to go together to the Aragon house and confront Hector with the charges. Rafe would go
because Hector seemed to trust him more than the police officers, and Pierce could slap the cuffs
on him—not that a fancy citizen’s arrest wasn’t a temporary, belt-banging balls fantasy every
guy entertained at some point in his life, including Rafe. This time, he just wanted Hector out of
that house and Yesenia in the company of people who could help her.

He and Pierce drove to the Aragon’s in Rafe’s truck and even with his mind in the game,

Rafe couldn’t help tossing a glance at Jeremy’s dad’s place. Something inside him hurt as he
involuntarily wished the man knew how much he cared about his son. He wanted everyone to
know, but he was having trouble convincing Jeremy of the fact so…yeah, best not think about
that right now.

When they parked in the driveway, the dog was already going nuts and it sent shivers down

Rafe’s spine. God, he hated dogs. Even nice dogs. The Aragon’s German shepherd was doing a
real mouth frothing growl bark thing like he was pissed. It was a little much for two guys who
were barely out of truck’s cab.

He and Pierce exchanged a glance and pushed through the gate and up the walk. The door

was closed and they quickly realized the barking was coming from one of the other rooms in the
house. Rafe really didn’t want to run into that dog. He’d smell his fear and go for his leg…or his
neck—some place tender.

“Weird,” Pierce muttered, lifting a hand to knock. He didn’t hold back either; it was going to

take a lot to be heard over the dog.

Rafe remembered the way Jeremy tried the doorknob at the house with the Rottweiler and

before he could talk himself out of it, he gave it a twist. The barking was abruptly louder as the
door slid open a few inches. Pierce eased his head in and called out to the Aragon’s but Rafe
didn’t hear them answer.

One second later, Pierce was looking at him with wide eyes. “Something’s up inside,” he

whispered. “I can see them sitting on the couch, but they’re not looking at me. There’s someone
in the room with them.”

Rafe had a gun. Locked up in a safe at home. You know, where it was inconvenient and

useless. He cursed. Pierce moved his jacket to the side and let his hand creep close to his
shoulder holster.

“Stick close,” he said over his shoulder.
Rafe entered behind him and did exactly as he was told, wishing he had more to offer with

their current situation besides great charisma. He caught a glimpse of the Aragons over Pierce’s
shoulder and he was right, they weren’t moving or talking. Angelina looked terrified. The only
sound was the dog barking maniacally and now that they were inside the house it was clear that
he was locked in a bedroom. Thank goodness.

They’d reached the edge of the living room along the front entry hallway and Pierce was

doing the thing where he kept his back to the wall while he took a peek. His nose had barely
cleared the frame when a voice rang out.

“I can see you. Don’t move!”
Pierce froze and his eyes shot to Rafe’s in shock. Rafe mouthed, “It’s Yesenia!” not

believing it himself. She’d totally snowed him.

“Yesenia,” Pierce called out over the dog. “I’m Detective Pierce from the police department.

I’m here to talk to you about what’s been going on.” And if they were lucky, he might do a
rendition of Born in the U.S.A, Rafe thought. “Rafe Bridges is with me,” Pierce continued. “He
told me about your talk and we want to help you.”

“No!” Yesenia snapped. “I’m taking care of this. I’ve had enough. I don’t need you or the

other one to help me.”

“Yesenia, please,” Rafe said. “We’re going to come into the living room. That’s all. Do you

understand?”

“Don’t come any further!”
Rafe and Pierce both reached out their hands so she could see they were empty around the

corner. With the dog still freaking out, neither of them heard the handgun chambering a round.

“I told you not to move,” she shouted frantically.
Pierce edged around the doorway and Rafe was about to follow when almost simultaneously

with the gunshot, Pierce’s head snapped back and blood splattered against the walls and Rafe’s
face. As the detective’s body slumped backward, Rafe automatically grabbed him by the shirt
and tugged him closer.

Thank god Yesenia was a lousy aim, because obviously going for a killing shot, she’d only

grazed the right side of his head from just above his eyebrow all the way along the side. It was

bleeding out fast and where Pierce’s head was resting on Rafe’s thigh, the blood had already
soaked into his jeans.

Rafe tore at the buttons of his shirt and used the long sleeves to tie it around the wound. The

blood on his hand was slippery so he wasn’t sure it was tight enough, but before he could check
on the strength of Pierce’s pulse, or drag him back to the front door, Yesenia was in front him,
her face tear streaked and angry.

“I warned him not to come any farther!”
Rafe wanted to holler back that it didn’t excuse her, but with a gun shaking less than two feet

from his face, he held his tongue. If he could convince her to at least get Pierce out of the house,
his chances of making it didn’t seem bad. Rafe was afraid that mentioning the man was alive
might get him another bullet wound. If Yesenia was shooting, she was past caring, which was
bad news for all of them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rafe saw Hector shifting while Yesenia’s back was turned, like

he was going to tackle her. Rafe shook his head tightly once, but it was still enough to clue
Yesenia in. She swiveled, putting both her parents in the living room and Rafe in the hallway in
sight.

“Get in the living room,” she screeched, her voice so shrill that Rafe had no doubt this was

going to end very badly. When did situations involving teens with guns ever end well? With a
last look at Pierce, who was still unconscious, he moved into the living room with his hands up
and parked it in the same chair he’d sat in during his first visit.

Angelina was shaking and rocking on the couch across from him, big tears winding down her

cheeks. Her hands were bunched up in front of her mouth like she would swallow them before
she made a noise. Rafe figured that might be a good plan.

Hector had that shell-shocked look on his face again. Gone was the determination of a

moment ago while his daughter’s back was turned. He looked hollow and sick and even though
Rafe totally disapproved of Yesenia’s methods, he couldn’t help thinking that Hector should look
empty.

Yesenia edged into the doorway and lowered the gun slightly. Her arms had to be getting

tired. She was mimicking the way cops held their guns on TV shows and she must not have
realized that holding that position for too long got the shoulders burning.

“There are other ways to do this, Yesenia,” Rafe said in a soothing voice. “Put down the gun

and let’s talk about this.”

The look she gave him was all anger, resentment, and fight. “I am tired of doing what other

people say. You said he deserves to take responsibility for what he’s done to me for years. And
mom knew something was wrong and she ignored it because she’s always too scared to speak up
or protect anyone but herself. I’m showing them what they’ve done to me.”

“Yesenia, please hear me out,” Rafe said, blood covered hands up in front of his chest as he

pleaded with her. “You’ve already shot and badly injured a police officer—if he’s not dead yet.
Do you know the charges they’ll bring you up on? Not to mention the charges for wielding a gun
in your family’s home and putting them in danger.”

She was having none of his conversation and lifted the gun up again. “Shut up. Stop talking

now!” she hissed, her eyes wild. The dog was going nuts after the gunshot and Rafe was afraid
that all the noise and distraction would make her crack sooner. He snapped his lips shut.

Yesenia turned slowly to her dad, vengeance showing through the tears and makeup, right

about the time each of them heard a chorus of police sirens. The gun flew to Rafe’s face again
and his hands went up right along with it.

“You called them!” she shouted in disbelief.
Rafe shook his head. “We were alone. We didn’t make any calls. A neighbor must’ve heard

the gun go off.”

Angelina muffled another sob before Yesenia would notice.
The blinds in the living room were closed, but the front door was unlocked and probably still

cracked open. Yesenia, thinking the same thing, peeked down the hallway and ordered him to go
close and lock the door. He tried to figure out if there were a way he could drag Pierce to the
door, but knew he’d only get shot in the back for his efforts.

He stepped over the cop’s still unconscious form and moved quickly to close and lock the

door. He was thinking, thinking, thinking. And coming up totally blank. Turning to the living
room again, he eased his way back to his seat, remembering the gun in Pierce’s shoulder holster
and trying to figure out how he could get it. His ideas were becoming more and more fantastical,
and even though he was sure he could take Yesenia in a little hand-to-hand tussle, there were too
many variables for him to control.

Even for being one teenager against a slew of professionals outside, she was unpredictable,

driven by anger and shame. They were likely surrounding the house—he was sure they’d seen
him shutting the door—and their training would win in the end as long as she didn’t lose it and
kill all of them. Fingers crossed.

The thought brought Jeremy to mind and his chest ached.
Pierce had a wedding ring on… He had a family. Rafe had to get him to some help.
“They’re going to try to get in here,” Yesenia mumbled, running a trembling hand through

unkempt hair.

“Or they’ll ask you to let us go,” he supplied.
The words heightened that crazy look in her eyes and Rafe cursed himself for speaking up.

Yesenia turned the gun on her father again and stepped closer to him. Hector’s eyes were round
and he lifted one hand in supplication.

