Jude slipped his blazer from his shoulders and the plain white shirt beneath stuck to him, rain-soaked and transparent in places, outlining the lean lines of his chest. His collarbones cut sharp beneath the fabric, white skin pale and flushed from the cold. Warren dragged his gaze up in time to catch a bead of water tracing the line of his clean-shaven throat, sliding down like an invitation he shouldn’t want.
Warren looked away. Fast.
Eyes on the windscreen. Hands on the wheel. Wipers clicking. Rain hammering.
What the fuck is this?
He’d been embedded on high-risk ops before. Sat in rooms with killers, liars, traffickers. Spent months pretending to be someone else. And never, not once, had his pulse kicked up over someone like this. Someone quiet. Kind. Decent.
Jude was supposed to be a person of interest.
Not a person he couldn’t stop noticing.
Warren cleared his throat. “You warm enough?”
Jude nodded, towel still pressed to his curls. “Getting there. Thanks.”
Warren kept his hands on the wheel. Eyes forward.
“Alright.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Where’s home?”
Jude glanced over in a flash, andChrist, without his glasses, his eyes were something else. Deep brown, wide and unguarded, framed by lashes that didn’t belong on someone who looked that tired. There was something soft in them. Honest. Nervous. As if he wasn’t sure whether to trust the moment or run from it.
“Uh… I can walk,” he said quietly. “Maybe wait until the rain eases off.”
Warren arched a brow. “You want to sit in my car for the next two hours while we wait for a coastal storm to take pity on you?”
Jude gave a sheepish laugh. “I’ve had worse Friday nights.”
“You trying to offend my hospitality?”
“No.” Jude shook his head. “… I don’t want to be a hassle.”
“You’re already soaked, your forms are literal mush, and I’m parked illegally. Go on. Let me do my good deed for the day.”
Jude chewed on his lip. “Actually, could you swing past Carter Cars? They’ve had mine for weeks. I could check if it’s ready.”
Warren glanced at the dash clock. “It’s gone seven, Jude. They’ll be closed.”
Jude went quiet.
Almost silent.
Warren clocked the shift immediately. The way his shoulders crept up. How he turned his face away. A tell. A subtle one, but there all the same.
Jude’s reluctance to go home, or for Warren to take him there, caused alarm bells to ring in Warren’s gut.
Jude reached for his glasses, wiping the condensation off with a corner of the towel before slipping them back on. “Okay. Yeah. Home’s fine. Thanks.”
Warren tapped the Sat Nav. “Postcode?”
“Take me to the end of the Ashworth Lane. It’s awkward to turn around.”
That was bullshit, and Warren knew it. He’d been there multiple times. Wide access. Plenty of turning space.
But he didn’t call it out.
He nodded. “Sure.”
