Despite It All by Reese Knightley

 

Forest

Teasing the guy over ice cream had given him a whole different perspective of Greene.

One that he liked a hell of a lot.

He’d never thought for one second that Greene would be that approachable. It was an image he couldn’t get, nor did he want to, out of his head.

Plus, he had kept the man from smoking for well over two hours. Now, that was something to be proud of. He smiled, washing his hands while Greene cleaned up the trash and table outside.

Hurrying into the living room, he flipped open his laptop and plugged in the flash drive from Hardier’s place. The screen flashed when it opened the white window filled with little yellow folders.

He’d only look through the documents and not the audio file. He trusted his brother’s work. So, the chances of finding anything was slim, but he had to double check. This was the same flash drive he would deliver to Parish later. Or leave it in Parish’s office if he was gone for the night. No sense in dragging Parish into the caller’s threats, either.

But that would be much later tonight and well after Greene went to sleep. Right now, he’d sift through the stuff Mason already went over. Maybe Mason had missed something and the data would either break or make Hardier. If he was the mole, then he’d hunt that fucker down. And if Hardier had Summer, he’d make sure the guy never saw the light of day…one way or another.

Instead of watching television like he’d hoped, Greene returned to the room, kicked off his black combat boots, and sprawled on the couch next to him.

Crowding him. The cushions dipped beneath the man’s weight, sending him and his laptop wobbling.

He shot Greene an annoyed look and scooted over.

“I do have classified clearance,” Greene said with a pointed look at him and then the laptop.

The scent of sweat, smoke, and chocolate had him thinking of other things besides his work. But that was only because he hadn’t had sex in a long time. Not since before the accident, not since Alex. So having Greene this close while he was trying to concentrate fucked up his concentration.

“What’re you thinking?” Greene asked, jogging him back to the closeness of the guy and that all-knowing, smoky gray gaze.

His fingers had stopped on the keys and he snapped around to start typing. Damn it. He clenched his teeth and clicked open several folders, searching through the files. His heart beat loudly in his ears.

“I was thinking about my ex-boyfriend, if you must know,” he said, finding anything, or the one thing, that would shut Greene the hell up. You said ex, though. His breath came out noisy. Yeah, he’d said ex, so now Greene would think he was free. There was no thinking about it, he was free.

“How long ago did you split up?” Greene’s warm, deep voice brushed near his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

“About six months ago.”

He swallowed thickly and clicked on a yellow folder with a date he recognized. He couldn’t put his finger on why just yet, but it would come to him. He was good at sifting through the canyon of his mind.

“Before or after the accident?”

“Before. I wanted him back, but he didn’t want that.”

“He was a fool.”

“Was he?” His mouth grew dry and he struggled to swallow.

“Nobody since?”

When Greene leaned forward trying to see his face, he shifted on the couch, moving farther away. Taking a deep breath, he tried to force his stupidly unsettled pulse to calm.

“Sorry, am I crowding you?” Greene’s husky voice held all of his attention.

He snapped his gaze up, caught those swirling eyes, and squinted when his pulse kickstarted again. Damn it.

“Yes, you are.”

The corner of Greene’s lips quirked, and fascinated, he stared. A very tiny scar etched in Greene’s bottom lip and he wondered what it was from. He itched to trace a finger over the small white line.

A shiver shot up his spine when Greene’s fingers toyed with the ends of his blond hair. How had the guy gotten so close again? When had he lifted his fingers to his hair? The room wavered and he realized he’d moved, leaning forward, wanting a taste, one more chance to experience one of Greene’s pulse pounding kisses. His heart raced like a jackhammer going a hundred miles per hour.

Greene pulled back, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. Why was he pulling away? And why the hell did it matter?

“What’s that?” Greene nodded at the laptop, sliding further away and breaking his trance; his heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

He blinked, jerked back to the screen, and warmth burned up his neck and heated his face. The jackass! He clenched his teeth and rolled his finger over the laptop mouse pad and clicked open the folder, ignoring his sweating palms.

“It’s a date,” he said, and suddenly remembered what day it had been. “The call date when Summer checked in with her FBI contact.”

The folder opened to reveal a small MP3 recording.

Fuck! Fuck!He’d opened the one thing he hadn’t wanted to.

“Play it.”

Numbly, he double clicked the recording.

I’ve found information, Robert.” Summer’s soft, musical voice filled the room. “It’s a truck rental invoice with enough information to take down what I believe is a terrorist cell. Send the invoice to Parish. Hopefully, he finds enough information to put them behind bars.”

“What about the mole?” Robert Shawl replied.

She hesitated, the silence on the recording went on with a few rustling sounds as if she were looking through papers.

“I’m close.”

“Give me what you have on the mole and I’ll take it to Parish along with the invoice,” Robert said.

“I don’t have anything concrete on the mole yet. I’ll call you when I do.”

