Chapter 6 #2
“I don’t know about you, but I slept like a log,” Val said, taking a big bite of bacon. “So good.”
Saint let out a snort and shook his head. And just like that, the awkwardness vanished, much to Val’s relief. Saint grabbed a piece of bacon off his plate and shoved it in his mouth.
“I bet you did.”
“Are you saying you didn’t?”
Saint arched an eyebrow but didn’t respond.
“How about we avoid all the weirdness and just be friends? Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what? Like you’re delusional? Because you are. After what happened last night, do you really think we can be just friends?”
“What happened last night was….”
Saint met his gaze. “If you say it was a mistake, you’re going to be wearing those eggs. And then I’m going to eat your bacon. No bacon for you.”
Val held back a smile. “I don’t regret last night, but it can’t happen again. I like you, Saint. A lot. I would like it if we could be friends.”
Saint let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, okay.”
“You don’t have to sound so excited about it.”
Saint seemed to think about it and then nodded. His soft smile eased Val’s worry. “Okay. Just friends.”
It was the best decision for both of them, and Val was glad Saint agreed.
Having Saint in his life as a friend was better than not having him at all.
That’s just how it had to be. Taking his plate to the other side of the counter, Val sat next to Saint, who made small talk as he ate.
When he needed something, he just got up and got it.
It should have been strange, having someone moving around his kitchen.
Very rarely did Val bring someone home, and when he did, they didn’t stay to have breakfast with him, which was fine. They were hook-ups, not dates. When Val finished eating, Saint carried his plate to the sink.
“Why are you doing the dishes?” Val asked when Saint started washing up.
“Because you cooked. That’s how it was in my house growing up. Mom cooked, so my dad and I were in charge of cleaning up.”
“I have a dishwasher.”
Saint laughed. “In my house, the dishwasher is used for storage, not washing.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Tell that to my Cuban mother.”
“If she’s anything like Ace’s mother or Lucky’s, I value my life too much.”
Saint laughed. “Ah, yes. Then you’re well prepared for the day you meet my mother.”
“Do you have siblings?” Val had never heard Saint mention any.
“I’m an only child. I was sort of the miracle baby.” He put the dishes in the dishwasher to dry since there wasn’t anywhere else to put them. It was most likely what he did at his mother’s home.
“Oh? How so?”
“My mom’s parents left Cuba to come to the US back in the sixties.
She was about sixteen at the time. My grandparents tried to convince their families to leave Cuba, but few did.
They were adamant that the unrest going on at the time would pass.
It didn’t. It got worse. A few family members came over in the eighties, but most still held onto the hope that things would change for the better.
” Saint shook his head as he dried his hands.
“Anyway, my mom and grandparents were living in Miami. It’s where she met my dad. He was in the Navy and on leave. They fell in love and got married. Not long after, doctors told my parents that it was unlikely she could have children. My mom was forty-two when she got pregnant with me.”
“She spoiled you, didn’t she?” Val teased.
“Oh hell yeah, and I was a little shit when I was a kid. Way too smart for my own good. I took full advantage. Then my dad retired from the Navy and was around all the time.”
“Let me guess. That’s when you went from spoiled to Sailor.”
“You bet your ass.”
Val wanted to know more about what had prompted Saint to join the Navy. He opened his mouth to ask when a knock sounded at the door. Turning to head for the front door, he found Saint already there. How…? Damn, the man was fast. And quiet.
Saint carefully peeked through the blinds of the window beside the door. “It’s Frank.” He opened the door with a bright smile. “Morning, Frank.”
“Morning. Man, it smells good in here,” Frank said as he walked into the kitchen. “Don’t suppose you troublemakers left me any?”
Saint snorted. “Are you kidding? It’s bacon. We left you the grease.”
“Assholes.” Frank shook his head and went straight to the kitchen like usual.
He got himself an espresso cup, added his normal two teaspoons of cane sugar from the silver sugar canister, and poured some espresso.
“I talked to King this morning. Jack’s gone through all the club’s footage and found when one of the bastards who jumped you cut the wire on the camera facing the end of the lot. ”
Val frowned. “Your guys said they were on their way but got held up.”
“Yeah.” Frank took a sip of his espresso. “Jack showed me the footage. The brawl out front was a diversion.”
“What?” Saint took a seat next to Val. “The fight was a fake?”
“Oh, it was real. Some asshole in a black hoodie and mask walks up to a group of guys standing out on the sidewalk and punches one of them. It was a shitshow.”
