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“No. You’re a reporter. And if you sense some sort of ‘story,’ some manufactured drama, you’re going to chase it down.”
“It’s what I do. I write. I investigate. I’m not going to apologize for those things, but I don’t know what I have to do to earn your trust.”
“When you tell me you’ll drop these questions about Strauss.” Bacon’s mouth was a thin, hard line, and his eyes were dark, lethal bullets in the dim light of the building’s foyer.
“Tell me that a SEAL lieutenant didn’t break fraternization regulations.” Spencer wasn’t going to back down, no matter how angry Bacon got.
“He didn’t.” Bacon’s reply was automatic. “Nothing happened that put the team at risk. Nothing. But you go poking into people’s personal business, and some good people are going to be put at risk. And I can’t stand by and let that happen. And I’m sure as hell not going to help you hurt my friends.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Spencer said firmly.
“Then drop this.”
“I’m not sure I can,” Spencer admitted, voice every bit as reluctant as he felt.
“Fuck. You,” Bacon ground out. He was breathing heavily and was much too close.
“I don’t sleep around on the job.” Spencer could meet Bacon anger for anger.
“No one’s asking you to.” Venom dripped from Bacon’s words. “And fuck me for thinking you might be anything other than a prick.”
“I—”
Right then the door opened, admitting a group of uniformed men, and Bacon swiftly moved away from him.
This isn’t done, Bacon mouthed before saying in a normal tone, “I’m bushed. Let’s get to our rooms.”
Spencer followed, honestly not sure what he’d been about to say. An apology? And for what? Could he really promise not to investigate this?
At the doorway to his room, Bacon all but shoved him in. And he wasn’t surprised when Bacon followed him and shut the door behind them.
“Have you ever been in love, Spencer?” Bacon’s tone was harsh and low.
“Yes. I told you. I was married.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Bacon made a dismissive motion with his hand. “Like, really, truly in love? Unconditionally? Like you’d happily die if it meant they would live, get a better chance to be happy themselves?”
“I...I’m not sure.” Spencer’s voice was barely audible and his stomach trembled.
“Well, I have. It consumes you. You’d do anything to protect that love. And if you’d been lucky enough to have it, you’d know it. And I’ve seen it for my friends too. And Strauss? He found it. You really want to threaten that with a court martial? Because that’s what we’re talking here. Not a juicy story. Not embarrassing details. Court martial. Lives ruined. Just because of suspicion. Is that what you really want?”
“No, of course not. I don’t want to wreck innocent lives. But if people were in danger—”
“You’re going to have to trust me that they weren’t.” Bacon gave him a hard stare. He was crowding into Spencer again, backing him against the wall.
“I—” Spencer swallowed hard. He’d never once backed down from a story, especially not on the say-so of an admittedly biased source. But...he also wasn’t in this to destroy lives either. The navy probably would never let him embed again if he broke a fraternization scandal. Fuck. What a mess. Some of his indecision must have shown on his face, because Bacon’s stare turned supernova hot and laser sharp.
“Save it. I don’t know if I trust you not to lie.”
“Ouch.” Spencer recoiled, but there was nowhere to go.
“And you know what I hate most of all?” Bacon’s face was now mere inches away as he leaned in.
“What?” Spencer’s voice came out a harsh whisper. He wasn’t intimidated by Bacon’s posturing, but something else was happening here, something far more troubling.
Bacon opened his mouth to reply but a knocking sounded at the door. Curly’s voice echoed through the thin walls. “Bacon? You in there? LT wants to see you before we sleep.”
“Yeah.” Bacon opened the door immediately, which was probably the smart choice, not giving Curly time to worry that they were adjusting clothing or otherwise up to no good.
But something sank inside him at the loss of Bacon’s nearness. Fuck. This was suddenly complicated as hell.
* * *
“Is something up with you and the reporter?” Curly demanded as they walked to the building where the LT and the rest of the leadership had a situation room for planning their strategy.
“Nope. We were just talking.” Bacon wasn’t lying—they had been talking. And Curly sure as hell didn’t need to know how close to rage-kissing Spencer he’d been. He’d been more pissed off than he’d been in years, and Spencer was a threat on so many levels, and yet somehow, he’d been turned on. It was fucked up, and the impulse to lean in and kiss the living daylights out of Spencer had been stupid and impulsive, things he tried hard not be anymore, and he needed to make sure it didn’t happen again.
