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- Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Sequel to The Royal Street Heist Bissonet & Cruz Investigations: Book Two Halloween is Beau Bissonet's favorite holiday, from carving pumpkins to decorating his yard to donning a costume and scaring the neighborhood kids. But this year his Halloween is about to take a different turn, one that will challenge his skills as a detective and his commitment to his partner in work and love. A year since Beau and Tollison solved The Royal Street Heist, found love, and formed Bissonet & Cruz Investigations, they are thriving personally and professionally. That is until Tollison's ex, Bastien Andros, shows up out of the blue. Naturally, Beau's suspicious, but two days after Bastien's arrival, he goes missing, and Tollison worries his past may catch up to him. A mysterious package makes clear who has Bastien and what's at stake. With both Bastien and Beau's lives now at risk, Tollison has only one option: travel to Zurich, Switzerland, secure and deliver the ransom, keep both men safe, and stay true to himself at the same time.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015
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Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Preface
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
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Readers love The Royal Street Heist
About the Author
By Scotty Cade
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Copyright Page
Veiled Loyalties
By Scotty Cade
Bissonet & Cruz Investigations: Book Two
Halloween is Beau Bissonet’s favorite holiday, from carving pumpkins to decorating his yard to donning a costume and scaring the neighborhood kids. But this year his Halloween is about to take a different turn, one that will challenge his skills as a detective and his commitment to his partner in work and love.
A year since Beau and Tollison solved The Royal Street Heist, found love, and formed Bissonet & Cruz Investigations, they are thriving personally and professionally. That is until Tollison’s ex, Bastien Andros, shows up out of the blue. Naturally, Beau’s suspicious, but two days after Bastien’s arrival, he goes missing, and Tollison worries his past may catch up to him.
A mysterious package makes clear who has Bastien and what’s at stake. With both Bastien and Beau’s lives now at risk, Tollison has only one option: travel to Zurich, Switzerland, secure and deliver the ransom, keep both men safe, and stay true to himself at the same time.
First and foremost this book is dedicated to my wonderful, loving, and supportive Kell. The last nineteen years with you have been a dream, and I thank you for the never-ending support and encouragement. I love you with all my heart. By the time this book is released, we’ll be sitting on the bow of our boat enjoying a tropical drink with the busy summer behind us.
This book is also dedicated to Norton Gerard and Steve Locke, our best friends, who opened their New Orleans home to Kell and me last winter while I researched and wrote this book. Thank you and we love you.
And lastly to my editor Andi Byassee. In addition to your extensive grammatical knowledge and strong attention to detail, I love your ability to turn my words into a real story and make the scenes pop right off the page. I’ve trusted you and your instincts time and time again, and you have never disappointed. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Preface
As a writer of sixteen novels, over the years I’ve learned that no matter how much research time I dedicate to making sure I get the details right, there are still readers who will question plots, methods, and storylines as unbelievable or simply impossible. And for the record, I really have no problem with that. But as you read this book, please keep in mind that some things are just so simple or so bizarre that they simply can’t be made up.
Without giving too much away, as you get into the story it takes a bit of a bizarre twist, and Tollison will have to rely on his past skills in a very big way. I simply wanted to take a moment to assure you that each method or procedure Tollison uses is well researched and borrowed from famous real-life, well-documented incidents.
Thanks for your continued support, and I hope you enjoy!
Scotty
Prologue
IT WAS a week from Christmas, and deliverymen were coming and going with furniture and artwork while phone lines and Internet were being installed simultaneously. The sign guy was putting the final touches on the hand-painted “Bissonet & Cruz, Private Investigators” sign on the large storefront window facing Magazine Street when a car came to a screeching halt right in front of their business. Beau Bissonet and Tollison Cruz, as well as their assistant, Iona Ball, looked up to see a tall, thin, not unattractive woman, with platinum blonde hair and wearing a skintight leopard-print dress, burst through the front door. Her stilettos clacked on the hardwood floor as she approached Iona’s desk, the strong smell of perfume trailing her like the exhaust fumes of a city bus.
“May I help you?” Iona asked, while Beau and Tollison looked on from the back of the elongated, narrow space.
The woman tapped her long fingernails nervously on Iona’s desk. “My name is Madeline Rothschild, and I need to see the investigators immediately.”
