Despite It All by Reese Knightley

 

Forest

“Iput cream in it.”

Greene sputtered and choked.

“What?” He widened his eyes. Yep, going for that big, wide innocent look.

“Thanks.” Greene carefully took the Tweety bird mug after a small flicker where he double checked to make sure it was cow’s cream and not his.

The guy had removed his leather jacket and shirt. The only thing left on the man’s torso was a white, tank top undershirt, grease stained, and torn down the front. Maybe he should tear it the rest of the way? It was tempting. The shirt displayed the man’s tattoos, dog tags, and miles of muscles.

“You can change, the shower’s free,” he offered, dragging his eyes away from the man’s chest and up to those gray eyes.

“Did you get your bandages wet?” Greene shifted beneath his hot stare and nodded at his bare right wrist.

“Yeah, but I don’t need them. I only twisted it.” He held up his hand and rolled it in a circle.

“Be right back.” He stepped back into the warm kitchen and adjusted himself before picking up his own mug and the glass of water and came back outside.

Greene sat at the table nursing his coffee and his cigarette.

He took a much needed sip from his Mickey mug. Damn, it tasted good and he took another quick swallow on his way to take a seat. He placed the glass half filled with water on the table.

“For you.” He flashed Greene a smile and nodded at his lit cigarette.

“Thanks.” Squinting through the haze, Greene took another pull and made sure to blow the smoke away from him before he popped the half-finished stick in the glass where it extinguished and bobbed, a dark stain of filth.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He darted Greene a glance.

“A bet’s a bet.” Greene smiled and he pulled his gaze away from the man’s curving lips. He wanted another kiss. Hands down, the man did everything for him, but Greene had wariness written all over him.

He turned and made himself look out at the black, rippling ocean. Lifting his face, he drew in the smell of the sand, sea, and air.

“That’s one hell of a view.”

“I love it,” he murmured.

“It must be spectacular in the daylight.”

“It is.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t find Summer.”

He swallowed and looked down at his hands and then nodded, keeping his gaze on the darkened shoreline.

“I haven’t given up.” He slowly turned his face from the ocean back to Greene.

The man took a sip from his mug, locking eyes with his.

“How do you know how I take my coffee?” Greene’s brow furrowed.

“I saw how you made it at the meeting.”

“What meeting?”

Okay, here we go. “The first meeting we met.”

Greene’s brow continued to furrow. “We didn’t meet. You were at the meeting, but we didn’t meet.”

He smiled softly and nodded. “No, not formally.”

“This was before Liam and Dave’s party?”

“Yes. I don’t know if you realized I was always in your way.” He swallowed around a tight throat. If that wasn’t telling Greene all he needed to know, he might need to be more blunt.

“You take yours with a shot of flavored creamer.” Greene nodded at the cup in his hands when he shot him a surprised look.

“Touché.”

Greene remembered. What the hell did all that mean, if anything?

“How long have you lived here?”

“I moved down here from San Francisco about seven years ago and bought this condo.”

“So, this,” Greene waved a hand to the colorful mugs and back toward the inside of the house, “is not an undercover façade?”

“No.” He gave the man a soft smile. “This is me.”

“It’s nice and expensive.”

“It’s a perfect location. The address has never been listed on any documents.” He toyed with the handle on his mug. “I come here on the weekends after driving around a few hours to lose any tail.”

“We didn’t drive around tonight.”

“That’s because I knew you were watching for anyone following us.”

“I was.” Greene took another drink and his stomach warmed beneath the steady gray gaze. “So, tell me, how does an FBI agent afford a condo on the beach?”

“My grandfather owned four houses. Mason and I each got one and we keep one for a vacation home. I sold mine and bought this.” He waved his hand around.

“And the fourth?”

“My mom.” Forest shifted in his chair and stretched out his legs. “We’ve sold all the houses and moved around except for the vacation home.”

“What did your grandfather do?”

“He came from old money. Texas oil.” He dropped into silence and nursed his coffee. Here was the point where men did one of three things. Shut him out because of his money, stick around because of his money, or didn’t care about his money. Which one was Greene?

“You know,” Greene cleared his throat and changed the subject, “Summer’s disappearance isn’t your fault.”

“I wish we would have arrived sooner,” he said, lifting his gaze to Greene’s.

“We’ll get them, don’t worry.”

He offered a brief curve of his mouth and took a sip from his cooling coffee.

“So…CIA, huh?”