The recording ended.

“Does Parish have the information?”

“He didn’t say when I talked to him.” Not that Parish told him everything, but this was kind of important.

“Maybe Robert Shawl didn’t give Parish the invoice,” Greene growled. “Perhaps you should give Shawl a call.”

“No.” His mind raced. As much as he didn’t want it to be true, it could be Robert. If Robert was involved or was the mole, he’d tip his hand and Summer would be dead. “We need more information.” He rifled through the folders on the flash drive.

“Why would Hardier have a recording of Summer’s contact call?” Greene asked.

“I don’t know.” He stopped clicking. “But I can tell you one thing, Summer was lying on that recording.”

“How do you know?”

Greene leaned forward, gazing at the side of his face, and he turned his head to hold his gaze.

“I grew up with her. She’s like a sister to me. I know when she’s lying.” He licked at his dry bottom lip.

“So, tell me this. Do you think her FBI contact is in on this?”

“I don’t know. I know Robert, though.” At least, he liked to think he did. He’d depended on Robert over the past year. Hell, he’d been to the guy’s house for fucking barbecues with his family.

“So, what was your friend lying about?”

“I think she had something she didn’t want to share yet,” he finally said. He suspected that Summer knew who the mole was.

“So, you don’t know what she was lying about?”

“I don’t care what she was lying about! I want her found.” He slammed his fist onto his thigh and then winced when he hit his bruised leg. “Where’s Summer’s laptop?” If she had something on her laptop about the mole, he and Summer were both screwed.

Greene frowned, holding his gaze. Forest held his breath, he didn’t need any more questions at the moment.

Greene slowly pulled out his phone. “Colonel, we need Summer’s laptop.” Greene rattled off his address to Liam and ended the call.

He closed his laptop on the glass coffee table. “He’ll be here tomorrow night.”

“I’ll start another pot of coffee.”

He went to stand, but his wrist was caught.

“It’s almost morning, we need to get some sleep.”

“I don’t care.”

“We’re going to find her,” Greene murmured.

His throat tightened, eyes burned, and he yanked at his hand, but Greene held firm. “You don’t know that.”

“No, but I know this team. We won’t give up. You can trust that.”

When he stopped struggling, Greene caressed his wrist and he swallowed at the sensations coursing through his stomach.

“You can trust me.” Greene’s voice was low and gravely.

He swallowed harder this time, wanting to sink into Greene and let him take away all the pain and loneliness. Was it too much to want a connection if only for a moment?

“Summer was lying about knowing who the mole is. I think she knows.” He chose his words carefully.

He shouldn’t have brought it up, but the strong, stoic soldier had a way of making him feel safe. Like Greene was standing between him and the world as a buffer.

Greene wasn’t voluntarily protecting him, it was his job, and it was stupid to think otherwise. He clenched his jaw and he did everything in his power to stop thinking Greene was that special someone.

A hand settled on his wrist and snapped his gaze up. How had Greene gotten so close?

The soldier’s hand swept up his arm, the callused palm rough against his skin, and goosebumps lifted on his arm. A shiver swam across his back and he shuddered when that rough hand cupped the side of his head. The palm warm against his ear, the room went soundless save only for his ragged breath.

Greene’s rough thumb caressed his bottom lip, pulling it down from his upper until he was forced to swipe his tongue out. Salt and spice from Greene’s fingers foggily filled his head and his jeans grew uncomfortably tight.

Sliding his hands up Greene’s stomach, he pressed his palms into the hard planes and mapped each muscle beneath his hands. His fingers brushed across small, tight nubs on his way upward and he caressed Greene’s shoulders and neck. From there, his fingers cleaved into Greene’s rich, dark hair, digging his nails into the man’s scalp.

Greene’s body shuddered beneath his hands, his breath rushed out, caressing over his face.

He leaned in the few inches that separated them and pressed his mouth and nose into his jaw.

Greene nuzzled him back, their faces colliding, chins scraping, fingers tightening and his head spun, like a junky getting his fix.

A hand fisted his hair and his face was lifted and finally, fucking finally, Greene’s mouth slanted over his.

His heart skipped a beat and then slammed into overdrive, and his breath stuttered at the touch of that scratchy beard against his face. His lips were caught beneath Greene’s mouth, and he laved his tongue, wanting so badly to taste.

A hard arm circled his waist and he was lifted up and over Greene’s thighs. He settled, straddling his lap, their lips locked, not kissing, just locked together, toying, as if they couldn’t bear to be separated.

He sent his ass grinding down into Greene’s hardness and moved his mouth, nipping, teasing, his lips pulling at Greene’s, slowly nestling his tongue inside.

The kiss grew deeper, longer, and more decadent. It was Greene’s groan that brought him back to earth. The soldier gave a panting gasp and yanked his head back, breathing hard.