“’Senia,” he croaked. “What are you doing? I-I love you.”
She let out a hysterical sob, getting even closer to his face with that gun. “It’s my turn not to

let you go,” she shrieked. “You or mom.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Jeremy never made it to the station where Rafe was meeting with the detectives assigned to

Yesenia’s case. The morning brief went long and he had to get patrolling for morning rush hour.
He was excited to do something that didn’t involve thinking about his weekend, or the man who
lately consumed his thoughts. This morning was all about rush hour fender benders and traffic
violations. He was totally comfortable with that.

There was a disabled vehicle slowing down traffic on I-40 and he stuck around to make sure

the tow-truck arrived, then managed to nab a motorcyclist who was changing lanes like the
freeway was his own obstacle course. Jeremy’s BMW caught up with him easily and when he
pulled alongside in the next lane over, he smiled and pointed to the side of the road. Gig’s up,
asshole. Evil Knievel didn’t like that too much.

Jeremy had just pulled into the parking lot of a mini-mart so he could grab a bottle of water,

when his headset crackled out a call for all available units. There was a report of shots fired with
possible injuries to a police officer and civilians. Easing back down in his seat, he waited for the
address and when it rang out over his radio, his blood ran cold.

The Aragon’s address. Rafe!
He started his bike with a roar and pulled into traffic with his lights on and siren blaring. It

took seconds to call in that he was responding, but he was still a good distance from the
Aragon’s house. There was no guarantee that Rafe was there, but if Hector was being confronted
about what he’d done to Yesenia, it seemed likely. The thought made his drive drag on endlessly,
no matter that he was racing through lights and driving well above the speed limit.

As he turned onto the familiar street, he prayed Rafe was somewhere safe—at a station

somewhere talking to detectives, or at home—anywhere but at the Aragon’s. His hopes were
dashed as he drove up and parked amongst the cruisers already on scene. There in the Aragon’s
driveway was Rafe’s truck.

“No,” Jeremy said, his breath leaving him in a gust. For a moment he couldn’t focus on

anything. His eyes roamed up and down the street, lighting on his dad’s house and blankly
registering the worried wave he received from his old man standing on the porch and watching
the drama unfold.

He had to find out if Rafe was inside. He didn’t have enough information. God, the last thing

he’d said to him… What if he didn’t have the chance to talk to him again? What if he was hurt?
Shot? Jeremy’s stomach heaved and he bent over, bracing his hands on his knees until the fresh
air he was gulping could take effect.

Jeremy yanked off his helmet and strode to one of the nearest officers who wasn’t on the

front line of those surrounding the house. He didn’t know him.

“Any news since the dispatch?” he asked breathlessly.
The cop shook his head. “I heard that they’re getting ready to call and see what’s going on

inside before they pull out a bull horn. Someone inside closed the front door, but we couldn’t
make out who it was. There’s a lot of information coming from a lot of different people right
now and they’re trying to organize it.”

Pretending he was calm and under control was nearly impossible for Jeremy. Nothing being

said put him at ease. On the contrary, each word made the panic in his chest vibrate upward until

he felt it in his throat. He wanted to cry out from the pressure.

“Was it a neighbor who called in that shots were fired?” He swallowed past the lump in his

throat.

The other cop shrugged. “A few of those definitely came in, but the first call was supposedly

from the son of the guy that owns the house.”

“Carlos Aragon?” Jeremy asked in disbelief. “Is he inside?”
“No, he knew something was going to happen, so he called it in.”
Jeremy stared, completely dumbfounded. Why would Carlos call in knowing something was

going to happen? Was Carlos the one inside with the gun?

Approaching the main group of officers congregating behind a canine unit’s SUV, Jeremy

stuck around the fringes trying to listen to what was going on, his eyes never leaving the house.
They would probably make the area the command post and assign jobs from there.

“From the information we have right now,” a bulky Sergeant spoke up loud enough to be

heard by those around him, “one of our detectives from the MPU is inside. He was accompanied
by a P.I. the family hired to look for their daughter. There are differing reports about the number
of shots fired and we don’t yet know if anyone is injured. We’ll be calling first to see if someone
inside will talk to us and give us a better idea of what’s happening. We got a call from the son as
well and they dispatched the information that he has reason to believe the daughter is here with
her parents. That gives us at least five people inside.”

Jeremy’s head was spinning and he was pretty sure he was going to be sick. This wasn’t

making sense. The only reason Carlos would know what was going on with Yesenia was if he’d
had contact— Holy shit! That was exactly it. The whole time she’d been with Carlos! She knew
about Rafe because her brother met with him. She knew the cops were coming to talk to her
parents because she’d called Rafe and he told her.

Yesenia played him. What had Rafe’s note said? She was in a safe place, too scared to go to

the cops alone, and that she’d told him the truth about what she’d been through. It’d be
embarrassingly easy for her to use the twenty-four hours Rafe had given her to plan out what she
was going to do with her family, then while Rafe was at the police station breaking down the
story, she could go to her home and take out her pain on those she thought deserved it.

Jeremy’s attention drifted slowly back to the officer speaking who was announcing that

Detective Reese from the MPU would be on the scene shortly to fill them in on details that
brought one of their guys to the house that morning.Meanwhile, a group of officers would
surround the house and try to get a peek at what was going on inside in the event SWAT was
called in to take over.

The remaining officers moved back to either manage crowd control, or get curious neighbors

back inside their homes where they’d be safer. Jeremy didn’t have all the right gear to do much
more than standby as backup. He could only stand frozen to the ground, his heart beating like a
hummingbird in his chest as puzzle pieces began to come together. He could offer the little he
knew, but it was still information gleaned through a very personal relationship. This Detective
Reese probably knew more than Jeremy did.

He stood like a stone waiting for the Detective, who when he finally showed up, laid

everything on the line. Hector had an arrest warrant listing charges that made every officer on the
scene cringe. Rafe was mentioned and Jeremy’s jaw clenched at the sound of his name, his fists
balling up at his sides. Involuntarily, his eyes shot to his dad’s house. His father was still on the
porch staring straight at him with concern. He found himself wanting to go to him, but he had to
hear the rest first.

The only new information was that Yesenia provided a number to Rafe that he shared with

the cops, and that they traced it to Carlos Aragon. Before the dispatch call that Jeremy responded
to, Carlos had phoned in explaining he’d discovered a note left by his sister confessing their
father’s actions and that she was going to confront him before the cops got to him. The worst bit
to Jeremy was that before Carlos called the police, he’d checked his apartment for the gun he
owned and it was missing.

Jeremy staggered some distance away and stared absently at the barriers being erected to

close the street and keep onlookers back. It was smart. Go in expecting the worst. But the
“worst” thing to everyone else there was different than the worst thing Jeremy could expect.

He could lose Rafe. He may have already lost him.
Jeremy turned back to the command post and strode forward, needing to be a part of

everything so he could know if Rafe was okay. Halfway there, a shrill scream from the Aragon’s
home rent the air and the cops moved immediately into action.

***

Hector was terrified. His daughter was waving a gun around in front of his face like it was a

toy, and there was nothing that Rafe could do about it. If he made a sudden movement, like
lunging for Pierce’s gun, she’d turn on him in a panic.

“Yesenia,” he murmured in his most soothing tone. “Let me help the detective. You don’t

lose anything by letting him go, or letting me check on him.”

She shook her head, distracted from her father for the moment. “What are you going to do

with him? Roll him out on the porch? They’ll break in.”

Rafe stood slowly, his hands held straight out so she’d see he wasn’t trying anything. “I’m

betting that the phone is going to ring soon and someone from the police department is going to
want to talk to you. If you tell them you’re letting the detective go, they’ll get him out of here
and get him some help. Believe me, you don’t want his death on your conscience.”

“No,” she snapped. “You want to help him so bad, do it. No one’s leaving. You think I don’t

know what kind of trouble I’m in? It’s too late to go back.”

Rafe cursed inwardly and made his way to Pierce’s side. Yesenia kept her eyes on him the

entire time, her weapon raised threateningly. He was leaning over Pierce’s head to check the
wound when a shrill scream sounded behind him, scaring the hell out of him. He turned around
in time to see Yesenia pushing her mother back into her seat and smacking her once across the
face.

Angelina had finally lost control. She was staring blankly into space, shocked dumb from her

daughter’s slap.

Terrific, he thought. Hector was trying to make up for years of abuse with a mumbled “I love

you” and Angelina was screaming like a chick from a horror movie. It looked like he was alone
on the sane train. While Yesenia was distracted, he rifled quickly through the detective’s clothes
and transferred the handgun to his pants, tugging his t-shirt over the waistband to hide it.

