Evenfall (84 page)

He glowered at Sin. "So you know what? I do react defensively. But don't try to act like you wouldn't have a problem with me only ever obsessing on mistakes you make and acting like I never do any myself. You keep trying to tell me I think I know better than you but you're the one who's always lording it over me if I do anything wrong or go my own way. And for the damn record, I wasn't planning to look at every peso. I assumed we were each taking responsibility of half."

Sin made a face, rolling his eyes. "How does any of your dramatic bullshit change the fact that you never take my suggestions into consideration, and always try to assume the mission leader role?"

"This is exactly my point," Boyd said in annoyance. "If something goes wrong, it's my fault because I didn't listen to you. If I have a problem with anything, it's because I'm dramatic or it's bullshit. You won't ever acknowledge anything you do yet I'm expected to bend over backwards kissing your feet and telling you how fucking sorry I am for putting you out for an hour or two. It's aggravating. Especially since I don't always ignore you and I only take the leadership role when shit isn't getting done, yet you conveniently ignore any of those times when you have the chance to throw this argument in my face if I ever do anything even remotely wrong."

"No Boyd, it's dramatic bullshit because that's what it is. I make a statement, and you start ranting about every random theoretical or alleged occurrence you can think of. Most of which is nonsense, anyway. You only take the leadership role when shit isn't getting done? Right," Sin scoffed. "If this is how it's going to be for the next several months, I seriously would have risked termination and opted out."

"So you'd rather die than be around me?" Boyd asked incredulously, jerking back as if he'd just been hit. "That's real fucking nice."

Sin stared at him, gestured vaguely, and then made a disgusted sound. "I'm going back out."

"Go ahead," Boyd growled, turning his back on Sin. His back was ramrod straight with tension as he crossed his arms. He couldn't even look at Sin anymore. "I'll be waiting to hear about what else I've fucked up on and how you wish I was gone."

Sin didn't say anything but Boyd heard the door jerk open and get shoved shut when he left. Boyd stood in the same place for a long moment, his fingers curling into fists and his face a mask of anger and indignation. He wanted to focus on his anger and his indignation and he wanted to lash out.

He dropped his arms and leaned over, jerking open the bags and starting to put things in their place in the kitchen with more force than necessary. The bottles of water were extracted and practically thrown into the fridge. The fruit and vegetables were tossed on the counter at an angle that made them roll back and rock against the backsplash.

Every movement was jerky and angry but as the minutes dragged, he couldn't ignore that part of the reason his shoulders were so tense and teeth grit so hard was because at the heart of it all, that argument had hurt. He didn't want to feel like he'd been stabbed in the gut.

But no matter what he wanted, it didn't take long for him to be unable to deny there was distinct pain beneath it all. He couldn't ignore the sting of Sin's words-- the idea that being around him was so abhorrent that even death was preferable.

"Fuck," Boyd hissed to himself and threw the balled up bag onto the floor. His hands jerked up and he scrubbed at his face.

After a moment he dropped his hands at his sides and walked over to the balcony, opening the sliding door and stepping out. The balcony made an alarming squeaking noise near the hinges but it held his weight. And at that moment, that was all he cared about. He pushed the sliding door shut to preserve what little cool they could scrounge together inside, and sat down sideways within the small balcony as best he could. He drew his knees in and looked out at Monterrey.

Everything here felt so foreign. The heat, the population density, the prosperity in some areas-- and the signs surrounding him in a language he didn't fully understand. He was hours away from his home, his life, playing someone he barely knew, living with someone who could hurt him more than anyone else because above anyone, Sin was someone Boyd wanted to like him. He was someone Boyd wanted to be respected by, and someone Boyd wanted to be friends with.

And yet, this.

He rested his elbows on his knees and ran a hand over his face.

What the hell was wrong with them? Why couldn't they ever get along? Why did every fucking moment of disagreement have to end with them tearing each other apart?

It was made even worse because the prideful side of Boyd hated to admit when he was wrong. At least, when someone told him he was wrong, it was hard for him not to respond with reasons why he wasn't. He tended to believe his way was best; he did know that.

Still, he told himself, that didn't mean he completely ignored everyone else like Sin always seemed to imply or even outright said sometimes. He'd listened to Sin's input on many missions, and the only reason he'd ignored him upon coming to Monterrey was because he'd been so certain it was a short walk to the apartment. He hadn't wanted to be stuck in such close quarters with Sin again right after finally getting off the bus, with Sin's arm brushing against his and those damn, impossibly attractive features turned his way too often for Boyd to ignore.

