5. Kendrick
Chapter five
Kendrick
The stalemate between us doesn’t break even when we pull into the driveway of HQ, a house hidden in the middle of Mosman. Eight-foot fences with more security than the average home. The large gate swings open, and I park behind Moira’s red Mazda6 sedan.
Spencer gets out before I can say anything, slamming the door behind himself and half jogging up the stepping-stone walkway, carefully avoiding stepping on the thick green grass. He absently taps the hanging ferns and then lets himself through the glass-frosted front double doors.
I’m not offended he doesn’t leave it open for me; he can’t. The door automatically locks behind itself after five seconds. And I need a minute to compose myself anyway. He fogs everything up, taking up all the oxygen in the room until thought is difficult. As if it has anything to do with proximity to him. I could be on the other side of the world, and he’d still affect me.
Spencer hasn’t gone far; he’s in the kitchen with Six and Moira, all three of them eating out of the same strawberry yoghurt container. Six and Moira are sharing a spoon, passing it back and forth. Did we run out of cutlery or something?
The sun hasn’t quite risen yet, and only the barest hint of light comes through the wall of glass near the dining table. I can see why they’re standing at the counter to eat; Hunter’s plants are spread across the table, in various stages of potting. He must have gone shopping over the weekend to get more. Because the place doesn’t have enough greenery.
“So I got your message,” Six says, licking his spoon. “Riley sent me one too, and Hunter. I was very popular, and it woke Greer up. He took offence to that, which I took offence to, and suffice to say, we didn’t go back to sleep.”
In revenge for that imagery—Spencer is the only person I want to fantasise about naked—I steal one of the Snickers bars from the freezer.
Moira makes an exaggerated, hissed-pain sound and uses Six’s momentary lapse to steal the yoghurt container from him, hoarding it for herself.
Six smirks at me, unperturbed at the loss of his breakfast. “Your funeral, man.”
“As if you don’t want something else to take offense to.” Retreat is the only option after that comment because I definitely don’t want to hear Six’s response. It’ll only add more imagery.
His chuckle follows me down the hallway.
A glance into his and Greer’s office—habit mostly—has me stopping in my tracks. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s my office too,” Greer says, not looking up from his laptop. He’s not even sitting in his own chair, instead spread out over Six’s desk. “Yours is one door up and to your right.”
“Thanks,” I say sarcastically. “How would I ever have found it otherwise?”
“You’d be doomed to wander the halls for eternity.” He sounds so serious I almost believe him.
Leaning against the doorframe, I study his face. Drawn, haggard, lines across his forehead. “You look tired.”
Greer’s eyebrow arches, still not looking up and staring intently at something on the screen. “Not sleeping does that,” he says absently. “Did you follow that guy the other day I needed you to?”
“Yeah. He had lunch with someone not his wife and someone he was quite friendly with, went to a dentist appointment, and then took his daughter to ballet. If you’re looking for an angle, you won’t find it there. If he’s part of the ring, he’s not getting his hands dirty.”
“Alright, thanks.” He frowns and switches his laptop for Six’s.
If he expects me to walk away, he’s out of luck. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Do I ask you about what you and Spence do at night?” He jams his pointer finger into the Enter button with prejudice.
“I can draw you a picture if you want.” Quality time with Six may have kept him up early today, but he doesn’t look like this from one night. Besides, Six isn’t that inconsiderate without good reason.
He finally looks up at me, mouth turned down in a scowl that’d scare a lesser man. “I’ve been playing lookout. Do you need something, Fischer? I don’t have a lot of time before I need to head to the station, and if nothing’s on fire, kindly fuck off.”
“I think I like it here, actually.” He hasn’t really answered my question and irritating him never gets old. Like poking at an older brother until they snap and chase you around the kitchen with a knife.
“Make yourself useful and come suck my dick, then,” he mutters, refocusing on his screen. I can physically see the moment his brain switches completely over, my presence all but forgotten. No one can get lost in their work quite like this man.
“Who’s getting their dick sucked?” Six asks behind me. He shifts sideways to shimmy past me and into the office, patting my hip as he goes.
“Me.” Greer angles himself when Six stands at his back, like their bodies automatically gravitate toward each other. Six leans over, gaze fixed on the screen. He points at something, and Greer nods slightly.
“I can get under the desk if you want,” Six says slyly. “All you have to do is ask.”
“Mmm.” Greer gives another violent stab to the Enter key.
What the fuck are they looking at? “You can watch porn in your own time, y’know.”
Spencer joins us, plastering himself to my back. “If you’re watching porn, you have to share,” he says, resting his chin on my shoulder to see into the room. I reach up and cup his cheek, caressing it with a thumb.
