“Thanks, Barb.”
After taking the small plates with predetermined portions already on them, Z returned to the table where Buddy was waiting for him.
“Where’s yours?” Buddy asked.
“Barb’s makin’ it.”
The twinkle in Buddy’s brown eyes reflected his amusement. “She knows you so well.”
That she did. Barb knew that Z couldn’t live off the small portions of food they served to the residents, so she always seemed to have something special on hand. They knew to expect him, because at most, he would be gone for four, maybe five days. If he had an assignment that would be longer, he always made sure to inform the nursing staff as well as the center’s director. Since they checked in with him every single day, he felt it was important to keep them apprised of his whereabouts.
When Barb called out to him, Z held up one finger to Buddy, letting him know he’d be right back. After grabbing the tray, piled high with chicken breast, broccoli and cheese casserole, two rolls, and a huge slice of cherry pie, Z returned to the table.
“I remember when I could eat that much,” Buddy told him.
“That was last week, right?” Z teased.
“It feels like it. So tell me again about the painting. Then, I’ll get to hear about Oregon when you tell your father.”
Z smiled, feeling almost normal once again as he proceeded to tell Buddy, the man he considered as much family as his own, the same story he’d told him at least five times now.
A LOUD NOISE HAD RYAN jerking his head up in time to see Trace heading down the hall toward his office. It was late on a Saturday, so Ryan hadn’t expected anyone to be there, certainly not Trace Kogan.
“What are you—” Ryan didn’t get the question out before Trace was slamming Ryan’s office door, staring down at him with fire burning in his almost eerie white-gray eyes.
“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”
Leaning back in his chair, he considered Trace, taking him in. His posture was defensive, arms crossed over his chest, jaw set, mouth a thin line—mad-dogging, he’d heard Z refer to that look. The guy was angry, no doubt about that. Based on that comment, Ryan didn’t have to guess at whom.
“Why now?” Ryan asked for the hell of it.
“What the fuck did you do to Z?”
That got Ryan’s attention. “Is he okay?”
“Not since the two of you fucking came back from Port A. What the hell did you do to him? Why’re you treatin’ him like a leper?”
“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”
“I’m the one askin’ the questions,” Trace demanded.
“And I’d answer them if I knew what the fuck you’re in here bitchin’ at me for.”
“Why’d you send him to Oregon?”
Ryan tried to rein in his anger, but it wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Ever since he and Z had spent time in Port A, the failed mission, Ryan had been hanging by a thread. His emotions were all over the damn place, and he had no idea why. This confrontation with Trace wasn’t helping. “It’s not your place to question where I assign my people.”
“Your people?” Trace snapped.
“Yes, my people,” Ryan hissed, launching to his feet and slamming his hands down on his desk. “I don’t see you or your brothers stepping up to help out.”
It appeared Trace didn’t have an immediate response to that.
“So don’t come in here hoping for a pissing match. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in charge here. I’ll send people where I think they’ll do the most good.”
Trace’s eyebrows shot upward. “Is that right? And you thought that Z was the best fit for a fucking babysitting job? In Oregon?”
“Someone’s got to take the jobs, Trace.” He had no idea why Trace was in there questioning his authority. It was so unlike him.
“Better suited to follow some big-mouthed exec around than, say, to help with the missing person case here?”
“Yes,” Ryan lied. Trace had him there. Z had been needed on the case Ryan was currently working, but Ryan found it too difficult to work directly with Z. Two months had passed since their…whatever it was…but Ryan still couldn’t look the man in the eye.
“You are such a fucking liar,” Trace growled. “I used to think that you had everyone’s best interest at heart. That you actually fucking cared. Your recent actions have me doubting that.”
“Fuck you,” Ryan snapped. “Fuck you and the goddamn giant white horse you fucking rode in on, Trace.”
“You’re lettin’ your own selfish motives lead you around.”
“It’s better than bein’ led around by my dick,” Ryan yelled, instantly slamming his mouth shut.
Trace’s posture softened somewhat, his voice lowered. “Is that what happened? You and Z?”
Ryan refused to answer the question, forcing himself to calm down.
“Did Z do something?”
“No,” Ryan immediately answered. “He didn’t do anything. I did. I fucked up.”
Trace stared back at him as though he’d lost his mind. These days, Ryan felt as though he had. Ever since the fuckup with the Jericho Ardent case, Ryan had started doubting everything he did.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan met Trace’s gaze once again. “I’m sure Z understands.”
“No, you think he does. You’re not fucking sure of anything.”
“Get to the point, Trace.”
“Turns out, your sister is quite the investigator,” Trace told him, pulling up a chair and dropping into it.
“What’re you talkin’ about?” Ryan stood up straight, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for Trace to elaborate.
“Apparently, Z’s extracurricular activities have been making her crazy. No one knows what he does, and everyone’s just assumed…”
“I don’t wanna hear about it.” There was no way Ryan could sit there and listen to Trace tell him that Z had moved on with his life, resumed his late-night trysts, when Ryan did nothing but think about that one perfect day in his life when he’d had Z all to himself.
“That’s the thing. You do. Z’s not the slut everyone’s accused him of bein’.”
“Playboy,” Ryan corrected. He did not like the idea of someone calling Z a slut.
“And the difference is?” Trace lifted an eyebrow.
Ryan pinned Trace with an irritated look.
“Fine. Call it what you will. But Z’s not out with different men every night. He’s out with the same man.”
“Trace, I don’t—”
“His father,” Trace interrupted. “Z goes to the nursing home where his father has been for the last four years. Every. Single. Night. The man’s still in a coma, but his loyal son spends every night there when he’s in town. Most of the time he even sleeps there. They’ve practically adopted him as one of the staff members.”
Ryan’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. He remembered Z’s answer when Ryan had asked if he visited his father. Every chance I get. It wasn’t as nonchalant as Ryan had suspected it was. And he certainly hadn’t expected to hear that Z went every night he was home. It explained so much, though. Z spending his time with his comatose father answered every question Ryan had ever had about him. It also confirmed his suspicions that Z wasn’t the playboy Trace had accused him of being.
“And you’ve been sending him off on these random assignments, rather than keeping him local. You’re not only putting your own selfish needs in front of everyone else’s, you’re takin’ Z away from people who need him.” Trace got to his feet, a frown still marring his face. “Z’s my best friend. And you’re like a brother to me, but I can’t sit back and watch you hurt him because you’re too fucking scared to admit that you care about him.”
Ryan swallowed hard. “It’s not that simple.”