Chapter Eight #2
One glanced at Javi, shook his head, and trailed off after Clyde. His partner thrust his phone at Javi.
“Kincaid wants to talk to you,” he said.
Javi pulled a white handkerchief out of his pocket and lifted it to press against his nose. Blood turned it hot and wet in his fingers quickly. He took the mobile and lifted it to his ear.
“I’ll see you back at the office,” Kincaid said smugly.
“Yeah,” Javi said. “I imagine you will.”
The sharp, clinical smell of the antiseptic wipes stung the abused flesh inside Javi’s sinuses as he wiped at the dried blood under his nose.
He leaned forward and squinted at his reflection in the office bathroom mirror.
The harsh overhead lights buzzing softly overhead did him no favors.
His skin looked sallow, and it was hard to tell if the circles under his eyes were from tiredness or bruising.
Javi supposed that he’d find out soon enough.
He balled the wipe up in his hand, the thin, papery fabric stained pink, and tossed it into the bin.
Then he stepped back to start stripping off his shirt.
The white fabric was stained with blood and sticky, already sour-smelling tea.
He wasn’t sure which was going to make his dry cleaner hike the prices up more.
A fresh shirt, laundered and neatly bagged by the same dry cleaner, hung on the back of the door waiting to be put on. After that, he’d be reduced to a second wear of the gray FBI T-shirt he’d left in his car.
And, he thought dryly as he unbuttoned his cuffs, without Cloister even there to appreciate it.
The thought of Cloister and his warm, uncomplicated interest loosened the tension in Javi’s chest. He stopped fighting with his tie long enough to take a deep breath, the first in what felt like forever.
Javi had no idea what to do with that. He supposed, as he slid his hand under his collar to rub the ache in his neck, he knew what it meant. It wasn’t a surprise that he was in love with Cloister. He just didn’t know if he was comfortable with it mattering so much to him.
It felt…embarrassing.
And there it went. The feeling of peace drained away and tension stitched back between Javi’s ribs. It felt safer. Uncomfortable, but still. Better to be braced than exposed.
Javi stripped his shirt off. The fabric stuck to him where the stains had dried into his skin. He had to peel it off and use it to scrub the gunky residue off his chest. As he turned to reach for the spare, its plastic sheath crinkling under his fingers, the door opened.
He’d not thought of that.
Since Saul’s death, he’d been the only one in the office to use the men’s room. Now there was a whole team trying to fit themselves into the space.
“Sorry,” he started. “I’m just—”
Kincaid stepped through the door. A sandy eyebrow twitched up a millimeter, just enough to notice, as he looked Javi over.
If he’d leered or made a show of enjoying the view, it would have given Javi something to push back on. Of course, he didn’t. Kincaid could always be assumed to be an asshole, but the expression of it was unpredictable. This time he kept his expression somewhere between neutral and unimpressed.
The Javi who’d been thrilled to be tapped as Kincaid’s new golden boy bristled at the lack of interest. That guy had been an asshole, though, so Javi ignored him.
“When I say I want to see you at the office,” Kincaid said, “I mean the minute you get back. Save prettying yourself up for your boyfriend.”
“He’s—” Javi caught the denial on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t like Cloister being in Kincaid’s periphery, but he wasn’t going to lie about him either. “…into me no matter what I look like.”
Kincaid snorted. He stepped past Javi, letting the door close behind him, and walked over to the row of urinals. He unzipped when he got there and met Javi’s gaze in the mirror and tilted his chin in what was, from the angle, probably aimed for Javi’s face.
“Better hope so,” he said. The sound of his piss at it splattered against the ceramic provided an undignified background noise to the conversation. “I suppose it’s cute, in a way. Like those dogs that look like their owner.”
Look or don’t look? Both felt loaded. Javi touched his nose gingerly. His eye twitched as the contact turned the dull ache in his face into a hot, jabbing ache in his face.
“And which of us is the dog in this scenario?” he asked as he reached for his shirt.
The plastic stuck to his fingers as he pulled it off. The paper envelope on the hanger that advertised the “Plenty of Starch” dry cleaners crinkled.