But as he sat there he had to admit that he did tend to take over. And he hadn't listened to Sin's input. It didn't matter why he hadn't; in fact, the reason was part of the problem.

He did tend to think he was right, and especially when things weren't going his way he did tend to try to take control of the situation. He'd automatically denied Sin's suggestion of taking the cab. He'd been too set on figuring out what was the best price to listen when Sin wanted to buy the cheapest one, which is what they ended up doing anyway.

There had been times when he had listened to Sin and had incorporated his suggestions into mission plans, or had let Sin take over on missions, which was part of why he felt resentment whenever Sin accused him of never doing anything like that-- Yet rather than blaming Sin for saying such a thing, maybe he needed to wonder why Sin felt that way in the first place.

At the time when they'd first arrived and Sin had been angry about the taxi, it had annoyed Boyd. He'd thought to himself that Sin was an adult and could just take a taxi himself if it bothered him so much. But now that he was sitting on the balcony thinking over the day he had to ask himself why Sin should have to do that. Sin was trying to be a partner with him. He was trying to give suggestions rather than tell Boyd what to do; the latter of which was exactly what Sin felt Boyd was doing to him.

He couldn't help taking things personally when Sin accused him of never listening and in the process he couldn't help feeling like Sin was mocking him for being wrong, because it was usually framed by pointing out times something would have been better if he'd done what someone else said. He felt like that happened whenever he messed up and it bothered him coming from Sin. He already got that from his mother and he wanted to be past that remnant of his and Sin's early partnership. He wanted to simply be able to rely on Sin; to trust him with anything. But there were things he felt like he couldn't say or do because Sin wouldn't receive it well.

Yet for the times he'd thought that about Sin, he now had to start thinking about how many times Sin may have felt the same way back in other circumstances. The times when Sin had tried to help him and Boyd hadn't listened. The times when Sin had made some suggestion, even something small, and Boyd had barely considered it before he dismissed it because it didn't fit into the plan he'd already started forming in his mind. It seemed like every time they got in an argument, it came back to Sin thinking Boyd was trying to take over.

It truly wasn't the case that he thought Sin's suggestions were worthless or he always knew better but he was starting to see how it may seem that way to Sin.

Boyd scowled and dropped his head, his hands sliding back and fingers digging into his hair. This was so stupid. Thinking of Sin only reminded him of how much he wanted to just enjoy his time around his partner, and how impossible that somehow often ended up being.

He didn't want whatever fragile friendship they'd managed to gather to be destroyed irrevocably by close quarters and harsh words.

A few hours passed in the dragging heat before there was any sign of Sin. The main apartment door made enough of a racket when it finally opened that Boyd was immediately alerted to Sin's return. There was an annoyed mutter and then the door was kicked closed again. Silence lasted for another long moment, followed by odd crinkling, the sound of a bag being dragged across the floor, and the creaking of bed springs. It wasn't immediately obvious what Sin was doing but he wasn't making any moves to come towards the balcony where Boyd sat.

Boyd didn't move or acknowledge his return for a few minutes. The heat had drained him of most of the energy he'd even had left and now he just didn't want to have to interact with anyone, especially the person who put him in this mood in the first place. But the longer time passed, the more awkward it seemed to him it would be when he finally walked into the room.

He sighed and pushed himself up to a stand, taking a moment to stretch out the kinks. He could feel the heat from the surroundings settled in his bones. It wasn't until he opened the sliding door and walked back into the apartment that he realized exactly how hot it really had been out there, and how much humidity disappeared once he was inside.

He only looked at Sin in his peripheral vision when he walked in. He headed toward the bathroom with the intent to possibly take a shower or at least be somewhere quiet and out of view for a few more minutes.

Sin was sitting on one of the twin beds with one of his duffel bags on the floor beside it and a variety of weapons lying around his bed. It wasn't exactly an arsenal; he'd had to bring only a few to avoid conspicuous cases and bags. But he did have his favorite .44 Ruger, two .45 Brownings, a couple of knives, some explosives and an M24A2 SWS which he had just finished assembling for no apparent reason other than possible boredom.

Sin aimed the sniper rifle at Boyd and looked through the scope, tracking Boyd's movements across the room with it. "Hey, you."

Boyd paused, looking over at Sin with warily narrowed eyes. He didn't know what to make of the mixed messages of a greeting and a gun but he did know he didn't want to get into another fight.

"Hey," he said in return after a beat of silence.

