Chapter 3
Dawson groaned, rolling over in bed. Fucking hell, the pounding in his head needed to stop. Though it sounded a lot like… He opened his eyes, instantly regretting it as pain burst from the bright light.
More pounding.
His front door, not his head. Were they using a cannon to knock? Seemed unnecessary. He had a doorbell. Why couldn’t they use that?
Sadie snored loudly next to him, hugging a pillow and taking up way more room than someone her size had any right to. He’d been relegated to the edge. His own fault for leaving and ceding control of the bed space.
He winced. Fuck, he’d really done that. Maybe he’d dreamt it?
Dreamed those crazy fucking blue eyes. The same as Sadie’s and yet so completely different. And the other one, the soft cop who’d rubbed his back while he’d been puking.
Please let that have been a dream. It wouldn’t be hard to conjure someone with Sadie’s eyes. He knew what they looked like, and she’d said they were the same. Easy for his imagination to fill in the rest.
More pounding at the door.
His stomach rolled uncomfortably as he stood, bracing himself with one hand on his nightstand. Fucking hell, he was dying . His last moments. Is this where his life would flash before his eyes, like a montage of all the important parts?
Images of cheese bombarded him. Great. His last thoughts were going to be of Brie, mozzarella, Camembert, and Jarlsberg. If they were the most important parts of his life, he had so much evaluating to do.
His stomach turned over again, and actually—he raced for the toilet, only just making it in time to empty his stomach—his last thoughts were going to be about vomit, and they were going to find him hunched over the porcelain bowl. Dignified.
He checked the time to make sure he hadn’t slept through his alarm. Not even seven yet. Okay, he had time to be dramatic before he had to get ready.
He took it nice and easy on the way to the front door, wincing as he opened it, the sun hitting him square in the face. God, what the fuck? That had to be illegal somewhere. How could it be so bright already?
His older brother, Marshall, grinned. “You look like death, little brother.”
“Fuck off.” He felt like death too. That didn’t mean it needed to be pointed out.
He left the door swinging open and stumbled back into the house. Then flicked the kettle on and opened the fridge. The cool air soothed him, and he contemplated just sticking his head in it for the foreseeable future. Like a camel in the desert, except a person and a fridge.
Close enough.
“Got your mail,” Marshall said, dropping the letters on the counter. “Why are you still in bed? Don’t you have a job?”
“Still early, assface.”
“Can’t even insult me in full sentences?”
Dawson rolled his eyes and instantly regretted it. How did the back of his eyes hurt? How did everything hurt? Fucking hell, he needed a coffee. Hurry up, kettle, I need some nectar of the gods.
“What did you do last night?” Marshall asked with a laugh.
“Nothing good,” Dawson moaned.
“Yeah, I can see that. Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll make coffee?”
“Have I told you recently how much I love you?”
“I might not even spit in your coffee now.”
“I appreciate that.”
By the time he got out, he felt somewhat normal-ish, though not nearly human enough. Marshall greeted him in the kitchen with a mug of coffee that smelled divine.
“So, uh, I need some brotherly advice,” he said cautiously, sipping at the coffee that tasted as good as it smelled.
Marshall grabbed some bread and stuck it in the toaster. “Shoot.”
“I… might have fucked up last night.”
“Wow, that doesn’t sound like you at all.”
“Could you be more judgemental?”
“I could give it a try.”
Dawson let out a breath and gripped the steaming mug more tightly. “Sadie confronted her brother yesterday.”
Marshall almost dropped the butter he’d just gotten out of the fridge. “As in—?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you guys were waiting and letting it percolate or whatever.”
“I don’t think that’s what percolate means. And we were . Sadie went by herself. I didn’t even know till after.”
Marshall sighed. “Should have expected that.”
Him and Dawson both. Should have locked her up somewhere. Not that Dawson could lecture her about impulsive choices right now. “So anyway, it went… not great. He reacted badly.” Understatement.
“Damn, I’m sorry. How does this relate to you fucking up last night?” Marshall froze, plates in hand. “Please tell me you didn’t.”
“I need more context than that.”
There were plenty of things that he’d probably done that Marshall wouldn’t approve of. The list was long enough he’d need some specifics.
“Dawson.”
“What? I’m serious.” He had an inkling, but he wasn’t going to say it first. As the youngest, he’d learned to be way smarter than that.
