RELEASE TOUR - WORTH THE RISK by C F White
๐๐ก๐ ๐ฉ๐๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ง๐๐ฏ๐๐ซ ๐๐ฎ๐ซ๐ข๐๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ญ ๐๐จ๐ง๐๐ซ๐จ๐ง๐ญ๐ข๐ง๐ ๐ข๐ญ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐ข๐ ๐ ๐๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ซ๐ข๐ฌ๐ค.
The past is never buried. Confronting it, though, that’s the biggest risk.
Jude Ellison thought he’d escaped him. A new town, a quiet job, two years of hard-earned peace. But when his abusive ex walks free on early release, Jude finds himself trapped all over again. Only this time, the bruises are invisible. Callum Reid never needed fists to destroy him. He only needed time.
Warren Bailey is the new PE teacher at Worthbridge Secondary. Or so everyone thinks. In truth, he’s an undercover officer sent to dismantle a trafficking network tied to Jude’s ex. Warren’s job is to stay detached. To watch, listen, and wait.
But the moment he meets Jude, detachment stops being an option.
What starts as surveillance quickly spirals into something far more dangerous: a bond Warren never expected, and a desire he can’t ignore. As Callum tightens his hold, Warren must decide between the mission he’s sworn to uphold and the man he can’t let go.
Because Jude isn’t the target. He’s the reason Warren is willing to risk everything.
In Worthbridge, tensions are reaching breaking point.
And some loves are worth breaking every rule for.
Worth the Risk is the third book in the Worth It series—a gritty MM romantic suspense series set in a storm-battered coastal town. Featuring an undercover detective sergeant haunted by past mistakes and a teacher ensnared by his own history, their love story collides with a criminal case that threatens not just the community they serve, but the people they love.
https://getbook.at/WorthIt3
Worthbridge. A faded seaside place already softening into autumn: bunting swapped for plastic leaves in shop windows, cold brew replaced by spiced lattes, and school gates yawning open for the new term. Tourists thinning. Locals returning to routine. Streets quieter. Safer. Supposedly.
But Reid was here.
And Warren bet he hadn’t come for the sticks of rock or rejuvenating sea air.
“We believe he contacted someone when inside,” Patel said. “Possibly linked to the Radley network’s southern arm. He’s been keeping a low profile, but his pattern’s clear.” She stepped forward, casting a partial silhouette across the projected image. “We had him covered after release but he slipped the net when he went off-grid. Changed phones, no fixed address. Then he popped up near Worthbridge right where our Radley threads converge.”
“You want me to track him? Make friends?” Warren rubbed his palms together, hungry for it. “Haven’t had a good fake-out in a while. Love bringing down an arsehole with false loyalty.”
“You’re not tracking him, you’re watching the fallout. Who he goes to. Who protects him. That’s where the network lives.”
Warren frowned, folding his arms and chewing on the inside of his cheek.
“And we think it might be here.” Patel clicked the next slide. This time it wasn’t CCTV. It was a staff photo. School setting. A man sat at a desk, books stacked neatly to one side. White. Slim. Curly brown hair dishevelled. Black-rimmed glasses perched on a weary face. Eyes both tired and defiant. And soft. Sweet.
Warren narrowed his eyes. “Subject?”
“This is where it gets… delicate.” Patel stepped closer to the projector, folding her arms as the next image slid into focus. “Jude Ellison, thirty. History teacher at Worthbridge Academy. Moved to the town over two years ago. Originally from Leeds. No criminal record. No registered partner. Keeps to himself. Low profile. But we’ve flagged several anomalies.”
Warren studied the face on screen. Clean-cut. Soft eyes. Too unassuming for a room like this. “Anomalies like what?”
“We believe Ellison and Callum Reid were involved in London.” Patel’s voice cooled. “Intimately.”
She didn’t need to spell it out.
“If Reid’s shown his face in Worthbridge now, it isn’t a coincidence. We think Ellison could be the reason. And if that link between them still exists, then it’s possible he’s been biding his time, building a life in the school, embedding himself in the community, waiting for Callum to come back.”
Warren scrutinised Jude’s photo.
None of this was what he’d expected.
Jude didn’t look like someone playing a long game. He didn’t have the guarded eyes of a groomer or the sheen of a manipulator. He looked… ordinary. Messy hair. Soft focus. That weary smile teachers wore at the end of a long day. One that said he’d explain a battle strategy or a political scandal with the same patience he used to hand out detentions. Someone you’d nod to in the corridor and feel lighter for it. Kind.
And handsome enough to make you forget why you were there.
Warren blinked, dragging himself back into the room.
He’d learned a lot working undercover. Chief among them was that sentiment was a security breach. He’d stripped his personal life for parts years ago, rebuilt himself out of discipline and distance. Every feeling filed away, every impulse locked down. Showing interest in a local wasn’t just reckless, it was an open wound. A weakness waiting to be weaponised. One misstep and someone would trace that thread straight back to the Met, or worse, to SEROCU. And he’d seen the type before. The ones who hid their guilt behind charm, wearing sincerity as if it were a mask.
Yet something in him shifted.
Quiet. Inconvenient.
A pull from somewhere he thought he’d buried for good.
Naomi leaned forward. “You think Ellison’s a thread in the Radley enquiry?”
“We don’t know,” Patel said evenly. “That’s where Warren comes in.” Her gaze locked on him. “I’m giving you a second chance, DS Beckford. Your remit may be secondary to Naomi’s, but it’s still critical. You’re not there to monitor the students. You’re there to get close to Jude Ellison. Gain his trust, read him, and work out whether he’s an unwitting bystander… or part of the problem. We know he was in the building with Alfie Carter during the fire.”
Warren turned his gaze back to the image glowing on the screen. That face again. Open. Tired. A little out of place in a room full of teenagers but not threatening. Not calculated.
Not what he’d been trained to look for.
“You said… intimate?” He kept his tone level, though something worked sharp at his chest. “Are we talking lovers?”
Patel nodded. “That’s right.”
“So he’s gay?”
“Reid or Ellison?”
“Either.”
Patel shrugged. “Reid, we believe, is opportunistic. He’ll take what he can use. Ellison? Yes. Gay. Is that a problem?”
Warren sat back, letting the question settle. “No. Not a problem.” He couldn’t help glancing over at Naomi.
She looked away almost immediately.
Patel moved on. “This isn’t a sting. Not yet. This is intelligence-gathering. We do this right, we dismantle Radley’s network from the inside. We get Vivienne to crack. We track the grooming chain. We expose the funding route. And we find out exactly where Jude Ellison fits into all of it.”
Warren gave a nod. Slow. Intentional. Controlled.
But his gut twisted.
He’d gone undercover before. Deep cover. Messy work. Moral lines blurred to shit. He’d played addict, enforcer, lover, brother. All of it for the greater good. For something that made sense when the case file closed.
But this time?
This time the job came with a face he couldn’t stop looking at.
A name that felt heavier than the rest.
And a growing certainty in his gut that the hardest part of this assignment wouldn’t be lying to everyone else.
It would be lying to himself.
CF White writes gritty British based stories about imperfect men falling in love against the odds and has been accused of sprinkling a bit of humour into them from time to time too. Because what’s life without sprinkles?
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