Clyde laughed with no real humor in the noise.“Yeah, that’s what the PI said.”He spat again and scuffed it into the tiles with his foot before the security guard could protest again.“But if Tracy was corrupt, I don’t know when she’d have found the time.Are we done here?I want to get my kid and get out of here.None of this is on her.”
For a second, Javi weighed the advantage of pushing Clyde a bit harder.This time, though, he wasn’t sure where to apply the leverage, so he just nodded.
“Go on,” he said.
Clyde turned and stalked towards the elevator.The security guard, after a worried glance around, loudly announced he’d escort him and scuttled after him.That left the other agents.
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 seeyouback at the office,” Kincaid said smugly.
“Yeah,” Javi said.“I imagine you will.”
Thesharp,clinicalsmellof 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.
Andthereit 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.
