“Can I help you?” I liked him just fine when he was guarding Sebastian with us; he was so fucking out of his depth it wasn’t funny, and he was harmless. How he got on Riley’s homicide squad I still can’t work out. Riley usually has good instincts, but this kid should have stayed in the country. Henry thinks Riley’s the one who orchestrated the bodyguard job; it wasn’t. Greer had a hand in that, mostly to keep him out of the way while he worked a case with Six—convenience, more than anything—and I know he carries some guilt over what happened to the kid. He has nothing to feel guilty about; now Henry has a battle scar onhis face he can wear proudly. It’s not every day you get shot in the head and live to talk about it.
That was then, and this is now. He didn’t have dinner with my boyfriend before. Or take his attention away from me. I allowed it to begin with because of everything that happened. My patience, however, left the building months ago.
“Uh—yes?” Henry shuffles from one foot to the other again. “I think so. I’m here for dinner?”
“Don’t be an asshole,” Kendrick calls from the kitchen. “Let him in.”
I contemplate whether or not I want to shut the door in his face. Would he knock again or walk away? There has to be a backbone in there somewhere.
The only reason I step out of the way and gesture for him to come in is that Kendrick obviously invited him. And strategically didn’t tell me about it.
“Sit,” I tell him, pointing at the couch before stalking across to where Kendrick is chopping carrots. “What the fuck?” I hiss at him, confident there’s enough distance that we won’t be overheard. Not really caring if we are. “A heads-up would have been nice.”
“Then you’d have talked me out of it. Or found an excuse to not be here.” He tugs me into his arms, bracketing me against the counter. The nuzzling against my ear is nice, and I melt against him. “Just give him a chance. You’ll like him.”
“I don’t like anyone who thinks they have a right to your time over me.”
“He doesn’t think that.” He kisses the tender spot under my ear, then nips at it. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“Yeah, how do you figure?” I mutter.
“Because he’s moreinterestedin Greer.”
That makes me pause, and I twist slightly in his arms to see his face. “What? Fuck off.” No one is interestedin Greer like that.Except Six, who’s certifiably crazy. Hell, half the time people can’t even look at him for more than two seconds because he eviscerates them for daring to look at him.
“I observed them once, when they were working a case that I was staking out. He’s terrified, of course, but that’s only his natural instincts kicking in.”
“Greer doesn’t scare me,” I mumble. I once watched him puke up his guts in a bush because he and Jericho were having a drinking competition. Not that Jericho fared that much better. Neither of them won that even if they both insist they did. “How does him being scared mean having a hard-on for our resident asshole?” I don’t even know how he and Six fell together, except for meeting when Greer was a patient of his at the hospital he worked at once upon a time. Years before Kendrick and I were part of the team.
“He watches Greer like a hawk. Lingers on him, and it’s not just professional curiosity.”
I can’t even imagine it. Greer practically radiates “fuck off and die” vibes. Though I guess he’s passably handsome if someone looks. He does look nice when Six is making him keep his mouth shut while fucking him. I doubt Henry’s seen that.
“Can I get up now?” Henry asks from his spot. “I have—um—I brought—” He twists and looks at us, goes bright red, and turns back around.
“Oh my god,” I whisper. “How is he a cop?”
“Be nice,” Kendrick chides, nipping my skin again.
Only because he asked. With one last lingering kiss, I move around to the other side of the bench.
Henry looks so uncomfortable that I take pity on him and gesture at the bag. “You said you brought something?”
“Oh, right.” He pulls out a brand-new bottle of Cognac Gautier.
I whistle as I take it from him. Damn, that’s nice. At least he has good taste in alcohol. “Fancy. Was this a job interview? You’re hired. Let’s talk salary.”
Kendrick plucks the bottle out of my hands. “We’ll have a drink, but you’re taking this home with you. We don’t need special treatment, Henry. Relax. Spence won’t bite, I promise.”
“Excuse me.” There’s no need to reveal all my secrets. Besides, I don’t bite. I use knives like a civilised person. “You want some now?”
“Yes, please,” Henry says quickly.
I snort quietly and bite back my response. Kendrick owes me more than a few family sized bags of Skittles for this. A couple of hours of cuddles. Chocolate kisses. More pancakes in bed. He can be my pancake.
I’ve only poured two of the three glasses when another knock comes at the door. “Did you invite someone else I don’t know about?” How many people are we catering for?
Kendrick hands Henry a glass and takes the other for himself. “Not that I’m aware of. Could be work related? I spoke to”—he glances at Henry—“G before, and he had something he wanted to tell us.”
