More than Need (Better in Threes #1)

Chapter 1

Riley Sinclair tapped his pen on a notepad in a repeating rhythm— one-one, two-two, three-three, one-one . His eyebrow twitched at every new paragraph of his detective’s report. He managed to get through a quarter of the three-page document before his own homicidal tendency reared its head. He picked up his phone with an annoyed sigh and pressed three.

“Get in here,” he barked without waiting for a response and then slammed it down. Hanging up a mobile had nothing on the satisfaction of dropping a receiver in its pocket.

A knock came at his door soon after, and Riley’s current headache opened it just wide enough for his head to pop through the gap.

Senior Constable Gideon Clark smiled widely, crinkles appearing at the corners of his light-brown eyes. His dark-brown hair flopped across his forehead when he tilted his head in question. “You called?”

“Not for you to stand in my doorway.”

“It’s safer over here. And it makes a good shield for projectiles.” He slapped his palm on the wood as if to prove its sturdiness.

“Gideon.”

Gideon’s smile turned lopsided, and he ventured across the threshold, closing the door behind himself. “I’m at your disposal, boss. Don’t spank me too hard; I have sensitive skin.”

Riley sighed. Perhaps the real cause of the headache had been inviting Gideon into the room. “Do you do this on purpose?”

Gideon slid into the seat opposite Riley and settled back, hooking his ankle on his knee. It pulled his slacks taut against his thighs and flattened his light-blue shirt against his stomach. Riley forced his eyes up to stop himself from staring inappropriately. He’d gotten over his ridiculous infatuation with this man a long time ago.

“I want to say yes,” Gideon said, apparently unaware of Riley’s thoughts, “but maybe you can lay down the charges first before I incriminate myself.”

He didn’t need to speak to incriminate himself. “I have to read every report that you write.”

“Is that a trick question, or a statement?” Gideon asked, his bowed lips twisting in thought. “Am I sending them to the wrong person? I only cc Ange in since she’s, you know, my partner. I figure you already know that.”

“I don’t need your notes in the margin. It’s not a feature of the program.” He’d even called and checked, and the IT department had been suspiciously reticent about it. “How are you doing it?”

“Skill.”

There were a lot of skills that Riley admired in his detectives. Being a pain in his ass wasn’t one of them. Gideon happened to be one of his best, right up there with Quinn Hughes, but he shouldn’t be allowed to speak in any kind of informal setting. His skills lay in gathering information and running lawyers in circles on the stand.

“Stop it,” Riley said firmly.

“My thoughts are important. Not like, in the report important, but commentary is a time-honoured tradition.”

“For what? Driving your boss insane?” That tradition could go in the bin along with the rest of the report. He’d even risk the fire alarms and burn it.

“You never get special editions of DVDs?”

“No.” What did that have to do with anything?

“You’re missing out. The ones for The Lord of the Rings are particularly fun to listen to.”

Riley barely had time to watch movies in the first place, on the rare occasion one piqued his interest. He couldn’t imagine watching them again while people talked over the top of the movie. If he wanted that, he could go watch them in the cinema, where respect seemed to disappear the moment they were inside. He declined every invitation from his brothers to see something new with them for that very reason. “Gideon, there are more commentary notes than actual notes on this one.” The commentary could make its own report. One that rivalled a comedy instead of a homicide.

“I had a lot to say.”

“Say less.”

“If I agreed to that, you wouldn’t believe me. I think this is what people call a stalemate in chess.”

Riley didn’t know if Gideon knew that because of a familiarity with chess, or if he’d pulled that random trivia out of his ass. He was too afraid to ask. Watching a man play chess was a weird fantasy to have, and yet he could now add it to his list. “I’m going to find out who’s helping you add them.”

Gideon smiled wider, face brightening. “Good luck. For a boon, I’ll give you a hint.”

Riley would go for another visit to IT and see who he could intimidate. Someone there had to be helping him.

“While I have you,” Gideon started, “We need to get a warrant for—” He cut off at the knock on the door. He twisted around in his chair, resting an arm across the top of it. “Got an appointment? That’s a shame. Should I come back?”

“No.” His morning had been blissfully free of meetings. A rare occasion that he’d planned on enjoying before Gideon had sent him the report from hell.

Another of Riley’s detectives, Henry Campbell, said, “Sir?” through the door before knocking again. At least he’d finally learned to wait for a response before flinging it open. That had taken too many months to get into his head.

