Chapter 3

Bobby's POV

I was exhausted by the time we eventually got home. Between my usual early start, the physical demands of the job, and the shock of Denise's surprise revelation, the day had taken more of a toll than usual, not to mention the extra time we'd taken after informing the rest of the core team to develop contingency plans and designate backup covers for any last-minute things that may pull Lester and me away from work. But even as I collapsed onto the couch in the den, allowing myself a few moments to close my eyes, I couldn't silence the thoughts plaguing me. There were too many questions floating around in my head that I needed answers to, making it feel too full. Like it was going to explode. I draped my arm over my eyes, trying to keep my brain from popping out of every available hole in my head

Lester was puttering around the house like always, probably with his earphones in to combat the quiet he knew I needed at times like these. When they said that opposites attract, they couldn't be more right.

I'd been attracted to Lester from the moment I first laid eyes on him during the mission briefing Ranger had nominated us both for. As one of the government's favourite toys, Ranger held a certain sway in the selection of the team he would have backing him up when they sent him into the wilds of the world. I'd worked with him on jobs before he'd gained the power to pick and choose and must have made a good impression, because by tagging me for this particular mission he was entrusting me with the task of keeping not only our team, but a valuable hostage alive until we got back stateside.

Being his cousin, Ranger obviously had a lot of trust in Lester to have his back when Tank wasn't available. And by the time we'd completed our objective and made it to our rendezvous point I did too.

Despite my attraction at first sight, over the course of the twenty-four hours we had to prep before shipping out, I'd convinced myself of several points that excluded him from any mental list of potential partners I may or may not have been keeping:

1) Regardless of Ranger's faith in the man, he failed to show an ounce of maturity or responsibility during the myriad of meetings we'd been forced to attend, constantly cracking jokes and inserting innuendo where there really ought to have been none. It made me wonder how such a person could have made it to this point in his military career. He certainly wasn't showing the usual decorum the government preferred.

2) From the stories he told at every opportunity outside of the strategy rooms, I got the impression that not only was he not attracted to men, but he was an absolute ladies man.

3) His inability to sit still for more than thirty seconds was surely going to get us killed within one hour of setting foot in the jungle we were being sent to.

4) Mooning over a teammate going into this kind of mission was a fatal distraction I couldn't afford.

All that changed the moment we were in the air, though. Lester's constant movement and verbal diarrhoea ceased as soon as the wheels lifted off the ground. His face, which had been open and smiling for damn near every second of the lead up to our departure, was blank. He had headphones in and was examining the dossier we'd been given. He'd flipped a switch, turned it all off, and from that moment until we'd handed the hostage over to the appropriate people and been cleared through our first debrief he was all business. Not only that, but he'd also single-handedly saved our asses at least twice in the three weeks we were on the job.

The second we were dismissed he let the facade drop, a grin immediately springing forth on his face as he suggested we all get a drink. He was back to tapping, clicking, drumming on every surface in the SUV that took us back to our hotel, and like a rush of lava spilling over the edge of my feelings volcano, my entire body was suffused with heat. It wasn't until that moment when he allowed himself to let loose once more that I realised I'd missed his constant movement, the energy he brought to everything he did, the hint of a dimple that revealed itself when he smiled. Don't get me wrong, there had been moments when Lester had grinned like a mad man on the mission, but not once had the dimple made an appearance.

For the next few days until we were released back to our lives, I let myself bask in the constant sunshine that was Lester Santos, then we parted ways and I figured that would be the last I saw of him unless Ranger pulled us back together for another mission.

I'd been right about Ranger pulling us back together, but I don't think any of us had predicted it would be because he was starting up a security company.

Working with Les on the mission and in the lead up to it, I had seen the dichotomy of his personality, but as we embarked on the journey of helping Ranger set up his company, I had the privilege to see a hybrid of the two, and it only served to deepen the feelings I'd been harbouring for him since the moment I clapped eyes on him. Only this man could manage to be completely serious to the point of making gang members pee their pants one second and crack a joke that had us all in stitches the next, all while maintaining his section of the perimeter.

He became my best friend, and I kept my crush (because by that point there was no denying that's what it was) locked up tight, instead acting as his wingman as he endeavoured to sample every woman of legal age in the tri-state area. Until one night when we stumbled back to his apartment, drunk as anything, and he pressed me up against the door, kissing me senseless. The dam broke and I wrapped my entire body around him, refusing to let him go until I'd had my fill.

In the morning we'd waded back to the land of the living in a tangle of limbs on his bed, and I don't think we've managed to untangle ourselves for a single second in the ten years since.

The clatter of a pill bottle being shaken not far away drew me out of my thoughts and I lifted my arm to find Lester leaning over the back of the couch, ibuprofen in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

"Headache?" he asked when he saw that he had my attention, holding the items out toward me so I didn't need to reach as far.