Falling forward, he tucked his face in Greene’s neck, sucking in much needed oxygen. He didn’t think he’d ever gone that long without air before and apparently, neither had Greene.

Fingers dug into his ass and he realized he was still undulating. He leaned back enough to gaze into Greene’s eyes and he discovered a hidden color among the smoky gray: tiny, unique flecks of silver and black.

He reached down and yanked at the buttons of Greene’s jeans and they popped open one by one. He saw the doubt in Greene’s eyes, but instead of fighting him on this, Greene’s hands raced downward, loosening his pants and sliding one large hand inside his briefs.

The air left his lungs, his mouth gaped, and he groaned, dropping his head. His lips were caught and held and he was kissed hard. His own hand dipped into Greene’s jeans and he gripped the man’s thick, hard dick. Gasping against Greene’s mouth, he pulled and tugged.

Greene stretched out on the couch and pulled him down. He shoved those large hands down the back of his pants and pushed his jeans and briefs down past his ass. His cock bounced out and a groan left his throat when their dicks bumped together. Silky skin-covered steel ground up against him.

He tore his mouth from Greene’s, sucking in air, letting his head fall to the man’s wide shoulder. A massive hand closed around them both, lining them up, squeezing and jerking. There was nothing slow about this, nothing but sheer need and want. And fuck, he wanted Greene.

He ground down, thrusting until sweat dripped to Greene’s shirt below. He groaned loudly, his orgasm so fucking close. Greene must had sensed it and squeezed them together harder. His come spilled between them and he vaguely heard Greene’s grunt of release in his ear, the warmth of their combined seed soaking them.

Holy hell. Panting, he stayed put with his forehead on Greene’s shoulder. Waiting for the soldier to say something, yet silence reigned. Finally, he lifted his head, but Greene was looking at a spot over his shoulder.

Shit! He jerked back so quickly that he fell backward. Only Greene’s quick reflexes saved him from cracking his spine on the glass coffee table.

Once free from Greene’s steadying hands, he leaped up and turned his back to pull up his briefs and pants, making sure his shirt was covering his scar.

What the hell was he doing? Only heartache lay that way.

Greene said nothing, but he felt when the big man stood and moved to the kitchen. The paper towel roller creaked and then the kitchen sink faucet turned on.

He glanced down, grimaced, and then headed down the hallway to one of the bedrooms to pull on a clean shirt.

A fist hammered on his front door, and he jumped.

Ding dong. Someone laid on the doorbell.

Wiping a hand against his mouth, he returned to the living room to find Holden and Beckett.

“Liam sent us to keep you company.” Beckett smiled.

Great.

The doorbell rang the next evening and he answered the door with Greene and Holden’s weapons drawn.

“Relax. It’s just your boss.” If the tension was any thicker in the house, he was going to pull his fucking hair out.

What a night! Between Holden and Beckett not talking and then arguing just outside of hearing range, and Greene smoking like a chimney on the back patio and not saying one word to him, he was going to scream.

Liam held up a laptop. “Summer’s computer.”

“Great. Come in,” he said, taking the laptop. He stepped back, leaving the door open.

Zane, Isaac, Eagle, and Link stepped inside. Zane closed the door, flipped the deadbolt, and settled on the couch with Isaac.

Eagle made for the fresh pot of coffee, and Link headed out onto the back patio where Greene had disappeared to the minute he’d opened the door.

“Hardier had a recording of Summer’s last call to Robert Shawl,” he informed Liam. He hurried over, opened up his laptop on the coffee table, and clicked the MP3 file.

When Summer’s voice faded, the room was deathly still.

“Fucking hell.” Liam ran a hand through his graying hair. “Did she send the file to Shawl?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he said.

“You think the information could still be on her laptop?” Liam asked.

“I can check,” he said, still firmly holding Summer’s laptop beneath his arm.

“So that probably makes this Robert guy the mole,” Liam said.

“Not necessarily.” He tightened his grip on the laptop against his side and looked away.

Leave things alone or she’s dead. That fucking robotic voice haunted his dreams last night.

Was the mole’s true identity somewhere on Summer’s laptop? He could easily delete it if he could get it to his bedroom.

“Dave needs to talk to Parish and find out if Robert gave him that invoice.”

The room went silent at the implications to Parish, but right at this point, he wasn’t sure who the fuck to trust outside of this room.

“I’ll have him call,” Liam said.

A knock on the front door was unexpected and every soldier in the room pulled a weapon.

“Okay, let’s keep calm.” He blew out a hard breath.

The amount of muscles and metal in the room was jaw dropping. There was no amount of privacy anywhere. He squeezed the laptop.

Goddamn it, this was ridiculous. He needed to check for evidence. He whirled toward the door.

“Open the door, Four,” his brother’s voice came through the wood.

Rats!