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“No.” The word was out of Mal’ik’s mouth before he’d fully considered it. His gut was against it. It gave Serihk too much high ground in any conversation.
Patrick glanced at him, and the corner of his mouth tugged down in a frown. “I’m not sure that’s our call, Mal’ik.”
“It is if I consider it a security risk.”
“Do you?”
He didn’t. Serihk’s security system was legendary among those in the security industry. A ship had fewer entrances to worry about and no windows. And Mal’ik didn’t doubt Serihk’s integrity. He wasn’t worried that this was a trap or an assassination attempt. He just didn’t like the idea of Oliver sitting in a negotiation under the magnifying glass of Serihk’s sensors, having his every movement calculated and analyzed. Oliver was good at this game, but Serihk had been playing it for a lot longer.
“No,” he had to admit. “We’ll let Turner decide.”
Patrick nodded and stayed silent by his side for a few minutes longer while the transportation minister attempted to drone on but kept getting interrupted by Oliver’s sharp retorts.
Mal’ik knew what was coming when he saw Patrick lick his lips out of the corner of his eye and then open his mouth.
“Word got back to me about something.”
“Did it?” Mal’ik kept his face neutral and his voice almost flat. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. He wasn’t going to make it easy on Patrick no matter how long they had known each other.
Patrick scowled. “Don’t be like that, Mal’ik. Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
Patrick’s pale skin tinged pink. The man had seen some of the most brutal and bloody fights a man could, but he’d never been good at talking about anything related to sex. Not that it had come up often in their friendship. He pitched his voice low. “Did you sleep with Turner last night?”
For a petty second, Mal’ik wanted to say no. Because he hadn’t slept with Oliver. He hadn’t even been allowed to hold Oliver once they had finished. Or clean him up. Or kiss him good night. Oliver had run from the bed to the shower, smelling of panic, and hadn’t looked back. But that didn’t need to be aired.
“Yes.”
Patrick inhaled sharply as if Mal’ik’s answer surprised him even though he had obviously known what it would be. “Well, I didn’t expect that.”
“Neither did I.” Mal’ik didn’t make stupid decisions like entanglements with clients. And a man like Oliver didn’t look twice at a man like him unless it was in horror or distaste. He wondered which of those improbable obstacles shocked Patrick more, that Mal’ik wanted Oliver or that Oliver wanted Mal’ik. Had wanted. Mal’ik had no idea if Oliver still did.
“Do you need to be taken off the assignment?” To Patrick’s credit, his voice didn’t waver when he asked the question. He’d never been one to shirk or hide away from his duty, even when another man might have put friendship first.
“That’s up to you,” Mal’ik replied. Patrick was second-in-command. If Mal’ik was compromised, it was up to him to see him replaced. Mal’ik didn’t want to be taken off the assignment. He didn’t want to leave Oliver’s protection to anyone else. But that was exactly the sort of thinking that clouded his judgment on the matter.
Patrick didn’t answer right away. He turned to Mal’ik and gave him a hard look, then swept his eyes to Oliver, then around the room.
“No, I don’t think you do,” he finally said. “Not yet, at least.”
Mal’ik nodded and something uncoiled in his chest that he hadn’t realized had been tightening up. “Alright.”
“Take care of yourself, Mal’ik.”
Mal’ik frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know. Just that, I guess.” Patrick shrugged. He nodded toward Oliver. “I don’t think anything good can come out of a man like that.”
A fierce indignation flared to life in Mal’ik’s chest, so strong he instinctively clamped down on it.
Before he could think of a more reasonable reply, Patrick was already continuing. “I’m going to go check the path to the Emissary’s ship. Let me know what Turner decides.” Patrick left Mal’ik to wrestle with more feelings than he had any right or reason to have.
After several more minutes, Oliver and the transportation minister stood and shook hands. Oliver scrubbed his eyes once the door closed behind the minister, leaving them alone in the room.
“That man is exhausting,” he groused, stretching his hands into the air as he walked back to Mal’ik. He dropped into a chair in front of him, lounging on it halfway slid out in a way he never did when there were politicians around.
“I’m told that’s the general consensus.”