Pierce’s pulse was weak, and he’d lost a lot of blood, but the bleeding seemed to be slowing.

There was no chance Yesenia would let him do anything beside poke at him and see if he would
come around, so he tried it, patting at Pierce’s face and whispering his name. It was no good
though; the detective was still out cold—probably the best thing for him.

Rafe was praying that the cops would dispense with the negotiations and just kick down the

doors. He didn’t care if he got hurt in the process. Yesenia was acting more out of control than

before and it was only a matter of time before she gave up completely and took them all out.
There was only so much more gun waving, sobbing, and shrieking he could take before he took
drastic measures himself. At least he had a weapon now, but he didn’t want to draw on her and
turn the situation into a standoff. With her aim, who knows what she’d shoot off.

Rafe was still crouched by Pierce’s side, casting quick looks over his shoulder to monitor

Yesenia who was pacing in front of her parents, her gun hand trembling wildly, when the phone
in the hall rang. She pivoted toward him like he was the cause of the noise and he automatically
lifted his hands.

The ringing was loud in his ear and he realized the dog had shut up at some point. Yesenia

stared first at him, and then at the phone, then back at him. He didn’t know how many times it
had warbled beside him before he said, “That’s probably someone from the police department,
like I said. If you don’t pick up, they’ll keep trying or start using a bull horn to communicate.”

“What do they want to know? Who’s dead?” Her tough girl act seemed to be wavering.
He carefully lowered his hands back to his knees. “They’ll want to know who’s inside and if

anyone is hurt. They know that a police officer is here and since they haven’t heard from him,
they’re less likely to be patient with you after shots have been fired. You should talk to them.”

“You don’t think they’ll find it interesting that my father molested me for years, forcing me

to sleep with him and keep it a secret? Or that he wouldn’t allow me to be with anyone else
because he wanted me for himself? You don’t think they’ll understand that my mom stood by
and let it happen, pretending she wasn’t just as sick as her husband by living in denial?” The
tears were coursing down Yesenia’s cheeks again and her nose was running. “How come I’m the
one in trouble? Why am I the one who has to make sure he’s never allowed to touch me again?”

Her voice had risen to a barely understandable sob again, but Rafe got the gist of what she

was saying. Hector was practically turning purple in his chair, his hands clenched against the
armrests. Funny, he still felt no sympathy for the man. Secret’s out, asshole. Too bad Yesenia
was walking the knife-edge of sanity.

“Yesenia,” Rafe said as placatingly as he could, “there are better options than what you’re

doing right now. There are professionals who can help you deal with what you’ve been through.
That’s why I wanted to pick you up this morning and take you into the station. But you took
matters into your own hands and you’ve put a police officer in serious danger. They’re not going
to look kindly on that out there,” he said, pointing over his shoulder. “Your best bet is to put
down that gun, talk to the police, get Detective Pierce some help, and surrender yourself.”

Suddenly Yesenia was in front of him, her gun inches from his nose. He leaned back, but he

swore he could feel the heat coming off the barrel. It was a Colt. A Colt she apparently wanted to
burrow into his nasal cavity.

“And all my daddy gets is a set of handcuffs and some questioning? It’s not fair!” The

ringing in the background stopped.

“Please lower that gun and listen to me, Yesenia,” Rafe pleaded, his voice deadly calm. If he

played it right, he could end this sooner by swiping the weapon out of his face and taking her to
the floor, but like any untrained idiot carrying a gun, she had her finger wrapped around the
trigger, ready to accessorize him with some lead. “Your father is already being charged for what
he’s done. We came, just like I told you we would, to put him under arrest.”

A mortified growl from Hector had Yesenia backing away from Rafe and putting her dad in

the hot seat once more. God, he had to end this.

The phone started ringing again and behind Yesenia, Rafe saw a blur of dark uniform moving

past the windows. The shades were drawn, but he could still make out the figures in the tiny

space that remained visible. His heart started beating faster. Maybe he’d get his wish after all.

“Answer the phone,” Yesenia said coldly, her voice different than any other time she’d

spoken. “Tell them about the cop and tell them I’ll do the same to dad.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Too many officers had congregated around the Sergeant on the phone and he had to wave

everyone back out of the way. Jeremy wanted to push through the group and yank the phone
from his hand on the off chance it was Rafe. Instead, he was forced away like everyone else and
had to pretend his world wasn’t falling apart around him.

A group of officers had surrounded the house, but the blinds were closed and the doors

locked. If they decided to go in, which he wanted more than anything, they’d probably end up
using S.W.A.T. to do it. They’d throw flash bangs or smoke the house and neutralize the threat
before Jeremy could even begin to hope that Rafe would walk out of there on his own.

The Sergeant on the phone shook his head that no one was answering and Jeremy cursed,

running his hands through his hair. Looking around for some sort of relief, he spotted his father
again and without hesitation, he moved his direction. They met at the end of the driveway and
Jeremy waved off an officer who was obviously pissed that his dad wouldn’t do as he was told
and go back in the house where it was safer.

“I’ll talk to him,” he mumbled, only half aware of what he was saying.
Peter Halliday didn’t waste time on questions about what was going on; he jumped right to

the point. “Are you alright?”

Jeremy stared at his dad for a long time until he couldn’t hide the trembling of his lips or the

way his eyes were stinging. He shook his head almost frantically and covered his mouth with a
shaking hand. No, no, no was all he could think.

“Is it because you know them? I’ve never seen you like this. I didn’t think you were that

close to the situation. You and Carlos have hardly spoken in months.” His dad patted him on the
shoulder a few times, trying his best to understand why Jeremy was so stricken.

“It’s not them,” Jeremy choked, his breath hitching. He saw Rafe’s face the way he’d looked

the night before, begging him to give their relationship another try. He could almost feel the
pressure of Rafe’s hand against his chest and his body heat as he’d closed the distance between
them. Then he remembered the way he’d turned Rafe away and couldn’t keep from groaning.

“What is it then? Did something else happen at work?” His father’s voice was all confusion.

There was no way he was going to understand.

“It’s Rafe,” he rasped. “Rafe’s inside.”
“That’s his truck in the driveway?” his dad asked incredulously. “I didn’t remember. I

thought you barely knew him.”

Jeremy crossed his arms over his chest, holding himself together. “He’s important, dad.”
Peter looked at Jeremy with a blank expression and was working his lips to try and frame his

next words. “I-I guess working together on this has brought you closer, then?”

Jeremy turned away, staring at the controlled chaos in front of the Aragon’s house and

prayed that someone had managed to get a hold of Rafe inside. Or anybody for that matter. His
dad wasn’t going to get this and Jeremy was probably choosing the worst possible moment to
confess his feelings for Rafe, but with the panic edging out all other conscious thought, he didn’t
care how his dad took it. He wanted someone out of all the people there to know that his interest
was more than casual. He wanted someone to know that he loved Rafe and if he got the chance,
he was going to have him in his life one hundred percent—no matter how it might screw things

up.

“I love him, dad. He doesn’t know it, and I need to see him again to tell him.” Jeremy saw

the way his dad stiffened from the corner of his eye. He still didn’t care.

His dad was stunned speechless. He shifted back and forth for a beat, then gestured toward

the house, about to speak and changing his mind.

What seemed like several minutes later, he coughed and moved around where he could see

into Jeremy’s face. “You…love him. As in love love?”

Jeremy looked up the few inches to meet his father’s gaze and sucked in a troubled breath.

“Yes. He’s…”

His dad waved his hands in front of himself. “Wait, wait, wait. No. I don’t believe this.

You’re telling me that you’re upset because the man you love is inside that house? No.”

Jeremy pushed around his dad and headed back to the congregation of cars built up in the

street. “Believe it, dad. I love him.”

“Wait a second!” Peter called after him.
He shook his head and kept walking. Another bunch of officers had converged around the

Sergeant on the phone and Jeremy didn’t know how he knew, but Rafe was on that line.

***

At Yesenia’s words, Rafe felt his heart shrink inside his chest. Even as his hand hovered over

the cradled phone, he prayed she was talking a big game. Hector was apparently doing the same
thing. His eyes were wide with frightened disbelief as his mouth choked on some sort of
response to what his daughter had said. Angelina was still a huddled mess, sobbing quietly into
the arm of the couch and doing her best to ignore that her family was falling down around her
ears.

Yesenia snarled, “Well? Aren’t you going to answer that?”
Rafe shook himself and picked up the phone, sucking in a deep breath and trying to figure

out how to give more information to the police than Yesenia would want known.

