Chapter 2
Dawson Sheppard critically surveyed the wooden square-top arch laid on the grass. The trellis sides were lopsided. He knew it hadn’t gone together right. For fuck’s sake. He should have checked the pieces before he’d started.
He glanced behind himself to where one of his bosses, Elijah Devlin, sat cross-legged on an egg chair, an open folder in his lap. Dawson envied the way he successfully ignored the chaos of the construction of the wedding venue happening around him.
“Who delivered the pieces for this?” Dawson asked, nudging his boot against the wood. There were at least three or four vital pieces missing, and he couldn’t finish it like this. The second he lifted it into position, it would topple over and break, and then he’d have to start all over again. His patience only extended so far.
“No idea,” Eli said, flicking a page without looking up. “Some idiot that almost scratched my fucking car when he took the wood out. I told Jay to fire him.”
“He doesn’t work for you; you can’t fire him.”
“I can fire whoever the fuck I want.” Another page flicked. Dawson bet he’d stopped reading it six pages ago.
Dawson took one more look at his half-constructed masterpiece and sighed before leaving it there and heading to the table set up next to Eli that held a bunch more of the folders he had in his hand. One of them would have what he needed. “Just out of curiosity,” he said, spreading the folders out so he could read the titles stuck to the front, “who signs off on my pay? You or Jay?”
Eli did look up at that, squinting suspiciously. “Why?” He scowled at someone who walked by them carrying a swan statue. He’d had an extreme dislike for swans since a year ago when one had chased him all over a venue for a fiftieth birthday. It had been love at first sight for the swan.
“Just curious,” Dawson said, shrugging. “Did the delivery guy give you a receipt of items?”
“It’s in the white folder.” He huffed and relaxed back into his egg, rocking it lightly. “Did you know the father of the bride called me yesterday to tell me his daughter wanted to change the flowers again ? You know any cops? My brother’s dating a few, but like… I need someone neutral who doesn’t know me. Also, someone that will have my back when I murder someone. A few someones. More than a few. The whole party. You ever seen that episode of Game of Thrones ?”
A few ? “I can’t say I’ve had much to do with the law. Or gruesome TV shows.” He’d given that show a hard pass long before he’d watched a single episode. He flicked through the folder, searching each page and plastic sleeve. “And you’ll be hard-pressed to find someone that’s a stranger to you who will also have your back. In that capacity, anyway.” Murder definitely fell under a longtime BFF’s job to navigate.
“I could hit the jackpot with someone. Weirder things have happened on dating sites. I’ll keep looking.”
“Okay.” Dawson blinked and looked up as the words registered properly. “You’re gonna look on dating sites for a cop to help you with your elaborate murder scheme?” He should have been surprised those words were coming out of his mouth at work, but honestly, on the scale of their conversations, it didn’t even make the top ten. Never a dull moment working as a jack-of-all-trades—mostly building structures on location and temporary landscaping—for this event company. Eli guaranteed daily entertainment.
“It was just a saying, but actually, that’s not a bad idea.”
Great. If anyone asked, the terrible idea hadn’t been his. Dawson found the receipt and pulled it out. He scanned the items and scowled. Christ. “They left off a few things.” More than a few things. Dawson had placed the order himself; this wasn’t it.
“And I’m not allowed to have him fired? I think not.”
“I thought you wanted to murder him?”
“I didn’t exactly specify that, and my brother would be horrified—and lecture me for an eternity—if I came straight out and admitted it.”
“You admitted it before…” While referencing some kind of Game of Thrones murder scene at the same time.
“I said ‘someones.’ There were no specifics.”
“Right.” Dawson ran a hand down his chin and then scratched the back of his head, the long lengths in the middle falling over the shaved sides. “I can pick them up on my way home and finish it tomorrow. The last of the plants I need for the landscaping should be arriving tomorrow at nine thirty. I trust the people bringing them, but please don’t sign anything until I’m here.”
“No promises.”
Dawson made a mental note to set his alarm stupid early and be there for the pickup at like three in the morning as if he were waiting in line for a music concert. The only way to be safe.
“What the fuck is the difference between a daffodil and a white lily, anyway?” Eli burst out. “Abso-fuckin’-lutely nothing.”
“Everything?” Dawson answered slowly. “Why are we talking about flowers?”