“You went and saw him while you were drunk.” Marshall frowned. The toast popped up, and he didn’t move. “He’s a cop, right? Her brother? You… oh my God. At the station?”
“Where else was I supposed to find him?” Dawson asked defensively. “I don’t know where he lives.”
“And if you had?”
“I’d like to think that I have more integrity than to ambush a guy at his home.” Dawson rubbed circles around his temples, adding some pressure to alleviate the pain as he slowly made his way through the coffee. He’d need another two or three.
“Unfortunately, we know you better,” Marshall said dryly.
Okay, rude. “Not my finest moment,” he accepted.
“I cannot believe that you would be that stupid. You’ve done some stupid shit but—”
“It’s not that bad, calm down.” Nothing compared to the headache trying to explode his head.
“You have to go apologise,” Marshall said firmly. “Like, today. Damage control, Daws.”
“Yeah.” Or he could curl into a ball and die. Also a valid option. Like one of those rolling beetle things. Fuck, what were they called? Maybe he could Google it.
“Does Sadie know?”
“Do I still have my head?” Dawson asked rhetorically.
“Are you going to tell her?”
“Not if I can fix it first.” Fuck, he hoped he could fix this.
“Who is making all this racket?” Sadie grumbled, staggering into the room, rubbing her eyes as if summoned. “Ooh, coffee.” She stole Dawson’s mug and finished it.
He shared a glance with his brother and shook his head. No fucking way did he want to talk to her about it now. Not when he still felt like a bag of dicks.
She beamed at Dawson, eyes crinkling. “You look like shit.”
“Thank you so much,” Dawson replied sarcastically. Did they have to keep repeating what he looked like? He’d showered and changed, so he at least looked alive now. He’d even put some deodorant on, so he also knew he didn’t stink. And brushed his teeth. All the things required to start a day off right. “It might be because some witch wanted to compete in coordinated puking.” It hadn’t even worked. She’d gone to sleep before they’d gotten to that part. Dawson had done it all by himself in front of a fucking police station. To make it worse, he’d also done it in front of a cop. A sexy one that he’d have been hitting on in any other situation. Instead, he’d snarled at him and then thrown up. His life fucking sucked.
“You disappeared for a bit,” Sadie mused. “Did you fall asleep in the shower again? I told you that’s a waste of water. Beds are for sleeping. Showers are for cleaning. The fact that we need to have this lesson again is disturbing.”
“I’ve fallen asleep in the shower three times, let’s calm down.”
Marshall snorted. “Three times seems like a small number if you were buying apples. But it’s an unusually high amount for sleeping in showers.”
Well, this ganging-up bullshit could go and sit in the trunk and get pushed into a lake. “I hate both of you.”
“Just think, you started your day off so well that it can only go up from here,” Sadie said pleasantly, taking the plate of Vegemite toast Marshall handed her.
Dawson highly doubted it.
Gideon jumped when a folder slammed on top of his keyboard. Ange loomed over him with one perfectly arched eyebrow. Gideon couldn’t do that; he’d spent more hours in front of a mirror attempting it than he would ever admit.
“Okay, spill.”
“Spill what?” he asked, confused.
“You’ve been in a whole other world all day. You didn’t even beg me to stop at Bakers Delight for an apple strudel on the way back to the station after we served that warrant.”
“So?” Maybe he hadn’t wanted one today. Just because he always manipulated her into feeding him didn’t mean there would never be a day where he didn’t want to eat. Or where he forgot.
“I have to feed you every two hours, or you shrivel. You’re like a house plant.”
Another detective, Grady Donehue, snorted in laughter from his desk, so Gideon threw a pen at him. One of the sucky ones, not one of his good ones that he protected with his life. “That is untrue. I can last at least three hours.”
“Don’t be a liar on top of your other transgressions.”
“What transgressions?” He could honestly say he’d been on his best behaviour that day. Not one prank. Grady’s eyebrow hadn’t been made to twitch even once. Gideon should be getting a gold star, not a lecture. If they were trying to get him to behave himself, they were going in the opposite direction.
Ange forcefully spun his chair so he faced her and rested a foot between his legs. “We can do this the hard way, or we can do this the harder way.”