“Don’t move,” Riley said to Gideon before telling Henry to come in.

The door opened only wide enough for another head to pop through. Had everyone started taking notes from Gideon? A terrible idea.

Henry glanced between Riley and Gideon. “Oh. I’m sorry. Are you busy? There’s a lady here that’s asking to speak to you. She said her name is Sadie Watson.”

He said it as if Riley would recognise the name. He didn’t. If it was case related, then she should have details for whichever detective or officer was dealing with it. It wouldn’t be Riley; he hadn’t taken a case for a few months, at least.

“What is it about?”

“I don’t know, sir. I brought her through; would you like to…?”

Riley pinched the bridge of his nose, praying for some kind of strength. He didn’t care which deity sent it as long as someone did. “Send her in.”

Gideon gestured at the door. “You want me to leave?”

“Not yet.” It might be something he could foist off on Gideon. As far as punishments went, Riley would accept it if it meant he’d be left alone.

Riley had never in his life seen the woman who entered the office. Not a case he’d worked or one that any of his detectives were currently dealing with. Brown hair, light-blue eyes similar to his. She wore dark jeans and a bright-yellow poncho. She held a similarly coloured beanie in her hand.

“Hello,” she said quietly, staring at Riley like she’d never seen a man before. Riley had a feeling his headache was about to get a whole lot worse. “Riley Sinclair?”

Riley exchanged a curious look with Gideon.

“Detective Senior Sergeant Riley Sinclair,” he confirmed.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Opened it again.

“Are you alright?” Riley asked. Had she gone through some kind of trauma? In that case, she needed a hospital, not a police precinct.

“Y-yes. I just… didn’t know what you would look like.”

What he looked like? Riley straightened in his seat. Maybe Henry needed to better vet the people he brought to Riley’s office?

Gideon stood and leaned back against the desk, bracing his hands on the edge. Shielding Riley. “What is it we can help you with, ma’am? The officers out front are more than happy to deal with any enquiries you have. If you’d like, I can escort you.”

“No, thank you,” she said resolutely. “I came to speak to you, specifically.” She spoke through Gideon, straight to Riley. Strike one; Riley allowed no one to disrespect his detectives.

Riley narrowed his own eyes when she squinted at him. Why did she keep looking at him like that? Who the hell had Henry brought to his office?

“Is this a professional visit?” he asked, keeping his voice measured. Why would she ask for him directly? Unless absolutely necessary, he rarely got involved hands-on in cases anymore. He’d dealt with a few in the last year for personal reasons, but they were all closed now. And they hadn’t involved anyone with her name or description.

“It’s personal.” She glanced at Gideon. “Does he have to be here?”

“Yes,” Riley said bluntly. He didn’t know this woman, or what she wanted. He didn’t do personal, so this had nothing to do with him specifically. Having a witness could only be a good thing in this circumstance.

Gideon crossed his arms over his chest, sliding even further in front of Riley.

Sadie took something out of her purse. A photograph, it looked like. Old, crinkled. “I’m pregnant, and I wanted to surprise my parents with the fact that I’m having a baby, and I was looking through some old photo albums, and I found this tucked behind—”

“I’m gay,” Riley interrupted before this ridiculous train could go any further.

Gideon jolted and whipped around to stare in surprise at Riley. Riley ignored it. Just because he didn’t advertise it didn’t make it a secret. He simply didn’t discuss his personal life at work.

She faltered. “What?”

“I’m gay. The child can’t be mine.” He’d never slept with a woman in his life. If she had some idea in her head that he’d been a random man she’d slept with in some seedy club in the dark, he had news for her.

“I know it’s not yours,” she said slowly, frowning. “Do you recognise this?” She thrust the photo at him.

Riley took it automatically. A generic hospital photo, like the kind he’d seen dozens of times. A woman on a hospital bed held a child wrapped in a blanket, looking tired like she’d just given birth, which she likely had. The photo had to be old; the colour was significantly faded. “No.” He went to give it back, and she wouldn’t take it. What did she want him to do with it? He didn’t deal with missing person’s cases, and she could have asked at the front desk.

“That’s my mum.”

Riley scratched his eyebrow. “And the baby is you?” he guessed. He’d prefer if she got to the point sometime soon; he had important work to do. And a report to bin.

“No, it’s you.”

Everything tilted. The photo crinkled in his grip, and he let go of it like it burned.

It’s you .

That’s my mum.

