Page 33 of Remote Access

“Why do you insist on playing that game when you know you’ll lose?” Quincy looked at Lane. “The man is a sniper and can’t aim for shit.”

“Um…how does that work exactly?” Lane, wrestling with too many inner demons in that moment, desperately wanted the break.

Isaac snorted. “In the real world, he can hit any target, no matter how small. In video games, he’s couldn’t hit a wall with a rocket launcher.”

“Oh, I’ll show you.” Gareth set the game up.

“I’m just going to keep going through the paperwork,” Lane said as he grabbed the stack Gareth had been going through. He didn’t really plan to, but he didn’t feel like making small talk.

“Me too,” Isaac said. “After I grab a beer.” He stood and walked into the small kitchen.

Lane smiled when Isaac brought him one as well and they settled back on the couch. Sure enough, Gareth proved he couldn’t hit shit with a gun in the game, but when he brought out the proximity mines and started blowing Quincy up right and left, the laughter in the room helped ease his heart. Just a bit.

Two hours later, he stood in the small bedroom with Quincy, surprised the man wanted to share a bed with him with his friends there. “This is a tiny bed. Sure you want to share it?” Lane frowned at the undersized full bed. “I’m not even sure this is built for someone like you.”

“Shut up and get naked. I’m in the mood for all that sleek skin of yours against me.” Quincy pulled off his T-shirt.

The sight of his wide, muscular chest made Lane’s gut clench and his fingers ache to explore. He slowly tugged off his own shirt, then undid his jeans, leaving them open as he moved around the bed to stand in front of Quincy. He looked up, not sure what he wanted to say, but feeling he should say something. He hadn’t realized quite how lonely his world was until he’d watched Quincy with Isaac and Gareth. “You have good friends.”

Quincy slid his hand around Lane’s waist to splay his fingers on his back. “I do. They liked you.”

“I’m not sure why. I was quiet. Never been in a room full of cops and I have to say, it wasn’t comfortable.”

“They won’t hurt you, Lane.”

“No,” Lane agreed, though inside he felt differently. They wouldn’t turn him in—that he understood—but seeing the close relationship Quincy had with his friends had made him think of his mother even more. The grief was ripping into him and right then, all he wanted was comfort. He wrapped his arms around Quincy and buried his face in his neck as waves of grief swept through him. He’d wanted to hold it off, but it came on so hard and fast, his knees buckled.

“Whoa,” Quincy whispered as he held him. “Hey, you okay?”

But he couldn’t get any words out. All he could think about was his mother’s face over the years, the times he’d disappointed her when he wouldn’t tell her where he’d been.

“Lane?” Quincy pulled him back enough to look into his face but Lane squeezed his eyes shut because it was all he could do to hold the tears back.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice throaty from holding back the sobs gathered there. “It’s just…”

“Your mom.” Quincy pulled him back in, arms strong around him. “Come on. Just let me hold you tonight. You and I could both use a good night’s sleep and with two other cops in the place, we’ll get one.”

Lane nodded and stepped away. He tugged off his jeans but left his boxers on and climbed into the small bed. Just as he thought, Quincy took up most of the space, but it didn’t matter because he pulled Lane mostly on top of him. He felt warm and safe, and so good, Lane’s heart eased a little. He sighed and laid his cheek on Quincy’s chest.

“I keep telling myself I’ll grieve after all this is done,” he whispered.

“You can’t control that sort of thing—you do know that, right?”

“It’s just I feel like I’ll fall into a deep hole and not be able to function once I let all these feelings out. They’re so strong, Quincy. God, she was just so cool. Nothing like the other moms when I was a kid. She always planned to bake and do mom things and we always ended up making huge messes and I don’t know, eating the cookie dough instead of baking it. She once challenged me to a cookie dough eating contest and she beat me, then spent the night sick.” He chuckled. “Didn’t stop us the next time we tried baking. We finally moved to cakes because the batter isn’t as fun to eat.”

“You obviously never had my father’s chocolate cake then.”

Lane propped his chin on Quincy’s chest. “Is he still alive?”

Quincy shook his head and stroked his finger over Lane’s cheekbone. “He died about five years ago. Tractor accident.”

“You said you grew up on a ranch? You didn’t take it over then?”

“Nah. I have two uncles who lived there too and their families run the place. I never wanted that life and I’m not close to any of them, so I hardly ever go back.”

“So, you’re pretty much alone like me.” Lane laid his head back down and let his entire body relax on top of Quincy. “I’m sorry.”

“You won’t be alone forever, Lane.”

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