Wordlessly, I took the water, sipping some before deciding I really did need the painkillers, swallowing two and tossing the rest of the bottle onto the coffee table. "Thanks," I murmured as he climbed over the back of the couch and slid down onto the cushion beside me. His new position allowed me to take stock of what he was wearing: his favourite ass-hugging jeans and a white tank that was so tight it looked like it had been painted onto his chest. I could see every well-defined muscle in stark relief. His customary hair spikes were back in place after the desolation the afternoon's stress caused. "What are you wearing?" I asked, running a finger along the valley between two of his abdominal muscles.

His breath hitched at the contact, but he showed no further signs of being affected by my touch. "Well, we were going to go to the club later," he said slowly. "But if you've got a headache, it might be best if we stay in and find something to watch on Netflix instead."

"Les," I started, but he was speaking again before I got any more words lined up to come out behind them.

"Yeah, okay, I forgot the groceries again, too," he sighed, almost mournfully. "So, we probably weren't going anyway, but I just thought after the day we've both had it would be good to go out somewhere loud enough to drown out our own thoughts. And-"

"You forgot the groceries again?" I asked, ignoring the rest of his explanation.

He nodded, bringing his hand up to cover mine on his stomach when I tried to retract it. A few months ago, after he'd forgotten the groceries five times in quick succession, forcing me to pick up essentials from the store so that we had something to eat for dinner, I'd informed him that if he forgot again, he could go ahead and forget about the club. Apparently, he'd taken me seriously despite the fact that he knew I didn't actually hold any power over what he could and couldn't do. I wasn't his dad.

And just like that, with that one tiny thought within a thought, the reason for my headache, and Les's distraction came crashing down on me once more: The child. What were we going to do about the child if one of us was the father?

"I don't care about the groceries," I sighed, wiggling closer so I could rest my head on his shoulder. "But I don't think I would have felt like going out even if you had remembered them. There's too many things to sort out about this kid. I wouldn't enjoy myself with all the thoughts running through the back of my mind."

And therein was one of the major differences between Lester and me. There were a hundred thousand differences between us, every angle you looked at us revealed a new point of contrast. But one of the major ones was how we processed and dealt with information. Whereas I tended to dwell on information, figuring out solutions in the foreground of my brain, Lester worked better if he was distracted, figuring things out in his subconscious instead. Going to the club at a time like this was the obvious choice for him, he'd be able to switch off and enjoy himself, then wake up tomorrow with a list of avenues to explore like he'd been thinking about it all night.

I'd tried his method before, and it only served to stress me out, because as much as I tried to be in the moment with him, I couldn't get the problem off my mind, and the loud music and flashing lights were a major hindrance to my thought processes which lead to a headache.

"We'll stay in then," Lester decided easily, resting his head atop mine. "I'll go out and grab something for dinner. What do you feel like? Chinese? Mexican? Indian? Italian? American?"

I snorted out a half laugh. "American?"

"Burgers," he clarified, and I could hear the smile in his voice. Probably, he'd said it that way deliberately to help loosen up some of the tension riddled throughout my body.

"Whatever you choose will be fine," I assured him, lifting my head again when he moved to get off the couch, simultaneously pressing the water I'd dropped onto the table beside the pills back into my hand.

"Hydrate," he urged. "This hot but nagging medic I know always tells me to drink more water when I have a headache. Who knows, he might be onto something."

I glared at him as I uncapped the bottle, lifting it toward my lips as he smirked and strode from the room. "Are you gonna put your sexy nurse costume on when you get back?" I called after him.

"Har-de-har-har," he drawled over the sound of keys jingling as he scooped them out of the dish by the front door. "You know I still need to mend the skirt after last time."

My cargoes got tighter at the reminder of that particular night, a heated desire settling over me as the door opened and closed and the SUV engine roared to life. Trust me to start something as he's on his way out the door, leaving myself in the lurch until he returned. And trust Les to continue to leave despite knowing full and well what kind of a state I was now in. Probably, he was laughing to himself as he drove down the street.

I palmed myself through my pants, imagining what kind of reaction I'd get from Les if I decided to rub one out before he got home. Or better yet, if I was still in the act of rubbing one out when he got home. A slow smile drifted across my lips, picturing the scene and I was just sliding my other hand down to undo the button on my cargoes when my phone rang.

A frustrated growl tore it's way out of my throat, and I had half a mind to ignore it. It was probably Les, calling to tease me into an even more heightened state in his absence, but as I wrenched it off my belt, it wasn't Lester's name that appeared on the screen. I dragged the little green circle across the screen to answer it, hands shaking and all thoughts of pleasure evaporating from my mind.

"Brown," I said.

"Just read your email," Fredericks replied without preamble. "I've got some time tomorrow afternoon if you and Santos are free to discuss the matter."

"Yeah, great. We can meet." As far as I was concerned, the business of the child was top priority. It didn't matter if we already had something planned for tomorrow afternoon, we were going to make time for this meeting.

"How's fourteen-hundred sound?" he offered. "I'll book one of the private meeting rooms on the second floor."

I nodded. "We'll see you then," I agreed. "Thanks for getting back to us so quickly."

