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“Okay,” Quinn said, dropping his phone back in its cradle. “We have two witnesses coming in this afternoon to—” He stopped abruptly, and Grady looked up, about to ask what was wrong, when he noticed the newcomer walking through the bullpen towards them.
Grady groaned. This was not what his day needed. Ever, really, even on good days. “Are you even allowed to be here?” he asked the lawyer, who wore his suit like a second skin. Grady could have spent hours in front of the mirror that morning and still not look as impeccable as this asshole. He’d turned it into an art form, and it made Grady want to act like a five-year-old and throw fistfuls of spaghetti on the navy-and-white ensemble. Sebastian Devlin had been a thorn in his and Quinn’s side for years as the best and worst defence lawyer in Sydney. Best because his track record was stupid good, and worst because facing him in court was a goddamn fucking nightmare.
Unfortunately, Quinn’s history with Devlin had been one of the romantic variety. One that had come back to bite them in the ass, and now Quinn was living all domesticated and shit with him and two other men. Grady didn’t think they were living together—yet—but the principle was the same. They were nauseating, basically. It didn’t help that Grady thought romance could fuck right off back where it had come from. He wanted to be left out of anything that risked getting his heart crushed and left bleeding out on the ground.
“They let me in, so I’m gonna go with yes,” Devlin said, smirking.
Grady wanted to punch him. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling for him. “This is enemy territory.” Whoever had let him in should be fired. They could have at least escorted him through. It didn’t matter that gossip travelled fast and everyone knew that Quinn and Devlin were fucking; protocol should still be followed.
“Stop it,” Quinn said mildly. The smile he bestowed upon Devlin made Grady want to gag. He could already feel the bile rising at the back of his throat. Giving love a chance was difficult to begin with, but to do it again with someone who had once broken your heart? Grady had no idea why Quinn had thought it was a good idea. Devlin would fuck up again, and they’d be back to square one.
“You don’t let me have any fun anymore.” Fucking hell, Grady hated today. Fridays were supposed to becelebratorydays. Seeing Devlin was not a cause for celebration.
“When did I ever let you have any fun?” Quinn asked. Devlin leaned down for a kiss, and Grady rolled his eyes with exaggeration. He swivelled in his chair so he didn’t have to watch. He stabbed his index finger into the Enter key as he went back to the report he’d been working on. The start of a new year always seemed to have masses of paperwork, more than any other time of the year. Grady still hadn’t been able to work out why.
His phone pinged, and he hoped it was Lake because he needed something to make him laugh.
It wasn’t Lake. Grady scowled, his heart dropping.
Mal:Hey, so I was hoping I could come round to get the last of my stuff.
Grady:I put it in boxes. I’ll leave it at the front door.
Mal:There’s no need to be like that.
What thefuck? WasGradysomehow out of line?
Grady:Like what? I don’t fucking owe you anything. Either pick it up or don’t. I don’t care.
If he’d thrown it in the trash, he would have been well within his rights. Mal was fucking lucky that Grady had taken the time to pack it up at all.
Mal:Fine.
It was passive-aggressive bullshit, and Grady wasn’t in the fucking mood for it. He and Mal had been together for three years, had moved in together a year ago, and Grady had been thinking forever while Mal had been sticking his dick in any available ass. If he’d had a problem with the fact Grady wouldn’t bottom for him, then he should have fucking said something, and they could have worked it out. He hadn’t deserved what Mal had done to him, and he was allowed to be pissed off about it. Hurt as well, but it was easier to be angry than acknowledge what other emotions it had brought forth. Anger was always easier.
Another text came through, and this time itwasfrom Lake. Grady breathed a sigh of relief as he flicked it open, a small smile erupting on his face as he read it.
LM:Does this look broken to you?
What? The question didn’t make sense until a picture loaded in underneath it. It looked like a pedal of some kind—Grady had to assume for a helicopter, since that was Lake’s job—and it was split clean in half.
Grady:I’d chuck it, but I won’t tell you how to do your job.
LM:Duct tape and WD-40. She’ll be fine.
Grady:How did that even happen?
Lake sent a string of messages, one after the other, like he was trying to play a song with Grady’s message notification.
LM:You know, I’m not sure. My professional opinion thinks it was a sword. It’s a beautifully clean cut, right?
LM:But Zach says they don’t have swords on base. Enquiring minds want to know how he knows that.
LM:Did he check?
LM:And if he did, why didn’t he bring his best friend along for the search effort? I feel left out.
Grady:They need to re-evaluate how much they’re paying you.