“This is Detective Rafe Bridges,” he said immediately. “There are five people inside,

including one suffering from a gunshot wound to the head—Detective Pierce. He’s still
unconscious and he’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Roger that. I’m Sergeant Driscoll from APD. Are there any other injuries?”
“No.” Rafe knew he had to be concise with his answers not only so the officers outside could

work faster, but also because Yesenia was eyeing him with gun in hand and he didn’t want to be
blown to bits by being too gabby.

“Can you tell us who is armed? Any more details?”
Rafe looked at Yesenia again and was sickened by the decision he saw in her eyes. Being as

delicate as he could, he answered, “Their daughter, Yesenia, has told me to inform you that a
police officer is down and that her father is next.”

“Is Detective Pierce armed? Are you armed?”
Rafe shook his head. “Pierce is not armed.” Yesenia’s brow furrowed as she realized this was

something she should have checked. She looked the officer up and down and then Rafe, probably
thinking there wasn’t much he could hide on him with his shirt off and being used as a bandage.
And he could’ve shot her by now, right? He hoped she stuck with whatever train of thought
made him seem innocent.

“Are you armed?” the Sergeant repeated.

“Yes—” The word was barely out of Rafe’s mouth before Yesenia advanced on him, gun

hand shaking ominously.

“I want to know what questions you’re answering!” she cried. “I’m not stupid.”
Sergeant Driscoll heard her shrill words and though she couldn’t hear him, he eased off.

“Can you ask her if she will speak to us?”

Rafe kept the handset to his ear so that they could hear everything he said. He knew what

Yesenia’s answer would be, but he could maybe get more information across to them by forming
what was going on in questions to her.

“They want to know if you’d be willing to talk to them and sort this out another way. They

know about the situation with your father and he’ll face the legal consequences for what he’s
done, but they’re hoping you’ll let the three of us go and let them help Detective Pierce. If you
talk to them now, you could make things a lot easier on yourself. You don’t want them barging
in here, right?”

Rafe could hear a bustle in the background on the phone and he schooled his features so

Yesenia wouldn’t notice. There was another quick flash of a body running past a window and
Rafe thanked god she had her back turned.

“I’m not talking to anybody!” Her voice shook, her gun rattling right along with it. “Dad

would go to jail and get out someday. How do I know he wouldn’t find me and hurt me for
turning him in—or force me to do what he’s always forced me to do? Sure, he faces legal
consequences, but does he face any moral consequences without me doing what I’m going to
do?”

Rafe started to answer, but Yesenia was far from done, really getting into the groove now

that the dam was breaking.

“Do you know what he would say to me? ‘Don’t tell anyone, ‘Senia. This is our secret. Our

secret that no one else can know about. It’s special and people won’t understand.’ That’s what
this sick, twisted bastard told me for years, guilting and controlling me so I never felt safe. So
that I could never tell. And mom! She knew there was something wrong and she pretended. Even
when I cried and cried and tried to tell her what he was doing, she would run away so she didn’t
have to hear.” Yesenia was shrieking again, the tears back and streaming down her cheeks in
eyeliner-stained streaks.

“There is nothing that the cops can do that will fix this. Fix me! Nothing. He is going to pay

for this my way.”

Driscoll cursed on the other end of the line and his words became muffled as he called out

instructions, then Rafe heard, “We’re calling in SWAT. Do you think you can keep her steady
for a few minutes?”

Rafe blanched. She was incredibly unstable. A few minutes could last an eternity with the

state she was in.

“Yesenia, okay. Okay,” Rafe soothed, still pressing the phone to his ear. “I hear what you’re

saying. I understand that you’re hurting and no one blames you for that, but you don’t have to
take care of things this way. If you talk to the officers and let us go, you can move past what’s
happening. You’re a strong girl. You can come back from this and lead a happy life. You’d have
Angel and your cousin, Grace. So many people are available to help you. You don’t have to do
this.”

“Good,” Driscoll said into his ear. “Keep it up. SWAT’s coming regardless and the place is

surrounded.”

Yesenia was crying in earnest now, the gun still leveled on him and her parents looking on

helplessly from their seats on the couch. No one was moving.

“More than six years,” she whimpered. “He did things to me for more than six years and

going to prison isn’t payment enough. He’s foul. He has no soul to do those things to me.”

Rafe wished he had some fount of wisdom to draw some soothing words for Yesenia, but in

the face of such raw pain—the source of which he could only sympathize with—he was lost. She
was close to giving in. She was scared.

“I know it hurts,” he said, “but there’s help—”
Hector cleared his throat, interrupting Rafe’s last-ditch effort, and as he began to speak, Rafe

cringed in dawning horror and saw his look mirrored on Angelina’s face as well.

“Yesenia, baby? Why do you tell these lies?”
The blood left Yesenia’s face and her sobs choked to a stop in her throat. Slowly, eyes

glinting hard like flint, she turned to Hector. “What did you just say to me?”

***

Jeremy watched the SWAT van roll up and by then it was getting too crowded for him to get

close. He recognized a few cops from the softball team in the vicinity, but no one he knew was
close enough to the action to provide an update. He had to try picking up tidbits from people
passing information around, which he knew he couldn’t count on because only one guy was on
that phone with someone in the house and even now, he was pointing and directing people like
he was hearing some serious shit over that phone line.

He paced near the back of the crowd, keeping out of the line of sight of any news vans that

were pulling up practically on top of the police barriers. If they got a shot of him freaking out,
he’d hear about it. He had enough sense about him to keep the turmoil he felt a little less obvious
now.

There was nothing he could do, but he wanted to run across the tiny front yard and kick open

that fucking door. He didn’t care if Yesenia was a young kid who was scared, if she had a gun
trained on Rafe, he’d take her down himself. Then he’d knock Hector flat for being the cause of
all this bullshit in the first place.

The team leader for the SWAT guys was talking fast, probably already updated via radio on

his way over. It took only a few moments before he and his guys were moving off in formation
and sending the cops who’d surrounded the place first back outside the perimeter. He heard one
returning guy say that the house was locked up tight—all the blinds down, windows shut tight,
and doors locked, though all of them could easily hear the yelling. The longer Jeremy had to
watch the more he wanted to grab someone and shake them—anything to get someone moving
and get Rafe out of there.

God, what if he didn’t get the chance to speak to him again?

***

Rafe watched the fragile hope he’d built crumble as Yesenia forgot about what he’d said and

turned back to her father. Hector was staring up at her with a disapproving glare, the lost lamb
look he’d been sporting tucked away for next time, and Rafe really wanted to throw something
heavy at him. Or shoot him.

SWAT was supposed to be on the way, but he didn’t know their plan. The cops on the other

end of the line were trying to listen to what was happening to him inside and coordinate their

efforts outside, so there wasn’t a whole lot of chatting going on. Plus, if he started gabbing,
Yesenia would turn on him so quickly that he didn’t want to think about it.

That left him only one option as far as he could see. Rafe was positive that Yesenia would

take her father out if he didn’t step in, and she was going to do it before the folks in black came
charging through doors and crashing through windows. Sweet. Hand-to-hand combat with a
teenager. In front of her parents. He was probably going to get killed.

For a split second he thought about whispering a message to Jeremy through the phone to the

Sergeant on the other end, but nixed it. There was no time. Yesenia was going over the edge
now.

Hector was slowly pushing to his feet, his hands out in front of himself as he looked Yesenia

up and down. His tone was honeyed, meant to soothe, but it was having the opposite effect on his
daughter.

“‘Senia, you know how much I love you. I would never hurt you. I don’t understand why you

are telling these lies. You didn’t have to leave home,” he insisted as he edged one leg around the
coffee table. “We could have worked out our problems without dragging anyone else into them.”

“The only problem we had in this house was you!” Yesenia hollered, her body trembling.
Rafe saw his chance and knew he had to go for it. Reaching beneath his shirt, he prayed

Hector could keep her distracted long enough for him to get the gun from Yesenia’s hands, but
not long enough that she had an opportunity to shoot anyone first.

His hand wrapped around the grip of Detective Pierce’s pistol, but he didn’t remove it from

his waistband. Without even taking a breath, he leapt forward over Pierce’s body, dropping the
phone behind him just as Hector caught on to what he was doing. His eyes shot downward to
Rafe’s hand around the butt of the gun and in a move that shocked everyone, he lunged forward
and pushed Yesenia out of the way, his body slamming hard against Rafe and pushing him
backward towards the hallway.

It was a hard hit and Hector’s elbow made solid contact with his stomach, knocking the wind

out of him. There was a flurry of movement over Hector’s shoulder, but Rafe couldn’t see
anything. He was too busy being propelled away from Yesenia and watching his life flash before
his eyes.

