Dirty Games

by HelenKay Dimon

  “Oh, believe me. I know why you’re supposed to be here.” Justin took a step forward. “I will take care of—”

  “Tell me about the other people you help.”

  Justin stopped as if he’d run into an invisible brick wall. He blinked a few times. “What?”

  Having all that intense attention focused on him didn’t bother Finn. He’d walked into this topic, knowing Justin would kick back. “The ones who aren’t listed in your monthly reports and totals. The ones you obtain emergency medical assistance for and move around without paperwork.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Stop.” No way was Finn going to let Justin lie. That suggested he was doing something really wrong, and Finn refused to believe that was true. “Don’t do this. Don’t pretend.”

  Justin shook his head and took off for the door. “I’ve got work to do.”

  Finn was done. “Do not leave this fucking tent.” His voice rose and he did nothing to keep quiet. Let everyone hear him yell for all he cared.

  The mood swings, the secrecy, the thing where Justin acted like Finn was a nuisance and not the one funding this enterprise, the one back in the office fighting for more funding and support. Justin had had enough. His fuse was long but he did have one.

  “Is that my boss talking?” Justin didn’t bother to turn around but his body stayed still. It was as if he were frozen in the spot.

  “That’s your fallback position, isn’t it? I ask something uncomfortable or get too close to an exposed nerve and you throw up the you’re a spoiled-rich-boss shit.”

  Justin glanced at him over his shoulder with a look filled with fury. “Your words, not mine.”

  “Think it through, Justin. I know about this, which means someone told me.” That was one of Finn’s major worries. How wide was the gossip stream on this? “Do you get what I’m saying?”

  “People need to shut up.”

  Finn couldn’t really argue with that, but he needed to break through Justin’s defensive shield. “Justin, I’m serious. Tell me about the people you help without Drummond assistance.”

  It happened in slow shifts, but Justin finally turned around again, until he stood by the door. His gaze locked on Finn’s, likely as some sort of intimidation attempt, but it didn’t bother Finn. They could wage this battle all night. He needed answers.

  Since yelling and swearing didn’t seem to be working, Finn tried another tactic. He fell back on the truth. The stark terror he’d seen in Justin’s eyes when the gunfire started the other night. The sense that he felt responsible for everyone around him and needed to rush them all to safety.

  Finn took a step forward, careful not to reach out or give Justin a reason to bolt. They’d touched, kissed, caressed, but this was not the time. “See, I think you hate that regulations and paperwork and international red tape keep you from getting aid to some families who desperately need it.”

  “Wouldn’t that piss you off?” Justin’s monotone voice signaled that some of his anger had vanished.

  “I’d probably throw money around to get them help.” Finn shrugged. “I know you hate that answer, but I’m not a doctor or engineer. I’d do what I could, and in this case that would mean cash.”

  Tension left Justin’s body as his shoulders fell. “That’s what I do.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I call in favors from Kit or Billy, or pay off some transit guy.” Justin dropped onto the end of his bed with a heavy sigh. “Happy? After all the shit I gave you about you using your money, I do the same thing.”

  Winning some battle he never intended to fight didn’t matter to Finn. His concern was much more practical and immediate. “What money?”

  Justin looked up at him. “Shit, do you think I’m stealing from the charity?”

  That fast, Justin’s rage came flaring back. Color flooded his cheeks and Finn could almost hear the cracking of Justin’s jaw as his back teeth slammed together.

  “Jesus, Justin. Stop being so defensive.” Finn leaned down with his hands on his thighs so he was face-to-face with Justin. “No, I don’t think that. But I also know what we pay you and that you’re not rolling in money. At least nothing in your file suggests that.”

  “The same file that says I’m from the middle of Nowhere, West Virginia.” Justin pushed Finn back and stood up. “And grew up poor.”

  Finn could hear his own breathing. It sounded so loud and labored in his ears.

  “Shot-squirrels-for-food kind of poor. Yeah, I can guess what’s in Alec’s precious paranoid file. I lived it. The loss of the manufacturing jobs and mining jobs. The poverty.” Justin visibly swallowed. “The drinking.”

  Alec’s damn files. He collected information, but lines on a piece of paper didn’t tell the whole story. In just a few words, the world that shaped Justin became clearer. His knee-jerk comments about money and being spoiled. How suspicious he was of anything or anyone associated with Drummond. His immediate and intense dislike the second the car pulled into camp. Finn could see it so clearly now.

  Finn knew about shitty fathers and dysfunctional families. He’d lost a mother and sister to a desperation so grim that suicide seemed like the only answer for them. But he always had food and a bed and never worried about either. He couldn’t understand that fear, and he knew he was lucky in that regard.

  He didn’t say anything because it really wasn’t his place to fill in details or ask questions. This part was none of his business.

  Justin studied the ground as he rubbed his eyes. It took another few seconds before he looked up again. “I don’t need a lot of money to live here.”

  God damn. “You use your own pay to help these people?”

  “What do I need it for?”

  It was such a straightforward answer that Finn’s mouth dropped open. For a second he couldn’t find the words. “I don’t know, survival?”