“What about the easy way?” Gideon squeaked. Shouldn’t a good way also be an option? Good cop, bad cop didn’t work with two bad cops.
“You’re too stubborn for that. What’s gotten you so distracted today?” She narrowed her eyes. “You seeing someone? New girl?”
“No,” Gideon sputtered. What the fuck? “I am not .” Technically a truth. Riley wouldn’t even kiss him. Not conducive to a successful relationship beginning.
Ange’s lips flattened, and Gideon wanted to call a ceasefire. “A boy?” she asked.
Was he that transparent? Safer not to ask. “I have the right to remain silent. Also, that’s none of your business.”
Her eyebrow did the thing again. “A boy, then.”
“There’s no boy!” Gideon protested loudly. Too loudly. Now Grady and his partner, Quinn, were looking at him from their desks. All he needed now was for the other detective duo—Greer and Henry—to come through the doors, and it would be a super-fun gawking session. He needed to start charging.
Ange nodded solemnly. “Want to do it the harder way, huh? With two dicks, that makes sense.”
“You’re actually making my dick shrivel a little,” Gideon risked his life to say. She shouldn’t be offended by that; she didn’t even like dicks. Not real ones anyway. That he wasn’t going to mention, because then his life really would be forfeit, and if he died, then Riley really wouldn’t kiss him.
The sound of his son yelling his name from the hallway leading to the bullpen saved him from the rest of the torture masquerading as an interrogation.
The second Ange moved out of the way, a bony, lanky six-year-old launched himself into Gideon’s lap. His knee grazed the same area Ange had been trying to shrivel. Guess no one wanted him to use that particular part of his anatomy.
Maybe Riley did. Gideon could ask him. For science.
“MumandIwentshoppingandthenandthenwewentforicecreamandthen—”
Gideon put a hand over Hudson’s mouth as he laughed. “One word at a time, buddy. Slow it down. Big breath. There we go. Try that again?”
“Mum and I went shopping,” Hudson said. He held up the toy garbage truck in his hand. “And I got a truck because Ned has a truck, and I wanted one just like him. And then we went for ice cream, but not too much ’cause Mum said I’ll get a tummy ache. Can we have ice cream after footy?”
“I’ll think about it. Mum is right, though. Remember what happened last time you had too much dairy?” Gideon placed Hudson on his feet. “Who’s Ned? New friend at school?”
Lucia appeared, holding Hudson’s backpack in one hand and a half-eaten sundae from McDonald’s in the other. She smiled warmly at the two of them, making her way around the desks.
“He’s Mum’s new friend,” Hudson said.
Gideon’s world tilted as the words registered. “He’s—sorry, what?” What kind of friend? They didn’t have anyone named Ned in their friend circle.
“I was playing at Priya’s yesterday after school ’cause she has a new Pokémon card that I wanted to see, but her mum doesn’t let her bring them to school, and then, and then when her mum took me home, Ned was at home too, and he said, he said that he drives the garbage. The same trucks that I watch in the morning!”
The trucks he always made Gideon and Lucia get up each week at dumb o’clock in the morning to see. Old habits die hard, and even though Gideon woke alone most days now, he still got up early and sipped at coffee as he watched the trucks pick up the bins from the apartment complex every Wednesday. An undoubtedly unhealthy and bittersweet ritual.
“You said hi to the garbageman?” Gideon tried to clarify. Not all of Hudson’s stories were linear, and they often required more than just the criminology degree that Gideon held to decipher.
“Mum said he’s a new friend.”
A new… friend. That couldn’t mean what—Gideon looked up, and the look on Lucia’s face said it all. “Hey, bud, can you go show Grady your new toy? He loves garbage too.”
Hudson beamed. “Okay!”
Gideon took Lucia’s elbow, dragging her out of earshot, keeping an eye on their son as he chattered to Grady like a pigeon. To give Grady credit, he listened intently and nodded in all the right places. When Hudson turned and waved enthusiastically at them, they waved back, smiling.
“New boyfriend?” he asked. “And you introduced him to Hudson already?” Shouldn’t they talk about that first?
Lucia grimaced. “I’m sorry, Gid, it was an accident. A mix-up in schedules. I definitely didn’t mean to introduce them this early. Or at all, you know, because what if it doesn’t work out?”
