According to Travis, there were ways to get around everything, and if you wanted something badly enough, it didn’t matter the lengths you had to go to in order to get it. One thing Ryan had learned about the Walker brothers was that when they wanted something—and accepted that fact—they simply went after it, not taking no for an answer.
“When’re you goin’ down there?” Ryan questioned nonchalantly, not bothering to look directly at Z.
“Thought I’d head back on Friday. Wanted to spend some time with my brother this time.”
“He’s comin’ home?” That surprising news had Ryan’s gaze returning to Z briefly.
“Got back a week ago.” Z grinned, the dimple in his cheek winking.
“And your sister?” Ryan asked.
Z’s smile widened as it always did when he talked about his baby sister. “She’s still truckin’ along.”
“Is Jensyn comin’ home at all this summer?”
It was no secret that Z was incredibly proud of his brother and sister, and for good reason. From what Ryan had been told, Z had been eager to go into the military after high school until he’d learned that a congenital defect—a hole in his heart that had been repaired when he was three—had kept him from doing so. Instead, Reese had opted to follow in his brother’s unrealized dream—only slightly modified—by going directly into the Air Force before the ink on his diploma was dry. As for Jensyn…the woman was pursuing her doctorate in psychology at Stanford and still had another year or two to go.
“For a couple of weeks, yeah. She agreed to try and make it down next weekend, if she can. That way I can see them both.”
Ryan had met Z’s sister only once, but he’d seen Z’s younger brother, Reese, a few times over the years. The kid—six years younger than Z qualified him as a kid in Ryan’s eyes—had been finishing up his eight-year stint before he returned to the civilian world. At one point, Z had even mentioned the possibility of Reese coming to work for Sniper 1. Ryan had told him to have his brother come see him when that time came, if Reese was truly interested.
Looked like that conversation might be happening in the near future, something Ryan looked forward to. As far as enforcers went, Z was top-notch, and no doubt his brother would be as well. Z was the no-holds-barred type of operator. Nothing mattered except for the mission, and his loyalty to their family was unprecedented. It was something Ryan truly admired in the man.
Among other things.
It was easy to admit to admiring Z’s work ethic, but Ryan wasn’t about to cop to liking the guy’s dark hair or his inquisitive brown eyes, his squared jaw, or the incredible breadth of his shoulders, or—a big point—Z’s wicked sense of humor and upbeat attitude.
Nope, not admitting it to anyone, not even himself.
When the bartender handed over their beers, Ryan took his and attempted to pass money over, but Z beat him to it.
“You can pick up the tab next time,” Z told him.
Ryan met Z’s intense gaze, a million thoughts running through his head. Not a single one of them appropriate.
The idea of going out with Z again, just the two of them… It was something he knew he couldn’t think about.
No matter how much he wanted it.
ONE OF Z’S FAVORITE PASTIMES was to get RT riled up. It was a hell of a lot easier to do than one might think. These days it seemed Z could throw RT for a loop simply by being in the same room with him. Or less than a foot away, as was the case now.
There was no doubt in his mind that RT was attracted to him, and considering the feeling was definitely mutual, finding ways to shake RT up was amusing Z to no end. Mainly because it was evident that RT was fighting the attraction between them. Had been for a while now.
Only because of the debacle with Kevin a few years back that had changed RT’s perspective on things did Z keep his distance. If it weren’t for that jackass RT had been seeing, Z would’ve staked his claim long ago. Or tried, anyway.
Unlike RT, Z wasn’t fighting his attraction to the other man. He was quite comfortable in his own skin, didn’t mind the fact that he was transparent when it came to the way he lived his life. He considered that one of his strong points. Didn’t mean there hadn’t been lovers in his past who had thought the opposite. Turned out some guys enjoyed being in the closet, but not Z.
For reasons such as that, Z was still single at thirty-one, and he’d come to one final conclusion: when he did finally settle down, it was going to be with a man who was proud to be with him.
One of the reasons Z enjoyed RT’s company was the fact that RT wasn’t in the closet. He was openly gay and had been for as long as Z had known him. He merely pretended not to be interested in Z although most people could see right through him. However, despite Z’s many attempts, RT had never given in to the flirting, which was why Z had considered doubling his efforts as of late.
“Any plans for the weekend?” Z asked RT, focusing on the sexy man sitting beside him, pretending not to notice the way RT continued to steal glances when he thought Z wasn’t looking.
That was RT. Subtle but not.
Z had never been into blonds, but there was something about RT that just did it for him. The short, golden hair, rounded jaw, those crystal-blue eyes and perfect plump lips that were made to wrap around a man’s… Yep, just looking at the guy could give him a hard-on that wouldn’t quit.
“Work,” RT told him, sipping his beer as he faced forward, his back hunched slightly.
“You should take a day off, ya know?” Not that RT would listen to him. He really did work too much.
Distinctly avoiding the question, RT answered with, “What about you? Hot plans this weekend?”
Z smirked behind the lip of his beer bottle. “Not sure I’d call ’em hot, but sure, I’ve got plans.” Same plans he’d had every weekend for the past four years.
Not that he intended to share the details with RT or anyone else, for that matter.
Knowing RT would derail the conversation soon, Z helped it along. “I heard you had some visitors the other day. Someone askin’ about that ATF agent.” Keeping in mind where they were and the ears that were likely listening, Z kept the details vague when asking the question. He’d heard that one of those alphabet agencies was looking into the disappearance of the ATF agent who’d hired someone to kill RT’s sister earlier that year. Z doubted the man would be found, considering he’d been offed by a ruthless mafia boss and had likely been shredded in one of the many landfills Max Adorite owned.
“Protocol,” RT said, his gaze sliding from side to side slowly before he added, “And as of right now, we’re in the clear.”
Z nodded, letting the subject drop.
Before he could launch another question at RT, a firm hand landed on Z’s shoulder, causing him to turn carefully. Most people knew not to touch Z without his permission, but there was one man…
“What’s up, Z-man?”
Yep, that one.
Z rolled his eyes as he caught sight of Jefferson Smart, one of his…exes. About a year ago, they’d engaged in a brief affair that had fizzled after only a couple of weeks. Z was fairly certain that no one knew of their romantic past since Jefferson was so far in the closet he couldn’t even see the fucking clothes. Which was the main reason Z had lost interest. That and the fact that Jefferson called him Z-man. Seriously.
Jefferson peered over Z’s shoulder at RT. “Hey, RT. How’s it hangin’?”
RT grunted. RT wasn’t a fan of Jefferson, mostly because, according to RT, the guy overplayed the alpha card, his way of pretending he wasn’t spending his nights with some dude buried balls deep in his ass.
“What was that?” Jefferson said with a high-pitched chuckle. “To the left and below the knee? I know the feelin’, man.”
For fuck’s sake.
“Good to see ya, Jeffy.” Z purposely used the name Jefferson hated, one that he’d told Z a former lover had given him. “We’re talkin’ business, so…”
“Right,” Jefferson said curtly, his eyes darting around them as though the entire room had been eavesdropping, ready to pounce on the queer when he turned around. “Later.”
“Where were we?” Z asked, turning back to the bar and purposely brushing his arm against RT’s.
“Drinkin’ beer,” RT replied, quickly putting space between them. “In silence.”