Chapter 16

Bobby

I was doing my best not to moan, aware that while sound dampening had been applied to the walls of my office and the infirmary to protect the privacy of my patients, it was nowhere near soundproof. Which means that when Lester came in and started laving kisses up and down my neck while I was trying to finish paperwork, we had to be careful not to let things get too heated. Easier said than done when Lester's expert tongue was in the mood for celebrating a successful capture, and his hands were already deftly unbuckling my belt.

With my pants undone, he delved his hand inside, grazing my earlobe with his teeth at the same moment his hand wrapped around me.

The moan did spill from my lips then, and Lester chuckled in my ear. "Shh, Bobby," he murmured, pressing even more kisses to the side of my neck as my head tipped back against the office chair. "You don't want Tank to hear and call us in for a HR meeting," he teased, blowing on the skin he'd just moistened and sending a shiver down my spine.

I bit my lip to suppress another moan, grabbing his head and dragging it around until I could seize his mouth with my own, sucking his lower lip between my teeth and holding his heated gaze for a long moment before releasing it. "The bruises will be worth the orgasm you own me," I informed him, rolling my hips up into the loose grip of his hand, yearning for more friction and smiling on a satisfied sigh when he gave it to me, tightening his fist around me. "After the state you left me in this morning."

"I have no control over when duty calls," Les purred, shifting so he was straddling my thighs instead of leaning over me from the side. "If you have a problem with it, you should talk to the skip who was spotted at the shop'n'save." As he spoke, he began moving his hand up and down my length, burying the pressure of his fingers like a trumpeter pressing the keys, and by God, if he didn't go for just the right note soon I was going to scream.

My head was thrashing against the seat back, hips jerking in a futile, staccato effort to get the last little bit of pressure I needed. I had my hands fisted in the back of his shirt as he returned to lavishing attention on my pulse point, panting, sighing, trying not to cry out with the desperation I felt, when there was a soft click of the infirmary door opening and closing.

My eyes shot wide, gripping Les to me tighter as the muscles of his back stiffened, both our movements freezing.

"Nooooo," I groaned as heavy bootfalls approached. Slow, deliberate footsteps that had Les retracting his hands from my pants, hurriedly tucking me away and zipping me up as I dragged my hands down my face. He was still securing my buckle when there was a single knock at the door and it swung open.

"Okay," Tank said, standing in the open doorway, but looking anywhere but into the room. "It's been bugging me all day. Why is it so significant that Ranger didn't tell Steph he was leaving?"

"Jesus, Tank," Lester swore under his breath as he scrambled off my lap, trying to look innocent while I did my best to tell my erection to stand down. "Have you heard of waiting after you knock? Bobby was examining my-"

The big guy snorted, turning his head to meet first Lester's and then my own eye. "Please," he uttered. "I know exactly which parts of your anatomy the two of you were examining." He raised an eyebrow at him. "There's a reason I let you hear me approaching. Or did you think I didn't know what 'data consolidation' was code for in your calendars?"

My jaw dropped into my lap. He knew? "It.. It really is usually about data consolidation," I lied. Well, it was more like a stretching of the truth. The sessions had started as a way for us to make sure the data for the priority clients was syncing across to my system after the one time the update failed. But once we figured out what was going wrong with it, the time needed to consolidate the data was a mere minute, leaving us with a scheduled fourteen left over to fill. Lester had made a suggestive comment, I'd challenged that he couldn't possibly get us both off in that time, and it had devolved from there.

"Sure," Tank shrugged, crossing to the visitor chair on the opposite side of the desk and lowering his massive frame into it. "So back to Ranger and Steph."

"Hold up," Lester protested. "You've known about our appointments for how long?"

"Since Hank fixed the server," Tank said, raising that eyebrow at us again. "Now can we talk about Ranger and Steph, or do you actually want me to call you to the mats for a HR meeting?"

I cleared my throat, pulling my chair closer to the desk and folding my hands atop it as Lester grabbed the rubber band ball from the second drawer and perched on a corner of the desk. "What's this about Ranger and Steph," I asked, ignoring Tank's smirk.

Lester turned his head so he was staring directly into my eyes and held them for an extraordinarily long second without moving before explaining, "As you know, Ranger took Steph to Caliente last week." He held up a finger, starting to count off pieces of evidence. "The next day, he apparently avoided her like the plague. Saturday, he flew the coup when Latoya called to let us know Diana was in for emergency surgery and would likely be out of commission for two weeks. This morning, Steph arrived late to the morning meeting, missing the announcement that Ranger is out of town. Steph was completely oblivious to the fact that Ranger was not in Trenton until Tank and I told her a few hours later."

"And Lester thinks she should have been given some kind of personal notification like we were," Tank added.

Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow in his direction. "And you don't?"

Tank spread his hands in front of him in invitation for us to illuminate the situation which was apparently the opposite energy to what Lester was looking for, because suddenly, all the calm we'd managed to gather around us in the face of Tank's interruption was thrown unceremoniously out the window as he surged to his feet. "Come on, Tank!" he exclaimed, tossing his hands in the air. "Open your eyes!"