Beau smiled to himself at the word “investigators.” He, Montgomery Beaumont “Beau” Bissonet, had put his position as lead detective for the New Orleans Police Department behind him. He’d found unexpected love and a new business partner in former insurance investigator Tollison Eduardo Braga Cruz when they’d been forced to work together on Beau’s high-profile last case with the NOPD. Together they’d blown the case—and their hearts—wide open and eventually quit their jobs to start their own private investigation agency. Since then they’d focused all their energy on their new business, shopping the many antique stores of Magazine Street for the right furnishings to enhance their nostalgic vision, while still meeting their goal of incorporating the very latest technology.
Beau glanced at Tollison and nodded, and they both walked over to Iona’s desk. “I’m Beau Bissonet, and this is Tollison Cruz,” Beau said, motioning to his partner. “What can we do for you, Ms. Rothschild?”
“My… my boyfriend’s dead,” she said frantically, tears now sliding down her cheeks and taking her mascara with them. “And the police won’t listen to me.”
“Won’t listen to you about what?” Tollison asked.
“His wife killed him! I just know it!”
The woman started babbling, almost incoherently. “She’s gonna—” More sobs. “—get awaaaay with it! And I’m next. Please! Please help me before it’s too late.”
Tollison gave Beau a wink. “Of course we’ll help you, Ms. Rothschild. Right this way,” he said, leading the woman to their conference room. “Let’s go in here so we can have more privacy.”
The woman sat down and looked straight ahead as she continued to cry. Beau stood behind her, glanced at Tollison, and fanned his face, squishing his nose exaggeratedly as her perfume overwhelmed the small space. He stopped when Tollison gave him that unmistakable look that meant Beau would be getting a scolding very soon.
Tollison handed Ms. Rothschild a tissue and stooped down next to her chair. “Before we can help you, we’ll need a few more details.”
Beau was at a loss as to what to do while the woman ignored Tollison’s questions and sobbed uncontrollably. From his expression, Tollison was equally bemused. Her face was now streaked with wavy black lines of makeup, and the more she tried to wipe the streaks away, the more they smeared, giving her skin a ghostly gray tone.
“Ms. Rothschild,” Tollison said at last, patting her arm reassuringly, “we can’t help you unless you talk to us.”
She nodded and waved the wet tissue through the air. “I know… I know!” she whined, apparently attempting to get herself under control. “I’m just so alone and scared.”
“You’re not alone,” Beau said, trying to sound calming. “Now, who was your boyfriend?”
“Tom Blaaaaaanchard,” Ms. Rothschild said, dragging the name out through another wail. And then the sobbing started all over again.
Tollison’s face contorted, and he mouthed, “Senator Tom Blanchard?”
The Louisiana senator had died in his sleep a few days ago of an apparent massive heart attack. It had been all over the news for the last couple of days.
Beau shrugged. “Ms. Rothschild, do you mean Senator Tom Blanchard?”
The woman nodded and wailed again. “His wife found out about us a month ago and told him if he didn’t break it off she was going to kill him.”
“And?” Tollison asked.
“He didn’t…. He loved me too much, and now he’s dead. I know she ki-ki-killed him.”
“How can you be certain?” Beau asked. “The news said it was a massive heart attack.”
“Well!” Another wail. “The news is wrong. I went to the police, and they won’t test him for any types of poison. They said there was no evidence of foul play and I should just let it go.”
Ms. Rothschild continued to whine, screech, and yelp for almost two hours while Beau and Tollison tried in vain to calm her. Every time it seemed she was beginning to get control of herself, she would open her mouth to speak and then go off into hysterics once more. Finally Beau motioned for Tollison to step out of the room with him so they could confer on a course of action.
To Beau’s astonishment, when they exited the small room, they almost walked into Auggie and Bruce. Beau’s former NOPD partner, August Hebert, and Beau’s ex-lover Bruce Jenkins, also with the NOPD, were standing outside the conference room, choking on barely suppressed laughter and trying—but failing miserably—to regain their composure.
“What are you two doing here, and what the hell is so funny?” Beau asked, nearly at the end of his rope.
Auggie looked past him into the conference room and burst into laughter. Bruce glanced in as well, and then both of them bent over at the waist, breathless with hilarity.