He gave the man a sheepish glance. “Former, but yeah. Sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

“Liar.” A smile played around Greene’s strong mouth. “I think you enjoyed getting one over on me a little too much.”

“So says the guy who wants my sneakers.” He laughed.

“You know damned well it wasn’t your actual shoes I was after.” Greene shook his head.

“Yeah, but it was funny watching the unit think so,” he pointed out.

Greene snorted on a laugh. “I’m going to win that keychain from you.”

“Dream on, tough guy.”

Greene held his gaze for a long moment.

“Joshua?” The name felt so right on his tongue.

“Yeah?” Greene sounded like he had a frog stuck in his throat.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“Hungry?”

“Fucking starving.”

He laughed and the cut on his split lip burned, but he couldn’t help smiling beneath Greene’s glittering gaze.

Slowly pushing back his chair, he lifted their mugs and dumped them in the kitchen sink. His right hand ached, but at least he had the use of it. His left, he’d tried to protect in the struggle and the brace had done a pretty good job.

Dumping canned chili into two bowls, he took a sourdough loaf of bread from the freezer and placed both the chili and bread in the microwave one after the other.

Greene had followed him and sat at the bar, and he found his fingers fumbling beneath his watchful gaze. Did the guy have family, a boyfriend?

“Why’d you quit the FBI?” Greene beat him to the questions.

“That’s complicated.” He huffed a short laugh.

“I think I can keep up.”

He shook his head with a slight smile and placed a big bowl of chili plus two hunks of sourdough bread and butter and a sparkling cherry water in front of Greene.

“Thanks.”

He smiled and fixed his own bowl and stood on the other side of the counter.

“Wait,” Greene said and slid off the stool. “Can we eat in the living room?”

“I’d prefer it.” He settled on the sofa next to Greene and took a big bite of his chili. His mouth watered and he quickly ate several bites, keeping in time with Greene. The only sound in the room was the clanking of spoons against bowls. He smiled when they reached for and tore into a chunk of bread at the same time. Greene’s eyes sparkled. Was that happiness? Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

When his hunger slowed, he glanced over and found Greene staring at him, one eyebrow lifted.

“What?”

“So, why’d you quit?”

Chewing his food, he swallowed before answering.

“I have to start back a ways. I joined the FBI right out of the Army and worked for Roscoe Burns for years. He was an awesome supervisor. Then one day, he quit because of our homophobic boss.”

“No shit?” Greene frowned.

“No shit. Our boss was reported and put on administrative leave while the higher-ups investigated the allegations.”

“You mean Dave?”

“Kind of. It was Dave and the FBI Director.” He gave Greene a quick grin remembering when the Director had shown up and escorted their boss from the building. “Anyway, I was appointed interim Associate Director at the age of twenty-seven.”

“That’s a big job.”

“It was. I did okay. Then one day, I investigated a case that involved some people close to Dave.” He couldn’t go into details about Captain Spencer Turner and his family.

“White Collar?”

“Yeah, it was a cluster fuck from the beginning. Some really good men were injured emotionally and physically and it landed some people in witness protection.”

“Did you figure it out?”

“Yeah, I did, but during that case, I decided that I didn’t want to be in charge like that. Plus, I was sick of working in an office all the time.” He probed at the tenderness in his jaw. “They were giving me shit about my request to step down and do fieldwork, so I quit.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Montana for a while. That’s where Mason and I share a vacation home my grandfather left us.”

Greene’s eyes lit up. “I’ve never been there. I’ve heard about Glacier Park, though, seen pictures and stuff.”

“You should come sometime.” He kept his voice casual and took another bite of chili.

“I will.”

His heart lurched and then started a rapid thump, and he watched with a smile when Greene worked on his third slice of bread. The guy had a voracious appetite and could almost keep up with him.

“So, there I was about a year ago, sunning on my deck when Dave flew in.” He smiled at Greene’s curious glance. “I have a landing pad on my beach.”

“You own a beach in Montana?” Greene wiped his mouth and chin with a napkin.

“It’s lakefront property along Flathead Lake.”

“Expensive, huh?”

“We’ve had a lot of people migrate to Montana. It’s ballooned the cost of everything.”

He spied a spot of chili on Greene’s chin.

“You have a bit of…” He pointed at the brown dot.

“What?” Greene wiped his hand over his mouth, but missed the spot.

“Here, hold still.” He lifted his own napkin and dabbed at the spot, his pulse racing.

“Thanks.”

