looking up from his beer. “You’re not just a cop, are you?”
The silence that greeted his declaration raised his stare.
Charlie, his friend of five years, studied him with a look that revealed nothing. Nothing.
With an almost imperceptible coiling of his muscles, Charlie arched an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”
Ryan snorted. “You’ve got that whole menacing, mysterious vibe going on. And you seem to know…stuff you shouldn’t.”
Charlie’s biceps flexed beneath the sleeve of his uniform. His stare didn’t waver from Ryan’s.
Ryan laughed, the sound dry. “Figured as much. Whatever you are, I don’t really care. What I want to know is what are odds of Jeremy Craig ever being elected prime minister?”
Charlie’s eyebrows shot up his face. The tension left his body. He laughed. “Bloody hell, mate. How many of those have you had to drink already?”
Ryan didn’t laugh in return. “This is my first of the day.”
Charlie flicked Ryan’s untouched beer a look before giving him a frown. “Okay, I think I’m missing something. What’s going on? Are you planning on making some kind of political statement? Going to abduct the minister for the arts and culture?”
Ryan shook his head. “Forget it,” he answered. What had he been thinking? That Charlie—who did seem to have a finger on the pulse of the world in ways no normal Outback cop should—would be able to tell him Jeremy Craig was a mere week away from outing himself? Was Ryan that bamboozled by lust for the man that common sense and rational thought had abandoned him? “It’s nothing.”
Once again, silence stretched across the table. Charlie studied him, the inspection intense. Contemplative.
Perceptive.
“Do you want to fuck him?”
The question, uttered with calm curiosity, sent Ryan’s heart smashing up into his throat. He sucked in a breath, his stare locked on his friend’s. “What?” He tried for a mocking laugh. “Are you crazy? I don’t want to…”
He stopped. Swiped at his mouth.
There was no point in lying to Charlie. Only idiots thought they could bullshit the man.
The tension fell back over Charlie. “Does he know?”
A humourless grunt tore from Ryan.
Apparently, that was the only answer Charlie needed. Letting out a soft chuckle, he relaxed back in his seat. “Ah, mate. You really know how to make life tough on yourself, you know that, right?”
With a shaky sigh, Ryan twisted his beer glass on its coaster. “Seems that way.”
“Give me an hour.”
Ryan’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”
Charlie smiled at him, the expression more sharkish and secretive than any Ryan had seen him give. “Give me an hour to find anything that may be worth knowing about the minister.”
“Are you serious?” Ryan shook his head. “I was being ridiculous when I asked. Even if there was a chance of him…of us…who he is means there’s no… No. I don’t want you to do anything. Jesus, I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation. Just who the fuck are you, Baynard?”
Charlie settled deeper into his seat, his expression enigmatic. “Your friend. That simple.”
Ryan frowned and then removed his hat, scratched at his head and tossed his hat on the table beside his beer. “This time yesterday morning, the world made sense to me. Now, I’m lusting after a man I shouldn’t be and one of my mates may or may not be some kind of…what? Spy? Secret agent?” He narrowed his eyes at Charlie. “Do you work for ASIO or something?”
Charlie threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah. I’m a spy. CIA, in fact. My real name’s Chuck.” A broad American accent replaced his natural Australian one. “And I’m here on a secret mission from the president.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Spy or not, your sense of humour is still woeful.”
Charlie pouted. The expression looked quite ridiculous on a face so obviously created to convey threatening menace. “Oi. That hurt my feelings.”
Ryan laughed,
The silence that greeted his declaration raised his stare.
Charlie, his friend of five years, studied him with a look that revealed nothing. Nothing.
With an almost imperceptible coiling of his muscles, Charlie arched an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”
Ryan snorted. “You’ve got that whole menacing, mysterious vibe going on. And you seem to know…stuff you shouldn’t.”
Charlie’s biceps flexed beneath the sleeve of his uniform. His stare didn’t waver from Ryan’s.
Ryan laughed, the sound dry. “Figured as much. Whatever you are, I don’t really care. What I want to know is what are odds of Jeremy Craig ever being elected prime minister?”
Charlie’s eyebrows shot up his face. The tension left his body. He laughed. “Bloody hell, mate. How many of those have you had to drink already?”
Ryan didn’t laugh in return. “This is my first of the day.”
Charlie flicked Ryan’s untouched beer a look before giving him a frown. “Okay, I think I’m missing something. What’s going on? Are you planning on making some kind of political statement? Going to abduct the minister for the arts and culture?”
Ryan shook his head. “Forget it,” he answered. What had he been thinking? That Charlie—who did seem to have a finger on the pulse of the world in ways no normal Outback cop should—would be able to tell him Jeremy Craig was a mere week away from outing himself? Was Ryan that bamboozled by lust for the man that common sense and rational thought had abandoned him? “It’s nothing.”
Once again, silence stretched across the table. Charlie studied him, the inspection intense. Contemplative.
Perceptive.
“Do you want to fuck him?”
The question, uttered with calm curiosity, sent Ryan’s heart smashing up into his throat. He sucked in a breath, his stare locked on his friend’s. “What?” He tried for a mocking laugh. “Are you crazy? I don’t want to…”
He stopped. Swiped at his mouth.
There was no point in lying to Charlie. Only idiots thought they could bullshit the man.
The tension fell back over Charlie. “Does he know?”
A humourless grunt tore from Ryan.
Apparently, that was the only answer Charlie needed. Letting out a soft chuckle, he relaxed back in his seat. “Ah, mate. You really know how to make life tough on yourself, you know that, right?”
With a shaky sigh, Ryan twisted his beer glass on its coaster. “Seems that way.”
“Give me an hour.”
Ryan’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”
Charlie smiled at him, the expression more sharkish and secretive than any Ryan had seen him give. “Give me an hour to find anything that may be worth knowing about the minister.”
“Are you serious?” Ryan shook his head. “I was being ridiculous when I asked. Even if there was a chance of him…of us…who he is means there’s no… No. I don’t want you to do anything. Jesus, I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation. Just who the fuck are you, Baynard?”
Charlie settled deeper into his seat, his expression enigmatic. “Your friend. That simple.”
Ryan frowned and then removed his hat, scratched at his head and tossed his hat on the table beside his beer. “This time yesterday morning, the world made sense to me. Now, I’m lusting after a man I shouldn’t be and one of my mates may or may not be some kind of…what? Spy? Secret agent?” He narrowed his eyes at Charlie. “Do you work for ASIO or something?”
Charlie threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah. I’m a spy. CIA, in fact. My real name’s Chuck.” A broad American accent replaced his natural Australian one. “And I’m here on a secret mission from the president.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Spy or not, your sense of humour is still woeful.”
Charlie pouted. The expression looked quite ridiculous on a face so obviously created to convey threatening menace. “Oi. That hurt my feelings.”
Ryan laughed,
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