Despite It All by Reese Knightley

 

Forest

“This is it?”

“Make yourself at home.” He hung up his coat by the door, trying but failing to get the images of Greene squished in his little car out of his head. But seriously, his mom’s orange tabby squished into a little shoebox came to mind.

Most of all, he remembered the kiss.

That deep, toe curling kiss.

Nobody who kissed with that much abandon could ever deny wanting it again. And he was counting on that. He touched his lips. Greene had kissed him beyond a normal kiss, beyond reason and without reservation.

Oh, Greene wanted him.

And he was honest enough to admit to himself that the gruff soldier affected him with an intensity that made it hard to think clearly.

He turned to take in the living room of the three-bedroom apartment. He stayed here during the work week. Seeing it through Greene’s eyes, he realized just how dismal it looked.

“Nice place,” Greene mumbled.

“Um, no, it’s not.” He made a face.

All white, no color, beige sofa, and dirt brown carpet, even the dishes in the kitchen were generic white. His shoes were the brightest thing in there, those and Greene’s storm-colored eyes.

“Summer hated it,” he whispered tightly.

She’d bitched at him constantly to fix it up. He’d argued right back that he wasn’t there long enough to invest in this place.

He shook himself. He had to see if anything tied to the mole was on Hardier’s flash drive. The fucked-up part was he didn’t want to go through the information in front of Greene. He couldn’t risk the guy getting in his way.

“Tell me about her.”

He shook his head. It was all he could do to keep his shit together and keep her locked away in a compartment in his heart. There, at least, her memory was protected and he could function, put one foot in front of the other until she was found. If he talked to Greene about her, he might let slip about the mole’s phone call and put her life in jeopardy.

Greene rubbed at the back of his neck and glanced around, but didn’t press him.

With relief, he flipped the lock on the door.

“I’ll be right back.”

Leaving Greene in the living room, he hurried down the hall to his bedroom and shut the door. The room was just as bland as the rest of the house. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he lifted his phone.

“What’s up, bro?” Mason said, answering his call.

“Did you find anything about the mole on Hardier’s files?”

“No, nothing. I went through the documents in a hurry and I saw an MP3 file.”

“What’s it say?”

“I haven’t listened to it yet. I have to run out and meet Dave.”

“I’ll do it. You have enough on your plate.” He squeezed the phone, his brother would forgive him. “Dave was put in a tough position tonight,” he finished, changing the subject.

“I know, he chewed me out.” Forest heard the grimace in his brother’s voice.

“He never stays mad for long.”

“It doesn’t matter. I fucking quit.”

“You did what?” He sat down slowly on the side of his bed.

“I told him I’d quit the CIA if I can’t help you out.”

“Mason…”

“No, Forest.” His twin cut him off. “You know how this works. You breathe, I breathe.”

He tipped his head back, blinking away the sting in his eyes at the childhood pact. They were twins, connected by something stronger than blood. But when had they come to this? With Mason forfeiting his life because he was having trouble moving on. He was such a fucking screw up.

“What was Dave’s answer?” he whispered.

“He gave me the number of some guy.”

“What guy?”

“Giovanni Rossi. The man runs an off the books team out of California for Dave, but they do jobs worldwide. He says I’d fit right in there.”

“I know the guy. A friend of mine went to work for him.”

“Is he cool?”

“Yeah, he’s cool. Are you going to do it?”

“I dunno.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t work well with others.”

“Liar.”

“I might, but that’s only if this Rossi guy lets me help you out,” Mason finally admitted with a sigh.

“Just call him. What have you got to lose?”

“I’ll think about it if you come with me.”

He stared at the brown carpet. “Come with you?”

“Yeah. That’s all you’ve been obsessed with after the accident, baby bro. Leaving the FBI.”

“You’d want me with you?” He squeezed the phone.

“Hell yeah, I would. Supposedly, this unit, Phoenix, would be along the same lines as what you’re doing now, only you wouldn’t have all the bureaucratic bullshit to put up with,” his brother continued.

The idea took root and he couldn’t shake it.

“So?” Mason said.

“I’ll think about it.”

“When I meet with Rossi, I’ll see what his thoughts are with us both.”

“Okay, Let me know.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m back at home with my bodyguard in tow.”

Mason laughed. “Have fun.”

Knowing he’d probably said too much, he smiled into the phone. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Be safe and no more crazy shit.”

“You too,” he whispered. Tossing his coat on the bed, he tucked his phone away and returned to the living room.

Greene paced with a hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Studies show that tension causes early death.”

The soldier stopped pacing so abruptly that he almost knocked over a brown wooden end table next to the couch. The small lamp rattled before Greene stopped it from falling.

It was cute, the scowl sweeping over his face, the way he combed his fingers over the cropped beard on his chin as if he still had a bushy one and was making sure it was neat and tidy.

“Just saying.”

“Why don’t you make yourself useful.” Greene delivered a squinty eyed look.

“I’ve done my duty tonight. What about you, what have you accomplished?” He grinned. If Greene’s scowl went any deeper, it would cut a groove right through his forehead. He decided to give the guy a break. “Did you get Summer’s laptop?”

“Colin’s opening her safe as we speak. Hopefully, it will be in there,” Greene answered grumpily, walking around the small apartment. Like a caged animal, unused to being inside, not used to being around people, a loner.

“You really don’t live here, do you?”

“Just during the week.” He sat on the couch and took out his laptop, papers from Jerry, and Renee’s report from his briefcase, trying to keep his eyes from the big, muscled distraction standing in the living room.

He ran his eyes over the report from Jerry and the list of numbers. He pulled Renee’s report and matched them up and came up with several leads. Marking those, he pulled out the report that Parish had given him and scanned the names. Some matched both reports. He’d start on those names next if Hardier didn’t pan out. Perhaps, one would be his caller.