“Anyway,” he drew back slowly, crunched the napkin, and turned back to his food, “long story short, here I am back at the FBI, only this time, I get to do fieldwork.”

“And wear red tennis shoes.”

“Yeah.” His smile grew.

Greene’s spoon clanked against the bottom of his bowl with the last bite of chili.

“I have to give Dave an answer though.”

“Answer?” Greene sat back on the cushions, turned toward him, and draped his arm along the back of the sofa.

“Finding the mole was only supposed to be one assignment.” He hadn’t intended to work other FBI jobs while working undercover, but shit happened.

“So, you’re supposed to do what when this job is over?” Greene’s brow furrowed.

“I have two choices, continue working undercover or quit. If I work undercover for Dave, my title would be fluid.”

“Fluid?”

“Yeah, it would change with each case I handle. So, like now I’m Supervisory, the next case I could go in undercover as something else.”

“I guess the higher ups can do that.”

Greene’s eyes were suddenly on him, and he grew breathless.

“It sounds fun though, right?” His lips stretched and he touched the cut on his lip.

“You sound like you’ve made up your mind.”

“I haven’t.” He scooted up on the couch, lifting a knee to the cushion and rubbed at the ache behind his temple. “I love the FBI, but there are too many restrictions. Plus, I can’t see myself retiring to Montana at this age.”

“You could take up fly fishing and horseback riding.”

He grinned. “I hate to fish, but I do love horses. And snowboarding on Big Mountain.”

“Big Mountain?”

“Yeah, they renamed it Whitefish Mountain, but it’ll always be Big Mountain to me.”

Greene seemed content to just watch him talk, but he didn’t want to be the only one trading secrets and dreams.

“What about you? Do you snowboard?”

“I skied a couple of times when I was a kid.”

“What’s your sport?”

“Shooting.”

He laughed. “Just shooting?”

“I don’t have a place, so it’s not like I can collect anything.” Greene gestured to his Spiderman comic book on the coffee table.

“You don’t have a house?”

“No.” Greene’s eyes hardened like shards of granite. Had he crossed a line? He wanted to know everything there was to know about Greene. What his life was like, who he cared about, what the name of his aftershave was, and could he have another kiss?

“Where do you stay?”

“On the base.”

“And before Infinity?”

Greene squinted, mouth pressed tight, and he tossed his napkin to his empty plate.

“With my mother.”

“I’d like to meet her someday,” he said softly.

“No.” Greene grimaced. “I wouldn’t let her get anywhere near you.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I have dishes to do anyway.” He tried to stand. He couldn’t quite hide the heat filling his face, but a quick duck of his head would do the trick.

“Hey.” Greene’s strong, warm hand gripped the back of his neck and stopped him from rising.

He tipped his face up, but kept his eyes glued to Greene’s perfectly cropped beard and firm mouth.

“It’s not because of you. She’s a drug addict. I don’t want you anywhere near that.”

Christ, Greene looked so protective, if he was reading the glittering gaze correctly. He’d been known to be wrong about shit.

“And your dad?”

“I never knew him.” Greene’s hands closed around his, snug and so possessive.

He drew in a breath, trying to calm down. His pulse throbbed, making his whole body vibrate, and he felt himself drowning in pools of liquid smoke.

“Okay,” he whispered softly.

Greene’s brief smile popped his head in the clouds.

“You want more?”

“I’m good.”

Reaching for the bowl, his hand collided with Greene’s and those calloused fingers brushed roughly against his wrist, and then so tenderly over his scraped knuckles.

“It’s almost one in the morning,” he whispered.

“Tired?” Those gray eyes locked on him.

“Yeah. You get the couch,” he said, clearing his throat.

“I expected that.”

He didn’t want this quiet moment with Greene to end, but fatigue was dragging him down. There remained an constant thud behind his eyes.

He pulled away from the hold Greene had on him and opened his coat closet. Removing several pillows and blankets from the top shelf, he returned to the couch.

Greene took them from him and turned toward the couch. He was glad he’d invested in a deeper one. The depth made it comfortable for guests even as big as Greene to sleep on.

“Night,” he murmured, walking toward the stairs. When he didn’t get a response, he paused at the bottom of the steps and glanced back.

Greene wasn’t looking at him, but rather the pillow he’d handed to him. Greene lifted the fluffy item to his face and sniffed.

“Is that vanilla?”

He grinned. “And pumpkin spice.”

“Just shoot me,” Greene mumbled.

He chuckled all the way up the stairs.