“I don’t think you’re into what we’re into,” Six replies, shooting him a grin. “But hey, if you’re interested, I can show you some good sites.”
“You all have five seconds to clear the room; anyone still over the threshold after that is getting shot,” Greer promises darkly.
“You’re so touchy today,” Spencer remarks. “Did Six not satisfy you? It’s okay, you can tell us. We can start a self-help group.”
Six’s smile curls into something wicked, and I brace myself for whatever’s about to come out of his mouth. “Ken stole a Snickers out of the freezer.”
My mouth drops open. That’s fucking uncalled for. Why am I getting dragged into this? Spencer makes the mess, and I have to clean it up.
That gets Greer’s full attention. “Are you fucking serious?”
That’s my cue to leave. A stapler goes flying through the open doorway where I’d stood not two seconds ago, slamming against the opposite wall.
“I think you dropped something,” Spencer says in a cheery, helpful tone.
This time it’s a hole punch, and it dents the plaster. I better eat the damn chocolate quick before he comes and rips out my stomach so I have no way to digest it.
Spencer follows me into our office and kicks the door shut before flicking the lock. Good call. “Are you gonna share?”
“Only if you ask nicely.”
Spencer drops into his chair and rolls backward, hitting the wall with a thud . “I’m always nice.”
“Are you?”
“I’m offended you think I’m not.”
I grunt in response. Spencer is perfectly nice when he wants something. He has the ability to twist people around and convince them to do anything, with enough time and incentive.
“Six said he sent the case files over.” Spencer checks the time. “We can go check out the body today, too, if you want?”
“Sure.”
Unlike most desk setups, we share one long desk, instead of separate. When we sit, we’re in reach of each other, sharing space. Even being across a room from him is too far. The second I settle in my chair beside him, he grips the armrest and pulls me closer, a knee between my legs. “Ken.”
It takes me a second to answer, distracted by his lips. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
My heart stutters, and my gaze flicks up to his. Dark-brown irises that are almost black, filled with so much fucking soul, sometimes I can’t breathe. His lips part a fraction when I brush his blond hair away from his forehead. He looks too young, too earnest. Like he’s apologising to me when he has no reason to.
“I love you too.”
His thumbs are soft against my cheeks as he cradles my face and closes the distance between us. The light pressure of his lips is heaven, and my gut clenches in response, all my focus on where we meet. What I wouldn’t give for him to open his mouth, to give me more . To bridge the gap that will always be there. That final step he can never take. It’s enough, even when it isn’t.
His breath ghosts over mine, and my own hands move of their own volition, resting either side of his neck, feeling the unsteady thrum of his heartbeat.
He leans his forehead against mine, eyes closed. Resting there. My fingers curl around to the back of his neck and hold him there, soaking in the feel of him. This is all I need in life, right here.
“Tell me.”
The words are too soft, pleading. I can’t resist him. I’ve never been able to.
I know what he’s asking. My nightmares. “I think—I think about what might have happened if we hadn’t gotten you back last year. If they’d discarded you the way we thought they had. Jericho and Six, they told me, when they found the abandoned car, that they thought you might be in the trunk.” The thickness in my throat makes it hard to get it all out. The nightmares follow me into my waking hours, and they’re impossible to escape. I’m glad I wasn’t there, and at the same time, the feeling of uselessness chokes me. I should have been there. I should have protected him. I’d failed at my job, and worse, I’d failed him . My mistake could have cost me everything, and it’s only pure dumb luck that it hadn’t.
He clasps my hand under his and holds my palm to his lips, lingering there. “They didn’t hurt me.”
“That’s a lie.”
I know what he looked like when they pulled him out of there. Sebastian had gotten off easy compared to what they’d done to Spencer. There’d been no purpose to the damage; Spencer didn’t have the information they wanted, and they knew it. If the asshole responsible wasn’t rotting in a cell, I’d have killed him myself. Some days I still think about it. It wouldn’t take much. Prison security isn’t enough to keep me out.
“The only thing that hurt me was not knowing if you were okay.” He traces my bottom lip. “All I could see was you crushed against the car, and all I wanted was for you to open your eyes and look at me.”
“I am looking at you,” I murmur. I’m always looking at him. There’s nothing about him that’s not worth looking at. Nothing that could ever make me look away.
“Don’t ever stop.” His next kiss is more insistent, lips moving with urgency. For a breathless moment I almost think it’s more, that it’s different . That there’s meaning behind it there’s never been before.
Except the smile in his eyes when he lifts his head is the same as it always is.
Warm, loving, and missing that last spark.