No. Not possible.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to—”

“You’re my brother.”

Riley stood, heart beating wildly. He swallowed back the lump in his throat as he braced his hands on his desk and said hoarsely, “Get out of my office.”

She went to step forward, and Gideon moved, putting himself directly between them. “I don’t think so,” he said, lifting a hand in a “stop” motion.

“I came to talk to you.”

“For what purpose?” Riley asked flatly. If he’d wanted to know about the woman that had given birth to him, he would have looked for her. Would have asked his own mum about her. He hadn’t, because that person meant nothing to him. This woman had no right to come in here with any of this.

Her face fell, lips parting. “Because you’re my brother, and I wanted to meet you.” She said it like he should understand that. He didn’t.

“I don’t care.”

Gideon’s hand slid back on the desk, the tips of his fingers brushing against Riley’s. He shouldn’t have taken as much comfort from that small move as he did. An anchor in the storm.

“I didn’t know you even existed until like four days ago, and I wanted to—”

“Gawk at me like an animal in a zoo?”

“What? No!” She put her hands over her stomach as though reminding him of her pregnancy would somehow endear her to him. It wouldn’t. He had a family already; he didn’t need or want hers.

Riley pressed more firmly against Gideon’s outstretched hand. “Gideon.”

Gideon understood immediately, straightening. “Yes, sir. Visit’s over, ma’am, it’s time to leave.”

“Why?” she asked, ignoring Gideon’s attempt to herd her out of the room.

“Whatever you’re looking for, you aren’t going to find it here,” Riley said coldly. “I have no desire to know who you are. Who that woman is. Unless you have business with the police, we have nothing to talk about. If you do, Detective Senior Constable Clark here will be happy to assist you.”

Riley hardened his heart against the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. He wouldn’t be moved by her display. She had created this situation by coming here without his permission, without so much as a fucking warning . She might have wanted to meet him, but he had zero desire to meet her, and she obviously hadn’t bothered to take anyone else’s needs into account when she’d created this fantasy of meeting him. Riley had five pain-in-the-ass siblings that he loved. That he’d grown up with. Two parents who had loved all of him, even the parts that weren’t so pleasant. They were his family.

She left without another fuss, and Riley exhaled the second Gideon closed the door. He stared at the wall, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

It’s you.

That’s my mum.

You’re my brother .

“Riley?”

Riley jolted. Gideon had returned. When? He had no idea.

“I’m fine,” he said automatically. How had she found him from a photo alone? Who had told her that was him in it? Her parents?

Riley sat heavily. Her parents. Not his.

Had they known his location this whole fucking time ?

Gideon circled the desk and sat back against it, thigh nudging Riley’s arm. Warm, steady.

The silence suffocated him, closing in like someone squeezing him until he couldn’t breathe.

It’s you.

That’s my mum.

You’re my brother .

They had the same fucking eyes.

No. They didn’t. Riley’s eyes were his own. Everything about him belonged to the parents who had raised him. This person waltzing into his office didn’t get to take those pieces from him.

“Riley…”

“I said I’m fine. You have a report due,” he said numbly. He should have made Gideon leave at the start. Hadn’t needed witnesses to that.

“The one you called me in here for, that I already submitted?”

Riley couldn’t look away from the photo. She’d left it. On purpose? He’d never seen a picture of the woman who had birthed him. It taunted him. He didn’t know if he wanted to look more closely or rip it into five hundred pieces and let it become nothing but mulch.

“Did you take the notes out of the margins?” he asked, his mind on autopilot.

“I’ve been here this whole time. I’m afraid my skills aren’t quite to that standard.”

“Take them out.” New mothers smiled. He’d seen pictures of Theresa and him as a baby. She had a bright smile on her face in every single one, like she’d been given the best gift on her birthday.

This woman didn’t smile.

Gideon put a folder over the photo, obstructing his view. “Riley,” he said forcefully.

Riley met his warm brown eyes. He’d spent a lot of time in the past staring at those eyes and that handsome face and tripping over himself like an idiot. Years ago, when he hadn’t been in charge of the man. When he’d been too young to be more discerning about the direction his heart steered. Straight, married men were not the right type to focus on. Learning about Gideon’s bisexuality had changed nothing; he’d still been married. If anything, it had been worse knowing. So close, so far away.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Gideon said quietly. “Not if you don’t want it to.”

“It doesn’t.” It didn’t . He didn’t know her. Didn’t want to. What right did she think she had to walk in here and throw that at him? None. She shouldn’t have come here. “Go back to work, Gideon.”