"Ranger pays me a hefty sum to ensure I always make Rangeman employees my first priority," he reminded me. "I'm just earning my keep."

*o*

When Lester returned with Chinese food (which I should have predicted since it was a throwback to his childhood when his dad would always bring home Chinese food for dinner when he was stressed at work) I settled onto the couch with the containers laid out on the coffee table in front of us. While he scrolled through options on Netflix with the speed of an under-stimulated sixth grader with ADHD, I filled both our plates with selections I knew we each preferred and leaned back against the cushions watching the images and words zoom by on the screen.

"Fredericks called just after you left," I said, recognising the moment the words registered in his brain by the fact that the scrolling slowed so he could divide his attention between me and the TV. "We set up a meeting for tomorrow afternoon."

He nodded, elbows braced on knees and eyes continually skimming the screen for the perfect film to watch. "That's good. We need to get all our ducks in a row, and he'll be able to tell us what our legal rights and obligations are. Do we need to do anything to prep for the meeting?"

I shook my head, forking a piece of sweet and sour pork into my mouth and watching the cogs turn inside Les's head. "Steph's working on the background search on Winnie and Denise for us. She'll send it through as soon as she's done. I think we just need to make a list of questions for Fredericks to answer."

His eyes cut away from the screen then, thumb hovering over the remote button as he met my gaze. "Will the movie be too distracting?" he checked.

I shook my head. He knew me well. My preference was always for a quiet space to think, but my time in the army had ensured I could function just as well in noisy, chaotic environments. "I've written a few down already," I told him, gesturing to the notepad next to my knee. "I think I need the down time to relax."

He eyed the list I'd started, took in the expression on my face and must have decided to believe I knew what was best for myself, because he hit play on whatever movie he'd been paused on, picked up his plate, and leaned back next to me, shovelling fried rice into his mouth unceremoniously.

We were only ten minutes into the movie when the steady movement of his fork from plate to mouth slowed and he lowered them both to his lap, turning to look at me once more. "If Larissa turns out to be one of ours, are we really going to, like, not adopt, that's the wrong word in this situation I think, but like, you're okay with… having a kid?"

I blinked at him slowly, recalling the moment I'd mentioned welcoming the child into our family and Lester's surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Well, whenever Abuela used to ask about kids, you were always quick to shoot her down. I'm more than happy being an uncle. I don't want kids of my own."

I couldn't deny those were exact phrases that had come out of my mouth over the years, but… "Would you be okay if we didn't, knowing that she's ours?" I countered rather than answer his question directly.

"Of course not!" he exclaimed. "She's just lost her mom, we'd be terrible people if we deprived her of the chance to have a dad."

And that was exactly why I said what I'd said in the meeting. Because regardless of my personal stance on children, I was only human. I'd seen enough suffering in my time on this planet, particularly in the military, and if there was something I could do to lessen the suffering of a child in need, I was going to do it. I may not want to go out of my way to procreate, but since the procreation had potentially already happened, I would do what I had to to make sure she was taken care of and had the best opportunities in life.

"I can't just turn my back on her," I said quietly, averting my gaze unseeingly to the movie to avoid the look on his face. "You know that."

Years before we met, I'd been on active duty overseas. I was on patrol when my team and I had come across a small group of children on the side of the road. They were dirty and dishevelled, which wasn't unusual in those parts. What caught my eyes, though, was the gaping wound in the calf of the smallest girl. It was uncovered, with bits of debris coating it. I'd immediately stopped to tend to her, wanting to at least clean it out and cover it up to lessen the risk of infection if I couldn't do anything for the wound itself.

I was down on one knee, just opening my pack when my platoon leader hoisted me back to my feet, shoved me forward and told me to keep moving, that the 'local wildlife' weren't our responsibility. I'd tried to protest, but the second I realised that doing so was going to bring major consequences raining down on my ass, I dropped it and kept walking.

A few days later, I passed a body lying in an alley that was unmistakably the girl my superior had refused to let me treat. Her leg surrounding the wound was blackened and grotesque. Gangrenous. I can't be sure without having examined the body properly, but I was fairly certain it was the infected leg that had killed her, a knowledge that bought me some time on a shrink's couch.

To this day I still have nightmares about it. See her dirty little face, streaked with tears. Hear her voice crying out for me to help her.

"I know," Les breathed, setting his plate aside and pulling me closer to him. The warmth and strength of his embrace always brought me comfort, chasing away the terrors. I like to think that if Lester had been with me on that patrol he would have fought the PL on it and the girl would have gotten the help she needed to live a happy and full life. It was just the kind of person he was. That's how I knew that if this child did end up being ours, she'd be the luckiest little girl in the world to have Lester as her Dad, helping her fight her battles until she was ready to fight them for herself. And even then he'd be there on the sidelines ready to tap in when needed.

Releasing all the pent up air from my lungs, I lowered my head to his shoulder and gave myself permission to just relax and let my thoughts drift away, mindlessly absorbing the rest of the movie instead.