  “Unlike some people, I can do without a new car every year. Or ever.”

  Finn ignored the shot, but only because Justin’s voice didn’t carry the usual heat that accompanied his insults. “Justin, let me—”

  “No.” Justin shook his head, as if the sharp crack of the word hadn’t made his position clear.

  “I didn’t even finish the sentence.”

  Justin kept shaking his head. Didn’t stop. “This is my thing.”

  “You could get caught.”

  Justin made a dismissive noise. “And let me guess—then I’d ruin your charity’s perfect reputation, right?”

  “You could end up in prison in Morocco, dumbass.” Finn had no idea how Justin didn’t get that. He was a smart guy. “Man, you haven’t softened one bit after last night.”

  Justin’s eyes widened. “Let me get this straight. You thought we’d fuck and I’d become nicer?”

  “No, because it was sex, not a miracle.” Damn good sex, but Finn had never known a good time between the sheets to alter a person’s personality. He hadn’t expected that with Justin either. “But I hoped you’d at least see I wasn’t the enemy.”

  “Is that why you came on to me? Hit on the angry guy and see if a hot bang will take some of the edge off him?”

  He just never fucking stopped. He always found an angle; put a shitty spin on everything Finn did. He was used to fighting and proving himself, but this pissed him off. Made it feel like an explosion had gone off in his head and wiped out every rational thought. He wanted to come out fighting, but he tried to pull back.

  “You are not going to stand there and act like I’m the only one who…” No. Finn was absolutely not going there. Fuck this shit. “You are such a dick.”

  Justin shrugged. “I warned you about that.”

  A strange sensation hit him. Disappointment mixed with…something. Finn wasn’t about to stick around and figure it out.

  “I guess
I should have listened.” He brushed past Justin on the way to the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  Wherever Justin Miller wasn’t. Because no one—not a single person—could ratchet up Finn’s temper like Justin did. Every word wound Finn tighter until he thought he would blow. And that was not going to happen. He refused to play the role of spoiled rich guy in this scenario.

  If Justin wanted to treat him like shit, fine. They’d keep this professional. Finn would figure out a solution to the money issue without Justin’s input, then present it as a done deal. He would be the damn boss.

  “Medical tent.” Finn stopped with his hand on the door and looked back at Justin. “And as far as using your personal money goes, stop it. That’s an order. I don’t want you landing your ass on the wrong side of the security forces’ goodwill.”

  Justin’s jaw tightened. “I don’t need your help.”

  No kidding. That was the one message that got through. “Yeah, Justin. You’ve made that clear.”

  Chapter 10

  It had been a long-ass day. Justin swore the minutes ticked by like hours and he felt the slog of every single one.

  Finn never reappeared.

  Justin didn’t hunt him down. Well, not at first. He funneled all his energy into work. When he finally cooled off enough to go in search of Finn, which he mentally insisted was just a common courtesy, Finn already had left the medical tent. One of the nurses said he went to the dining tent for coffee with Ty and Kit. Justin looked but didn’t see any of them.

  He gave up after that. Courtesy was one thing, but he refused to follow Finn all over the camp with the same lost-puppy expression Ty wore these days. But now it was almost six and the sun had started to set. The sky was bathed in a fiery orange glow.

  Time for a new plan. Justin thought maybe suggesting Finn have dinner with him and the staff might be an olive branch of sorts. He had to admit he hadn’t gone out of his way to provide Finn with an escort or show by example how everyone should be welcoming toward him. Without going overboard, of course.

  To invite Finn, Justin had to find him first. He sat at his desk and glanced at his watch. Six-o-three, three minutes later than last time he checked. He eyed up his phone and still no contact or sightings. Could be rich boy was making a point, that Justin had to be the one to call. He couldn’t blame Finn for invoking the power play. He likely would have made Finn track him down if their roles were reversed.

  He was just about to get up when Oliver appeared on the other side of his desk. Justin hadn’t seen or heard him enter the tent.

  Without a word, Oliver dropped something on the closed file in front of Justin. A piece of paper with scribbles in black ink.

  Justin picked it up and stared at the words, not sure what he was looking at. He held it out to Oliver. “What’s this?”

  “Finn’s address.” Oliver frowned. “In Fnideq. Which is a short drive away, in case you haven’t looked at a map lately.”

  “So?” Justin did not want to know about the villa or the address or even think about Finn lounging around on his bed…or so he kept repeating in his head, in the hope of convincing himself.

  Whatever burned between them right now could only be described as a mess. Sex, anger, frustration, years of longing. But that last one mostly only on his part.

  Oliver blew out a long, exaggerated breath. “Are we really going to do this?”

  “What?”

  Oliver delivered a second sigh, equal in drama to the first. “I see we are.”

  Justin would rather be anywhere else right now, literally, but he leaned back in his chair and pretended to be at ease with the conversation. “Don’t you have work to do?”

  “Justin, I’m British. You can’t beat me at acting disinterested.” This time Oliver sat down in the chair next to him. “Cannot be done.”

  “You do remember you haven’t lived in England for like a decade, right?”

  Oliver waved off the concern. “My point is I, with my steely reserve, show more emotion than you do.”