“The father of the bridge changed the flower order, remember? Keep up.” Eli angrily flipped his folder shut. “Flowers can suck my dick,” he muttered.
“There’s a lot to unpack there, man. You want the name of a therapist? Or a giant coffee? Both? You could take it with you to the appointment and kill two birds with one stone.”
Eli gave him the finger, and Dawson snickered.
Someone called Dawson’s name, and he turned to see his best friend, Sadie. She jogged across the grass to him, the plastic bag in her hand swaying as she zipped around people.
Dawson stuffed the list in his pocket to go over later and closed the folder, dropping it back on top of the pile.
“You need therapy. I highly recommend it,” he told Eli.
“Do you want to suck my dick?”
“Not particularly.”
Sadie stopped in front of him, holding up the green shopping bag in her hand. “I have ice cream. A caramel chocolate Cadbury block. I even got those weird berry things you like that will seriously rot your teeth. They’re disgusting, Dawson.”
“Says the woman who dips her fries in her sundae. Don’t come for my fruit chews.” One of them had a disgusting habit, and it wasn’t him.
“I also have vodka,” she continued. “I left that in the car, ’cause it’s illegal to just, y’know, walk around with it.”
All of those things were cause for concern. “It’s alright. We’ve just established we know some cops, so that’s good timing,” Dawson offered.
Sadie froze, and before Dawson could figure out what he’d said wrong, she burst into tears. Dawson shared a wide-eyed look with Eli, who then slunk away, the traitor.
“Sadie, what’s wrong?” he asked, tentatively touching her elbow. She’d cried a lot more in the last month than she ever had in her life before, and all of the reasons why made zero sense to Dawson. He just hugged her through it, and then she bounced back.
“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” she sobbed, tears tracking down her face. The bag fell from her hand, and two small ice cream tubs rolled out. Dawson watched with morbid fascination as they rolled a little way down the light hill until they came to a stop next to a weird turtle statue. The amount of animal statues at this wedding should alarm everyone.
“Richard?” he asked, confused. “Why do you want to talk to him? I thought we were burning an effigy of him. I picked up the matches yesterday.” He deserved it, and more. He should consider himself lucky. Leaving her when he found out about her pregnancy had been the most dick move any person could ever make in a relationship. Dawson had been ready to just forego the wood and burn him instead. They could make it look like an accident.
Dawson jogged over and grabbed the ice cream before shoving it back in the bag and picking it all up.
“Not Richard!”
Dawson was lost. “Are we… creating another one? I probably have spare wood.” Who else needed burning? Good thing Eli had left. If anyone had a list, it would be his boss.
“My brother ,” she said, glaring at him like he should have known.
Her brother? Dawson’s shoulders dropped as realisation sank in. “No. You didn’t.” By the look on her face, she definitely had. “Sade, you promised .” They’d needed more information before ambushing the poor guy. She couldn’t just waltz into someone’s work with a photo and an accusation that might not even be true . The confession from her parents had been a bombshell for them all, and some caution wouldn’t go astray.
He should have known she’d go rogue.
“Well, I was in the neighbourhood and…”
“In the neighbourhood?” He highly doubted that. “Blindsiding him was never going to work and—” Her face twisted in grief, and Dawson sighed, tugging her to him and wrapping her up in a hug. “I’m sorry,” he said into her hair. “Are you sure it was him?”
“He has Dad’s nose, and my eyes.”
Those eyes were pretty distinct, but that still didn’t mean anything. “What did he say?”
“Not much,” Sadie said bitterly. She hiccupped and wiped her cheek haphazardly. “Told me to get out and had me escorted out like a criminal.”
“He what?” Dawson bristled. Fucking uncalled for. What the hell?
“Said we had nothing to talk about.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “He was nothing like I thought he would be. Didn’t even give me a chance to talk to him.”
Dawson wrapped her up tighter. This is what he’d been hoping to avoid by taking it slowly and putting out feelers first. Sadie’s parents had only given her a name—thankfully, with at least a current last name—and they’d been forced to figure out the rest themselves. Dawson had used some contacts to find more information. Even then, they hadn’t been sure whether the Riley Sinclair they’d found was the right one, or if he was the easiest to find because of his job. Dawson hadn’t wanted it confirmed like this.
