Page 32 of Code Violation

Nero stared at him for a minute and then began to laugh. Actually laugh. Nero had a deep chuckle that seemed to reach into the darker part of Forrest’s brain and turn it off. His entire body was reacting like he was abruptly tuned into a frequency he’d never experienced before. Forrest gaped at the chuckling, snorting man a few seconds before he also started to snicker. He couldn’t stop himself.

“It’s not funny.” Forrest struggled to get control of himself, but the more he tried the less he could stop himself. When was the last time he’d just laughed? “I make an awful bartender.”

“It is funny, and you are terrible,” Nero agreed while he wheezed and brayed at the same time, making Forrest laugh harder. “I thought I didn’t have good people skills. I, at least, come up with good excuses before running out on guys, not, ‘This mattress is awfully small, see ya, later.’”

He paused to try and get a breath, which looked to be unsuccessful, but he kept going.

“At least I use excuses like ‘Oh, I left my game on pause, and I need to get back to the quest.’ Or ‘There’s a murder from 1965 that I need to help solve.’ Guys love it when I use that one. Like I’m a Jessica Fletcher superhero.” He mimed peering around and smashing his fingers against the keys of an imaginary typewriter.

“That mattress is too damn small!” Forrest protested quietly. “I’m not a tiny guy. I stay over there and I’m gonna need a chiropractor. You haven’t really used getting back to a game as an excuse, have you?”

Those dark eyebrows waggled again. It wasn’t charming. It couldn’t be.

“I guess that’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Damn it, it was fucking adorable. Forrest didn’t know what to do with himself. He never bantered with hookups, and he still wanted to hop over the bar and kiss him. Huffing, he grabbed a pint glass off the shelf, stared at the taps for a second, and then, remembering that he’d ordered it the other day, poured Nero a Tree Hugger IPA. As one does for someone one finds compelling, frustrating, and sexy as hell.

And scary too, a little voice murmured. Because Forrest could see himself breaking his own code with Nero.

“Seriously, have you really used a role-playing game as an excuse?” he asked over his shoulder.

“It was a particularly bad date,” Nero said dryly. “And even a bad D&D campaign was more fun than that guy.”

The laughter started again. It had been several months—god, maybe even a year, not counting last night—since Forrest had been with anyone. At over an hour’s drive away, trips to Olympia may have been hard to fit into his life, but they were much safer. Less chance of running post-hookup into a stranger that he had no intention of ever fucking again. This bantering shit was going to break him.

But maybe this would be okay. Forrest reminded himself that Nero wouldn’t be sticking around once they figured out who’d murdered Ned.

He stopped snickering.

By the time Forrest turned back around, Nero had gotten control of himself too. Somewhat. His laughter having subsided, his shoulders still shook as Nero swiped at his eyes with the cuff of his sweatshirt. Setting the glass down in front of the other man, Forrest turned back and poured a second pint for himself, then set it at the spot next to Nero’s.

Fuck it. Fuck that. Fuck finding out that some poor girls had been murdered and buried up on the mountain where his crazy-ass mother had lived and—while he fucking hoped not—she still might.

He’d just sat down when Magnus returned.

“You’re fired, and Rufus seems all right,” he informed Forrest. “Just shaken up by the news, I think.” Plucking his apron from the bartop, he rewrapped it around his hips and secured it. “I’ll check on him again once Garth gets here.”

After finishing his beer, Forrest considered inviting Nero out to his house—for research only, of course. But he ultimately decided that was too much change too quickly. He didn’t invite strangers into his sanctuary.

But he was considering it. Probably would do it at some point. Fuck.

For his part, Nero promised to call Forrest if he discovered anything.

Forrest scowled at this and narrowed his eyes, hoping Nero got the message that he better damn check in.

“Dude, I pinky-promise I will call you first if I learn anything. No need to try and laser me with your eyes.”

* * *

Forrest hardly noticed his drive back home, distracted by both the news Chief Dear had shared about the remains and images of fucking Nero Vik. Almost fucking. He had a very good imagination.

Passing by Levi Cruz’s place, Forrest pressed on the brakes. Two cars were parked in front of Levi’s house. Forrest recognized Levi’s beat-up Ford but not the late model SUV. Did Levi buy a new car? He should have known, but they hadn’t talked in a while.

Tattered and faded ribbons of all colors had been tied along the fence that ran along the road. They fluttered pathetically in the constant breeze, a testament to Levi’s missing younger sister, Blair. Forrest was sure Levi suspected the worst. He tried to imagine what his life would be like without Lani in it and his breath caught. He couldn’t do it.

It looked to Forrest like the lights in Levi’s house were off. Maybe Levi wasn’t home at all. Maybe he was huddled inside, grieving and yelling at the world. That’s what Forrest would be doing. Had he heard the news already? Dear or Lani had probably alerted him before the announcement. Forrest hoped so.

What did you say to someone whose family member was missing and had been for months? Whose little sister just disappeared off the face of the earth? There was no Hallmark card for that. Deciding against turning into the drive, Forrest continued up the highway another mile.

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