  “Now that you’ve reached your point…” Justin motioned toward the door as he let his words trail off.

  Oliver chose that moment to lean back and cross one leg over the other. “You were calm and steady, boring but dependable, and then the young stud blew into town. Now you’re an emotional wreck.”

  “That’s not true.” Shit, is it?

  “Oh, you’re clamping down on the angst, holding it in. Again, I know this game. My ancestors perfected it. But the reality is, you shared a hotel room with Finn in Tangier.”

  Was it on the fucking news? Justin bit the question back, sensing Oliver would either evade or deliver a response that centered on how much the people around here gossiped about his love life. Justin suspected that but didn’t want to know if it was true.

  He fell back on what was in the news. “There was an explosion.”

  “Is that code for something?”

  Since there was no way to win this, Justin didn’t try. He knew when to double back and reassess. “We’re done here.”

  “Listen.” Oliver hesitated, but only for a second. “We’ve known each other a long time. While it pains me to admit this, you’re not actually a dick.”

  Justin almost hated to hear what was coming after that setup. “You have said the exact opposite many times.”

  “Yes, well.” Oliver only stopped talking long enough to take a breath. “My point is, you feel something for Finn. He’s not the jerk you want him to be and it’s killing you.”

  Justin closed his eyes to rein in his control. It was either that or grab onto the armrests of his chair and potentially snap them in half. “He’s my boss.”

  “Now you acknowledge that?” Oliver made a humming sound. It was becoming an annoying habit. “Fascinating.”

  “What do you expect me to do here?”

  “Go to his house. Apologize for all the yelling and figure out if whatever happened in that hotel room was a one time thing or not.” Oliver ran through the suggestions so quickly it was clear he had stored up the list and was waiting to unload it.

  “He stormed out of here.”

  Oliver snorted. “You didn’t push him, of course.”

  “A visit isn’t going to solve anything.”

  “Maybe true, but he’s not going away.”

  Those words eased the clenching in Justin’s gut…and he hated that. “How do you know?”

  “I heard him tell Alec he’s staying on indefinitely.”

  Indefinitely? Justin’s mind went blank. He couldn’t think of the right question to ask. He sat up straighter, tapping his pen against his desktop. He focused on the clicking sound until his brain kick-started again.

  “When was that?” Because if it was before the fight, it made sense.

  “After he…what was the word you used? Stormed? Yes, that’s it. After he stormed out of your private tent, he took a call from Alec and the other brother.”

  “Griff.”

  “Right.” Oliver smiled but he didn’t have to. The amusement in his voice made it clear he was enjoying Justin’s discomfort far too much. “He closed the door with enough strength to shake your whole tent. I missed seeing it, but a few others did and reported back to me.”

  Witnesses…just what he needed. “Great.”

  “That’s what you get for trying to conduct your love life in a public place.”

  Justin couldn’t really argue with that. With any of what Oliver was saying, actually. “I might have been an asshole to Finn.”

  The humming sound came back. “What an extraordinary admission.”

  “Okay, enough with the sarcasm. I’ll tell Finn tomorrow that we’re fine and we’ll get back to work.” That’s it. Done. In Justin’s mind, it made sense. They could move on without rehashing the past.

>   “Ah, I see.” Oliver uncrossed his legs and his foot hit the floor with a thud.

  “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

  “I’m not the one who finally had sex with the guy I’ve wanted for years.” Oliver stood up. Made quite a scene out of brushing some nonexistent lint off his pants. “That, my friend, was you.”

  “I haven’t—” Justin stopped when Oliver’s eyebrow inched up. “Fine.”

  “Use the address.” Oliver wrinkled up his nose. “And maybe try a shower. It wouldn’t hurt you to put in some effort.”

  “I hate you.”

  Oliver winked before turning and heading for the door. He shot Justin one last look when he got there. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

  * * *

  —

  Finn stood in the middle of the small kitchen area of his rental and stared into space. He came back to his villa earlier than planned because he had zero interest in running into Justin at dinner.

  Now that he was alone, he felt unsettled. A steady hum of energy ran through him. He chalked it up to the excitement and the danger and the nonstop arguing with Alec, who insisted he return to Germany. His big brother was in full-on protective mode. Finn appreciated the concern, but he was not walking away from the shipment issue until it was resolved. The fact that put him square in Justin’s sights was something he couldn’t help.

  “The upstairs is clear,” Rania declared as she came back down.

  He knew Karim and Rania had someone watch the place while he was gone all day, but he went along with her need to double-check when he got back. She was not someone who slacked on the job. She took his safety seriously, and Finn appreciated that.

  He also liked the villa. It was one in a group of white two-story buildings nestled in a gated community. The houses were lined up in rows and set up in a square around a communal grassy area. He occupied an end unit. It was narrow but comfortable and clean. A rental from a business associate of Alec’s.

  After moving in and checking the layout, Finn had picked the smaller bedroom upstairs to use as an office. But he ended up spreading out his papers on the dining room table that acted as a divider between the kitchen and the bright-blue sectional sofa in the living area. He stared at the stacks now as he debated if he should skip food and try to bury his mind in work.