As Lester began pacing the small space, Tank remained still and relaxed, like he hadn't a care in the world. Which, I suppose, could be true. What we were discussing wasn't exactly life and death. In the overall scheme of things, the stakes were low, but his lack of outward enthusiasm and energy always had a way of riling Lester up, like he had to be more exuberant to compensate.

"You think they're dating," Tank said after a long pause, during which he examined first Lester and then me intently. It wasn't a question. It was a statement. So maybe he wasn't as oblivious as his initial question made him out to be.

Lester stopped in his tracks, staring at Tank, his jaw set. "The fact that it took no further prompting from us for you to draw that conclusion tells me that you think so as well," he said in that calm way he had that was always spooky at moments like this. The fact that he could turn his energy on and off like a lightswitch was scary, because he could project an absolute picture of serenity while inside he was bouncing around like a puppy. I shuddered to think of what else he could mask that way. Obviously, there was a reason he'd gotten so far in his military career that the government had hand picked him for elite missions.

"But Ranger doesn't date," Tank reminded us.

"Ranger hasn't dated," I corrected him. "There's a difference."

"Both are correct," Lester said, looking between us thoughtfully now, his usually constant motion returning as he plucked at one of the outer bands on the ball. "Ranger doesn't and hasn't dated. But Carlos?" He nodded slowly. "Carlos dates."

Tank narrowed his eyes. "Explain."

I was, of course, aware of the Carlos-Ranger dichotomy and how they could not be counted on to act and react the same way. It was plain to see for anyone who had experience with the man both at work and away from work. Which meant Tank was still playing dumb to some degree. What Lester said made sense, even if it didn't fully explain the situation or his viewpoint.

"How long has it been since Ranger was Carlos to someone besides us and the family?" Lester asked, starting to pace again, but with more of a distinguished university lecturer vibe this time.

I thought about his question for a moment. "Six or seven years?"

"Correct," he agreed, pointing at me with the hand holding the rubber band ball. "And what significant event happened in Carlos's life six or seven years ago?"

It took a moment to make the connection, but as soon as I remembered how old Julie was, I had the answer. "He got Rachel pregnant."

"Exactly," Lester said. He paused again, crossing his arms over his chest and looking from me to Tank and back, making sure he had our full attention before continuing. "Rachel was the last woman who had the privilege of calling him Carlos and not being related to him. So…?"

"You think Carlos got Steph pregnant?" Tank asked.

I threw my hands up in the air, a sound of frustration rumbling up my throat as I slammed back in my chair. Tank could be the most annoying person in the world when he was playing stupid like this. It was tempting to call him to the mats to beat it out of him, but I knew I only had a fifty percent chance of coming out on top unless I enlisted pharmaceutical help. Even with his bulk and brute strength, we were fairly evenly matched.

While I was busy groaning and lamenting my inability to guarantee a pin on the mats, though, Lester was taking action into his own hands by pegging the rubber band ball at Tank's head and plopping down on the front edge of the desk with a huff as the ball was swatted away at the last second.

"Now you're just being obtuse," he accused, crossing his arms over his chest and jigging his leg up and down impatiently. "Let's take another crack at the evidence." He held up a hand, starting to count off the points he listed. "First off, the fact that he hired her, sight unseen."

"The apology dinner," I added, leaning to the side to see around him to the big man. "The dinners in his apartment."

Lester leaned forward, repeating my second point for emphasis. "In. His. Apartment, Tank."

Lester and I had been shocked to learn that he'd not only offered to drive Steph home himself when her car had broken down, but that he'd invited her to join him on the seventh floor for dinner first. And surprisingly, the dinners have continued on a weekly basis. When we'd asked her about them, Steph had assured us that it was just food and talking, but Lester still thought some hanky panky was happening that neither of them were letting on about.

I begged to differ. Carlos could easily keep whatever information he didn't want to divulge from us without even a hint that he was hiding anything. Steph, on the other hand, was like an open book. She wasn't especially good at lying. And then there was the fact that as soon as suggestive comments were thrown in her direction she blushed so hard I worried she might burst a blood vessel. We'd asked her if there was anything more happening before, during or after these dinners with the boss, and she hadn't so much as batted an eye, let alone reddened. Whatever their relationship entailed, it did not currently involve sex.

"Not to mention what happened in the gym last week," Lester went on once he thought the previous point had sunk in enough. "And the fact that he took her to his favourite club." He paused, raising an eyebrow as he glanced between Tank and me over his shoulder. "And told her it's his favourite club," he added pointedly. Carlos always played things close to the vest; never admitting to having preferences. If no one knows what you like, what you love, they can't use it against you.

"And he told her about what happened on the job," I pointed out.

"He didn't mean to do that, though," Lester reminded me quickly. "He thought she was asleep at the time."

