“Hacking their internal security now,” Ryan confirmed, fingers dancing across his keyboard. “Their firewall’s good but I’m better.”
“That’s illegal,” Jeremy pointed out.
“Sue me.” Ryan didn’t look up. “Actually, don’t. Daniel would probably turn it into a movie.”
Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t tempt me.The Hacker Prince: A Vegas Storydoes have a nice ring to it.”
“Starring Ryan Caine as himself,” Jeremy added with a weak smile. “Because God forbid anyone else try to capture your essence.”
“Hey, I have very specific requirements for my leading man,” Ryan shot back, still typing. “Must be devastatingly handsome, great with computers, and able to rock an inside-out shirt.”
“I’ll alert casting,” Daniel deadpanned. “Though the inside-out shirt might be a dealbreaker in Hollywood.”
“Might want to wait on the movie rights,” I suggested. “The current story’s still developing.”
That earned me a few strained chuckles. Even James’ lips twitched slightly.
“Eat something,” James ordered suddenly, fixing me with a look that brooked no argument. “You’re not helping Matt by making yourself sick.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered, even as my stomach betrayed me with an embarrassingly loud growl.
“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England,” Ryan called out, still typing. “Eat the damn food, Andy, or I’ll tell Matt you survived on energy drinks and spite.”
“That’s rich coming from someone wearing their shirt inside out,” I shot back, but I grabbed a sandwich from the spread someone had ordered. It tasted like cardboard, but I forced it down under James’ watchful eye.
“Now shower and sleep,” James ordered. “We’ll wake you if—when—we find anything.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Daniel cut in. “Matt will kill us all if we let you run yourself into the ground.” His smile was gentle, so much like Matt’s it hurt. “Go. We’ve got this.”
“Fine.” I stood, my joints cracking in protest. “But if you find anything?—”
“We’ll wake you,” William’s cool voice drifted over. “Even if James tries to be noble about it.”
James shot him an irritated look. “I wasn’t?—”
“Yes, you were,” everyone in the room chorused, even Tory’s usually silent men.
“Betrayed by my own security,” James muttered, but there was a hint of fondness in his voice.
The shower helped, hot water washing away some of the tension if not the worry. I pulled on one of Matt’s t-shirts, drowning in the soft fabric that still smelled like him. The bed felt too big, too empty, but exhaustion dragged at my bones.
“You better be okay,” I whispered into the silence. “Because if you’re not, I’m going to kill you myself.”
The last thing I saw before sleep claimed me was Ryan, slouched in an armchair he’d dragged into the bedroom, his inside-out shirt now accessorized with coffee stains.
“Go to sleep,” he ordered, not looking up from his laptop. “I’ve got first watch.”
“Your shirt’s still inside out.”
“And your hair looks like a hedgehog had a crisis. Sleep.”
I drifted off to the sound of his typing, the distant murmur of voices from the living room, and the weight of worry in my chest.
At least someone was making questionable fashion choices in my honor.
The buzz of my phone dragged me from sleep, a jarring electronic chirp that should be illegal before… I squinted at the screen… noon. I fumbled for it, nearly knocking it off the nightstand in a move that would’ve made Matt wince at my assault on his expensive furniture. Ryan was gone from the armchair, probably lured away by the siren call of more coffee and the chance to hack something legally questionable.
Unknown number. My heart jumped into my throat, doing an impressive gymnastics routine.