Sadie had a lot of energy, and she didn’t always think before she jumped. That didn’t mean anyone had the right to treat her badly, or make her cry.
“C’mon, let me take you home,” he said, tamping down the anger stirring in his gut. He could just imagine how she’d gone in, all big dreams and high hopes. How could anyone match that with unkindness? “We can eat all the stuff you got. Except for the vodka; you can’t have that.”
“It was for you,” she mumbled against his chest. “I wanted to watch you puke. We could do it together. Coordinated vomiting.”
Cool. That sounded… super cool and fun. Great plan. Couldn’t have thought of a better one by himself. “I can take one for the team,” he promised. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take much vodka since he had to drive tomorrow.
He had to make sure Eli didn’t sign off on all his deliveries without checking them first.
Gideon Clark stifled a yawn as he flipped the page of the autopsy preliminary findings. The words blurred together, and he knew he’d have to read it all over again before he could put his own report together.
The yawn won, and tired tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, mouth opening wide. Fucking hell, what time was it? He checked his watch and suddenly felt sixty times more tired. Almost ten in the evening. Too late for coffee. Too early for breakfast. Not really “today” anymore but not quite “tomorrow” either. A lawless in-between where anything could happen.
Riley had holed himself up in his office ever since that woman had come and turned his life upside down, and he still hadn’t come out to leave for the day. Gideon refused to leave until he did. He could wait his sergeant out. Riley might be stubborn, but Gideon had a six-year-old. He would win this battle every time.
Besides, this autopsy report wouldn’t read itself.
“Fracture,” he murmured to himself, leaning his elbow on his desk and dropping his chin into his hand. His eyes drooped a little. “Ligaments… broken… peanut butter…” Maybe a quick rest of his eyes would be alright?
“Peanut butter?”
Gideon jerked so violently that half the papers on his desk went flying, his mug—thankfully empty—toppled to the carpet, and his small holder of pencils and pens tipped over, his stationery going rogue and attempting to escape via the floor.
“Fucking hell ,” he rasped out, pressing a hand to his rapidly beating heart.
Riley stared passively at him, like he hadn’t just tried to take fifty years off Gideon’s life. He wanted to die young and like, in a heroic action scene. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“They would never expect it here,” Riley remarked.
“Put something nice on my tombstone.” He contemplated leaving everything on the floor. The carpet would be too tempting. Surely, he’d worked enough to earn a quick power nap under his desk?
“What are you still doing here?” Riley asked.
“Waiting for you,” Gideon said bluntly, too tired to skirt around the truth.
Riley scowled. “Why?”
“Where do you want me to start?” There were so many appropriate answers to that question it was practically a lucky dip. Because you were dealt a serious blow today. Because we basically kissed. Because I liked how you held me, and I want to know what it means. Some were more important than others, but they were all things they needed to talk about. Gideon couldn’t deny that one split-second decision had changed everything. Riley might have been able to dismiss it, and Gideon might have been able to as well if he’d wanted to. He didn’t. He wanted to know what it meant that Riley even allowed that much to happen.
Riley’s scowl deepened. “Go home, Gideon.”
Gideon didn’t consider his empty two-bedroom apartment “home.” He hadn’t even unpacked properly yet, instead searching through boxes to find the essentials as he needed them. Every time he put something new into place it felt like another nail in the coffin that reminded him he didn’t get to see his little boy every day anymore. That the place he’d called home for so many years didn’t have a place for him anymore.
“Are you going home?” Gideon countered. “Why don’t we walk out together?”
“I’m not doing this with you.”
Gideon stood, evening their heights out a little better, only needing to tilt his head up a bit to meet Riley’s gaze. He didn’t want to have such a significant disadvantage. Not for this. “Not doing what? Talking about the fact that you have a sister , or the fact that you kissed me in your office?”
Riley glanced around as if Gideon didn’t already know the place was empty. He wasn’t that much of an idiot.
“A mistake,” Riley said stiffly.
“Which bit?”
“It wasn’t a kiss.”
Okay, Gideon could work with that being where they started. “I felt your lips against mine.” Riley couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen. Facts didn’t lie, and Gideon could still feel that brief pressure, even hours later. Branded on him like a tattoo. And he wanted more. What would a real kiss from Riley feel like? Maybe that avenue of thought led to a dangerous path. If Gideon cared about that, he might have closed the door and left it behind him. Why had Riley kissed him? Why hadn’t he pushed Gideon away?
