Operation Green Card Page 8

  Jason nodded, then set off along the edge of the clearing, scanning the ground. He bent over and picked up a few pieces of wood, which he sat on top of the log. Arkady waited until he’d made it back to his side, then checked down the barrel once more. Damn, the targets looked awfully small from here. “Anything I need to know about the gun?”

  Jason took it from him, aimed, and fired. The leftmost piece of wood disintegrated in a spray of splinters.

  “Nope,” he said, and handed the gun back. Great. No pressure.

  “Anything back there?”

  Jason grunted, whether annoyed or satisfied, Arkady couldn’t tell. “Just a few yards of trees, a drop, and ocean.”

  Arkady reloaded and tried to remember every rule his dad and uncle and later the army had pounded into his head. He pressed the stock against his shoulder, wriggling a little until it felt comfortable, exhaled, aimed, and fired before his arm could get tired. The second piece of wood did a summersault off the log along with a few splinters of the log itself.

  “Too low,” Arkady commented on his own shot.

  “Not bad. Not bad at all. You’ll do.”

  For some weird reason that praise warmed him from the inside out, even though he didn’t have the foggiest idea what he’d do for.

  “Finish the row. Get your feel for it back,” Jason suggested.

  Three pieces remained on the log. On his second shot, Arkady overcompensated and missed the target completely, but pulverized it with the next shot. The last two disappeared on the first try each.

  Jason nodded. “Let’s make it a bit more interesting.” He pulled the backpack toward himself and dug a paper bag out of one of the side pockets. He opened it and let Arkady take a peek. Chestnuts. Interesting indeed. Jason set ten of them on the log. Five on each side. Looked like they were taking turns, then.

  “Standing?” he asked when Jason came back.

  “You can kneel if you want to. I don’t mind. I don’t kneel well.”

  Standing, then. “You first.” That would give him an idea of what he was up against.

  Jason unpacked the other rifle—also old, worn, a different make than the one he’d given Arkady—checked it over, and loaded it with a stripper clip. Then he stood at a slight angle, brought the gun up against his shoulder, and fired, almost without aiming, five times in a steady sequence. One chestnut remained on his side of the log.

  So at least it was interesting for him too, and not just a game to keep Arkady happy. Good. He might actually have a chance at this. He reloaded with the stripper clip Jason gave him, shifted his own stance a little, and brought the gun up to his shoulder. Exhale, aim, fire. Don’t worry about the shot going wide, just keep aiming and firing down the line. He managed to hit two of his chestnuts, and turned back toward Jason with a shrug and a grin he found mirrored on Jason’s face.

  “Haven’t shot in years, huh? You’re going to make me feel bad.”

  Echoes of memories floated up from the depth of his mind. Of long summer days in the woods. Of playing this game against Misha and Tasha.

  He’d been afraid this might bring back his time in the army and all the baggage associated with that, but it hadn’t. It had brought back way better things. He felt good. Jason was clearly the better shot, but Arkady still didn’t suck.

  “Best of three?” Jason suggested, and Arkady nodded. He expected to lose all of them, but now he was sure he could give Jason a run for his money. “What are we shooting for?” he asked, and thought, A kiss.

  He turned and looked at the log to hide the flush he could feel blooming in his cheeks.

  Jason grunted. “Winner gets first shower.”

  “You’re so on,” Arkady said, laughing.

  He did end up losing all three rounds, by an only slightly better margin than the first one. Jason packed up the rifles, then grabbed the backpack and waved it at the log. “Makes a good seat for lunch,” he said.

  Arkady followed him, marveling at the fact that even on this difficult terrain, he’d never be able to tell that Jason wasn’t walking on his own two legs.

  “You’re good with that, you know?”

  Jason half turned. “I had a lot of practice,” he said, and Arkady realized he was still talking about shooting.

  “Your leg, I mean.”

  Jason flinched. His voice dropped half a register when he repeated, “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

  Arkady knew it was a difficult topic, but if they continued to dance around it, it was sure to trip them up sooner rather than later. “Still.”

