“You want a beer?”he asked as he walked over to the fridge.The light from inside picked out his profile in sharp relief, cruel to the still lumpy beak of his battered nose, as he opened the door to look inside.
“Is it cheap?”Cloister asked.
“Just for you,” Javi said dryly.
He pulled out a stubby lemony-dark Modelo and held it up for approval, eyebrow raised expectantly.Cloister nodded and leaned forward, hands up to catch a toss.
“No,” Javi told him dryly.He grabbed a Blue Moon for himself and set both bottles down while he found the bottle opener.In deference to Cloister’s soft huff of a laugh, he didn’t get glasses before he carried them over, feet bare in expensive socks and bottles dangled from his hands, to hold one out for Cloister to take.Bourneville heaved a heavy, pointed sigh and tucked her nose in tighter under her paws, so fast asleep only a monster would move her.Javi ignored her and nodded at Cloister’s empty dominant hand.“I thought your wrist was on the mend.”
So he had noticed.Cloister flexed his fingers and shrugged.
“Might have gotten carried away punching people,” he said.“But it’s good practice.Any Witte worth the name needs to be able to drink two-handed.”
He proved he could do just that…and only spilled a little on his shirt.He rubbed the stain in with the heel of his hand.
“Are you going to talk to your physio?”Javi asked.He didn’t nudge Bourneville to get her to move over, or—less common, more fun—settle himself onto Cloister’s lap.Instead, he hovered, his attention clearly split, as he tapped a finger against the glass neck of the bottle.
“Don’t know,” Cloister said.“Are we going to talk about the case?”
Javi’s hands went still on the bottle.He frowned down at it and then took a deep breath before he had a drink.“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea if we don’t,” he said slowly as he lowered the bottle.“Not this time.”
The bluntness of the statement caught Cloister off guard.He leaned forward to set the bottle down on the floor, next to his foot.
“Why not?”he asked.“Did Kincaid say something?”
Javi’s hand tightened on the bottle, his knuckles pale as the skin stretched over them.He started to say something, stopped, and turned to set his beer down on a side table.There was a visible tension in the line of his back, across his shoulders and down to his spine, as he straightened up.For a moment, he didn’t say anything, but then he reached back to rub his neck.The tension eased, and Javi’s shoulders loosened.
“Two days ago you were about to be dragged into a federal corruption investigation,” he said as he turned around.“You were suspended.They were going to take Bourneville off you.Kincaid was going to ruin your life.”
“He was going totry,” Cloister said.
The corner of Javi’s mouth twisted up ruefully, and he shook his head.“He’d gotten off to a good start,” he pointed out.“And how long did it take him?Even if he didn’t succeed, he’d hurt you.But finding Joel made you useful.It gives you an out.Would it be so bad to just take it?”
Cloister’s instinct was a guttural “yes.”
He didn’t like Kincaid, he didn’t trust him, and he didn’t want to be in debt to him.Some of that was jealousy, though, and some resentment.It wasn’t a justifiable reason.
“The case is still open,” he said.“Miles Lassiter is still missing, and we still don’t know why or what happened to him.He deserves to come home.”
Something bitter twisted Javi’s face.He scrubbed it away with one hand and came back over to crouch down in front of Cloister.Dark brown eyes looked earnestly up at Cloister as he tangled their fingers together.
“Kincaid is a lot of things, but he’s good at them all,” Javi said.“He’ll find who he’s looking for.So why not let him?Maybe, just this once, let it go?”
He waited, his face expectant as he waited for Cloister’s answer.
Cloister looked down at their linked hands.He grazed his thumb over Javi’s knuckles, first one way and then back the other.
“If I could do that,” he looked back up at Javi’s face, “I’d not be able to sleep at night.”
Javi glanced down for a second.His mouth twisted around a resigned smile as he looked back up.One hand reached up to caress Cloister’s face, thumb tracing the curve of his mouth, and then slid around to cup the back of his neck.
“Maybe I can help with that,” he said as he leaned in.
His mouth was flavored with beer and a long day.The hand around Cloister’s nape tightened, fingers digging down into the tight lines of muscle, as Javi deepened the kiss.His teeth scraped over Cloister’s lower lip, and his tongue swiped across the bite to sweeten it.
Maybe he could.
It didn’t feel settled.Not between them.Not inside Javi.Still, a few hours of untroubled sleep was a good bribe.