“A minimal touch. If you consider that a kiss, then I feel sorry for you.”
Well, Gideon couldn’t ignore that opening. “Why don’t you show me how it’s done, then?”
Riley visibly swallowed, jaw twitching. Somewhere deep down, Gideon had thought it’d been a fluke. Heat of the moment, and Riley being upset about a pretty fucking significant bombshell. It had put him in a strange bubble all day, and he’d assumed it had only affected him.
He could see the truth of it in Riley’s eyes.
Riley wanted to kiss him. Gideon had never entertained the idea before, and now he couldn’t think of anything else.
Riley stepped closer, and Gideon braced himself, heart racing. His gut clenched when Riley fiddled with the clasped middle button of Gideon’s suit jacket, holding tight over his stomach. A hint of Riley’s fingertips whispered over Gideon’s white shirt. Riley glanced at his lips, and his body went into overdrive, a hot flash racing through him. Hell yes.
Gideon had always acknowledged Riley’s attractiveness, in that unattainable way. A marble statue in a museum that had a distinct “look, don’t touch” sign hanging in front of it over a red rope. Lucia, his ex-wife, had waxed poetic about all of Riley, mostly as a joke to tease Gideon but also because anyone with eyes knew exactly what Riley looked like. Hot, competent, and in charge. The ultimate trifecta. Gideon couldn’t come right out and say, “Yeah, my boss is hot as fuck,” but secretly, he’d agreed with her. An abstract thought, not concrete.
The tiniest shift to the left in a split second had morphed it into something more tangible.
Gideon curled his hands around the edge of his desk to stop himself from reaching out. He had a feeling that any attempt to force Riley to go faster wouldn’t go down well, and he wanted this kiss. Wouldn’t be denied.
Riley tipped Gideon’s chin up, searching his eyes. The hold heated his skin, and he acutely felt everywhere Riley touched him. He couldn’t ignore any of it, not the way Riley smelled—so fucking good —and not the way his skin burned up under Riley’s fingers.
Riley leaned forward barely an inch, and Gideon’s lips parted in anticipation. Please, put me out of my misery, and give me this.
“Why are you pushing this?”
Gideon licked his lips, the tip of his tongue flicking against Riley’s. That tiny taste floored him, and he needed more. “You started it,” he said breathlessly. Now finish it.
“How old are you?”
“Older than you.” By two years even if no one believed him when he said it, not until he showed ID.
“We’re not going further than this,” Riley said. His lips whispered across Gideon’s as if to prove his words a lie. “It’s already gone too far. I’m your boss, Gideon.”
“Is that why I call you ‘sir’?” Gideon gave in, hands reaching up to hold the open sides of Riley’s suit jacket.
“It’s why you drive me insane.”
Gideon exhaled shakily. “Is that the only reason?”
Riley had been the one to initiate it, and it didn’t matter if it had only lasted a second; it still counted as a kiss. The gate was open now, and even if Riley closed it, Gideon would always know that it could be opened even if he didn’t understand why.
Riley put distance between them, and the acute loss sat heavy in Gideon’s gut. So fucking close.
“We’re not doing this,” Riley said firmly. He straightened his jacket, composing himself. He needed to do that because of Gideon .
Gideon went to step forward, determined not to let Riley put that wall back up.
“Sergeant Sinclair?”
Gideon jumped at the sudden intrusion, so lost in the two of them he hadn’t even noticed someone come into the room.
Constable Liam Nedrie stood in the entrance to the bullpen, one hand on the doorframe, looking curiously between them.
“Yes?” Riley asked. Gideon found it disconcerting how easily he slipped back into his mask.
“There’s a man at the front desk asking for you.”
“Me?”
This late? Riley should have been at home already. Why would anyone come looking for him now?
“Demanding, quite loudly. Ninety-nine percent sure he’s been drinking.”
Gideon’s brows drew in, confusion kicking in. “Did he say what he wanted?” Who came to a police station drunk?
“He said something about a woman named Sadie? Should we call a taxi to take him home or stick him in the drunk tank to sleep it off?”
Riley tensed, and Gideon automatically moved closer to him even if there wasn’t anything to physically shield him from. “Tell him I’m not available, and that he can sho—”
“Give us one second,” Gideon interrupted, putting a hand on Riley’s upper arm. “We’ll be right out.”