One shot sounded and Hector’s body lurched against Rafe’s, suddenly a dead weight against

him as a spattering of blood blew from his mouth. Rafe’s footing gone, he fell backwards,
twisting over Pierce’s body as he tried to control their fall. It was too small of a space to correct
himself and the hall table connected with the back of his head with a solid crack that had him
seeing the world from above for a minute. As the edges of his vision blurred and faded to black,
he felt warmth oozing against his chest and heard a shriek that made his hairs stand on end.

A second shot sounded, but he was floating into darkness and found he couldn’t move to

help.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The first shot had barely rang out before SWAT swung into gear. Jeremy’s body jerked as

though a bullet was penetrating his own skin and he shrugged through groups of officers, his
hands clamped in his hair, and his lips moving frantically in whispered prayers. It was only a
matter of seconds before the second shot was fired and SWAT members were busting open
windows and throwing flash bangs and smoke grenades.

The group was split, half the team kicking through the back door and the other half breaking

through the front. Their response to the gunfire was all precision movements and teamwork, but
even seeing that with his own eyes didn’t stop the frantic beating of Jeremy’s heart.

Who had the shots been for? Was Rafe injured? Was he…gone?
Jeremy could only stare at the house, praying for Rafe to come stumbling out with the worst

of his damage being lung irritation from smoke inhalation.

Long moments passed and there was a lot of yelling around him as reports were passed. Still

nothing. Another minute went by and there was no movement.

The SWAT leader finally appeared in the front doorway and signaled for the paramedics.

Watching as no one else appeared but other guys from SWAT, Jeremy felt his heart sink into his
stomach as a cold sweat broke out over his body. An officer calling in an update said something
about two dead and he nearly grabbed him and screamed into his face for more details.

The house was still smoke-filled, so the guys from SWAT were supporting a body as it was

moved to the front porch of the house. Officers swarmed the area to keep the images from being
picked up by the nearby news crews. It wasn’t Rafe though. It was a big, meaty guy with some
type of makeshift bandage tied around his head.

After enduring several more minutes of tortured silence, Jeremy spotted Angelina being led

from the house with a blanket over her shoulders. She was coughing and sobbing, and even with
the large blanket hanging on her slight figure, it couldn’t cover the front of her blood-covered
robe.

Jeremy swallowed and fought back a wild groan. That was two people who’d exited that

weren’t Rafe: the guy on the front porch getting help and Angelina. That left at least Yesenia,
Hector, and Rafe.

When the coroner’s van rolled up to the police barriers and was waved through, Jeremy

couldn’t keep back the panic. The Sergeant in charge on scene was being inundated by calls and
questions, but Jeremy pushed his way to his side and grabbed a guy he vaguely recognized that
worked closely with the Sergeant.

The officer was cut off mid-sentence and glared down at the hand on his arm, like a look

alone would burn Jeremy.

“I need to know what happened in there,” he croaked, his eyes red and burning. “I need to

know about the Private Detective that was with the cop.”

The look on his face must have said some serious shit because the other officer’s look

softened. The nametag stenciled on his uniform said “Morgan.”

“You know the guy or something?”
“Please, just tell me if he’s alive.”
He shook his head and Jeremy staggered back. “Easy,” Morgan chided. “I don’t know yet.

The SWAT guys are letting us know. They got to the guy on the porch first. He’s the detective
for the department. Head wound and he’s lost a lot of blood. The woman we brought out isn’t
making much sense either; she’s too distraught.”

“If he’s fucking dead,” Jeremy swallowed, “tell me. Tell me right now.”
Morgan shrugged helplessly. “Like I said, I don’t know yet. I’m not getting all the status

updates. The best I can do is keep listening, which I can’t do when you’re pulling me away.”

“But the coroner—why would the coroner be here if someone isn’t dead?” Jeremy asked, his

voice wheezy with fear.

“I didn’t say no one died,” he murmured as he looked over his shoulder. “We don’t have

names yet.”

“Oh…god…”
Morgan’s brow furrowed in concern and he steadied Jeremy on his feet. “Listen, maybe you

should have a seat. I’ll try to find out and fill you in once I know something more, alright?”

Jeremy nodded numbly and stumbled to the curb where Morgan helped him ease to a seat.

His back was to the house and he curled over his knees and tried to concentrate only on his
breaths going in and out, shutting out the noises around him and the people talking. If he
watched the door and saw Rafe rolled out on a gurney, he’d lose it and this wasn’t the time or
place. Not everyone on the scene needed to know what was going on. It made everything seem
too real. Too final.

What felt like hours later to Jeremy, there came a tap on his shoulder and he looked up

shakily into Morgan’s concerned gaze. His expression didn’t give him any hope.

“Is he dead?”
Morgan sighed and gave him a comforting squeeze. “Yes. And the daughter.”
Jeremy had to grab the edge of the curb to keep himself from vomiting on the ground at his

feet. His lungs clenched and even though he was trying to maintain some sort of composure, he
couldn’t draw any air in. He wished he would go numb because the abrupt wash of pain and
emptiness was too difficult to bear.

Dead? What happened?
“What about…H-Hector—the father?” he managed to ask, revulsion growing within him at

the thought that of all the people to survive, Hector the child molester got the golden ticket.

Morgan cocked his head to the side, confused. “Hector Aragon is dead, like I said. So is the

daughter.”

Jeremy’s head snapped up and he shot to his feet, the blood rushing from his head so he

stumbled against Morgan. He clasped onto the cop to steady himself. “What about Rafe
Bridges? The Private Detective?”

Morgan was obviously surprised by this response, but he answered. “I didn’t catch the guy’s

name myself, but if it’s him, he’s being taken to a hospital. He’s injured, but I don’t know to
what extent.” He signaled in the direction of an ambulance that was already past the police
barriers and halfway down the street.

“Which hospital?” Jeremy tightened his grip, his expression fierce.
Morgan shook his head again. “Not sure. That’s all the information I’ve got.”
Jeremy let him loose and pushed his way back through the crowd, ignoring the curses as he

bumped into one person after another. All he could think of was the hope that Rafe was alive and
well. The misunderstanding with Morgan, though it only lasted a few seconds, had ripped out his
heart. He had to see Rafe with his own eyes to believe he was truly safe.

His motorcycle was exactly where he’d left it and he tugged on his helmet with scrambling

fingers. Jeremy wasn’t certain it was where Rafe had been taken, but University Hospital had the
closest emergency room. He flicked on his lights, nixing the siren, and weaved through the
barriers and the onlookers in the street.

The ambulance was well out of sight, and Jeremy rolled hard on the gas, flicking his sirens

on once he was out of the neighborhood. He took back roads that would avoid the major
thoroughfares and traffic, only pulling onto Lomas for the last leg.

He threw a couple blessings out into the air at the sight of the opened parking space for law

enforcement personnel and shut down the bike in record time. Jeremy figured he was about five
minutes behind the ambulance that dropped Rafe off—if they’d dropped him off at this particular
hospital. Presbyterian was also nearby.

Jeremy didn’t waste time going through the patient entrance and dealing with the waiting

room desk staff, choosing instead to high-tail it through the ambulance entrance. He dodged a
small Hispanic woman struggling to push a gurney down the hall and two doctors rushing here
and there before he got to the desk.

Two incredibly busy nurses were on phones and holding stacks of folders in their arms. One

of them smiled weakly and pointed a finger at him to wait. He was about ready to yank the phone
out of her hand and beg when his name was called.

He swung around and came face to face with Megan, Rafe’s good friend—and an emergency

room nurse. How had he forgotten about that?

Jeremy grabbed Megan the same way he’d grabbed the officer at the scene and pulled her

closer. “Is he here? Is Rafe here?”

“You don’t know—” she began, but Jeremy didn’t wait to hear her answer.
“Is he here? Is he okay?”
Her look was hesitant, but she replied, “Yes. He’s here.”
Jeremy collapsed back against the counter with relief and released her, dropping his head into

his hands briefly.

“Are you going to yell at him?” She was seriously frowning at him now and it was his turn to

hesitate.

“Why would I yell at him? I need to see him. I need to make sure he’s okay.” He was about

to go search Rafe out on his own if she didn’t point him in the right direction.

“Why do you need to know? You broke up with him.” Megan crossed her arms over her

chest and glared, obviously on guard duty.

“Megan, I swear to god that if you do not let me see him and tell him that I love him, so help

me, I will tear this hospital apart until I find him. Now’s not the time for some drawn out
explanation. I need to see him.”

They were practically nose-to-nose and Megan considered him until she saw something that

satisfied her. “He’s in the fourth room on the left. If the doctor is still in with him, you’ll have to
wait. Brian is on his way, too,” she offered. “Rafe can’t hear well right now, and he’s a little out
of it.” When he started to move away she held up a hand to stop him. “He’s got a concussion so
don’t rush him. He saw a lot today and he’s been mumbling about it.”

