Iris (Mike Bravo Ops 1)

But Iris doesn’t park in the garage. He keeps going past the house and around the back of it. Stone walkways and paths are interspersed throughout the gardens with a large round firepit in the middle.

At the back of the property, built into a hill, is a wall of steel, and Iris hits another button on his remote. The steel doors open, revealing a tight, small garage only big enough for his car and for us to climb out.

“What is this made of?” I ask.

“It’s an old shipping container. I guess it’s my version of Trav’s panic bomb shelter.”

“Is everyone in Mike Bravo a doomsday prepper?”

“We’ve all seen shit we’d rather forget. We know what this world is capable of. And if anything were to happen, we like to be prepared.”

“I understand that. I’m not actually mocking you for it. But normal people don’t go to this extreme.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” Iris leads me to the house, and minus the bomb shelter garage thing, the normalness of the place isn’t just startling, it practically slaps me in the face.

Hardwood floors, leather couches with throw blankets and decorative pillows—decorative pillows, for fuck’s sake. This is nothing like I was expecting even with the warning of how normal it is.

“I’ll show you to your room,” Iris says. “I’ll put you at the other end of the house seeing as you’re worried about thin walls.”

There was more than one reason why I was briefly hesitant to move in—tempting each other is number one. The second is because I know what it’s like to be envious of the men Iris has flings with. I’ve already lived that. I have no desire to see it all again.

But the need to not be locked into a lease trumps that.

He leads me down a hall, where there’s a guest room and detached bathroom. “I’ll let you settle in while I order some dinner. What do you feel like?”

“I’m easy.”

Iris rubs his chin. “There’s a joke in there somewhere, but I’m trying to be a respectful roommate and establish boundaries.”

“You? Isaac ‘Iris’ Griffin has … boundaries?”

“Not with that attitude, I don’t. And you know what? When the food comes, I’m going to sneeze in it. Just for you.”

“I’ve had your cum in my mouth. You think I’m worried about spit?” My words must not have been expected because he blanches like I said the most offensive thing in the world.

“Did you … you just … were you … funny? What is the world coming to? First, I’m fitter than you now—”

“Only took going down in a hail of bullets for it to happen, but please, do go on about how you’re so much better than me now.”

“Now you’re making jokes about cum. I’m starting to think you’re not the real Brock Harlow. What happened to you in Udoola? Are you okay?”

“Living with you is going to be fun, isn’t it?”

“You think this is fun?” Iris shrieks. “Who are you?”

“Maybe you’ve met your match.” That sounds way too serious and soul-matey compared to how I meant for it to come out.

Oops.

“I don’t think I can handle this kind of mindfuck right now. I’m getting food. You stay in your room and think about what you’ve done.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Gah!” Iris throws his hands over his ears and practically runs from the room.

Maybe living with Iris will actually be fun.

Who knew?

Iris leaves me to unpack while he goes to get dinner, and by the time he’s back, I’ve almost put away the millions of bags of crap he made me buy today.

But at the dining table, something has changed in his demeanor. He keeps scrolling on his phone, he’s quiet, and he’s not his usual Iris self.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Oh, nothing. Just reading up on a job Trav sent me. I need to leave after dinner.”

I stare at the blank screen of my phone. “I guess he doesn’t think I’m ready for something bigger than apartment hunting yet.”

“I wouldn’t take it personally. Trav’s fair when it comes to assigning jobs. And this one has something to do with a job I previously worked. I already know the case.”

“What’s the case?” I spoon a forkful of noodles into my mouth.

“I can’t …” He pulls back. “Huh. Actually, I can discuss it with you seeing as you’re Mike Bravo too. It’s … no, wait, it feels weird to be talking about it here. A naughty councilman is being suspected of doing bad things, and I have to tail him for a few days while they think he’s going to make a move.” Tension falls from his shoulders. “Even saying that was freeing. I’ve never had that before. Not here, at least. Usually when I have people over, I have to pretend like I haven’t killed countless men.”

I nod. “That part can get isolating. When I was in contact with my family, they always knew not to ask because they’ve all lived the military life. But I can understand how some people wouldn’t be comfortable with it and make you feel guilty for not telling them.”