What if it doesn’t work out . Lucia had a boyfriend. Dating . “It’s been six months since we officially split.” Half a year. Not even a full cycle of the Earth. And she’d started dating already? Long enough to bring someone home and meet their son?
He’d kind of, sort of lip locked with Riley in the most unsatisfying way—he really fucking wanted the real thing—but that had been the first time that he’d thought about having anyone in his space romantically again, and it was an accident he couldn’t stop thinking about.
Dating implied longevity. How long had she been seeing someone new and not said anything to him?
Lucia crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “What is that supposed to mean? How long am I supposed to wait before moving on from a relationship that’s been over longer than I think either of us want to admit?”
“I don’t know.” Gideon hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about it. At the start, he’d been trying to save his marriage, and then when they’d realised that they couldn’t, because they had nothing left to salvage, he’d been trying to calibrate to a new normal that still felt foreign. They’d broken up amicably. He would always consider her one of his closest friends. They didn’t look at each other and want anymore, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t important to him. It only meant that what they’d had hadn’t stood up against their jobs and busy lives and raising a kid. He loved her, wouldn’t ever not love her, but it didn’t mean what it used to. If she found happiness elsewhere, she deserved that. And more. “It’s not even—it’s not about that. We’re still friends, Lucia; how come you didn’t even mention this?” Why didn’t you tell me?
“I don’t understand,” Lucia said. “I don’t—Gideon, the divorce was your idea. We tried everything, remember?”
“This isn’t about us, or you, Luc. You introduced him to our son without even talking to me about it.”
“And I told you I didn’t mean to.”
“Except that you put yourself into a situation where it was possible.”
What did Hudson think of the new guy? How long did he have to stick around to get stepdad status? Would he have a right to say how Hudson was raised?
“I don’t know what you want from me, Gid. I said I’m sorry.”
Gideon ran a hand down his face. He tried to take her apology and accept it, say it was fine, but it wouldn’t come out. He’d never been a good liar, and he didn’t know if it was okay.
A hand pressed against the small of his back, and his eyes met Riley’s blue. The simple touch grounded him, a solid pressure against him, giving him something to lean against.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Riley said insincerely. “Gideon, a word.”
Gideon nodded shakily. “Give me five minutes?” he said to Lucia. “Just five—we have time, right?”
“More than. Don’t worry, I know how easy it is for this place to distract you, and I accounted for that.”
He knew she hadn’t meant it as a jab, but that didn’t stop the ache of guilt from taking root in Gideon’s chest. He worked long, random hours, and the unpredictability of his job meant that would never change. He’d done his best to be a good dad with the tools he had at his disposal.
He’d agreed it would be best for Hudson to stay with Lucia full-time, and he would carve out time when he could. It was the best thing for Hudson, but it ate away at Gideon like a disease, how little time he got to spend with his boy. The last six months had been an adjustment period he still hadn’t gotten used to.
Riley led Gideon back to his office, and the second he closed the door behind them, he tugged Gideon into his arms, wrapping him up tightly.
Without questioning the unexpected contact, Gideon instantly melted, leaning into the warmth and soaking it in. “A hug,” he said, voice muffled by Riley’s chest. “Since when?” Is this what they did now? Hugged?
“You seem to think it’s a cure-all. I’m trying it out.” Riley’s thumb stroked the side of Gideon’s neck, just below his ear. A featherlight touch that lit Gideon up from within. “What do you think?”
“It’s—” Gideon’s breath hitched. “S’good. It’s good.” Better than good. “But why?”
“You seemed upset.”
He said it in such a matter-of-fact way. Gideon had looked upset, so Riley had attempted to make it better. Gideon’s stomach flipped, and he leaned back far enough that he could see Riley’s face. He’d always been so unbelievably handsome. A constant five-o’clock shadow that had to be deliberate. Perfect nose. Blue eyes that stood out in a crowd. Even the scowl he always wore enhanced his features.
Riley searched his gaze, and then his own darted down to Gideon’s mouth, the want clear to see in his eyes. He might have said no, but everything else about him said yes.
Gideon tilted his head up, so close to Riley’s lips he would barely have to move to take what he wanted. If Riley leaned down just a fraction… “What are we doing?” he asked, their lips brushing. Whatever they’d started yesterday, they couldn’t stop it. Gideon didn’t want to, and it didn’t look like Riley did either. Except that Riley had been firm about saying no. He had to make the first move.