Nedrie shrugged. “Alright. I’ll keep him out front for you.”
“What are you doing?” Riley bit out once they were alone.
“What are you doing?” Did Riley think that if he didn’t say the word “sister” that the title didn’t exist, or that she would go away? That can of worms had been opened, and he couldn’t close it back up, just like their kiss. “Are you not even a little curious what he wants, and what it has to do with her?”
“No. I don’t have to care about her simply because we share the same blood. Her parents made their choice. I have nothing to say to her, or anyone associated with her. And especially if that person is drunk.”
While those were fair points, that hadn’t been where Gideon had been going with that. “I didn’t say that you had to. I just think that…” Gideon trailed off, trying to see it from Riley’s perspective. He’d never been faced with the kind of dilemma that Riley faced. His parents—retired and living their best life doting on their grandson—had raised him in a loving home. He’d lived next door to his best friend growing up and now worked alongside her every day—even if she spent half of it giving him shit. He’d married a beautiful, kind, and caring woman and made the best damn child in the universe with her. What Riley had lived with his whole life… Gideon couldn’t ever really understand. That didn’t mean that he would let Riley weather it alone.
“Stay here, I’ll deal with it,” he decided.
When Gideon pushed through the door that led to the marble foyer of the station, he’d expected an irate and angry individual and had prepared himself to physically remove them from the premises if necessary.
The empty foyer took the wind out of his sails. He turned a questioning gaze on Nedrie.
“He went out the front.” Nedrie grimaced. “Should I have restrained him? He looked like he needed some fresh air, and I’m not in the mood to clean up vomit if I can help it.”
“No worries, I’ll find him.” It would be easier to do this outside anyway. He’d prefer not to speak to this guy with an audience, mitigating the rumours that could result from all of this. Riley deserved more respect than being fodder for the gossip mill. He doubted most of the force even knew about his adoption. The chief superintendent, Riley’s father, had only ever treated him like family.
A single figure stood on the sidewalk under a nearby streetlamp. Dark-blue jeans, a plain white T-shirt—the alcohol had to be the only thing keeping him warm, considering the cold temperature of the dark autumn night—and sneakers that had seen better days. Dark-brown hair, longer on top and shaved on the sides. He had a hand fisted in the strands as he talked… to himself.
Gideon stuffed his hands into his pockets and approached slowly. Should they have put him in a cell?
“—to kill you. Then she’s going to stuff what’s left of you in a bin and put you out on Wednesday night with the rest of the recycling because probably body parts can be— Ahh! ”
Gideon raised an eyebrow as the man spotted him, eyes wide as he stared at Gideon like he’d just seen a ghost. Dark-brown eyes, flushed cheeks, dark-pink lips. The long hair on top of his head flopped forward, almost obscuring those eyes.
“Are you here to show me my past, present, and future?” the guy blurted out. His eyes unfocused, anger swirling under the surface despite the ridiculous question. “No, you’re him. You’re Riley .”
Before Gideon could get a word in, the man swayed forward, jabbing a finger into his chest. As the guy was roughly the same height as Riley, Gideon had to look up at him. The sheer bulk of his large frame might have been intimidating if he were stabler on his feet.
“You had no right to make her cry like that. I get that you were surprised or whatever, but Sadie had nothing to do with whatever decisions your parents made, and you could have been a bit fucking nicer to her.” His words slurred, and the finger in Gideon’s chest became a hand fisted in his shirt. Likely to keep himself upright more than anything particularly aggressive. Gideon glanced at it but didn’t ask him to move it.
“You could have actually listened to what she had to say,” he continued, almost headbutting Gideon as he teetered forward. “She came to you because she wanted to know more about you, and you, you asshole , decided that you were more interested in being a—a—a not very nice thing that I can’t say to a cop.”
As opposed to the rest of the very nice things coming out of his mouth?
The man paused, leaned back, and squinted at Gideon’s eyes. Awkward silence stretched. Then his lips parted in shock, and he took a shaky step back. “Brown. Not blue. You’re not Riley.”
“No. Why don’t we start again?” Gideon held out his hand. “I’m Detective Senior Constable Gideon Clark.”
