Operation Green Card Page 4

  “I guess so.” Jason was fighting not to let on how unsettling he found the sudden . . . well, not embrace, really. Buddy hug? And why was it unsettling? Because he knew Arkady was gay? Maybe. Though that didn’t quite hit it.

  He turned to Natalya, and Arkady didn’t try to hang on. “I’ve got your number. I’ll let you know at what time I’m off.”

  “Thanks.” She nodded at Arkady. “We need to get you a US phone first thing in the morning. But for now, yeah, bed for you.”

  Friday night he texted Natalya on his way home from work to let her know he could meet Arkady at the Gull in an hour. That gave him time for a quick shower and to change out of his uniform. Part of changing his clothes was habit—old rules of not wearing utilities off base—but he also plain hated the fact that everyone and their grandmother seemed to have a need to talk to him when he was wearing a uniform. Any uniform. It was the weirdest thing. The security company he worked for was a private one, but the uniform seemed to make him public property in people’s eyes. Made his skin crawl.

  The days were warm enough, but the nights could get chilly, so he went with jeans and a T-shirt, and threw an old canvas jacket over that. Plus it gave him a place to stick his keys and wallet.

  He walked over, as always consciously striving for a natural gait. It didn’t take as much concentration as it used to, but he doubted walking would ever feel as natural again as it was supposed to.

  He was early and the first one to arrive. Business was practically nonexistent: one guy at the bar, a couple of out-of-place tourists at one of the tables on the right. Jason picked a table on the left.

  Eventually the goal would be to be seen together, maybe. But for now he only wanted to test the waters. If things worked out, they’d have to meet at more popular, more public places than this little hole-in-the-wall. But as long as they were laying out the parameters of what would basically mean screwing over immigration, he was just dandy with a tad more privacy. The mission was to find out as much as he could about what kind of man Arkady was. So he’d watch and listen. Most guys loved to talk about themselves. In fact, letting them talk wasn’t as much the problem as getting them to shut up again at some point. He was good at listening and making people talk to him.

  Arkady showed up ten minutes later. Tan chinos and a black T-shirt. Classy. Natalya must not have briefed him about the nature of the dive they were meeting in. He was clean-shaven and smelled faintly of cigarettes when he bent down to shake Jason’s hand.

  He leaned in so close, that for a second Jason was sure Arkady was going to kiss him. Maybe it was a Russian thing. Different ideas about personal space.

  But Arkady merely asked, “So, what does a guy typically drink around here?”

  Jason shrugged. “Beer.” He nodded at the bar. “Only one on tap. You go get it, pay for it, and find a seat or stay at the bar.”

  Arkady frowned. “You want me to stay at the bar?”

  “No. Typically. Why would I want you to stay at the bar?”

  Now it was Arkady’s turn to shrug. He half straightened, but then seemed to change his mind. He pushed his chin out. “Because I’m gay?”

  Jason laughed. “Getting things out of the way early, are we?” He ticked it off on his thumb and index. “One: I don’t want you to stay at the bar. Two: you being gay does not stop me from drinking with you. So, save yourself the attitude, go get yourself a beer, and sit your gay ass down in that chair.”

  He pointed at the chair for emphasis.

  Arkady nodded. “Point taken.” He half turned, then looked back. “I take it you’re not, then?”

  “What, gay? No, I’m not. Does that change your plans?”

  “No. In fact, it’s probably easier that way.” Then he finally turned and went over to the bar.

  Jason watched him, because he didn’t have anything better to do. He felt a little like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, because there was some weird knot in his insides that he didn’t like. But it was definitely not about objecting to having a beer with the man. So that was a relief. At least he didn’t totally fail at humanity.

  But still. Something about Arkady threw him off-kilter, and that bugged him. Because he couldn’t figure out what or why.

  When Arkady came back, he set his glass on the table and installed himself on the rickety chair, leaning back and stretching his legs out, until Jason thought the chair would split under the strain.

  Arkady folded his arms across his chest. Not a good sign. He was still on the defensive, then. Not that Jason was surprised. From what Natalya had told him, Arkady hadn’t exactly lived a charmed life in Russia. He was probably more used to wary alertness than peace and comfort.