“Liam texted.”

“Oh?” He glanced up.

“Yeah, they found Summer’s laptop and you forgot to leave Hardier’s flash drive.”

“Oops.” He turned his eyes back to the report.

“What’s that?”

“Work.” He gave Greene a “duh” look.

Greene grunted. It seemed to be the man’s way of communicating when he no longer had anything to say.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you tomorrow when I go into work.”

“I’ll sit in your office just like I did the other day, except this time, I’ll be glued to your side.” Greene gave him a stern look.

“You can’t be glued to my side. I work on classified files.”

“I have classified clearance.”

Greene prowled into the kitchen and opened the white refrigerator and a few cupboards. The soldier made the kitchen seem tiny. Hell, he made the whole place feel small with those wide shoulders and tall frame. A frame that had almost covered him from head to toe when he was pressed into the brownstone.

Lips that kissed him as if he were the only person in Greene’s world. Which was ridiculous, the guy had to have people. He couldn’t see someone like Greene being lonely. He found himself suddenly locked in place beneath Greene’s smoldering gaze and tipped his chin up.

“What?”

“Got any food?”

“I can have whatever delivered.” He pulled out his phone.

He’d missed a text from Jerry.

Jerry: Burner phone, number untraceable. Sorry.

Him: Thanks.

Another dead end, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He flipped the text closed and opened up his food order app.

“What do you feel like havin’ tonight?”

When Greene didn’t answer, he darted a quick glance up and found Greene smirking at him. As if. The smug bastard.

“I meant food.” He was getting good at this lying stuff.

“In that case, I’ll take six tacos, two beef burritos and a large coke.”

“Taco Bell it is.” He ordered and tossed his phone on the coffee table. “Forty minutes.”

Greene grunted and slid open the patio doors and stepped outside.

Good, go smoke, eat food, and then the guy should sleep, leaving him to do what he needed to do. Greene pulled out his cell phone and made a call.

He rubbed at his mouth, slipped off his sneakers, and tucked them near the front door. Curiosity was always his downfall. Striding across the room, he stepped out onto the wide patio. The rain had started again, but the drizzle was light and the cloud cover kept it warmer.

Greene ended the call without saying a word.

“Who was that?”

“Nobody.” Greene tucked the phone away and lit up a cigarette.

“Talking to nobody, now that’s a neat trick.”

Greene scowled and blew smoke away from him, waving a hand in the air to push it further away. It was an unconscious gesture of concern about his health and he smiled, feeling marginally better.

“Don’t worry about it.” He pointed at the smoke, pulling his packet of toothpicks from his pants pocket, tucking a mint flavored bit of wood between his teeth, and shoving the box away.

“Ex-smoker?” Glittering eyes studied him, setting off something warm in his gut.

“I quit when I was twenty-four.”

“When was that. A year ago?”

“Oh, you’re asking for it.”

“Am I?”

He rolled his eyes at the lurking humor in Greene’s eyes and took it for what it was. Flirting. Joshua Greene was flirting with him. At least, he thought so.

“I may look young for my age, but I’m thirty-one.”

Greene snorted, eyes squinting at him from behind a thin layer of smoke.

“Why do I get the feeling you already knew that?”

The big man shrugged and then shucked off his leather jacket and draped it over the chair. Forest looked his fill, because why not? He was only human after all.

“How old are you?”

“Old enough to know better.” Greene crushed his smoke out in one of his planters.

“Cliché. I can find out,” he smirked and walked to the railing to grip the damp, cold metal, deeply breathing in cold air.

“Knock yourself out,” Greene said, joining him at the railing.

“Wow, you are asking for it,” he laughed, then leaned his side against the railing and crossed arms against his chest. He had to tip his head to look up into the man’s rugged face. Running his gaze up and searching those gray hues.

“I think I can handle it.” Greene’s eyes glittered through the circling haze.

“I’m going to make some coffee.” Retreat might work to his benefit here.

“Running?”

He paused before turning away. “The longer you know me, Joshua, the more you’ll understand that I seldom run.”

Even if it killed him, he’d stay in this fight. What other choice did he have? To lay down and die? He might as well have gotten killed in that crash if that were the case.

Greene reached out and touched his right hand. His calloused fingers lingered on his skin, and he caught his breath at the touch.

“What were you thinking just then?”

“Nothing.” With a slight smile, he pulled away, and his pulse still hummed after he returned inside. He made the coffee, but then stayed busy. It was all he could do to keep moving and not demand that Greene kiss him again.

The doorbell rang and Greene retrieved the food and tipped the guy with cash.

“The tip was paid for in the app.”

Greene shrugged.

“Let’s eat out back.” He hurriedly grabbed paper plates.

Settled at the patio table, it was silent again while he wolfed down his own burrito and set of tacos. Hot sauce, refried beans, and spices exploded on his tongue. He’d forgotten just how much he loved Taco Bell. After Alex left, he’d given up fast food, trying for a healthier way of eating. Now, he thought…fuck that.

“Whatever you have planned, I need to know about it.”

He froze, his mouth around the end of his burrito, before he continued taking a slow bite.

“I told you, work tomorrow,” he said around a bite of food, lapping at the string of cheese hanging from his burrito.

Greene shifted in his seat, eyes locked on him.

“I’m not talking about work. I’m talking about what you and Mason have planned with Hardier or whomever the mole is.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll let you know.”

A deep grooved carved between Greene’s eyes, making him smile.

“I promise.”

“I’ve heard that before.” Greene studied him.

“I will.” He crossed his fingers beneath the table. Childish, yes, but somehow, he needed to get Greene to trust him again. He had some investigating to do and then he’d come clean.

He sucked spicy juice from the fingers of his free hand, but his meal didn’t taste as good as before.