Jeremy couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t go into specifics, leaving him with all sorts of

ideas about how bad a state Rafe was in. The concern in her eyes was unmistakable and it had his
heart hammering again. He covered the distance to the room in long strides, even the nurses and
doctors jumping out of his way at the look on his face.

Jeremy paused at the doorway and peeked in, hoping Rafe was alone. It was a room with two

curtained-off partitions and only one curtain was closed. He didn’t hear any talking or see any

extra feet below the partition, so with trembling legs he made his way over to the hanging fabric
and after taking a deep breath, pulled the partition aside.

Rafe was lying back against the hospital bed, his head turned Jeremy’s direction, with his

eyes closed. The sight of him there, breathing and alive against the white sheets, had him gulping
in air as he stumbled to the bedside. He was halfway there when Rafe’s eyes flickered open, and
though they were red and irritated, be it from flash-bangs or smoke grenades, they recognized
him. When Rafe whispered his name, Jeremy felt a lump lodge in his throat.

Rafe lifted his hand and Jeremy sprang forward and grasped on tightly, their fingers twining.
“I thought… I didn’t know if—”
Rafe tightened his grip and pulled him closer. “You came,” he whispered hoarsely. Jeremy

could only nod back, completely overcome.

He stayed stooped over the bedside, his lips pressed against Rafe’s knuckles. Rafe’s free

hand came to rest on top of his head and tears seeped from Jeremy’s eyes. “Are you okay? Do
you need anything?”

Dammit, why wasn’t there some kind of book or pamphlet about what to say in a situation

like this? Rafe had almost died today and he expected to fix everything by grabbing him a glass
of water or fluffing his pillows? Shit.

Rafe patted his head once more and relaxed back against the sheets again. “Hector stopped

me from taking down Yesenia. She shot him when he jumped in front of me. He died… He sort
of saved me, too, I guess.”

Jeremy squeezed his hand and reached up to brush some hair out of Rafe’s eyes. He sounded

dazed, but he wasn’t just babbling.

“I passed out,” he continued. “They wouldn’t tell me what happened at first, but I saw

Yesenia and Hector. She shot him and…killed herself, Jer. I almost had her convinced not to do
anything…”

Jeremy had no idea what to say, but knew he wouldn’t leave that room as long as Rafe was

talking to him.

“I remember thinking about you…” Rafe gave a weak little smile. “I thought I wouldn’t get

the chance to keep my promise to you. You know, stand outside your door every day until you
gave me another chance.”

“God,” Jeremy rasped, kissing Rafe’s hand again. “Please don’t say things like that. You’re

here. You’re okay.”

“And you’re here…”
Jeremy couldn’t look away from the intensity in Rafe’s eyes and slowly, so he wouldn’t

cause him discomfort, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, their faces much closer together.
“I’m here.” He swallowed thickly and nodded. “I was going out of my mind with worry. You—
Don’t ever—” Jeremy’s voice broke and he had to suck in a ragged breath before he lost control
completely and cried like a baby. Rafe was leaning forward again, his free hand clasped on
Jeremy’s arm.

“I love you,” he finally whispered, staring into Rafe’s blue eyes. “I’m sorry I was acting like

such a prick. I can’t imagine what I’d have done if you didn’t…” Jeremy cleared his throat.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again. Please.”

Rafe’s eyes were brimming and he swatted the tears away with the back of his hand. “Say

that again,” he pleaded.

“Don’t ever scare me like—”
“No… Say the first part again.”

Jeremy paused for a beat and then smiled. “I love you. I love you and I want to be with you,

Rafe. I’m not ready to be without you.”

Rafe’s hands were shaking as he pulled Jeremy close, his fingers touching on the nape of his

neck. “Thank god,” he breathed.

Jeremy began to laugh but then all he could think about was kissing Rafe and pulling him

closer. He gently touched Rafe’s jaw and tilted his head back, lowering his mouth until their lips
met. Rafe sighed against him and even exhausted and concussed, he deepened the kiss, opening
himself to Jeremy until their tongues mingled in a tender dance.

It wasn’t until they were interrupted by a doctor loudly clearing his throat that Jeremy

realized tears were still streaming down their cheeks. He brushed them away and carefully
stepped back from the bed, his cheeks a fiery red. Rafe looked like he wanted to ignore the
doctor and keep going, but he was incredibly close to collapse and sank back against the mattress
like he could fall asleep in seconds.

“Excuse the interruption,” the doctor said, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “I didn’t

know Rafe had a visitor. I’m Dr. Caleb Michaels.”

He offered his hand and Jeremy automatically shook it, wondering at the odd expression on

his face. The doc hadn’t seemed all that offended by walking in on two men kissing, so what was
the deal? When he turned back to Rafe and spoke, it all became clear.

“Megan’s told me a lot about you, Rafe. I’m just sorry we had to meet under these

circumstances.”

Jeremy immediately stood up taller and widened his stance. So this was the good doctor that

Megan and Brian wanted in Rafe’s bed? He gave Michaels the once over and frowned. He was a
handsome guy. Blond with hazel eyes and about Rafe’s height. It might have been a little
conceited, but Jeremy was pretty sure his own looks won out.

In one stride, he was back at Rafe’s bedside with a protective hand resting on his arm. “Yeah,

it’s a shame,” he answered for both of them, a warning in his voice.

The doctor looked from the claim-staking hand up to his face and actually laughed. “Yeah…

well. You can’t win ‘em all, I suppose.” He broke eye contact, still chuckling and flipped
through the file hanging at the end of Rafe’s bed.

He started talking vitals and tests and overnight observation, all of which Jeremy barely

registered as he looked on. They hadn’t gone through a terrible ordeal just to end up being pulled
apart by a handsome doctor who apparently had everything going for him. Jeremy concentrated
on standing next to Rafe and looking as territorial as he could. Rafe grabbed onto his hand and
squeezed it, giving him a chiding look, but the smile that followed cancelled it out. He liked that
Jeremy was making his presence known.

When the doc turned back to him, the same amused smile on his face, Jeremy’s hackles rose.

“Technically you’re not supposed to be back here, but seeing as you’re law enforcement and that
you two are—”

“Together?” Jeremy blurted.
Michaels laughed again. “Yes, of course. That, too. Since the circumstances are what they

are, I don’t mind if you stick around.” Jeremy nodded curtly and glared when the doctor winked
at Rafe. “I can see why he’s so protective.”

Jeremy would’ve helped him out of the room with a swift kick to the ass if Rafe hadn’t

stopped him with a tug.

“Your bedside manner could use a little work,” he whispered woozily.
Jeremy leaned over him and smiled down into his eyes. “Just making a statement.”

“Which we all heard loud and clear.” Rafe didn’t sound the least bit offended, but it was

obvious he was going to sleep before anyone arrived to take him off for the tests to be run.

“I love you, Rafe,” he murmured, placing a gentle kiss on his brow.
Rafe’s eyes closed and he smiled. “I’m glad…”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Rafe’s eyes opened with a flutter and it took a minute for him to recognize where he was.

Hospital bed. Under observation. It was dark outside, but he had a feeling he’d only been out for
a few hours since they’d finished running tests on him. Thank god he had a hard head, even if it
was pounding like Thor was whacking at it with a sledge. He really wished the doctor had
allowed him to go home, but no such luck. They had moved him to a new room—much quieter
than the corner of emergency room allotted to him on his arrival.

Turning his head carefully so he wouldn’t disturb the staples, his eyes fell on Jeremy and he

smiled. He was still wearing his uniform, his long legs stretched out in front of him with his
booted feet crossed. His hand was resting on the bed near Rafe’s and at some point he’d fallen
asleep.

Seeing him there, knowing they were going to be okay, overwhelmed him all over again. He

hoped all these tears had something to do with pain medication, but he doubted it. His eyes
seemed to well up with the slightest provocation. Rafe couldn’t help it. Just the sight of him and
the knowledge that this handsome man loved him was too much.

His fingers inched across the mattress until he was lightly touching Jeremy’s tanned skin and

he felt a tear slip down his cheek. At his touch, Jeremy’s eyes blinked open and he sat forward
with a jolt.

“Rafe? You all right? Do you need something?”
Rafe curled his fingers around Jeremy’s and gave a little shake of his head, clearing his throat

before he tried to speak. “I-I’m okay…I’m okay. Glad to see you here, is all.”

Jeremy scooted his chair closer and rested his chin on the mattress, bringing his other arm

around until Rafe’s hand was held in both of his. “I’m not going anywhere. They tried to kick me
out at the end of visiting hours, but the doctor stopped them.”