  Jason raised his glass. “Fuck homophobia,” he said deliberately.

  Arkady raised one eyebrow, then he laughed and mirrored the gesture. “I’ll gladly drink to that.”

  They were silent for a minute, then Jason said softly, “Tell me about yourself. Who is Arkady Izmaylov?”

  “Arkady Nikolayevich Izmaylov.” That seemed important to him. But after that quick rejoinder, he stalled, then shrugged. “Not much to tell. Born not quite thirty years ago in a town between Moscow and Petersburg you’ve likely never heard of. Studied, then taught Russian and English lit at Petersburg U, until they fired me because I’m gay.” He paused and stared into his beer.

  A lit prof? That was a surprise. “Natalya said you worked as an electrician.”

  “Yeah, my cousin has an installation and repair shop. I worked there now and then as a kid and as a student. When I got laid off, he offered me a job. He’s a good guy, Misha.”

  Jason didn’t comment, just kept looking expectantly over the rim of his glass as he took a sip, watching Arkady’s eyes slowly crinkle at the corners as he gave back stare for stare. Then a smile tugged at the corners of Arkady’s mouth and grew into an I-know-what-you’re-doing grin. “Let me guess,” he said. “That wasn’t enough. What do you want to hear?”

  So much for it being easy to make other men talk. Jason kept his expression carefully blank. Bad enough that his game had been recognized and called. He didn’t need Arkady to know that that grin was rattling him. Especially since he didn’t know why.

  They were having a little pissing contest. What of it? He’d been having those since he could walk, and he’d been called on them a million times. There was nothing sharkish or threatening about the man’s grin. If anything, it was good-natured. It said, I don’t mind. There was zero reason to be rattled. “What do you want to tell me?”

  Again that quick grin, but then Arkady grew serious. “Fair enough. I am asking rather a lot of you.”

  Jason had to stop himself from protesting that no, Arkady wasn’t asking that much, because he was. He was asking Jason to marry him. Only on paper, but it wasn’t quite that easy if they wanted to get away with it. They would have to make it believable. The more Jason knew about the Russian, the better. For both of them.

  Arkady was staring over Jason’s shoulder, maybe at the window, though his thoughts seemed to be far away. “We used to go to the dacha every summer when I was a kid.” He looked at Jason. “You know, like a cottage? Summer house?” He laughed. “Don’t get any grand ideas, though. We aren’t talking much better than a wooden shack here: no running water, no electricity. My parents, Tasha and me, our cousin Misha and his parents—his dad and mine are brothers. Two rooms. The girls would get the bedroom, and us guys would take the great room. My uncle always got the sofa, because he’s the oldest. The rest of us slept on the floor. We’d bring cans and some bread, and otherwise fished and hunted for meat. We’d hunt rabbits with our bare hands, Tasha and I. Just for the hell of it. Never expected to catch one. Only, I did once, and didn’t know what to do next. Soft little thing, heart beating like a drum against my hands. I think I was as terrified as the rabbit. Scratched me up pretty bad until Tasha took it from me and broke its neck. Then she threw up in the bushes. We delivered it to my mother for the
table and never talked about it again.” After all those years he still looked a bit green around the gills at the memory.

  He emptied his glass and went to get a new one. He came back with a beer for Jason as well. “What about you?”

  Jason had expected the question, had thought about what to say. “Military family. Both of my parents were soldiers.”

  “Were?”

  “My father still is. My mother is dead. I was raised by my grandparents. Grandpa had already been a soldier. Korea. I signed up out of high school. Served a couple of years, got blown up and sent home, got a job.” He said it the same way Arkady had said he’d been fired for being gay. No big deal. Not much of a story. The way honest men tell lies.

  “Your parents were in the Gulf?”

  Jason nodded, then gave Arkady a level stare. “And Afghanistan.”

  Arkady threw up both hands in a gesture of peace. “Hey, I’m too young to have been in Afghanistan. Or are you afraid this is a my-parents-fought-against-your-parents thing? I doubt it. No career soldiers in my family. All strictly conscripts.” He showed his teeth, then studied his knuckles. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think either of our countries deserves a medal for that war.” He looked at Jason from under his brows, a hard-to-read stare. Challenge? Defensive? Whatever, Jason didn’t feel like talking about either the US or his own involvement in any war.