Beau stared back and forth between Bruce and Auggie. Then it hit him. “Tollison! We’ve been played.”
Auggie fell to his knees, still laughing hysterically, but Bruce appeared almost scared.
“You mean this was all a hoax?” Tollison asked.
“Apparently,” Beau said. “I guess you bastards have had your fun. Get out here, Ms. Rothschild, or whatever the hell your name is.”
She stood, and her wails quickly turned to laughter as well. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not her fault,” Auggie said. “We paid her to do it. My God, what’s that perfume?”
“Jungle Gardenia,” she said proudly. “Do you know how hard it is to find this stuff?”
“That’s probably because it’s a lethal weapon,” Beau said. “It’s gonna take us a year to get that smell out of here. Now get out! All of you.”
“Wait! Are you shitting me?” Tollison asked. “We spent the last two hours listening to her wailing for nothing?”
“Don’t be a spoilsport, Tol,” Auggie pleaded. “We couldn’t let you guys go off on your own without some sort of proper send-off.”
Beau looked at Tollison and frowned, then turned to Bruce. “I can understand this from him,” he said, cocking a thumb at Auggie. “But you?”
“Oh come on, Beau,” Bruce said. “Lighten up. It was just a joke.”
“Look, you guys, I’ve got to go,” the erstwhile Ms. Rothschild said. “My feet hurt, and this wig is starting to give me a headache, not to mention my spanks are riding up. I don’t see how women wear all this crap.”
“It’s because they don’t,” Tollison snapped. “Only bad actresses do.”
“I, sir, am a wonderful actress,” she said, straightening her shoulders and strutting out.
“Thank you, Judy,” Auggie yelled.
Beau couldn’t help but smile. “They got us,” he said. Then a thought hit him.
“Iona!”
“I’ll be right there,” she called.
When she walked up, she had a silly grin on her face.
“I guess that answers my question,” Beau said. “So you were in on it too?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I love a good prank.”
“We’ll remember that,” Tollison threatened.
“You sons of bitches,” Beau said. “I still can’t believe you pulled this off.”
“Believe it,” Auggie said. “We’ve been working on this for a week. Now get your coats and let Bruce and me take you boys out for a holiday drink.”
Auggie held out his hand to Tollison. “All’s forgiven?”
Tollison smiled. “I guess. But I want the good single-malt aged stuff. No blended whiskey for me.”
“Deal!” Auggie said.
Bruce held out his hand as well. “It was all in good fun,” he said.
Tollison accepted Bruce’s overture. “I’ll get you back, though. When you least expect it, I will get you back.”
“You’re on,” Bruce said.
Bruce, Auggie, and Tollison walked to the front door, leaving Beau standing alone.
“What about me?”
“We don’t care if you forgive us or not,” Auggie said. “Our NOPD officer code of ethics allows this kind of behavior.”
“Just for the record, I’m no longer an NOPD officer,” Beau said.
Auggie frowned and hung his head. “Don’t remind me.”
Beau hadn’t thought about how his ex-partner was handling his resignation, but a wave of sadness washed over him. He fought the urge to wrap his arms around his friend and instead slapped him on the shoulder. “Hey! What do you say we go get that drink?”
Chapter 1
TEN MONTHS had passed since they’d first opened their private investigation business, and the clients arrived on a steady basis. The leaves were falling off the trees as the crisp fall air moved into the normally hot and humid city of New Orleans.
Tollison and Beau had taken separate cars to the office earlier that morning. Beau had an unusually late client meeting, which didn’t start until six, and Tollison had to tail a cheating wife. She usually met her lover after the man got off work at five o’clock, while her husband, a high-powered businessman, rarely left work before eight.
Tollison left the office around four thirty, followed his subject to a motel, and took pictures of the woman and her lover as they entered room number ten. He settled in for a couple of hours to wait for them to leave again so he could get a few more shots.
Around seven thirty, his cell phone rang, and he smiled when he saw Beau’s name on the caller ID.
“Hey, Beau.”
“How’s it going with the cheating wife?”
“Just as we had suspected,” Tollison said. “I’m waiting for them to leave the no-tell motel to get a few more shots, and then I’m out of here. How did your meeting go?”