Gideon spread his legs, pressing more firmly against Riley’s arm, the touch like a searing brand. “Nah, I’m good here.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion.”

Gideon curled his hands around the edge of the desk and leaned back, his suit jacket falling open as his shirt stretched over his chest. “Wasn’t it?”

Riley left the photo where it was and stood, instantly realising his mistake, as he found himself chest to chest with Gideon. “I’m getting a coffee,” he said, proud that his voice remained steady. “I don’t want you in here when I get back.”

“You look like you could use a hug.”

“No, I don’t.” He’d never once looked like he wanted a hug, and no one had ever been stupid enough to try. Not even Quinn, and they’d been friends for years. He didn’t know why he hadn’t moved away from Gideon, but it wasn’t because he wanted a hug .

Gideon’s mouth tipped up dangerously.

“Don’t even th—” Too late. Gideon’s arms circled him, a comfortable weight, cocooning him in. Warm . He smelled of lavender soap and some kind of citrus shampoo. The pleasant combination invaded his senses. He’d never get the smell out of his mind now.

He tentatively returned the embrace, unable to resist getting this one chance to know what Gideon felt like. One arm slid around to Gideon’s back, and the other made its way around his head, hand burying itself in his thick hair. Riley didn’t do affection, not outside of his immediate family. Hugs were rare, and he preferred it that way.

He couldn’t make himself let go.

Hands splayed across his back, fitting themselves in the curves of his muscles, getting comfortable. Riley tightened his own hold, unable to help himself.

It’s you.

That’s my mum.

You’re my brother .

Riley squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the useless words. The confession that meant nothing to him. He bent enough to bury his face in Gideon’s neck, curl his fingers against his scalp. If only his appealing, fresh scent could wash it all away.

How long could he respectably hold the embrace? How long could he keep this with him? He didn’t know the etiquette. He’d never done this before. Other than Quinn, his only friend outside of his family was a lawyer who didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. They traded barbs and got each other out of trouble. They didn’t hug.

“You smell nice,” Gideon mumbled, snuggling deeper into Riley.

Riley’s heart skipped a beat, arousal stirring. Did Gideon have any idea what his actions conveyed? He pulled back enough to see Gideon’s flushed face. There shouldn’t be anything in his eyes other than a friend giving another friend comfort. Less than that. They weren’t friends. Gideon worked for him. That’s where the familiarity ended.

Gideon didn’t know anything about his irrational pining. And Riley intended for it to stay where it belonged: in the past, and unnoticed. Gideon went home to his family every night, and Riley stayed late in the office, making use of the couch in the corner when he couldn’t be bothered driving back to his apartment. It happened enough that he had spare suits in his locker.

Except that Gideon didn’t do that anymore. He and Lucia had split, over six months ago. Single. Bisexual. Single.

It didn’t matter. Riley didn’t care, because his feelings no longer existed. He’d been young, and dumb, and neither of those things applied to him now.

Riley told himself to move away, and instead, his hand shifted to cup Gideon’s cheek, thumb resting against his jaw. He’d come in fully shaven that morning and barely had any growth.

Gideon’s breath caught, and Riley glanced at his lips. He’d thought a lot over the years about what they would feel like. Never thought he’d get a chance to find out. Had always considered that a good thing. Not knowing meant he hadn’t lost anything.

Gideon’s chin tilted imperceptibly. Giving him permission. A line that neither of them should be crossing. One that shouldn’t have needed to be drawn in the first place. Gideon had no idea about all the things Riley had once wanted to do to him. That he couldn’t do to him now even if he had that permission. He had no business going anywhere near someone under his direct command, no matter who it was or past feelings.

None of that stopped him from leaning down until their lips were so close Riley could feel the warmth of them, the brush of Gideon’s breath against his cheek. Gideon inched that last step closer with perfect softness.

Riley abruptly stepped back before he could register the firmness of the touch. No. He’d done a lot of things in his life that skirted the line of morality and legality. He couldn’t do this to Gideon.

“Get back to work,” he said gruffly, clearing his throat. Get out of my space before I take us down a road we can’t go down. The fact it had suddenly become an option sat heavy on his chest, and he clenched his hands to stop himself from reaching out.

“Uh. Yes, sir,” Gideon said, sounding dazed. He turned and ran into the wall before fumbling for the doorknob and flinging the door open.