Rafe grinned at the sour note in his voice over Brian and Meg’s potential set-up.
“Brian came by after they finished with your tests, but you were out of it. He’s going to stop

by your house in the morning and bring you some fresh clothes before they release you.”

Rafe sighed his assent. He didn’t need Jeremy to tell him that the hospital had gotten rid of

his blood stained clothes. At least with Brian coming he wouldn’t be stuck in scrubs or a wide-
open hospital gown.

“What about you?” he asked, giving Jeremy’s uniform the once over. “You can’t be

comfortable in all that.”

Jeremy shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. Brian offered to bring me something, but I think we

both know that your clothes are a little too snug to be decent. It might cause a stir if I leave in a
belly shirt and skin-tight high waters.”

Rafe chuckled. “I’d just tell them you’re my twinkie. They’d understand.”
“Absolutely not, Rafe. I’ll stick to my uniform.” His eyes turned calculating for a second.

“Besides, being armed is a good idea with Caleb Michaels sniffing around. He’d probably love a
chance to speak to you alone.”

“I’m not interested.” They shared a smile and Rafe pushed himself up in the bed. “What time

is it?”

“Not sure…somewhere around ten, I think.”

Rafe adjusted the pillows behind him and abruptly realized his bladder was joining the throng

of complaining body parts. With a wince he swung his legs around to the opposite side of the bed
from Jeremy.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Jeremy sprang to his feet and moved around the bed in a few quick

strides. “Let me help you.”

“Feels like I haven’t gone to the bathroom since I was ten,” he grunted.
“That’s partly the meds, I think. They had you on an I.V. earlier.”
Rafe glanced down at his left arm and saw the end section of tubing still poking out of his

elbow. How had he missed that?

Jeremy supported him all the way to the bathroom and when he saw that Rafe wasn’t going

to topple over into the shower stall or crack his head open on the counter, he gave him a little
privacy. As soon as the toilet flushed, he was back with his arm around Rafe and leading him to
the bed. Rafe’s head was pounding so badly he seriously considered puking for a few steps.

Jeremy pulled the blankets back over him once he was in bed again and at the sound of his

beleaguered sigh, leaned over him and tenderly ran a hand across his forehead. “Do you want me
to get a nurse to bring you some pain medication? They told me they could do that if you start
feeling too much discomfort. And, if you need to throw up, they provided me with this handy
little bedpan. Neat, huh?”

Rafe wanted to laugh, but the temptation to grab the pan and go to work was a little too close

to the surface. “Maybe…the medication first.”

Jeremy nodded and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I need to stretch my legs, so I’ll be

back in a minute. Close your eyes.”

Rafe did as he was told and counted the seconds until the pain in his head backed off a bit

and the swirling of his stomach didn’t seem quite so ominous. He was having trouble keeping
track of how long Jeremy had been gone, so when the door to his room opened again, he
automatically blurted what he was thinking.

“Tell me whatever they gave you will knock me out until my head returns to a normal size

and the urge to dry heave is gone.” When Jeremy didn’t respond after a moment, Rafe opened
his eyes and froze. “Mark? What are you doing here?” God, Jeremy was going to be pissed when
he came back, which was probably going to be any second now.

Mark pushed his hands deep into his pockets and rocked back and forth from foot to foot. He

was obviously struggling with what to say and even though Rafe was distracted by the
knowledge that Jeremy would inevitably return and see him, he couldn’t ignore Mark’s presence.

“Thought I’d have to sneak past the nurses station, but no one’s around,” he said half-

heartedly. “I just…wanted to make sure you were okay,” he finally spoke up. “I got off of work
about half an hour ago and I needed…”

The guilt that smacked Rafe in the face was intense, and that was saying something when his

head and stomach were doing serious battle inside. Even after all the time, drama, and false
expectations—many of which Rafe had created—Mark still cared enough to make sure he was
going to be alright. It was a gut punch he richly deserved.

“You didn’t have to come,” he murmured humbly.
Mark shuffled some more and kept his eyes at the foot of Rafe’s bed. “I-I know that and I

know that you probably don’t want me here right now, but I had to check on you. There are all
sorts of stories going around.”

Rafe could only imagine. Jeremy was probably a subject of some pretty juicy gossip, too.

“Listen, Mark… I’ve been a dick to you and I’ve hurt you, and I don’t really deserve how nice

you’re being. I really am sorry… About everything.”

Mark tugged his hands from his pockets and cracked his knuckles nervously. “I guess some

things aren’t meant to be,” he whispered brokenly. “I can’t really help that there’s always been
something about you that made me feel otherwise. Shit,” he laughed humorlessly, “even now I
think we could make something together, but you don’t feel the same way and I can’t convince
you…”

“Mark.” Rafe lifted a hand to stop him. They couldn’t get into the weeds about their

relationship for a number of reasons. It wouldn’t solve anything, for one, and Jeremy would
probably shoot someone if he came back and found Mark gabbing away about what might’ve
been.

“You’ve been too forgiving of me. You’ve let me get away with a lot of shit. It’s not like I

wanted to hurt you, but I made some pretty fucking awful decisions that ended up hurting you
anyway. You deserve to be with someone who’s all in—someone who knows you are perfect.
I…I care about you, but it’s not the same thing.”

Saying what they both already knew didn’t make Rafe feel like any less of an asshole. Mark

crossed his arms over his chest, his chin dipping low as he mulled over what he’d heard.

“You love him, though, don’t you? He’s the one you want.”
He didn’t have to say Jeremy’s name for Rafe to know whom he was talking about.

Apparently their connection wasn’t as well hidden as he would’ve thought.

“I love him, yes. I almost lost him and…I can’t imagine...” He couldn’t continue without

embarrassing himself with more waterworks.

Mark took a few steps closer to the bed and swallowed hard. “So, you feel about him the way

I feel about you? Except, I lost you…”

Rafe sighed and in spite of the way it made his stomach heave, he pushed himself up in the

bed again and leaned Mark’s direction.

“I’m not the right guy for you, Mark. Deep down, you know this. Deep down it probably

pisses you off that you’re still interested in me when you know better than anyone the way it’s
been between us. You’re too good a guy to waste any more of your time. I can’t even understand
why you’d want to.”

Mark shrugged and took the last steps to the bed. “Officer Jeremy Halliday is the last guy I

would’ve figured you’d end up with. He flew under my radar, which you know is well-honed.”

“Yes,” Rafe agreed. “I know. It’s just one of those things that was right from the beginning,

even though we had our own set of issues to deal with. He’s so…” Rafe shook his head. It wasn’t
the nicest thing to do to sing his current boyfriend’s praises in front of his ex, especially when
said ex was being really nice about it. “Well…no need to get into details, but I think we’ve got
something that you should be looking for in your own life.”

“From your lips…” he whispered. Mark kept his gaze trained on Rafe for a long moment

before pushing away from the bed. “You’re going to be okay?”

Rafe nodded. “Thanks for checking on me. You didn’t have to.”
“Yeah, I did.” His eyes were sad as he turned to leave, and at the door he paused. “Take it

easy. Good luck with…you know, everything, I guess.”

“You too.”
He opened the door and Rafe winced internally at the sight of Jeremy carrying a tray with

what looked like toast, Jell-O, and giant ibuprofen. Jeremy surprised them both by simply
nodding and stepping into the room, past Mark who was still holding the door.

“Hey, Mark.”

“Jeremy.”
Mark didn’t waste time talking, but with a last nod Rafe’s direction, he left. Jeremy didn’t

say anything as he brought the tray over and set it on the table by the bed. Rafe watched as he
took an empty glass to the bathroom and filled it at the sink, then rolled the side table to the bed
so it was hanging over his lap.

“The nurses said to take the ibuprofen, but eat this toast first if you can. Otherwise you might

end up losing it.” He ran his hand down Rafe’s cheek and smiled tenderly. “Okay?”

Rafe pointed toward the closed door. “Nothing happened, he just—”
Jeremy stopped him with a light kiss on the brow. “I know. I saw him come in anyhow. If I

were him, I’d have needed to see you too.”

“That’s incredibly sweet,” Rafe rasped, “and I’m sorry I’m about to say this now, but I think

I’m going to throw up.”

***

Rafe’s headaches had finally faded to a stop a week later and he was feeling more like

himself, but as he and Jeremy pulled up to the cemetery for Yesenia’s graveside service, his
stomach rolled. He didn’t know for sure why he’d decided to come. Maybe because when he
pictured Yesenia, he didn’t see the girl who’d snapped and enacted so much violence, seriously
wounding a police officer and killing her father and finally herself. Rather, he saw a young girl
who’d endured years of abuse and couldn’t make it back to the surface. Rafe didn’t know if
she’d been right about how much her mother knew either, yet Angelina had lost her husband and
her youngest child in the space of an hour and he wanted to be at the service for her as well.