Sin held up a plastic bag. "Would you like a gummy bear?"

Boyd eyed him. "Sure," he said after a moment, and walked over.

Sin tossed him the bag and put the gun down as he started to dissemble it.

Plastic crinkled as Boyd opened the bag and pulled out one of the gummy bears. He twisted the bag closed and set it back on the bed in front of Sin. He watched his partner for a moment as he chewed.

"Let's make a deal," Sin said, raising his eyebrows and giving Boyd and long look.

Boyd's eyebrows shifted up slightly. "What deal?"

"It's easy." Sin had already dissembled the weapon and he began packing it back into its box. "I'll stop being a hostile dick, and you stop being a bossy asshole."

Boyd stared at him for a long moment before his eyebrows twitched dubiously. "Just like that?"

"Yes. Simple." Sin finished storing the weapon and looked at Boyd evenly. "I don't feel like dealing with another long drawn out who's more fucked up battle of wills. We just finished one, and I'm not looking forward to another, especially not in one room for almost a year."

"I don't want that either." Boyd paused, thinking about spending the next year like they had this day as opposed to trying to be more civilized. There was no question that he would rather avoid more arguments. He didn't know if they would actually be able to pull off following through on such a proposal but it at least didn't hurt to try.

"Alright," he said after a moment, holding out his hand. "Deal."

Sin shook, looking pleased that his truce had worked.

"I also got you some crap. It's on the counter."

Boyd gave Sin an odd look that lingered before he looked over at the counter. A bag was there that hadn't been there before. He walked over, wondering why Sin got him anything and what it was. When he opened the bag, he found a box of his favorite tea inside and a water heater. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He turned around to regard Sin.

"Thank you," he said, truly meaning that. He hesitated, his eyebrows drawing together as he absently held the box against his stomach. "But-- why..?"

His response was another nonchalant shrug as Sin began checking his other weapons. "I knew you'd want it."

Boyd smiled genuinely at Sin, struck by the thoughtfulness even in the middle of a fight. He turned around and started to open it. Despite the heat, a mug of tea sounded perfect to him. As he opened the container for the tea, the smell of jasmine wafted up around him.

Maybe this truce would work after all.

Chapter 28

It seemed that the next week passed extremely slowly, but for the first time in awhile the stagnation didn't bother Sin. What did bother Sin, was his stupid assignment and cover.

Although interaction came easily when he was around Boyd, it was difficult around other people. Sin said any ridiculous thing that came to mind when he spoke to Boyd but as he'd roamed the city looking for a job that entire week, he'd realized how difficult it was around strangers. The first few days he'd automatically lapsed into his Agency attitude around people in the city and his quiet hostility had alarmed people. It was as if he'd had an aura of danger around him that kept people away and even as he'd walked down the street, people had gone out of their way to avoid him as if afraid to accidentally bump into him.

He'd realized that his attitude was actually bringing more attention to him and he'd tried to tone it down as the days passed, often asking Boyd what he should do in certain situations. Apparently he was supposed to be respectful to potential employers and maintain friendly eye contact while keeping his body language amiable. It was obvious why his tactic of glaring them into submission and demanding a job had not worked.

Finding a balance between Jason's lazy sarcasm and his own cutting severity was more difficult than he'd anticipated but the fact that he was forced to speak to civvies constantly helped him practice. By the time Saturday rolled around, he'd managed to keep the annoyed scowl off his face as he walked through the throngs of people on the sidewalks. He even maintained a neutral, unreadable expression when he'd wanted to knock the teeth out of some teenage punk's mouth who had shoved into him and then proceeded to shit talk, even when it'd been his own fault.

After five hours of wandering around, Sin stopped and sat on the grass in La Gran Plaza. The Plaza had always been one of the centerpieces of the city but after the war it'd been renovated, modernized and vastly expanded. It was a crowded place usually but at the moment, at the height of noon, Sin was the only one sitting there in the blistering heat. He didn't mind though; he'd nearly grown accustomed to it after days of walking around in it. It seemed as though finding employment in Monterrey would not be as easy as he'd hoped. Since it was one of the few booming major cities on this side of the world, people flocked to it and made the job market extremely competitive. That combined with his pathetic lack of people skills was making the task incredibly difficult.