“Picked up another client,” Beau boasted. “A grandmother thinks her son-in-law is embezzling from her.”
“Way to go. That one should be fun.”
“You want me to join you or go home and start dinner?” Beau asked.
“They should be out soon, so why don’t you head home and I’ll see you there.”
“Sounds good,” Beau said. “See you in a couple of hours, then. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
WHEN TOLLISON entered the front door of the home they shared in the Garden District, he smelled the familiar aroma of Beau’s pot roast simmering, but the house was unusually quiet. He figured he’d find Beau either soaking in the hot tub or sprawled across the bed enjoying a catnap before dinner. Either one sounded like a good idea to him. It had been a long day, and besides, if Beau was napping and Tollison couldn’t sleep, he was sure they could find something else to do to occupy their time until dinner was ready.
When Tollison rounded the corner to his and Beau’s bedroom, he froze just short of entering the room. Beau was standing in front of a full-length mirror in a long black cape, black jeans, a tuxedo shirt, and a black bowtie. He had a holster around his waist, and he was bringing the cape up to cover his face, then releasing it while he flipped his gun around and around, slipping it into his holster, spinning, and pulling it out again.
Beau looked up and froze when he saw Tollison perched against the doorjamb, arms folded across his chest, smiling wickedly.
“Hey,” Beau said hesitantly.
“Hey, yourself,” Tollison replied. “What is all of this?”
“Oh, just trying on my Halloween costume.”
“What exactly are you supposed to be?”
“What?” he asked, flashing his fake fangs, clearly insulted. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not really,” Tollison said.
“I’m a vampire detective.”
Tollison couldn’t help but chortle. “Okay, so a, there are no vampire detectives. The vamps are the bad guys, and b, that looks ridiculous. If vampire detectives dress like that, I’m going back to being an insurance investigator. We have way more class.”
“So… what are you saying?” Beau asked with his nose up in the air.
“I’m saying I think you should come up with something else.”
“No,” Beau pleaded. “The kids love this costume.”
“You’ve worn this before?”
“Yeah! I wear it every year.”
“All the more reason to come up with something new.”
Beau frowned, contemplated himself in the mirror, and pushed the cape over his shoulders.
He looked so pitiful Tollison couldn’t help but walk over and wrap his arms around the wounded kid. “But you’re a very handsome vampire detective,” he said stepping back and looking him in the eye.
“Apparently not,” Beau said through his infamous pouty lips.
“God, I love it when you purse your lips together like that.”
“Oh shut up,” Beau said, smacking him on the arm. “Now what am I going to do?”
“About what?” Tollison asked.
“My costume!” Beau said in a huff. “I have less than a week to throw something together so as not to disappoint the neighborhood kids.”
“Neighborhood kids, huh?”
“Of course. You think I do this for me? For the fun of it?”
“Oh no. I wouldn’t dream of suggesting something like that.”
“Very funny,” Beau said, taking off his holster. “I have the busiest house in the neighborhood, and I expect to keep it that way. There is no way I’m letting Bill and Cindy across the street beat me at Halloween. They may have the best Christmas decorations, but Halloween is my holiday. So I’m warning you. Be prepared.”
Tollison nodded. “Duly noted.”
“Now!” Beau asked. “Have you decided what you’re going to dress up as?”
“I think I’ll go as a modern-day private investigator.”
“So in other words,” Beau said, “you’re not dressing up.”
“Bingo,” Tollison replied.
“Oh come on, Tol! This is going to be the best Halloween ever.”
“How is this one any different than any other?”
“For starters, because of my former line of work,” Beau said. “Halloween is when all the crazies come out, and I always had to trade four night shifts just to get Halloween off. People hide behind masks and think they can do whatever the hell they want, and we’re left to clean up the mess. And the most important reason is because I’m with you, and this is our first Halloween together.”
“Damn,” Tollison said. “That was good. How can I argue with an admission like that?”
Beau smiled broadly, and Tollison knew he would move heaven and earth to see his man smile. “Okay, I’ll come up with something.”
Beau beamed like a kid, and it was so odd to see this big, handsome man almost giddy with excitement.
“Maybe we can do something together,” Beau suggested. “Like a dead and gruesome Laurel and Hardy, or maybe Bonnie and Clyde.”