“And the cameras didn’t get any of their faces?” Val asked, liking all this less and less.
Frank shook his head. “They knew where the cameras were. They’d staked out the club. This was a planned attack.” He met Val’s gaze. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”
“Me? I didn’t get myself into shit.”
Saint placed a hand on Val’s shoulder. “Is there anyone who might be holding a grudge against you or want to do you harm?”
Frank snorted, and Val grunted. Yeah, plenty of those. “I was an openly gay fire chief and a hard-ass who refused to back down.”
“In other words, the list would be too long,” Saint replied.
“Bingo. But why now?” That was what Val couldn’t understand.
Well, one of the many things he couldn’t wrap his head around.
“I was the fire chief for years, and yeah, I had a bunch of altercations, but no one ever tried to blow me up. Speaking of which, why would someone go from planting a bomb to sending a group of thugs to beat the shit out of me? It makes no sense. Don’t suppose King’s found anything? ”
“Other than confirmation that the new fire chief is a dickbag?” Frank finished his espresso and washed out his cup.
“The man won’t even take King’s calls. Which, of course, meant King showed up at the fire station.
Bless his little cowboy heart, Mason thought it would be a good idea to tag along.
Now everyone in this room knows that if someone is going to lose his shit and punch out the fire chief, it isn’t going to be King. ”
Saint cringed. “Don’t tell me Mason punched the new fire chief.”
“He would have if King hadn’t grabbed him. I would have let him, considering the asshole had made a snide remark about gay first responders. He knew exactly who Mason was and let his distaste be known.”
Quite frankly, Val was surprised King had bothered to go down there.
They knew the asshole wasn’t going to be any help.
Then again, if anyone could get someone to come around, it would be King.
The guy had a way about him. Like he always knew what to do or say.
In this case, it was to keep Mason from getting his ass thrown in jail.
“You need to watch your back,” Frank said, concern filling his gaze.
“The police haven’t found anything, or we’d have heard about it.
Maybe the two incidents aren’t related, or maybe this guy’s got a bigger plan, but you’re the common denominator in both instances, so please.
Be careful.” His face lit up, and Val braced himself. “Hey, I have an idea.”
Val managed not to groan. He didn’t need any of Frank’s bright ideas. Despite his scowl, Frank ignored him and turned his attention to Saint.
“You’re on leave for a while, right?”
“Um, yeah.”
“What if you help Val out with the tavern?”
No, he did not . Fucker .
“It’ll give you something to do, you can keep an eye on Val until we have some answers, and it’ll help Val out.”
Val did his best not to talk through his teeth. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Sure.”
Frank followed Val down the hall into his bedroom, where he closed the door.
“Are you out of your damned mind?”
“What? It’s a great idea. You get help, and he’s not bored. Win-win.”
“No. Not win-win,” Val hissed. “It’s a horrible idea, and you know it.”
Frank’s shit-eating grin told Val he knew precisely why it wasn’t a good idea.
“You mean because he’d be around you for hours, sweaty, wielding power tools and using those big muscles to move things. Is that why?”
“Fuck you.”
Frank laughed. “Why are you so wound up? You need to get laid. Maybe find yourself someone younger and hotter who’s good with their hands.”
Val opened his mouth and then closed it. He thrust a finger at Frank. “I know several ways to get rid of a body. No one would ever know.”
“Ooh, ouch.” Frank put a hand to his heart.
“Everything okay?” Saint called out.
Val glared at Frank some more before opening the door and marching back to the kitchen.
If he refused, Frank would insist he talk to the Kings about protection, and Val wasn’t about to hire a bodyguard.
Which was worse? Having a stranger following him around all day, every day, or having Saint around, sweaty, breathless, and wielding a hammer.
“Maybe Frank isn’t wrong,” Val conceded. Not because of the sweaty, breathless, hammer-holding part but because Val didn’t want the alternative.
“Wow.” Frank shook his head with a laugh. “You can’t even say I’m right, can you?”
“Never.” Val turned to Saint, hoping he didn’t regret this. “Feel like helping me work on the tavern? I can pay you.”
Saint tapped his chin and looked like he was giving it a lot of thought when Val knew he was full of it. “Only if I’m paid in food.”
“Deal,” Val said, holding out his hand to shake. The moment Saint’s palm touched his, Val knew he was screwed, and not in a good way.