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“It’s okay, Will. I get it. You don’t have to explain anything to me. We’re willing to do whatever it takes to get this done for you and Carlos.”
“Thank you,” Will murmured. Some of the tension began to unwind throughout his body. Maybe Charlie was right, and he was too tense. A nap would be nice after days of running and looking over his shoulder constantly.
“Thank you for lunch,” Charlie stated. “Though I do want to know if you intentionally tried to melt my tongue.”
“Of course not!” Will lurched upright in his seat and turned to glare at the driver. “Do you think I’d do that to you?”
Charlie grinned. “Yep.” He glanced at Will from the corner of his eye. “You do hate me, right?”
Will’s mouth fell open, and he could only stare at the man for several seconds in shock. Sure, he’d spent a lot of time really fucking pissed at Charlie, but hate him? He didn’t think it had ever reached that point. If anything, he’d hated himself for ever believing Charlie felt something for him. Beyond the pain of losing Charlie, his next biggest problem was feeling like an utter fool where that man was concerned.
But had Charlie truly felt nothing for him? Or had he walked away because of his job? The CIA could have been the thing keeping them apart, and there was no way Will could have asked Charlie to leave what he loved for him. It would have been like Charlie demanding Will give up being a doctor. It just wasn’t going to happen.
With a growl, Will flopped back down in his seat and crossed his arms tightly over his chest as he glared at the dashboard. Queasy stomach was now forgotten in the face of fresh Charlie irritation.
“I don’t hate you,” he muttered under his breath, not caring that he might sound like a petulant five-year-old. “I never hated you. I don’t feel anything for you. Except maybe annoyance.”
Charlie snorted, his smug smile never wavering. “I can work with annoyance.”
Will wisely shut his mouth and kept it closed until they got to the house. Arguing with Charlie was starting to feel like quicksand. The more he did it, the more in trouble he found himself.
When they entered the rental house, they found Kairo, Edison, and Westin lounging about the living room. Ed and West were both on their phones while Kairo was typing away on a laptop resting on his legs.
“Any problems?” Ed asked as they strolled into the room.
“None. Everything is fine,” Will answered quickly, but Charlie’s next words caused his stomach to sink.
“We picked up a tail not long after we left the hospice. We had eyes on us during lunch, but I’m pretty sure I lost them on the way here.”
Will spun around, his mouth falling open. “Are you shitting me? Someone was following us? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You seemed upset after we left Carlos. I didn’t want to add to your stress levels. You needed a relaxing lunch.”
“We could have been in danger!”
Charlie smirked at him. The expression that crossed his face made Will think the other man was sorely tempted to reach out and pat him on the head. Thankfully he didn’t, or he would have drawn back a bloody stump. “That’s why you have me to keep you safe.”
Will lifted both of his hands toward Charlie, fingers curled as if he wanted to strangle the man. But in the end, he dropped them to his side and took a few steps away from him. “How do you put up with him? He wasn’t like this in Paris,” he snarled to anyone other than Charlie.
“Because you weren’t in constant danger in Paris,” Charlie pointed out.
“And yes, he was still very protective of you in Paris,” Kairo chimed in.
He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want to know. The logical side of his brain was vainly attempting to stomp on the flutters of his heart that was trying to argue about the past and send out shoots of hope for the future.
Fuck the future.
There was no future.
There couldn’t be a future.
He couldn’t let himself dream about a future that couldn’t possibly happen only to let himself get crushed all over again. He’d barely survived losing Charlie the first time. Did he think he was strong enough to go through that a second time?
Will scrubbed his hands over his face before turning to face the room. None of this mattered. Charlie and the others were in his life now for the sole purpose of helping Carlos. “So, do you have any ideas about how we can get some of Benicio’s DNA so we can test it?”
“When you say DNA, what are we talking? Like a pint of blood?” Ed asked, rubbing one hand along his jaw. He almost sounded pleased at the idea of draining a pint, or more, from the man.