  Before he’d decided on an answer, Arkady leaned toward him and said quietly, “Listen. I’m not planning to make your life difficult or take up a lot of space. All I need is a piece of paper. We draw up the application, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

  Seriously? Jason felt his eyebrow shoot up. “Half-assed planning, Izmaylov.” He also leaned forward. Like two dogs in a pit. But their hands were almost touching.

  And why was he noticing that?

  “They check that shit. You can’t afford to be sent back to Russia, and I can’t afford to go to jail. So, we’ll do this properly or not at all.”

  At the mention of jail, Arkady tilted his head to the side, speculation and open curiosity warring in his face. “Why exactly are you doing this?”

  Jason leaned back. “I need the money.”

  “You haven’t mentioned the money. Not once.”

  “Why would I? I hadn’t said yes yet.”

  “And now you have?” Arkady’s eyes had grown intent, and he was leaning forward even more, as if he were trying to follow Jason, stay on his heels.

  It gave Jason pause. Had he just said yes? Was he being a fool? He still had so many questions, and not a few doubts. But what choice did he have, really? He did need the money. Only it wasn’t that. Getting people out of tight spots was what he did, who he was. The only thing he’d ever been good at. There was no way he’d send Arkady packing, back to Russia where homosexuals were hunted like rats.

  He’d never left anyone behind. Couldn’t if he tried. He knew left behind; it was etched into his DNA. No way could he do that to someone else. He’d paid half a leg for that inability already. He briefly wondered what it would cost him now.

  Arkady hadn’t moved a muscle. He was gripping the edge of the table hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.

  Jason gave himself another heartbeat to reconsider, to abort the mission. Then he said, “I guess I have.”

  The pavement still reflected the heat of the day when they left the pub, but a breeze from the ocean promised a cool night ahead. Jason shoved both hands into his jacket pockets. He turned to Arkady to make a remark about it looking like rain, but swallowed it when he noticed the Russian squaring his shoulders.

  He instinctively followed Arkady’s gaze to a group of five men about to cross the road in their direction. Had they been spotted? And why the hell was he even asking himself that? Apparently Arkady’s skittishness was contagious. Wait, was that Tommy Hawkins? He knew those guys. Two of them worked security on set; they talked too much, gossiped even, but harmless stuff. Gossips, though . . . he could use that. Since he’d made up his mind to fake a relationship, the time to spread the word was now.

  He quickly scanned the area, then pulled Arkady into the doorway behind them—out of the way enough to make it seem like he was trying for privacy, but perfectly visible under the porch light. With any luck, this would look intimate enough from across the road, and if he knew his colleagues well, by Monday it would be all over the studio that they were a couple.

  Bracing himself with one arm against the doorjamb, he slipped the other hand around Arkady’s neck and bent his head to whisper, “Just play along for a minute,” against Arkady’s ear.

  Arkady was standing with his back to the door, but even so, Jason felt his recoil. He was about to straighten up and apologize, when Arkady suddenly relaxed, then pulled Jason against him in a bear hug and kissed him full on the lips.

  What the— Jason’s brain mirrored Arkady’s recoil, but that recoil never made it into action. Apparently his body had completely different ideas about that kiss. Like kissing back, for one. Like pressing into Arkady’s body. Like shutting down Jason’s brain and pumping the blood to where it was really needed.

  The cool breeze raised the little hairs on Jason’s neck. Or maybe that was Arkady’s hand moving up under Jason’s shirt, fingertips skittering along his spine, leaving a trail of fire.

  There was no movement except forward, no time but now, and no room for thought outside of that single-minded pursuit of Arkady’s lips. Jason tried to make out taste or texture, but lost himself in a barrage of sensations. His hand, loosely curled against Arkady’s throat, picked up a rumble that hummed up against his lips in a low moan.

  He barely registered the wolf whistle behind him, but Arkady’s body instantly turned to stone.