“Making a mistake,” Riley said softly.
“I make them all the time. What’s one more?”
The barest hint of a smile crossed Riley’s lips before he closed the distance. Heat burst in Gideon’s stomach, and he opened his mouth on a desperate whimper. How long had it been since someone had touched him? Since someone had kissed him like this? Longer than six months. Closer to a year. And even then, it hadn’t been like this. It had been too long since it had been like this.
Gideon leaned into it, seeking more, and Riley obliged him. He took control with hands on either side of Gideon’s neck, tilting his mouth more firmly across Gideon’s, tongue darting inside. He didn’t give an inch as he kissed, slow and demanding and exactly like he conducted himself everywhere else. With confidence, so sure of himself.
Who knew it translated so well?
Riley walked him backwards until he hit the wall and then slipped a knee between his legs, thigh pressed against Gideon’s hardening dick.
Gideon moaned low in his throat, rocking himself against the pressure and clinging to Riley’s jacket. If he’d known it would be like this, he’d have been throwing himself at Riley months ago.
Riley pulled back, panting, lips slick, red, and swollen. The sight only made the problem in Gideon’s pants worse. Riley glanced down at Gideon’s lips, and his thumb moved across them. He pushed the tip into Gideon’s mouth, and then they were kissing again. Harder, hungrier.
Gideon tugged at Riley’s belt as Riley massaged Gideon’s dick with his thigh, catapulting him closer to orgasm. It built in his gut, everything tightening. He hadn’t come in his pants for a long, fucking time. If Riley kept this up, he’d experience it again.
Not a wet spot that he could properly explain to anyone when he walked out of the office. He knew that. He couldn’t think of a worse way to hide the fact that his boss had gotten him off in here. Every kiss they shared risked their careers and their reputations. Riley’s more than Gideon’s. Most people would expect this kind of idiocy from Gideon. Not to mention the position of power belonged solely to Riley.
Gideon knew all the reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this, especially not in Riley’s office , surrounded by all the people they worked with .
Instead of stopping it, he arched into Riley and whimpered. How could he think of anything else when Riley’s talented mouth played him like a fiddle, and hot hands glided across his skin? If Riley wanted to get them naked in here, Gideon didn’t think he had the strength to say no, lust riding him too hard.
The doorknob rattled, and then a knock sounded. Riley lifted his head, arms locking around Gideon.
“Glad you locked it,” Gideon said with a low laugh. It hadn’t occurred to him to lock the door. A rookie move, but it wasn’t like he had random encounters in people’s offices every week. He didn’t make out with his boss at work. Even during the “honeymoon” period of their relationship, he and Lucia hadn’t done anything riskier than a hand job in the car in their driveway.
Riley grunted. In annoyance or agreement? Both. Either. Probably both. Definitely both.
“Riley?”
Gideon froze. Quinn. Fuck . The one person in the precinct that would notice even a single hair on his head out of place.
He reluctantly hooked Riley’s belt back, sliding it into place and clasping it. He righted Riley’s shirt, using the excuse to smooth his hands down his hard chest.
Riley carded his fingers through the hair at Gideon’s temple. A small smile flitted across his face as he looked down.
At the tent in Gideon’s pants.
“Your fault,” he hissed quietly. He couldn’t just will his erection to go down at the drop of a hat. It didn’t work like that, and Riley didn’t look any less sexy, all put together in his suit.
“The gum I’ve been confiscating from you is in the bottom drawer of my desk. Go and get a packet for me,” Riley said.
“That’s where you put it?” Gideon asked, crouching down so he could rifle through the contents of the drawer. He’d have to remember that for when he wanted it back.
Riley opened the door. “Quinn?”
Gideon waved from his spot with a grin before going back to his task. He couldn’t find any gum. He checked the top of the drawer for some kind of latch for a hidden section.
“You have a visitor,” Quinn said. “Nedrie said you were dealing with him yesterday. A Dawson Sheppard?” Underlying questions in his tone said he wanted more details than that. Gideon followed Riley’s lead and said nothing.
Riley shook his head with an exhaled breath. “Christ. Send him in here; I’ll speak to him.”
“Alright.” Quinn glanced at Gideon again before turning around and leaving.
