Private Eye

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.

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 hardon?” 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

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.

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…”

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.

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