Colour drained from the man’s face, and he hadn’t had a lot to spare in the first place. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” He swallowed. “Uh, is there a—a bin around here?”
“There’s one ins—” Gideon stopped as the man turned and threw up in the bushes. Too late. Gideon rubbed his back because he wasn’t an animal, and his gut clenched in sympathy. He knew that far-from-pleasant feeling.
“Is this an arrestable offence?” The words were mostly one long groan, but Gideon had practice interpreting “drunk.”
“Which part? The drunk and disorderly, or giving our gardener something interesting to clean up? Or… bird food, I guess.” Gideon grimaced. Having a child meant he’d gotten used to disgusting bodily fluids, but that didn’t mean he welcomed them.
Another groan. “I am a gardener. Sort of. Fuck, I would hate me.”
“It sounds like you’re gonna hate you in the morning anyway. Do you want me to check if this is against the law?” Gideon highly doubted it but could admit to some curiosity.
“Please don’t.”
“What’s your name?”
“It’s—Dawson.”
Dawson stood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry, I didn’t—sorry.”
“Riley is a good man.”
The dark eyes hardened, some lucidity appearing. “Yeah? Well, tell that to my best friend, who’s passed out in my bed after crying herself to sleep.”
“You think that’s Riley’s fault?” Gideon asked, lips flattening. She’d brought it on herself, and Gideon wouldn’t ever take her side in the matter. “There are ways to drop that kind of news, and how she did it isn’t one of them. He had every right to be upset and ask her to leave. And to force the issue when she refused to do so.”
“That’s not how she described it.”
“Then perhaps you should ask her again what happened.” To the average person, Riley had been harsh. What they might not know is that he’d been nicer than she deserved. Gideon had seen him make the most hardened cops tuck tail and run in the opposite direction. A metaphorical bomb had landed in his lap, and he’d done what he had to do to protect himself. Gideon would never think badly of him for that. He would have done it himself if Riley hadn’t gotten there first.
“Where is he?”
“I’m not telling you that.” His courtesy and polite demeanour only went so far, and this is where the line ended.
“I’m right here.”
Gideon glanced at Riley, who had come from around the back of the station. “I told you to stay inside. In fact, I told you to go home.”
“I told you to go home. Don’t forget that I’m your boss.”
“Don’t worry, you’re not letting me forget that.” If they weren’t in their positions, would Riley have given him what he’d asked for? Would he have been willing to go further than a kiss?
“Holy shit,” Dawson said, staring unblinkingly at Riley. He tilted to the side and shifted his feet to brace himself, putting a hand out as if there were a wall there that would hold him up. He might want to move a few metres to the left if he needed one.
Riley studied him like a scientist with a new species of bug under a microscope. “Who are you?”
“She said you have the same eyes, but yours are…” Dawson faltered as if looking for the right words. “You’re gorgeous—uh—no, they’re— they’re gorgeous. Not you. I mean, you are, but that’s not… not what I meant to say.” He closed his eyes in mortification, red spreading across his cheeks.
Riley narrowed his eyes. “How drunk are you?”
“Not nearly enough.”
Drunk enough he’d thrown up in the bushes like a teenager drinking his first beer. “I doubt you’d want us to prove that with a breathalyser,” Gideon commented. “Or are you always so impulsive that you rock up to a police station off your face like it’s just another day ending in Y?”
“Yes. No?” Dawson paused. “What?”
“Go home and sleep it off,” Riley said coldly.
“Do you want us to call you a taxi?” Gideon asked. Did the guy even have a phone on him? His pants were pretty tight. Who left their house without their phone?
“I already called one,” Riley said.
Not surprising. Riley had a big heart for those willing to look close enough.
“I’m not leaving. I have something to say.” Dawson’s brows drew in, mouth turning down as he glanced at his feet. “I can’t repeat all that, I forgot what I said.” He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. “You can’t just—um—Sadie isn’t your parents and… Fuck.”
“They’re not my parents,” Riley said darkly.
That set Dawson off again. “I don’t give a fuck what you want to call them!” he burst out angrily. “She came to you because she wanted to learn more about you and—”
“That’s her problem, not mine. I have a family, and she isn’t part of it. Neither are you. The child she carries is not a relation of mine, and your claim on it doesn’t give you the right to come here and demand anything of me either.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? The kid isn’t mine.” Dawson looked genuinely confused and also like he was about to fall back into the same bush that he’d chucked his guts up in.
