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“But Paris…”
If he’d known…
If Charlie had told him…
If Charlie…
A thousand what-ifs were suddenly swirling through his brain, threatening to choke him. But it didn’t matter anymore. That was six years ago, and there was no changing what happened between them. If he started thinking about it, if any of what Charlie did made sense to him now, it would break him.
Will stepped backward and lifted both hands in the air. “Fine. Whatever. Paris is the least of my problems right now,” he declared, ignoring the fact that his voice was thick and choked. The past had no place in the present. He had a friend who had a dying wish that needed completing, and Benicio Perez very likely wanted him dead. Those were much bigger problems than his broken heart.
“Will, come sit down. We’ll figure this out,” Kairo beckoned sweetly, patting the empty cushion next to him.
He didn’t argue. Some rational part of his brain recognized that he likely didn’t look too sane or steady at that moment. He crossed the room and returned to his seat. Kairo grabbed the ice pack he’d made, and placed it back on Will’s hand with a smile.
“There’s not too much we can tell you,” Charlie said. When Will dared to glance at him again, it was to find Charlie staring at his own hands.
“Was it all of you?” he ventured when he could pull himself together enough. He was beginning to think maybe he shouldn’t have punched Charlie. He should have kissed him longer. Charlie wasn’t the type to string someone along. He was proud of his fuck-them-and-leave-them-happy policy. Dating couldn’t have been an option for Charlie’s occupation, and yet, with Will, he—
No! No thinking like that.
He couldn’t or he’d shatter.
“Us four plus Soren,” Charlie confirmed. “Soren was the field agent, while we were largely support for him. We operated in Western Europe, based in London and Paris most of the time.”
“But shit went sideways a couple of years after you left Paris,” Edison grumbled. “We were burned.”
Will’s eyes snapped from one person to another, his heart stumbling to see the same angry and hurt expressions on all their faces. “Burned?”
“The Company disavowed any knowledge of us,” Kairo answered.
“Like being fired, but messier because the Company doesn’t help get you out of the shit storm you might be stuck in at the time,” West elaborated.
“Damn,” Will breathed, his gaze darting over to Charlie.
His former lover offered him a half smile that did nothing for the sadness in his eyes. “It’s okay. Part of it was our fault. Part theirs. We’re better off now.”
“Definitely,” Edison chortled. “Charlie is slightly more tolerable now that we don’t have to answer to idiot bosses in the States.”
“Or worry about politics,” Kairo added with a sigh.
“I don’t understand. What are you doing now?”
“We’re mercenaries. We take the jobs we want. We help people who need it,” Charlie replied, staring straight at Will.
He forced a chuckle that came out a little choked. It was a night of overwhelming insanity, and he was well past his limit of what he could deal with. “I hate to break it to you guys, but I’m not one of those rich doctors. A lot of what I do is volunteer. I’m given a stipend that’s enough to cover basic living expenses, or my wages go toward paying off my student loans.”
Edison snorted. “Shit, Doc Will. We’ll give you our friends and family discount.”
“You’ve already made this entire trip more entertaining. That’s payment enough,” West murmured.
“Will—”
“Don’t,” Will said more sharply than he meant, but he couldn’t hear whatever was going to come out of Charlie’s mouth next. He could handle bossy Charlie, but not sweet, heartfelt Charlie. “I need to think. I…I can’t wrap my head around everything.” It wasn’t just that they were former-CIA-turned-mercenaries. It was also the lies and life they’d lived before that. The could-have-beens trying to sneak into his thoughts that he was fiercely fighting.
“How about another beer, then?” Charlie asked with a small smile.
Will returned it. “Yeah. That would be good.” Not that he was looking to get drunk—though it was fucking tempting. But a beer sounded like a better idea than trying to deal with everything in front of him.
After Charlie grabbed everyone another round of beers, the guys took turns regaling Will with stories of the insanity they’d gone through since gaining their freedom from the CIA. This time around, it was obvious that there was a lot less censoring going on. They weren’t intentionally trying to hide anything from him, but rather, truly including him in their world. It made it a little easier to forget, to put some distance between himself and the thoughts he was trying to avoid.
“There’s one thing I don’t get,” Will interjected as he was nursing his third beer. “I thought Soren was part of your group, but he’s not in any of your stories. He’s not a mercenary, too?”