If he suspected something, he’d say something, wouldn’t he? “There’s no gum in here,” Gideon said. “Not much of anything in here, in fact.” Black notepads. Some packets of pens. All black. Sticky tape. Some white-out rolls. A Bakers Delight reward card with zero stamps on it, and an empty NSWPD drink bottle they handed out at every yearly conference they were all forced to attend. “Why do you have to tease me like that?” Now he wanted gum. If only to distract himself from the curve of Riley’s ass, and how much he wanted them to continue where they’d left off. Where would they be if Quinn hadn’t interrupted? How far would Riley have gone?
“How’s your dick?” Riley asked bluntly.
Oh. Right.
Gideon stood and dusted his pants off. “Clever.” One way to hide it from Quinn. He closed the drawer with his foot. “Please tell me that’s not your junk drawer, because that’s pathetic.”
“I shudder to think what might be in yours.”
“You’re welcome to look.” He gravitated towards Riley, unable to help himself. He playfully tugged the sides of Riley’s jacket. “You want to look at my junk… drawer?” he asked suggestively.
“Not if that’s how you refer to it.”
An obvious lie. The heat in Riley’s blue eyes told a different story. Gideon wasn’t the only one affected here, and the very idea that Riley Sinclair wanted him made Gideon feel drunk. Hell, alcohol had nothing on how Riley was looking at him.
“I want you to kiss me again.” “Want” wasn’t a strong enough word for it. Need. Desperation. Necessity.
Riley’s nostrils flared, and he clasped Gideon’s nape as he leaned down.
The door flung open just as their lips were about to touch. Gideon tripped, flailing backwards in his haste to step away and create distance. Riley steadied him, bringing them back into contact with each other, Gideon unbalancing the other way and falling into him. Very smooth and not suspicious at all.
Dawson and Quinn stood in the doorway. Something flickered in Quinn’s gaze before he gestured at Dawson. “Your guest. Would you like refreshments with that, sir?”
“What I’d like is an update on the Hallis murder. Grady said you were following up a lead?”
“Leaving in ten. I’ll let you know how it goes.” Quinn closed the door behind himself, trapping them inside.
“Am I interrupting something?” Dawson asked. He looked like he needed another twelve hours of sleep. And some electrolytes if the dim lights of Riley’s office were making him wince like that.
“Sit down.”
“How’s your head?” Gideon asked pleasantly, sliding into the chair beside him.
“Like beating drums against my skull,” Dawson said dryly.
“Have you eaten?” Riley buttoned the middle of his jacket and sat behind his desk. His impassive stare indicated that he expected an answer. Gideon had seen that one a lot over the years. He’d even complied a couple of times.
“I had coffee,” Dawson said, confusion flickering as he looked at Gideon, who shrugged. He had no idea where this line of enquiry led.
“That’s it?”
“It’s been a busy morning. I didn’t come here to talk about my bad decisions. I mean, okay, I did, but not like… not that one…” Dawson finished weakly. He winced and rubbed his forehead. “I came to apologise for last night. I shouldn’t have come at you like that.”
Riley waited, and Gideon chewed on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying anything.
“This is where you chime in,” Dawson said, both eyebrows raising in anticipation.
“With what?”
Dawson’s lips parted in shock. “Are you kidding me?”
Gideon coughed to cover his laugh, pressing a fist against his mouth to hide the smile threatening to overtake his face.
“You are just—you’re so fucking—” Dawson cut off with an aggravated growl.
“I’m just so what?” Riley asked. “I didn’t invite you here, not now and certainly not last night in your state. Your girlfriend isn’t welcome here, and neither are you. I owe neither of you anything, and your inability to respect my space is starting to get on my nerves.”
“I already told you she’s not my girlfriend,” Dawson said stiffly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
Gideon laced his hands behind his head, stretching out and getting comfortable. Dawson’s brown eyes flicked down to Gideon’s chest and lower. He visibly swallowed, and their eyes met through a strange wall of heat. Gideon suddenly remembered their brief lip-lock last night. An accident. Did Dawson want to try it again?
“I don’t care,” Riley said dismissively. “About you. Or her. Say what you want to say, and after that, I sincerely hope I don’t ever see either one of you again.”
“You’re an asshole,” Dawson burst out.
“I’ve heard that.”