“As long as you’re Bonnie,” Tollison teased.
“Hey!” Beau said. “It takes a real man to wear a dress, especially carrying a machine gun.”
“Oh jeez, now I’ve heard everything.”
“What?” Beau said, hiking up his black pant leg. “I have great legs.”
“Can’t argue there,” Tollison agreed. “Okay! Bonnie and Clyde it is. Under one condition.”
“Anything.”
“You wear your Bonnie costume to bed, and I get to have my way with you.”
“Who needs the costume! Hell! You can do that anyway.”
“But it’ll be interesting fucking you in a blonde wig.”
“No! Wait!” Beau objected. “That’s just weird. And who said anything about a wig?”
“Oh come on, Beau. If you’re going to do this, you might as well do it right.”
Beau peered at his reflection in the mirror. “I might just be a knockout as a platinum blonde.”
“You’re always a knockout.”
Beau gave Tollison a smoldering look, but before Tollison could respond, his cell rang. “It’s Bruce,” he said, eyeing the caller ID.
“For you?” Beau said. “Why is Bruce calling you?”
“Don’t know.” Tollison shrugged. “Maybe I should answer it and find out. Bruce. What’s up?”
TOLLISON AND Beau sat side by side on their couch, socked feet up on the coffee table, each sipping from a longneck. They’d had dinner after Tollison got off what had been a fairly long conversation with Bruce. It had begun with Bruce asking him some questions about art for a case, which was reasonable given Tollison’s expertise in that area, but it had eventually evolved into several minutes of shooting the breeze, during which Beau had wandered out of the room. Beau had been quiet all through the meal, and Tollison had an idea he knew what was bothering him.
“You wanna talk about it?” Tollison asked.
“Talk about what?” Beau replied.
“What’s bothering you.”
“Nothing’s bothering me,” Beau insisted.
“You mean it doesn’t bother you the least bit that Bruce called me for advice on a case?”
“Nope.”
“Or that he and I are becoming friends?”
“Nope.”
“I mean…,” Tollison said, “I can see why you fell in love with him. He’s cute, funny, and he has a nice ass.”
“Really?” Beau asked, jumping up and pacing in front of the couch.
“I knew it,” Tollison said.
“Knew what?” Beau hissed.
“It does bother you.”
“Okay!” Beau said. “If you must know… yeah, it bothers me. A little.”
“Why?”
Beau shrugged, and then his shoulders slumped. “Because it’s just not right,” Beau explained in a defeated tone. “Can you imagine what it would be like if I compared notes with your ex?”
“Beau?” Tollison said, standing up and wrapping his arms around his partner. “My life is an open book. I don’t care if you compare notes with anyone about me.”
“But I’ve done things,” Beau whispered.
“What kind of things?”
“Stupid things,” Beau said. “When Bruce and I were first dating.”
“So?” Tollison said. “We’ve all done stupid things. That was then, and this is now.”
“Yeah, but I don’t like him having things he can hold over my head.”
Tollison sat back down and regarded Beau. “Then you tell me yourself,” he said. “That way he won’t be able to hold it over your head.”
Beau looked like he was trying to decide whether to confide in Tollison or not, and all of a sudden, Tollison realized this was going to be some sort of milestone in their relationship. He watched Beau closely as Beau seemed to struggle with his decision.
“Oh hell,” Beau finally said in an exhausted tone. “There was this time when we were first dating and I took Bruce to Fort Lauderdale for a long weekend. We were staying at a gay bed and breakfast on Las Olas, and the first night we had a little too much to drink, snuck up onto the roof, stripped off all of our clothes, and I let Bruce fuck me right there. For God, airplanes, helicopters, and all the high-rise tenants to see. There, you happy?”
Beau is always so guarded. Tollison’s eyes widened until he was sure they looked like small saucers. He tried not to show too much surprise, but the more he pictured Bruce taking Beau that way, the more immediate need he had to reclaim Beau as his own. The blood was rushing right to his groin as he imagined Beau letting go like that. But now it was his turn.
“Well?” Beau barked. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Tollison jumped to his feet and tackled Beau right where he stood. Beau’s beer bottle went flying across the room, spraying beer everywhere, and Beau hit the rug, landing on his back with a thud.