  Jason turned, trying to suppress the snarl, trying to kick his brain into gear. The chorus of whistles, jeers, and recommendations to get a room didn’t sound aggressive, though. Tommy Hawkins and friends merely couldn’t keep from commenting as they moved past. A last lewd gesture, then they were gone, the door of the pub swinging closed behind them.

  Arkady’s eyes shone like silver under the lamplight, hands pressed against the door like he was ready to fling himself forward. Whether for fight or flight, Jason had no idea.

  “Shhh . . .” Jason said softly, and laid a calming hand against Arkady’s chest. Heartbeat like thunder against his palm. “Relax. It’s fine.”

  “Pizdets.”

  Jason raised his hands in an international I-don’t-understand gesture. “I’m sorry, I . . .”

  But Arkady didn’t elaborate, and his voice had been so inflectionless that he could have said anything. I’m okay, or Shit, or You bastard.

  “I’m really sorry,” Jason said again. “I was only going to pretend. I never meant to . . .” What? Kiss you? Scare you? He shook his head. “Let’s get out of here.”

  But Arkady didn’t move. “What the fucking fuck was that?” he hissed.

  Instant boom, a voice in Jason’s brain provided gleefully. Which wasn’t an answer.

  What the fuck had just happened?

  Boom.

  Shut up.

  He had to admit that he felt a bit shaken. But if there had been any boom, it had been the surprise of meeting another man’s lips. Surely.

  You didn’t stop at the lips.

  Whatever. He didn’t have time to dwell on that now. He had a mission to plan, and he knew from long practice and experience how to push any unrelated thoughts to the back of his mind for now.

  Arkady hadn’t moved a muscle, was very obviously still waiting for an answer. Jason nodded toward the pub. “Guys I work with. If we want news of us having hooked up to spread as fast as possible, to give our story some credibility, that was probably the quickest way to do it. By tomorrow evening, it’ll be the newest studio gossip.”

  Arkady’s unrelenting stare was making him fidgety. And defensive. So, maybe he was avoiding the issue here, but he didn’t have an answer for that, did he? He shrugged. “
Hey, I saw an opportunity and took it. I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. That kiss took me as much by surprise as it did you. Can we move on now? As I see it, you come home with me—you can have the couch—and we make a big production of entering and leaving the house together, hoping one of the neighbors will see us.”

  Arkady frowned. “Are you saying that immigration, or whoever, is going to ask your neighbors about us?”

  “Friends, family, neighbors. Don’t you watch any movies?”

  “Not the right ones, apparently.”

  Jason felt himself blush, but he wasn’t going to apologize for watching chick flicks. That was nobody’s business but his own.

  “And you’re telling me you’re okay with that . . . gossip?” There was still a wired tension in Arkady’s shoulders, but he was slowly starting to sound more like himself.

  “If I wasn’t, why the fuck would I have agreed with your plan? Your sister’s plan. Whatever.”

  Arkady shrugged, but didn’t answer. He still seemed on guard. At least he was finally coming out of his shock freeze.

  “Well, do you have a better plan?”

  Arkady shook his head, then pushed himself off the door. “Lead the way, then.”

  The wind carried that particular blend of briny and clean scent one only got from the ocean. Arkady sucked it deeply into his lungs and waited for the jitters to subside.

  He knew how to deal with the adrenaline rush of being cornered, that hot apprehension of getting hurt, maybe killed. And he knew how to ride that other rush, the one that came with roaming hands and spicy kisses. But getting blindsided by both at the same time had rocked him harder than he cared for. He threw a glance at Jason’s profile, a sharp contrast of deep shadow and the actinic glare of the streetlight.

  He couldn’t believe he was going home with a stranger. Had the circumstances been the least bit different, he would have told Jason to stuff it. Thoughts flew like sparks, trying to light a fire Arkady didn’t want lit. His brain could barely keep up with worrying about everything worth worrying over. Like, what kind of man married another man for money, if he wasn’t even gay? Maybe Tasha was right, and it didn’t really matter; the circumstances were what they were. Truth was, Arkady couldn’t afford to piss Jason off for nothing. Not unless he wanted to call the whole thing off. That was the only reason he’d agreed to come along now; the kiss had nothing to do with that. He needed Jason, but he didn’t have to trust him, or like him. No matter how hot he was. Or how likable.