Hector’s service was slated for the following morning and he knew he wouldn’t attend. That

was a line he couldn’t bring himself to cross. To the end Hector manipulated his daughter. In
fact, Rafe believed his final attempt to control her had cost him his life. How he wished that
Hector had never said what he did to provoke her. The outcome would’ve been so different.
Yesenia certainly would’ve faced charges for a slew of offenses, but she’d be alive and perhaps
even on the long road to rehabilitation.

Jeremy had driven to the cemetery and was waiting patiently for the signal to get out of the

car and head to the tent erected at the grave sight. Rafe knew how he felt about being at the
service; he wasn’t as ready to forgive Yesenia for putting his boyfriend in danger, but he wasn’t
going to leave Rafe to go through this alone. Jeremy’s father was going to be in attendance, and
that was going to be a touch awkward as well. He hadn’t quite settled into the fact that his only
son was in love with another man. At least, Rafe thought, Peter Halliday wasn’t showing the
same gay bashing tendencies as Richard Bridges.

Rafe was jogged from his reverie by a touch of Jeremy’s hand. A quick glance out the

window showed it was time to get moving. He nodded and got out of the car, waiting for Jeremy
to come around and meet him. They walked side-by-side to the grave sight, arms brushing every
step, and even though it wasn’t an overt gesture on either of their parts, the gentle touching of
their arms soothed Rafe.

The air around the sight was heavy with a gamut of emotions, shock and grief leading the

tide. Rafe spotted Angel standing with his family, Angelina tucked under her son’s arm, and
Jeremy’s father off to the side, his eyes trained on the ground.

Rafe and Jeremy were in the back of the group and as the service began, Rafe grabbed hold

of Jeremy’s hand and held on tightly. He didn’t really care what it said about him, he needed to

feel something real—sense the life flowing through Jeremy’s fingertips. He smiled sadly when
Jeremy squeezed back.

The service wasn’t long, but the outpouring of grief from Yesenia’s family and friends was a

tangible presence. Rafe had to turn away to suck in gulps of air after everyone was dismissed. He
knew he needed to speak to Angelina, but the prospect was more daunting than he’d anticipated.
The last time he’d seen her, she was sobbing on the couch right before her husband and daughter
died. He shuddered and Jeremy moved a step closer to him.

“We can leave if you need to,” he whispered. “It’s okay if you don’t feel up to this.”
Rafe couldn’t speak for a moment, but finally found his voice. “I should try. I don’t want her

to think I blame her...and I don’t want her to blame me, either...”

Jeremy nodded, but Rafe could see the reluctance to stay in his eyes. He was thinking

Angelina would fly off about what had happened to her family; Jeremy said as much last night.
And she might. There was certainly a chance, but he’d never feel he did the right thing if he
avoided offering his condolences.

Jeremy remained at his side as the crowd thinned, the guests trickling off toward their cars

parked nearby. He stepped away just once to say something to his father, but it was only for a
minute and when he was done, he immediately returned to Rafe’s side.

Rafe was the last person in line to speak to Angelina; Angel had been led away by his family

before he could get to him, which was probably for the best.

The tension in his chest mounted as his turn approached, and when he was finally face to

face with her, he realized he never figured out what to say. Sorry wasn’t quite right.

“Mrs. Aragon,” he said huskily, “I-I don’t really know what…I’m—”
“Forgive me,” she whispered, grabbing for his hands and clutching them to her chest as she

spoke. Carlos bowed his head beside his mother, sorrow heavy on his shoulders. Jeremy moved
to his side, giving Rafe as much privacy as he could.

“You don’t have to say that—” he tried again, but Angelina wouldn’t let him finish.
“Thank you for trying to help my family. I was praying my daughter would listen to you, that

she would do as you asked and stop...” Angelina’s voice broke but she forced herself to continue
as Rafe looked on with a tortured expression. “I know you wanted to help her… I-I’m sorry. I’ve
already visited with the police officer’s family.”

Rafe shook his head and pulled her into an embrace. She was treating the horrible situation as

something she needed to seek penance for.

“There aren’t any words that I know to comfort you, but I’m so sorry for the losses you’ve

suffered. I-I wish there were something I could do…” he murmured in her ear.

Angelina returned his embrace for the space of a heartbeat, and then gently backed away, a

veil drawn over the raw emotions in her eyes. “Thank you for coming,” she answered, her
vulnerability hidden once more. “I’m very…glad you came.”

There wasn’t room left to say anything more, but Rafe understood. Seeing him must be like

experiencing everything all over again. He didn’t want to stick around and make her feel worse.

He and Jeremy made their way silently back to the car after that and didn’t speak on the drive

to Rafe’s. It was when he was lying in Jeremy’s arms that night, unable to sleep, that he made his
decision.

The next morning he dressed in the same suit and attended the funeral service for Hector

Aragon. Not even one quarter the number that attended Yesenia’s service were there. Rafe’s eyes
remained trained on Angelina’s tiny form as she watched her husband committed to the grave.
Rafe had come for her, after all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Two weeks later…

Rafe struggled through Jeremy’s front door with three bags of groceries and a sixer of beer

hanging precariously from a finger. He was running late and because traffic was uncooperative,
he had half as much time to fix something edible before Jeremy’s sister, her husband, and
Jeremy’s dad showed up for dinner.

“The Big Unveiling”, as Rafe had come to think of it, though it was pretty much universally

known amongst the family members that he and Jeremy were together. He wasn’t sure what
Tracey’s husband knew, but if she hadn’t prepped him, he was in for a shocker.

Rafe unloaded the groceries into the fridge and went on the hunt for Jeremy, though he was

pretty sure it was the shower he’d just heard cutting off. Rounding the doorway to the bedroom,
he stopped and stared.

Jeremy was standing with his back to him, clothed only in a set of boxer briefs—black ones.

The contrast between his golden skin and the dark fabric made Rafe want to forget about
company coming over and have some real fun.

“Hey,” he said quietly, loving the way Jeremy spun to look at him with that sexy half-smile

on his face.

“You’re back.” His smile widened when he got a better look at what Rafe was wearing. “And

you changed… Nervous are we?”

Rafe looked down at his classic polo and shorts and shrugged. “I didn’t want to be too

dressy. They’re coming for a barbecue, not dinner dinner. The button-up shirt made me feel
weird.”

Jeremy chuckled and crossed the room to stand in front of him. His bare chest was

spectacularly tempting. “You look great. Hot. Sexy.”

Rafe rolled his eyes and pushed against Jeremy’s stomach. “Right.” He’d let that slide.

“They’ll be here in half an hour and I don’t have anything started.”

Jeremy smiled wickedly and wrapped his arms around his waist. “They don’t expect

everything to be ready to eat the second they get here. It’s a barbecue, after all. Part of the fun is
waiting for the food to cook.” He dipped his head and nuzzled at Rafe’s neck before lightly
kissing his jaw. “Thirty minutes is plenty of time…”

Rafe laughed in spite of himself and tried to pull back from Jeremy’s hold. “Plenty of time

for what? For everyone to get here and catch us? Like it isn’t going to be awkward enough for
you to formally introduce me as your boyfriend without throwing in the mental image of us
rutting?”

Jeremy snickered. “Rutting? Is that what we do?”
“Well…no, but they might think of it that way.”
“I don’t really care right now,” he answered, leaving another fiery trail of kisses along Rafe’s

neck. “What I do care about is getting you out of these clothes.” His hands dropped to the clasp
on Rafe’s shorts and they were off in no time. “See how easy that was?” he whispered as he
lowered his head for a serious kiss.

Rafe was a responsible adult; he had no problem remembering all the things he had left to do,

but he wasn’t even close to being immune to Jeremy—especially when he was undressing him.

“Fuck it,” Rafe growled, kissing Jeremy back. “Rutting might be the best way…”
Jeremy’s victorious laugh was the last thing Rafe was aware of before he got too busy to

notice anything else.

Twenty-five minutes later, Tracey and Jake arrived and when she pulled Rafe in for a hug,

she chuckled. “I didn’t know you guys wore the same cologne!”

Rafe’s face flamed and he ducked into the kitchen as Jeremy started laughing. “We don’t,

Trace. It must’ve rubbed off.”

###

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

S. E. Culpepper lives with her awesome husband and son in Connecticut and writes

whenever her giggling/puking baby allows, storing up sarcastic humor for those moments when

her fingers hit the keyboard. She loves hearing from her readers and makes it a point to get back

to them. Try her at [e-mail].

Connect with me online:

http://seculpepper.com