“The name’s Lee. Lee Cross,” my boyfriend replied, and as soon as the words left his mouth, my dad’s eyes practically popped from their sockets.

“Well,” I blurted. “We’re in a bit of a hurry, so we’d better go.”

Tugging on Lee’s hand, I ushered him over to the car. We were already pulling away from the kerb when Dad finally came to his senses, his jaw firming and his expression darkening as he watched us drive away.

“I’m sorry, but that was priceless,” said Lee, laughter bubbling out of him.

“My poor dad,” I chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look both furious and confused at the same time.”

“Serves him right, the old prick. Couldn’t even muster up a single congratulations for you. See the difference between him and me? I lift you up, he pushes you down. You don’t need that shit in your life.”

God, I adored him. “No, you’re absolutely right. I don’t.”

Lee shot me a tender smile and focused back on the road.

“Hey, by the way, 007,” I said, poking him in the arm. “Don’t think I’m letting you away with that cheesy line. I’m telling everyone how you introduced yourself. And I mean everyone.”

Lee gripped my thigh and gave it a firm squeeze, his other hand still on the steering wheel. “Do it, and I’ll withhold oral sex for a month.”

I mock-gasped. “You wouldn’t!”

“I most certainly would.”

“Fine. I’ll keep your James Bond secret. Wouldn’t want to tarnish your rep, now, would I?” I teased him before continuing, “Anyway, I’m willing to bet the invitation to dinner at my parents will soon be rescinded.”

“Yep.”

“You could at least pretend to act disappointed.”

“Nope.”

I laughed. Seriously, there was no way I could love the man sitting beside me any more than I already did. Placing my hand over his, I rested my head on his shoulder and exhaled. I was happy in the moment but also looking forward to the future.

And it felt good.

Later that evening, I stood on the edge of a seven-foot wall in an old industrial estate near the docks. Lee was beside me, holding my hand. The other week I’d asked him to teach me the basics of free-running, and he’d thought I was joking. I wasn’t. Just because I was a sergeant didn’t mean my days of chasing down thieves were over, and who else better to teach me than one of the best?

“Loosen up,” said Lee. “When we fall and hurt ourselves, it’s because our bodies go rigid when we panic. You ever see a cat break a leg? No, because they’re all loose and springy. Pretend you’re a cat.”

I resisted the urge to meow. “Okay, I’m a cat.”

“Just so you know, the first time I tried a jump like this, I sprained my ankle.”

“I can deal with a sprained ankle.”

“Liam broke his leg once. And Stu nearly shattered his knee when he didn’t warm up properly.”

“Are you trying to freak me out? Because if you are, it’s working.”

Lee’s fingers squeezed mine. “I just want you to be aware that this won’t be easy. You’re gonna have bruises and sprains. Shit, you’ll ache in places you never knew existed before.”

I firmed my mouth and narrowed my gaze. “You’re trying to put me off.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he replied simply, affection bright in his eyes.

I leaned over to kiss his cheek, my voice turning unexpectedly soft. “Everything good hurts first. If we hadn’t soldiered on, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

His expression shone with love, but he stayed silent, smiling at me tenderly before finally whispering, “No, we wouldn’t. You ready?”

“Yes.” No.

“Just relax. I won’t let go of your hand.”

Staring at the ground, I leapt at the same time Lee did, the air whooshing past my ears as my heart pounded in an exhilarating rush. Our feet landed simultaneously, and I crouched low just like he’d instructed me to do. And, like he promised, he didn’t let go of my hand.

Epilogue

2 years later. HM Prison Belmarsh, London.

Lee

Hands on the steering wheel. Gear stick in neutral. Heart lodged firmly in my fucking throat.

I’ve been waiting at her good Majesty’s prison for the last half an hour. Any minute now my brother will walk out those gates and finally be a free man. After serving two years of a seven-year sentence that should’ve had my name on it, he’s finally going to walk. I’m not angry. Not anymore. But I’m not grateful, either. Life’s too short to go around acting like you owe people. Stu did for me what I would’ve done for him. It was simple. We were brothers.

We still are, but recently it hasn’t felt like it.

For the last three months, he’s refused to take my visits. I haven’t had a single phone call, letter, or smoke signal, and I’m beginning to get worried. Fuck it, that’s a lie. I was worried long before now, but I have it on good authority that Stu’s alive and in perfect health, so why the hell has he cut off communication?

I sit up straighter when I see the gates open and two screws step out. They usher forward three blokes, and I immediately recognise Stu as one of them. He walks straight, head down, wearing a hoodie and jeans.

I smack my hand down on the horn to get his attention and he looks up, recognising my motor. I see him mutter something to himself, a few effs and jeffs, I’m willing to bet, before turning his wheels in my direction. Liam and Trevor are at the house, helping Sophie and Karla set up the welcome-home party. By the looks of it, they’re going to have a fuck of a time getting Stu in the party mood.