“Why can’t you just—why can’t—one conversation with her. Get to know her. Make a judgement based on who she is, not what her parents did.”
Gideon appreciated that he’d switched to “her” parents and not “yours.” Riley might not acknowledge the distinction, but Gideon knew he’d noticed it. Not that it softened him any.
“No.”
“No,” Dawson repeated dully. “No. Right. Yeah, I should have expected that.” He stood and clicked his tongue against his teeth. “I have no idea how you can be related to Sadie. She’s her, and you… God, you’re a prick. A cold, unfeeling—” He scratched his eyebrow and then shrugged like he didn’t know what else to do, or how to respond. “Have a nice life or whatever.”
Dawson turned to leave, and Gideon stood, blocking his path. “Maybe let’s all calm down and speak like rational adults.” Gideon felt for him. The uncomfortable situation didn’t sit well with any of them.
“Let him leave.”
Gideon held up a finger. “We’re all coming from a place that wants to protect someone we care about. Let’s not be hasty with the name-calling and the exits like a six-year-old chucking a tantrum.”
Dawson’s face twisted angrily. “I am not chucking a—”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Gideon?”
Gideon checked his watch. “In a second.” Lucia hadn’t come to retrieve him yet. They had time. “Riley, is this a regret that you want to have?”
“What would I regret?” Riley asked, looking for all the world like he didn’t care about the situation. Good thing Gideon knew him better than that.
“Not knowing,” Gideon said simply. “This isn’t the same as if her parents wanted you in their life. That is a choice that’s kind of fucked-up, and I would never push that issue. But this? It’s not the same thing. A sister ? She didn’t know. You didn’t know.”
“Whose side are you on?”
Gideon stiffened. “Yours,” he said flatly. “That doesn’t mean I have to kiss your ass, or let you make a mistake.”
“Mistakes are the theme of the day, aren’t they, Gideon?” Riley drawled.
“You’re really going to throw that in my face? You kissed me too.”
Dawson’s eyebrows raised, looking between them. “Uh…”
Riley sighed, rising from his chair. “What do you both want from me?”
“Not the same as what he wants,” Dawson all but squeaked. Though Gideon wondered about that, considering his flushed cheeks. “Didn’t you say you were his boss?”
Riley’s gaze darkened, and he circled the desk to crowd them. “If that’s a threat, you’re about to like me even less than you already do.”
“It wasn’t. Does anything nice come out of your mouth?”
“For a privileged few,” Riley said seriously.
“You need help with that stick lodged up your ass?” Dawson asked sarcastically.
“Are you offering?”
Even more red coloured Dawson’s cheeks. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly. “No.” It came out as more of a breathless whisper than an actual answer. Between that and the look he’d given Gideon... Gideon had questions.
“No? Are you really here to apologise?” Riley asked, picking up on the same thing. “Or are you after something else?”
Dawson’s jaw dropped. “Fucking excuse me?”
“You think I don’t notice the way you’re looking at him?” Riley stepped even closer and cupped Gideon’s nape.
“I’m not looking at him like anything.”
“I’ve been a cop a long time, Dawson ,” Riley said conversationally. “And I can spot a lie a mile away. Did you come here for Sadie, or for you?”
“Fuck you.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I’m not—I don’t… I just want you to speak to her.”
Riley’s thumb stroked Gideon’s neck, heat searing into the spot like a brand. He leaned over Gideon’s shoulder, his lips almost touching Dawson’s. Lust swirled in Gideon’s gut, spreading uncontrollably.
“I’ve already told you that I’m not going to,” Riley said. “Whatever bargaining chip you thought to bring in here, it’s not going to work.”
Dawson reared back like he’d been struck, the red on his cheeks from something other than arousal or embarrassment now. “I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to imply,” he said angrily.
“And what is it that I’m implying?”
A knock at the door broke the tension, and Gideon pushed the two men away from each other, hands on their chests and keeping them separated. “Time-out for a second.” They all needed a moment to cool off, for various reasons.
Lucia stood at the door, Hudson at her hip and holding her hand. “We need to go,” she said apologetically, peering into the room. “If something’s come up, we can head out by ourselv—”
“No, I’m coming,” Gideon said. He’d missed more than enough of Hudson’s sports events and school events. All the events.
“He wants to ride with you.”