A low rumbling sound emitted from Tank's throat, the non-expression he'd been maintaining fairly consistently up until this point, cracking somewhat to show us that he was contemplating the information we'd shared, and finding more points in favour of our argument. "That just makes it more serious," he said, scrubbing a hand over his chin thoughtfully. "He didn't want to burden her with the knowledge, but he felt the need to talk to her about it even if she couldn't hear him?"

"Now you're getting it!" Lester praised, clapping his hands together. "And then the next day, he avoided her at all costs. Classic denial."

"And then when he got the call from Miami, he didn't consult with us. Just went himself."

Tank nodded slowly, looking from me to Lester and back with the same expression he got when we had a big job ahead of us and he didn't know if it would have a good outcome. Preach. "So they're dating." It wasn't a question any longer. It was a statement. He'd accepted it. Probably, he'd suspected it himself, but hadn't been able to pile all the evidence together to support the theory until Lester and I started laying it out for him.

Huh, look at that, the appointment time was being used for data consolidation afterall.

"Yup," Lester said, letting the 'p' pop dramatically as he swung to his feet and started pacing more casually this time, the frenetic energy having passed. "And Carlos is freaking out because he's caught feelings for the first time in years and doesn't know what to do with them."

"Must have missed his Anti-Feels booster shot while he was in the wind," I quipped, smirking, cutting my gaze to my fiance. I couldn't help it, I was proud of my joke and I wanted validation. The smirk grew into a full on grin and my heart swelled when Lester indulged me with a short snort of laughter, flashing me a smile of his own as he spun on his heels to pace back towards the desk.

"Right," Tank said, ignoring my words in favour of focussing on the issue at hand. He leaned forward bracing his elbows on his knees. "So what's the plan?"

"Plan for what?" Lester asked, pausing to look at him.

"For getting Carlos to sort his shit out and be with her fully, like we know he wants but doesn't want to let himself," Tank spelled out, his brow furrowing like he thought we were the dense ones now. Like he thought meddling in other people's affairs was a good idea.

I shook my head adamantly. "Nope," I said, sitting back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest. "Nuh uh. We're not meddling in their relationship."

"So we're just gonna watch him hurt her?" he shot back.

"They have to figure it out themselves," I said definitively. "Steph's already been through enough because of her mother meddling in her relationships. We need to respect that this is their business, and they'll sort it out on their own one way or another."

Tank and Lester were both stony faced, glaring at me like I'd just told them they were going to have to get stitches without any kind of site numbing. "I don't like it," Tank bit out.

"None of us does," Lester agreed, letting out a huff and plopping down on the corner of the desk again. "But Bobby's right. They're both adults, capable of talking to each other if they have concerns."

"All we can do is be there to support whatever outcome eventuates," I sighed.

"Well that's depressing," Tank announced, surging to his feet. "Carlos is such an idiot for trying to keep his feelings locked down. If the scene in the gym showed us anything, it's that Steph is the perfect person to calm the constant storm inside him. She barely flinched even when he leapt to his feet, ready to protect her against whatever threat had just burst in."

"Us," Lester said, in case we'd forgotten that he and I were the ones who had gone off half-cocked and almost invoked the wrath of a barely contained beast when we interrupted an incredibly tender moment between Steph and Carlos on the mats.

"Yeah," Tank nodded. "And speaking of you two. I'll be seeing you each on the mats tomorrow morning for an HR hearing."

"But-!" I tried to protest, leaping to my feet, ready to defend myself.

"What did we do?" Lester demanded.

Tank speared us each with a pointed look. "Did I, or did I not warn you of what would happen if you were to use work time to indulge in sexual acts?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and drawing up to his full height like he did with the new recruits to make them shit their pants a little harder. It didn't quite have the same effect once you'd seen the behemoth of a man cooing softly to a kitten as he syringe-fed it, but it was a clear signal that he wasn't joking. Which meant he really was expecting to beat our asses in the morning.

"Hold up." Lester held up his hand, his brows furrowing. "You said you knew about our meetings for a while. Why are you punishing us now?"

"Because there's a difference between suspecting something based on knowledge of the company and what you two are like when left to your own devices, and having it confirmed with my own two eyes," Tank pointed out. "Oh-five-hundred. I'll let you decide who gets their ass kicked first." And with that, he strode out of the office, and out of the infirmary, closing both doors in his wake.

I collapsed back into my chair, a long breath whooshing out of me as I deflated. For a moment I just watched Lester sitting very still as he stared at the closed door, his mouth hanging open just slightly in shock. Then, in the middle of dragging my hands down my face, I made the decision.

"Come here," I demanded, unbuckling my belt.

The tone of my voice, accompanied by the sound of the zipper on my cargos lowering, grabbed Lester's attention instantly, his head snapping around, both eyebrows raised. "Now? Really?" But even as he questioned me, he was rounding the desk, closing the distance between us, his green eyes sparkling with desire as they drifted from my face to what my hands were doing.

"We're getting punished for it anyway," I pointed out, lifting my hips to push my pants down and reveal my growing erection. "Besides, you still owe me an orgasm."