“I don’t know,” Kincaid said. “Which of you comes when told to?”
Javi’s fingers briefly fumbled. He gave Kincaid a quick, suspicious look as he tried to work out what had made the man be that overt. It wasn’t like him. Back in Phoenix, they’d fucked before Javi had even been sure that Kincaid swung that way.
It was deliberate provocation. Javi just wasn’t sure what way he was meant to jump.
“None of your business,” he said.
“Fair,” Kincaid said as he hit the flush. “Although I’m not sure Deputy Witte would be so…discreet. He doesn’t seem like a man who’s good with boundaries. It’s refreshing in a way, but I’m not sure it’s healthy. Of course, with his childhood, how much can you expect?”
Research? Javi wondered grimly. Or did he need to have a word with Cloister about open lines of communication being in both their best interests?
“He’s not your business either,” Javi said shortly as he shrugged the shirt over his shoulders.
“Don’t be childish, Javier,” Kincaid said as he turned around.
He paused as he considered Javi’s face, glanced at the bloody shirt, and gave a mildly disapproving sigh.
“Any more childish than you’ve already been today, anyhow.
You know perfectly well that my business is what I make it.
And you put the good deputy right in the middle of my business. ”
That made Javi’s stomach tense up, a wet, cold clutch of anxiety. He didn’t know why caring about Cloister felt easier when he suffered with it instead of benefited. It was probably something to do with the Sunday masses he’d gone to with his grandmother, contact Catholicism.
“I won’t let you—”
Kincaid turned abruptly and leveled a cold, sharp smile at Javi. It was almost honest, stripped of at least a couple of layers of socially acceptable behaviors.
“Don’t pretend you’d protect him,” Kincaid said. “It’s beneath both of us. Now, tell me, did you get anything useful out of jumping the gun with Limehouse? Or should you have left it to me?”
Javi took a deep breath through his nose. The sharp bleach smell stung the abused interior, mixing sickly with the smell of his own blood and fluids.
“He thought she was cheating on him,” he said.
Kincaid sneered. “Him and every other TSA agent I’ve ever met,” he said dryly. “I could have left him in Canada and assumed that.”
“With me,” Javi said as he buttoned his cuffs. That made Kincaid snort with genuine amusement. Javi could see his point, but still… “He hired a private investigator to prove it. So if anything was going on with Joel before she disappeared, that’s who’d know.”
Kincaid considered that for a second. He finally pursed his lips and gave a mildly dismissive sniff.
“I think I could have found out myself,” he said as he grabbed a paper towel to fastidiously dry his hands. “Still. Useful. You’ve already got Joel’s financials. Follow up and get Limehouse’s too. Find who he hired, get them in. I want to talk to them.”
Javi’s eyes twitched at the casual reveal that Kincaid knew he’d intercepted the report from the bank. Mentally, he scrambled as he tried to work out how much Kincaid knew, and how to react to it.
“I’ll do that,” Javi said.
Kincaid balled the towel up in his hands, tucking in the corners and compressing it down, before he tossed it at the bin.
“See? It’s not so hard to work together. Just like old times.”
It was. That’s what worried Javi. He wasn’t about to admit that out loud, so he just pulled a vaguely agreeable face as he flipped his collar to get his tie back on. That was good enough for Kincaid, who smirked and glanced at his watch.
“Well, I have a meeting with the sheriff’s department in the morning,” he said. “I’m going to get some shut-eye. Call me if anything comes up…and remember, if you don’t, someone else will.”
He winked and left before Javi could ask what the meeting was about. The door swung shut behind him with a thunk, and irritation made Javi knot his tie too tight. He muttered a curse word under his breath as he yanked it loose to try again.
Just like old times. Kincaid was making moves that Javi didn’t understand, and someone Javi cared about was in the blast radius.
Javi stared at his battered reflection as he grimly reknotted his tie, letting muscle memory run his fingers.
His career had survived last time, but if something happened to Cloister…
Javi didn’t think he would.