Gideon moved fast, sliding an arm around his waist to steady him before pulling him up against his chest to hold him secure. “Careful. We don’t want to have to call an ambulance because you split your head open.”
Dawson blinked, staring at Gideon like he’d never seen him before in his life. His moments of lucidity were deceiving, considering his drunken state.
“If you’re not the father, who are you?” Riley asked, eyes flitting between where Gideon held Dawson and Dawson’s face. “If you tell me you’re another sibling, I can guarantee you’ll like my response even less than my original one.”
Gideon tightened his hold on Dawson so he couldn’t jerk forward. That really wouldn’t end well for any of them.
“No, asshole,” Dawson spat out. “Like I’d want to be related to you! She’s my best friend, and I’m gay, not that it’s any of your fucking business. She deserves for you to at least listen to her.”
“Why?” Riley asked, face passive and uncaring.
Dawson faltered. He looked at Riley’s lips and stayed riveted on them before shaking his head. “Because she’s your sister!”
“Through circumstance of our birth. I have siblings. She isn’t one of them.”
Dawson shifted in Gideon’s arms, tripping forward and forcing Gideon to brace them both by sliding a foot back. “That’s bullshit.”
“Blood doesn’t equate to family.”
Dawson managed to get away from Gideon and stepped up close to Riley, their chests brushing. Even with his intense glare, it was obvious Riley had the power here.
“What kind of coward ignores something like this?”
Riley leaned in closer, their noses almost touching. Gideon winced at the look on Riley’s face. Whatever he had to say wouldn’t be pleasant.
“You don’t know anything about me, and if you think I care about anything you have to say, you’re dead wrong. Stop wasting my time and return to whatever hole you came from.”
Gideon placed his hands on their chests, separating them. Equal levels of heat poured out, trapping Gideon in a sauna. “Okay, time out. You’re drunk, and you need sleep,” he said forcefully to Dawson, pushing him back when he went to move closer again. “This is the worst time to be having any kind of rational conversation.” He poked a finger against Dawson’s chest. “Riley has a right to refuse to speak to someone that he doesn’t know. Sadie is a stranger to him, and he has no obligation to give her what she’s asking for.” He held up a hand as Dawson opened his mouth to argue. “Riley can also be stubborn and pigheaded and—”
“That’s enough,” Riley grumbled. “Are you helping or…?”
“I’m mediating.”
“You spent three hours yesterday arguing with Grady on the merits of white versus pink marshmallows. What do you know about mediating?”
“Grady is even more stubborn than you are; it was more like an hour and thirteen minutes, and I won.” White would be always be superior, and what did Grady know about marshmallows? Nothing. He couldn’t even admit he liked them, being the real coward in this story. “My point is that demanding something from Riley that he doesn’t want to give is not the way to change his mind.” Riley had to think he’d come up with the idea himself. Plant the seed and watch it grow. A marathon, not a sprint.
“What do you suggest then?” Dawson asked. He leaned more heavily on Gideon’s hand, and Gideon was forced to curl his fingers in his shirt to keep him steady. If there’d been a seat nearby, Gideon would have forced him into it.
“Not brute force or coming at him drunk.”
“I’m standing right here.”
“I wasn’t—I didn’t plan to come here and—I just wanted to help.” Dawson tilted dangerously and grasped Gideon’s shoulders to stop himself from falling. Their lips brushed as their noses pressed together.
They froze. If Gideon considered what he and Riley had done as a kiss, did he then have to do the same with this one? Intent mattered, right? Riley had been trying to kiss him.
Dawson jerked back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off, nostrils flaring. “I… don’t feel very good.”
“Are you going to throw up again?” Gideon asked, bracing himself to get out of the way. He’d had puke on his shoes before, more than once, and it wasn’t something he ever purposely tried to repeat. And he always sent the bill for new shoes to Riley. He never expected it to be paid—the principle of the matter meant he at least had to send it—and yet somehow Riley always got it pushed through and paid. Magic.
Gideon’s focus flitted to a white cab pulling up a few cars down. It parked but didn’t turn its lights off, idling there.
“That’s your ride,” Riley said. “I suggest you take it.”