Before Gideon could respond to that, Hudson barrelled into his legs, beaming at him. “Can I?” he asked enthusiastically. Gideon ruffled his hair and lifted him up into his arms.
“’Course you can, buddy. We’ll meet you there?”
“I’ll take his stuff. Don’t be late, please, Gideon.” The warm smile Lucia gave him held more than a hint of exasperation. He couldn’t blame her; it wouldn’t be the first—or the last—time that he’d be late, or not end up making it to something. He tried his best. Even on the nights he didn’t work, the risk of getting called out at the drop of a hat influenced everything he did.
“We’re leaving now,” Gideon assured her. Not like right now but in the next few minutes. He wouldn’t be late, not this time.
Lucia kissed Hudson and got one more assurance before leaving.
Riley and Dawson were still squaring off, eyes only for each other. Gideon probably shouldn’t have found it attractive. Being attracted to his boss in the first place put him in the “make stupid decisions” category. He could add this to the list.
“Can I leave you two in here alone or…?” He didn’t think so. They were either going to make out—and Gideon wanted to watch that—or they’d punch each other, which Gideon wouldn’t allow.
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” Dawson said brusquely. He grabbed a random notepad from Riley’s desk and a pen from his holder, scribbling on it. “This is my number, not Sadie’s. If you change your mind about being an”—he glanced at Hudson, who watched them curiously over Gideon’s shoulder—“unpleasant person, then…” He shrugged, threw down the pen, and left, giving Gideon and Hudson a wide berth. Impressive, considering they were practically in the doorway.
Riley rubbed his forehead and sat, fingering the notepad.
“Don’t throw that out,” Gideon told him. That face said, “What’s the most efficient way to obliterate this?”
“I’m the one that’s supposed to give orders here, not you.”
Gideon tore the page off and stuffed it into his pocket, not trusting that Riley wouldn’t burn it for good measure. He lowered Hudson to the ground. “Can you do me a favour and go get my jacket? You know where my desk is. Give Quinn a high five and come straight back, and then we’ll leave, alright?”
“Okay!” Hudson bolted, almost running into the first desk he encountered before swerving around it. Memories of his first steps and the way he used to run, tilted forward, gave Gideon an unpleasant shiver.
Riley stared impassively. “Say what you want to say.”
“A hasty fuck off feels good now, but it won’t feel good later. He’s not your sister, or your sibling, and he knows her. I think it’s enough of a removal from that space, don’t you? What’s the harm in learning more about her through him?”
“I don’t want to know anything about her,” Riley said, scowling. “I never wanted her to walk in my door. I have siblings. Plenty of them, in fact. I don’t need more.”
Gideon sighed. He closed the door behind himself and then circled the desk, stepping between Riley’s legs. He ran his fingers through the hair at Riley’s temple. “Okay. If that’s what you want, I’ll drop it.” He couldn’t resist leaning down to kiss Riley softly. The floodgates were open now. Gideon wanted hands on him again. Wanted to feel . Riley gave him that, and more.
“He couldn’t keep his eyes off you,” Riley murmured.
Dawson hadn’t exactly been a hardship to look at himself. Even drunk last night, he’d been stunning.
“He was looking at you too,” Gideon felt compelled to point out. The looks had been equal opportunity and half admiring, half stunned. Riley had that effect on people.
“He was extremely hungover.”
Gideon grinned. Yeah, he’d noticed that. “You think he was still wearing the alcohol goggles? Thinking you’re a ten, when you’re really a two?”
“A two?”
“Don’t worry, I think you’re a ten.”
“Are you coming to work drunk as well?”
Gideon shifted in closer, and Riley’s arms went around his waist, settling there with a pleasant weight. Fucking hell, Gideon had missed this so much that he ached for it. The comfort of touch. A simple hug. All of it. “Are you flirting with me?”
“I don’t know how to flirt.”
He did a damn good job at pretending, then. “I like it. You should keep doing it.”
Whatever Riley might have said got lost because Gideon kissed him again. Riley opened beneath him and pulled him closer, their bodies pressed tightly. Maybe they were making a mistake, but Gideon couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Riley kissed like he’d turned it into an art form, and being the sole focus of a man like that made Gideon dizzy.
“What are we doing?” Gideon asked.
Riley didn’t answer, but the look in his ice-blue eyes said it all.
I don’t know.