  “Better men have returned to active service after losing a leg.” Jason had stopped in front of the log without turning. His tone was even, but his neck muscles stood out like bridge trusses.

  Arkady took a deep breath and plowed ahead, hoping his torn-apart body wouldn’t be found in the woods later by a chance hiker. “Better how?”

  Jason’s hand curled hard around the strap of the backpack. “Let’s eat,” he said, in that same even tone. Then he turned, slowly lowered himself onto the log, and stretched his left leg out in front of him.

  Arkady hesitated, watched him dig the thermos and sandwiches out. All Jason’s signals were telling him to back the fuck off, but he might not get a chance again.

  “You’re dealing with an appalling injury better than I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a few.”

  Jason silently held out a sandwich until Arkady took it, then pointed at the log. “Sit. Eat.”

  They ate in silence, passing the thermos cup back and forth. Slowly the birdsong started back up around them; the noon sun hit the clearing from directly above, sending up a fragrant wave from the needle- and leaf-strewn ground. Even in the dappled shade at the edge, the heat was enough to make Arkady comfortably drowsy. He played a little game with himself: every time Jason passed him the cup, he’d turn it to drink from the spot where Jason’s lips had touched it. Close enough to a kiss to send tiny delicious shivers down his spine. He felt like leaning against the big body by his side, just to relax in the flickering sunlight, but he doubted he’d be able to sell that as practicing his role. Plus he wasn’t done prying. “Better how?”

  “Huh?” Jason sounded as drowsy as Arkady felt.

  “You said, ‘Better men have returned to active service after losing a leg.’ How were they supposedly better?”

  Jason took a deep breath, and Arkady held his, though he suddenly realized, he wasn’t really expecting Jason to get in his face or slug him, because that simply wasn’t the type of man he was. “Well?”

  “Arkady—”

  “I know, I know. You don’t want to talk about it, but think! Isn’t that exactly the sort of thing I should know about you if I’m asked?”

  Jason crumpled up the sandwich wrappers and stashed them, then he tapped the upside-down cup against the trunk they were sitting on. Tap-tap, tap-tap, pause, tap-tap, tap.

  “Point,” Jason finally conceded. He screwed the cup back on the thermos and shoved it into the backpack. “Better able to deal with how it messes up your head, I guess.”

  “The loss?” Arkady asked carefully. He wasn’t sure what Jason meant, and wanted to keep him talking.

  “Phantom pain.” Jason stared at his outstretched leg. “It’s much easier now. The mirror helps. And physio, of course. But at the time when I still had the chance to get back into active service, it was crippling enough that everyone was convinced I’d never work again. So I took my discharge.” He barked a laugh. “You wouldn’t believe how badly something can hurt that isn’t even there anymore.”

  “I’ve heard about it. How does the mirror help?”

  Jason shrugged. “Mirror therapy. You hide the crap leg behind a mirror that shows you the good one. It kinda tricks the brain into seeing the missing limb as still there. I have no clue why that stops the pain, but sometimes it does.”

  “Pretty cool. I had no idea. Weird things, brains, huh?” When Jason didn’t say anything, Arkady went on. “Why did you want to go bac
k into active service?” It was the one thing that didn’t make sense to him. He could barely understand why anyone would want to be a soldier in the first place, though he supposed that Jason’s family history had something to do with that.

  Jason threw him a look that said he was asking the obvious. “It’s what I do,” he said. “It’s my job.”

  “You loved it, then?”

  Jason paused for a moment. “I don’t know about love. It was a good job. I was good at it. Only thing I was ever good at. Only thing I know, in fact. I signed up out of high school.” He shrugged. “There isn’t anything else.”

  It was said matter-of-factly, definitely not fishing for compliments. But it was so manifestly untrue that Arkady couldn’t help himself. “What about your job now?”

  Another one of those joyless barks. “Staring at TV screens all day long? That’s not a job; it’s a pain in the ass. Literally.”

  Arkady laughed. “I can believe the last one. But from what your colleagues say, you’re good at that too. Reading people? Drawing the right conclusions? I’d already noticed how good you are at quickly analyzing situations. It’s a valuable ability.”