“I already told you I wasn’t leaving.” Dawson leaned over Gideon, giving him a whiff of both alcohol and a nice citrus smell. Surprisingly, there was no hint of bile or vomit. “You need to understand that you’re not the only one affected by this. She got blindsided too.”
Riley’s hand settled on the small of Gideon’s back, sending a shiver through him. Dawson glanced down as though he’d felt it too.
“I don’t care,” Riley said in a deep voice that hit low in Gideon’s gut. “She is nothing to me. And neither are you. If you don’t want to leave, then I can cuff you and put you in a cell instead. Would you prefer that?”
Dawson stepped even closer—how, Gideon had no idea, because there wasn’t any goddamn room—all but trapping Gideon between the two of them. In other circumstances, he might have enjoyed being in the middle of this kind of sandwich. Unfortunately, this didn’t give him any fond feelings. A sad day.
“Go ahead,” Dawson taunted. “You have nothing to arrest me for.”
“Throwing up in the bushes?” Gideon suggested.
Riley raised an eyebrow. “Classy.”
“Fuck you, Riley ,” Dawson said, saying Riley’s name like a curse “And you said that wasn’t an arrestable offence.”
“I said I’d have to check.”
“Drunk and disorderly is more than enough to throw you in a cell for twenty-four hours. So is verbally assaulting a police officer. The ride won’t wait forever, so choose which way you want to go,” Riley said. “You and your friend aren’t welcome here.”
“ Your fucking sister ,” Dawson snarled. “You have a sister, and whether or not you want to acknowledge that, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s true, and that there’s a real person on the other end that wants to know you. And you made her cry. If that’s something that you can live with, then maybe it is for the best that you keep your distance.”
The corner of Riley’s mouth lifted, nothing pleasant in the expression. “Which is it? You want me to speak to her, or you don’t?”
Dawson lunged, and Gideon wrapped him up, pulling him out of Riley’s space. “Not a good move,” Gideon warned him. “It’s time for you to call it a night. Drink some water, get some sleep. Don’t say something you can’t take back.”
Dawson heaved like he’d been running a marathon, jaw tight, eyes blazing. “Fine,” he bit out, shoving away from Gideon. “Sadie is one of the best people I know. She’s kind, and loyal, and the person you want in your corner when the chips are down. I feel sorry for you that you don’t get to know her.”
He slammed the taxi door as he all but fell into the back seat, leaving them in silence only broken by the sounds of the city around them.
Gideon blew out a breath. “Riley—”
“Why did he kiss you?” Riley asked.
Gideon’s breath stuttered as Riley invaded his space. He settled a hand on the side of Gideon’s neck. Heat seared against his skin, and he wanted to arch into the touch.
“I don’t think it was a kiss,” Gideon murmured. It had been more like a drunk guy who couldn’t hold himself up. “I think he had way more alcohol in his system than he presented with.” Those types of people were ones to watch. Lowered inhibitions and not enough presence to be aware of just how compromised they were. Ones who got behind the wheel under the mistaken impression they were fine.
Riley brushed his thumb over Gideon’s lips, tracing the movement with narrowed eyes. “I’m going home.”
“Alone?” Gideon asked huskily, tipping his head up and leaning closer. Riley couldn’t tease him like that and not follow through. He couldn’t be unaware of just how his actions looked and the message they sent.
Riley’s lips hovered over his, so close he could almost touch them. This is what he wanted. They both did. Whatever they’d started in Riley’s office, it was far from finished.
“What are you so afraid of?” Gideon whispered.
“I’m your boss.”
“And if you weren’t?”
“I am, so it’s an irrelevant question.”
Gideon played with the buttons of Riley’s shirt. What would Riley’s skin feel like? He could admit he’d imagined what Riley might look like naked, in the same way people fantasised about celebrities. A passing fancy that didn’t mean anything. “I want you, and I know you want me.” He would never have let it get even this far if he didn’t.
Gideon’s lips grazed Riley’s jaw, the light stubble scraping pleasantly over his softness. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“We’re not doing this,” Riley said firmly, taking Gideon’s hand and removing it from his space. “Enjoy your evening, Gideon.”
Disappointed, Gideon watched as Riley walked away. A nice view, at least: Riley had a phenomenal ass. Gideon had never paid a lot of attention to it in the past, that line between boss and employee firmly in place—not to mention Gideon’s marriage vows.
He was paying attention now.