Tollison’s lips were on Beau’s in a crushing kiss the instant he landed on top of him. “Mine!” he said through breathless kisses. “And I’ll get my turn on a rooftop, but for now the den floor is going to have to do! That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Beau’s cock was already hardening under Tollison’s ass as he straddled Beau’s waist and quickly unbuttoned his shirt. He gazed down at Beau’s naturally muscular chest and dove onto his nipples, teasing each one, biting gently, and then licking away the sting he was all too familiar with from the other side.
Beau closed his eyes and pursed his lips, and Tollison thought he might blow his load right there. Beau was gorgeous, but when his pouty lips came into play, Tollison was defenseless. Beau’s sandy-blond hair framed his handsome face, and Tollison imagined those steel-gray eyes hiding behind Beau’s eyelids.
Tollison rose up on his knees, slipped down a little farther and unbuckled Beau’s belt, unbuttoned his trousers, and shimmied them down to Beau’s knees. He lifted one knee completely over Beau and turned around, straddling Beau facing the other way, making sure to grind his ass against Beau’s obvious erection. He felt Beau’s hands on his back, giving him reassurance as he leaned over farther and pulled his pants over his feet. He ran his hands down Beau’s legs, massaging his thighs and calves, and then moved on to his feet. He massaged Beau’s left foot, pulled his sock off, and did the same to the other.
Turning around once again, Tollison saw Beau’s deep gray eyes peering up at him. He covered Beau’s mouth with hot and hungry kisses, and Beau opened to him. Tollison’s fingers dug into Beau’s hair possessively as their tongues explored the familiar territory. But there was no fight for dominance in Beau’s kiss this time. Tollison had made his plans very clear, and Beau didn’t seem to be fighting him. Tollison straightened up, breaking their kiss, and started unbuttoning his own shirt. Beau reached up to help, but Tollison swatted his hand away. He wanted to put on a small show, and he didn’t need any help. When his shirt was unbuttoned, Tollison slipped it off and tossed it ceremoniously to the couch. Tollison got to his feet, never breaking eye contact with Beau as he slowly released his belt and slacks, allowing them to drop to the floor. He stepped out of them, kicked them to the side, and removed his own socks. He pulled his underwear down and his erection popped free, standing at attention and showing Beau just what he was about to get.
Dropping again to his knees, Tollison grabbed the waistband of Beau’s underwear and yanked them off. Beau took in a ragged breath. Tollison covered Beau’s hard length with his lips and swallowed him all the way down. He slid his lips up and back down again as Beau arched his back and whimpered. Tollison continued his actions, with Beau squirming under him and begging him to stop.
“Please,” Beau said, his voice breathless and hopeful.
Tollison raised Beau’s legs and pushed them back over Beau’s head. Beau grabbed the backs of his thighs and held his legs, giving Tollison full access.
“Lube,” Tollison said. “I’ll be right back.”
“No!” Beau said. “Don’t need it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Are we gonna have this debate right now?” Beau said with a huff.
Tollison spit in his hand and coated Beau’s opening. He circled the pink area and slipped one finger inside. Beau arched his back again and whimpered.
“Now, Tollison. Please!”
“Such a bossy bottom,” Tollison teased as he positioned himself at Beau’s opening, pushed in slowly, and then stopped.
“No!” Beau hissed, releasing his legs, wrapping his hands around Tollison’s thighs, and pulling him forward.
Tollison stopped only when he was seated deep inside of Beau and Beau’s warm core was wrapped tightly around him. He backed off a little, then pushed back in, giving Beau time to adjust. Beau was pouting again, and Tollison started pumping without thought. When Beau opened his eyes and met Tollison’s gaze, Tollison picked up his speed and drive. His length was touching Beau’s core, while at the same time he was looking into Beau’s soul. Beau’s eyes said everything he was feeling, and Tollison was surprised and mesmerized all over again by the strong connection they shared, how quickly it had come in their relationship.
Pushing all the way in and then pulling out, Tollison moved in long, slow strokes, watching Beau’s reaction to his lovemaking. At this moment, Tollison wanted to wrap Beau in his arms and never let him go. The vulnerability in his gaze, the ease with which he trusted, the pouting lips—all these things made Beau who he was, and Tollison was reassured that he was exactly where he needed to be.