  “Yeah, right, earns me minimum wage every day.”

  “Why do you stick with that?”

  “Are you fucking with me? Look at me. I’m lucky they hired me in the first place. Who hires a cripple?”

  “Except you’re not.”

  “Huh?”

  “Crippled. You’re not crippled.” When Jason opened his mouth, Arkady pointed at his outstretched leg. “Yeah, I’m not blind, but think about it. So, maybe you can’t jump out of a plane, maybe you won’t win a race. Mind you, I’m not betting on either, but even if you can’t, there aren’t many men who can, and most of them have perfectly satisfying jobs.”

  Jason snorted.

  “What?”

  “Which part of ‘I joined out of high school and didn’t learn anything else’ did you miss?”

  “It’s never too late.”

  “Dude. I’m the guy marrying for money, remember? I can’t afford time off to go to school. And I couldn’t pay for school if I did.”

  “Don’t go to school, then. Work as a security adviser. I’m willing to bet you can walk into a building, scan the lobby for five minutes, and tell them all the ways in which their security sucks.”

  “So?” It came out mostly defensive, but there was a hint of curiosity too.

  With a smug grin, Arkady said, “People pay good money for that.”

  “Maybe. From someone competent.”

  “Seriously? Man, you exude competence. I mean look at yourself. You’re quiet, no-nonsense competence on legs.”

  “Plural?” Jason deadpanned.

  “Sorry. But I mean it. You’re exactly the kind of guy I’d—” Arkady’s heart beat in his throat when he realized he’d been about to say marry. As in for real. The sudden adrenaline rush made him dizzy.

  Jason was watching at him, head tilted to one side, a bemused expression on his face.

  “Hire,” Arkady spit out. “If I was a company. With a security issue. You’re exactly the guy I’d hire.”

  Jason nodded slowly. Arkady was sure his lapse hadn’t gone unnoticed. Not with Jason it hadn’t. But he wasn’t sure how badly he’d been busted.

  “Appreciate the endorsement.” Jason got up and stretched. “I’ll think about it.” His tone said that wasn’t bloody likely.

  Arkady gazed at that powerful figure limned in sunlight, and shook his head. “I don’t get you. Everyone around you believes in you, even my sister—and Tasha’s really hard to impress. Why can’t you believe in you? What happened?” He couldn’t see Jason’s face against the light, but there was no mistaking the sudden stillness. One heartbeat, two.

  “I guess we’re done here.” Jason picked up the backpack and his gun. “Or do you want to shoot some more?”

  Clearly the, We’re done here, was not about target practice. “I’m good,” Arkady said. “For now.” He wasn’t talking about target practice either.

  They walked in silence back to the car the way they had come, with Jason in the lead. Yup, quiet competence summed it up rather nicely. The kind of man you wanted to have your back. Or share your life.

  Better take it easy, Kashka. Listen to your big sister, and don’t get your heart broken.

  Jason didn’t see Arkady for the rest of the week, not awake, anyway. Arkady had found a cheap rental car and was usually still out when Jason came home, and still asleep, like now, when Jason left for work.

  But the day in the woods stuck in Jason’s bones. He didn’t blame Arkady for asking about his leg. Arkady was right: it was exactly the sort of thing that would come up. But the questions had been hard to answer. They always were. The leg was his to deal with, and dealing with it was more complicated than he could find words to explain. Weirdly though, he’d found that he wanted to explain all of that to Arkady.

  Both hands wrapped around his coffee mug and both elbows on the breakfast bar, he stood contemplating the tousled head above one flung-out arm, long fingers relaxed in sleep. Under the blankets, Arkady had one knee drawn up, but the other foot stuck out over the end of the couch. Guilt unfurled in Jason’s chest when he thought about the king-sized bed upstairs. But he wasn’t ready to go there. Sleeping next to a man wasn’t even the issue, though he wasn’t sure how much sleep he’d be getting next to this particular man. But dropping his pants in front of anyone, man or woman? Or worse, handling the prosthesis? Skin care? No, he was definitely not ready to go there.