Sin closed his eyes briefly and ran a hand through his damp hair, causing it to spike out wildly. Despite the fact that he was wearing a sleeveless shirt and threadbare jeans, he was still extremely hot. Normally he was able to deal with any kind of weather without blinking but he was not used to constant exposure to this much sunlight, humidity or stifling heat. Somewhere in the back of his mind he cursed his father for focusing so much on training in subzero temperatures and leaving out the fact that the country he'd been born in had such extreme heat. Although it made sense in a way—the temperature would not hinder his fighting ability, all it did was provide annoying discomfort. If he'd complained about such a thing during his training his father would most likely have mocked him for being weak and ordered him to sit under the sun for hours with no water for punishment. That was just the way he'd been.

Although, Sin found that the heat didn't annoy him so much when he was alone than it did when he was in Boyd's presence. It didn't make sense really and he figured it was because he was latching onto something to blame his frustration on, not wanting to admit what his real problem was. That's what had started the entire argument the day they'd arrived in Monterrey; he'd been unable to take his eyes off Boyd, unable to look away from the exposed flesh of Boyd's toned arms. He'd never seen his partner without a long sleeved shirt and to his dismay, it'd distracted him endlessly. That combined with the realization that he missed Boyd's naturally honey brown eyes had driven him crazy.

When he'd first seen Boyd on the airplane he'd been momentarily struck speechless. His hair, eyes and especially his clothing had been entirely different and it was as if he was someone else entirely. Despite the fact that Sin had found himself nearly mesmerized by the contrast of pale skin, red hair and deep blue eyes, he'd also begun wishing that Boyd had been able to keep his natural eye color; that striking light brown that looked golden in certain lights. The attraction he'd already felt for Boyd had increased dramatically and he'd found it difficult to keep his eyes from straying towards him. It'd irritated him immensely and that had only increased when he'd seen the room they'd be sharing. He didn't know how he was going to keep his behavior under control there; he was barely able to do it on the compound when he only saw Boyd two or three times a month.

That frustration combined with
self-consciousness
about his own idiotic disguise had boiled over in anger that wound up being directed at Boyd. He regretted the things he'd said for the most part but now in a way, he was glad that they'd finally talked about it. Just the fact that he'd shown so much emotion and that he'd confessed so many things to his partner showed how much Sin had changed. Just the fact that he was able to feel so much and actually identify his emotions was a far cry from the empty void he'd been before; or at least, the empty void who'd only been capable of feeling anger and who had never touched anyone in a way that wasn't violent.

But he didn't want to think about that now—he didn't want to think about the way Boyd's soft flesh felt under his fingers or remember the way those blue eyes shooting angry sparks had somewhat turned him on. He was supposed to be working, not agonizing about his ridiculous infatuation.

Sin stood up again and looked around the plaza; it was surrounded by museums, government buildings and expensive restaurants, clearly the trendiest part of the city. He was supposed to be searching for a job that would fit with Jason's background but unfortunately he didn't really know where to start.

Most people were not hiring and the people that were had not been very impressed. He wasn't dressed professionally at all and despite the fact that Ryan had created an extremely detailed CV for him, his lack of etiquette seemed to repel people. Although he'd managed to improve that aspect somewhat over the days, he realized that if he didn't find something soon he'd just have to buckle down and wear the suit that they'd insisted he bring.

He didn't expect to go into a museum in ragged jeans and expect to be taken seriously, but he'd hoped that somehow it would happen. The idea of walking around in a black suit in the heat would most likely degrade the slight improvements he'd managed to make on his people skills.

With another disgruntled scowl, he shoved his hands in his pockets and set out again. He'd only walked a few blocks when something caught his eye; a woman was tacking up a sign on the window of one of the businesses along the street. The building was wedged between a restaurant and a sky rise and it seemed to be some kind of lounge or night club. Sin began walking in her direction when he saw that the sign clearly said "Help Wanted, Security for Evening Shifts."

The woman was tall, willowy and would probably be considered ravishing to any normal person but Sin paid that no heed. He ignored the tiny cut offs she wore and the way her breasts bulged out of her low cut shirt. He stood a short distance away from her with his arms crossed at his chest. She appeared to be having trouble putting up the sign and had short strips of tape stuck to her fingers as she struggled to get the paper straight on the window. Sin remained there silently, waiting, but she seemed to notice him out of her peripheral vision and stumbled backwards, startled.

"God, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" She complained, resting a hand across her chest. "Make some noise or something!"

Sin bit back the sarcastic comment that wanted to escape and shrugged, saying in what he hoped was an apologetic manner, "I didn't want to interrupt."

