Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Dylan turns to me. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you know how these things work. Someone goes into protection and then realizes they can’t see their family, their friends … anyone they’re … dating.” I hold my breath and wait for him to either take the bait or tell the truth.
Dylan doesn’t miss a beat. “Don’t worry. My boyfriend is away for business.”
“Oh, is this your imaginary boyfriend?”
“How would you know if he’s real or imaginary?”
“Because I know you even though you don’t want me to. If you had a boyfriend, you would’ve told me and rubbed it in my face. Every joke, every taunt, it would be rebutted with your smart tongue telling me I’m barking up someone else’s tree.”
His dark brows draw in tight. “That’s not what the saying is.”
I shrug. “Close enough.”
“You’re wrong, though.”
“Am I? What’s your boyfriend’s name?”
“Okay, no, you were right about that, but you’re wrong about knowing me.”
I rub my chin. “Well, we have nothing but time. How about we play a game?” I take the desk chair by my computer and park my ass on it.
“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Dylan sits on the edge of my bed. Can’t say I hate the sight. The opposite, actually.
“I bet you I know more about you than you do about me. And go. Tell me a random fact about me that you don’t think I would know you know.”
He rubs his temples. “What?”
“Tell me something about myself that would surprise me to find out you know about me.”
“I was right. I don’t like this game.”
“Is it because you’ve got nothing? I’ll go first. Even though I already gave you the no-boyfriend thing for free. You joined the police force after growing up in a dangerous neighborhood where the cops didn’t care what happened on your streets.”
Dylan scoffs. “I’m the son of Mexican immigrants. It’s not that hard to deduce. You’re basically cold reading me. Next, you’ll tell me my abuelita is coming to you from the grave and has a message for me.”
“How did you know? Her message is coming through loud and clear. ‘Stop being a jackass and play the game. Also, marry this man. He is big and tough and oh so sexy.’”
“Well, first of all, my grandmother is still alive. She lives in Mexico. And second of all, she would tell me not to go for the meathead gringo. Sorry.”
Even when he’s insulting me, I can’t help loving it. “I’ve noticed something. You’re still not playing the game. Does this mean I win?”
“Okay, fine. Even though you come from an upper-middle-class family, you joined the military not because you feel honor and patriotism but because you’re an adrenaline junkie who likes big guns and to blow shit up.”
His answer surprises me, and it’s close to the truth but not all the way correct. “Actually, I joined the military hoping it would make me ‘less gay.’ And if that didn’t work, I at least had Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell to fall back on. It was my way of hiding my true self during a time I thought I’d have no support. No one would ask, and I wouldn’t tell. And that’s when I fell in love with guns and blowing shit up.”
Dylan blinks at me. “When did you come out?”
“After it was repealed. I’d been serving for thirteen years, having anonymous hookups on leave, and one day, after waking up in a seedy motel next to someone who was the opposite of my type, I thought by stepping out of that closet, I’d open a new world of possibilities. Maybe a relationship, even. All it did was make me a target in my squad. It’s how Mike Bravo was formed. I wanted to make every LGBTQ soldier feel safe, even if that meant pulling them out of the military and offering them terrible pay.”
He waves around, gesturing at the house. “Terrible pay, my ass.”
“Yeah, well, in the beginning, it was terrible pay. I didn’t expect Mike Bravo to grow this big in only eight years, and while the military is better now for queer people than it once was, Mike Bravo is still a safe haven for misplaced vets. We still get to do what we love, and we don’t have to deal with the politics.”
“I only have one question.”
“Shoot.” I’m prepared for anything.
“How do you get any work done? Mike Bravo sounds like the ideal environment for an orgy-fest.”
Prepared for any question … except that.
“It’s against the rules,” I say. “I do have one couple who work for me, but I try not to put them on the same job. Distraction can get a man killed out there.”
“Are you saying I’m not a distraction to you? With all the crap you say all the time, I’d have to at least think I distract you a little bit.”