  At least Arkady hadn’t pitied him. But calling him competent? Competent, my ass. Jason didn’t know the first thing about approaching anyone to do any sort of business with. He’d barely managed to get his application together for the job he had now. Security advisor might sound enticing, but it was way out of his league. And damn Arkady for putting the idea in his head and making him think about it.

  He finished his coffee and grabbed his gear, careful not to wake the sleeping prince on the couch.

  That night, when he came home, Arkady’s car was in the drive. It’d been a long-ass day, and he’d been looking forward to conking out on the couch with a beer and a movie, but for some weird reason, seeing the car made him feel less tired.

  Male voices from the kitchen greeted him when he opened the door. That explained the blue Honda he’d passed at the curb.

  Arkady looked up and smiled when Jason stepped into the kitchen, and that smile, too, did unreasonable things to his insides.

  The other man was short and wiry with a well-groomed beard and a way of moving that immediately registered as gay in Jason’s brain. He had to wrestle down a surprising need to snarl as he realized that Arkady apparently had a social life, and who knew what else.

  Both men got up, and Arkady came and hugged him, giving him a significant eyebrow wiggle when he said, “Hi, honey. This is Grigory Petrovich Sidorov. He’s a wedding planner.”

  Jason blinked.

  “Greg will do,” Grigory said when they shook hands.

  But it hadn’t been the name that had made Jason blink. “I’m sure I can remember Grigory.”

  “He’s going to take care of all our wedding plans,” Arkady said, then added with an exaggerated wink only Jason could see, “Isn’t it romantic?”

  “Quite.” That might have come out a little drier than was good for them, because Arkady was obviously giving his visitor a performance. But to say Jason was surprised didn’t do his feelings justice. He felt like he was trying to wrestle a car at full speed through an S curve, while it kept breaking out and skidding sideways.

  “It is going to be quite a challenge, of course.” Grigory’s accent was noticeable, but not heavy. “Since the wedding is in two weeks and you haven’t planned a single thing yet.” His tone and raised eyebrow implied an inconceivable offense.

  Jason shrugged. “We go to the office and sign papers. What’s to plan?”

  Grigory turned to Arkady
with an air of disbelief. “You were not joking.”

  Arkady’s answer was a helpless shrug.

  “What?” Jason snapped. The feeling that they were ganging up on him was hard to tamp down. He needed to get a grip, though, because Arkady, at least, was clearly playing a role. A role Jason had suggested he play. He’s not mine.

  The thought was like a dagger in the dark, and Jason quickly slammed a lid on it and all its baggage. Of course Arkady wasn’t his. That had nothing to do with anything. It had simply been a long day, and this whole wedding gig had taken him by surprise.

  Grigory turned back to him and ticked an item off his thumb. “One. Suits. Arkady here might get away with wearing one off the rack, though he’s tall. But you, my friend . . .” He walked around Jason, shaking his head with an air of regret. “I’m afraid there’s no way.”

  Before Jason could even open his mouth to say he had a perfectly good suit in his closet that he’d only worn twice at funerals, Grigory ticked off the next item on his index. “Two. Venue. Unless either of you can pull some serious strings, you’re going to have your wedding in a third-class burger joint.”

  Jason gathered that was an offense in line with simply signing papers wherever one went to sign these things.

  “Three. Catering. With that I might be able to help, though I’ll have you know that I’ll be calling in some serious favors.”

  It began to dawn on Jason that they were not talking about an intimate service here.

  “Four. Officiant. Everyone wants to get married in the summer, so, again, I’m going to have to give you a hand. Which reminds me, have you written your vows?”

  Jason narrowly avoided a spit take.

  “No, we’d like to go with the traditional wording as far as possible,” Arkady cut in smoothly, and Jason could have kissed him, in a perfectly not wedding-related sort of way.

  “A traditional wedding, got it.” Grigory had immediately taken up the ball and was running amok with it. “Ribbons and flowers, a natural look, nothing too cutesy. Three-tiered wedding cake.” He threw another one of his accusatory glances at Jason. “In two weeks.”