The woman's frown faded a bit as she looked him over and she began messing with her hair absently, pushing back the strands that had escaped the rest of her long, black mane. "Can I help you?" Her tone was decidedly nicer, red lips curving upwards into a welcoming smile as her blue eyes twinkled. It was hard to tell if she was Mexican or Caucasian and really she looked like a mixture of the two. "Or did you just want to watch me?"

Sin raised an eyebrow and pointed at the sign, once again fighting the rude denial that he'd almost let slip out. "Actually I want a job."

She made a face and put her hands on her hips, disappointment evident. "Of course you did." She studied him again but this time it was in an almost clinical matter and two arched eyebrows lifted. "Do you have experience?"

"I've had various jobs in security for the past ten years," He replied automatically, trying to remember what Boyd had suggested he do and keep his tone respectful, polite. He uncrossed his arms and let them dangle at his sides loosely. He didn't like the way the woman was examining him but as he couldn't really do anything about it, he just stood there and let her look.

"Well, come in then and we'll talk. But just so you know, we do a background check and call references. If you're some insane killer from the States thinking you're going to come down here and start over, think again. We also do a drug test before anyone gets hired." She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Still interested?"

Sin stared at her oddly, wondering if this was her usual approach. Perhaps that was typically the kind of people they attracted, although it was not really surprising considering the amount of foreigners who lived in Monterrey. He found it amusing that although Jason's record was pretty clean, his own had him listed on several most wanted lists as a serial killer. "Yes."

"Good." She smiled and entered the building again, waving him in. "I'm Jessica Ramirez, by the way but everyone calls me Jess."

He followed her into the building and realized that it was indeed a lounge of some sort. There was a long bar across one side of the room, a dance floor and a section with couches and tables. The club seemed to go up three floors and had a long, spiral staircase in the middle of the room. It was mostly empty at the moment, save for a few business men who were engaged in a heated discussion as they sipped drinks at the bar. "Jason Alvarez."

Jess nodded and led him to an Employee's Only door on the far side of the room. She input an access code to get in and he trailed behind her, looking around idly and wondering if this was a bad idea. A security job at a club was not exactly what he'd been hoping for, although he wasn't exactly sure what he'd wanted.

She led him past a row of lockers, an employee bathroom, a break room and finally input another code to what appeared to be an office. "Do you have a resume or CV? And on a disc, I hope. I hate people who still carry around paper copies." She frowned and flopped down behind a large metal desk. Surprisingly it seemed as though she was the owner of the establishment, or at least the person who conducted the hiring.

He pulled the small disc out of his pocket and handed it to her, taking in the wall of monitors that took up one side of the room. There appeared to be cameras in every part of the club and he saw that there were three floors, all of which seemed to have different themes. There also appeared to be two private areas which hadn't been visible from downstairs. The building had several security flaws but he supposed that a nightclub in a trendy part of Monterrey had no use for top notch security. They most likely needed someone who could intimidate people into behaving, not ensuring protection against terrorists.

"The silent type, eh?" Jess smirked and popped the disc into the computer. "I like it but then again I'm a sucker for the tall, dark and broody types." She winked at him and clicked a few things with her mouse.

He stared at her blankly and decided that it was best not to respond. He had very little experience with this kind of thing but he wasn't stupid enough to think that her flirtation was professional. He put his hands in his pockets and instead focused on the fact that the air conditioner in the building was extremely strong, a far cry from the pitiful thing they had in the apartment.

"Wow, this is really impressive," Jess was saying as she scrolled down the document. "Bodyguard for two senators, security for several major corporations in America—even a brief stint at a government compound." She looked at him dubiously, raising one eyebrow again. "You realize we can in no way compete with what you probably had for a salary in the past? This would be a huge step down for you, Jason."

He didn't like the way she said his name, even if it wasn't really his name. "That's fine."

She stared at him for a moment and looked at the computer again, face skeptical. "Why is that fine?"

"Because I need a job and no one else is hiring." He stared at her through heavy lidded eyes, trying to keep his body relaxed and his expression neutral as she looked up again to study him.

"Well that makes sense," she said with a laugh. "It's hard to get a job down here—everyone's moving here lately." She nodded to herself and began to nibble on her thumb as she eyed him. "You realize this will be like—pulling apart drunks, kicking people out of the club who get rowdy, sometimes working the door? It's not the kind of thing you're used to."

If only she knew what he was used to. "That's fine."

She made a face at him. "Well you certainly have the intimidating silence down, I'll give you that."

Sin stared at her and shrugged again, mildly annoyed that somehow he was still coming off as intimidating. "Sorry."