Chapter 4
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“It isn’t,” Cain insisted. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. It’s a perfectly good idea. My father is too much of a control freak to have let Jack off the leash completely. He’s organized. He’s meticulous. He’s got records of every appliance he’s ever purchased, every oil change he’s ever gotten. He has something to cover himself in case Jack ever wanted to confess, I can almost guarantee it.”
Damon leaned back on the sofa, with his bad leg propped on the coffee table, and watched the man pacing back and forth in front of him. Cain Shaw, baby-faced and model-perfect, dressed in wrinkled suit pants and a half-buttoned dress shirt, dark hair sticking up like he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket, and blue eyes flashing as he unveiled his plan.
It actually wasn’t half-bad, as plans went. Probably, he admitted to himself, better than the half-baked scheme he’d come up with the night before. But that didn’t mean it was good or advisable. Damon risking his own life was one thing, but Cain’s idea would stick his neck out there too. Sure, the senator was Cain’s father, but Damon wouldn’t put it past that asshole to get vengeance against his son, one way or another.
And then there was the nagging question of just how much Damon could trust this kid.
Kid. Cain hated the nickname, so Damon was trying not to use it, but in his mind he clung to it like a drowning man to a lifeboat, because if he didn’t put that distance between them, it would be far too easy to think of all the things that made him want to pull Cain close. The man was a metric-ton of gorgeous packed into a one-hundred-fifty-pound frame. That huge tattoo on his arm was intricate and intriguing, a thing Cain had done solely for himself. And their one misguided kiss the previous night had brought something to life in Damon that had been dormant for nearly forever.
Hell, yes, he remembered that kiss. It was probably a dick move to let Cain think he’d forgotten but again, it was safer that way than letting either of them think it could happen again.
Cain didn’t just do it for him in a physical way - those eyes, that quirky mouth, the slight frame that just begged to be held down and fucked hard (andyeah,he’d thought a lot about that while he watched the man sleep this morning). It was something about the guy’s mind, too. The way he always said the unexpected. The way his demons called to Damon.
That was a very inappropriate display.
He’d thrown a spoon into the sink, for Christ’s sake. He hadn’t killed anyone, hadn’t crashed a plane into a mountain, hadn’t hurt a soul, but the stark terror on his face, like he was expecting Damon to hit him or curse him out over a fucking piece of silverware, made Damon’s heart clench hard with the need to protect him.
Ironic, since these days Damon couldn’t even manage to protect himself.
“And you’re convinced this magical unicorn of evidence, this file that names all the names and dates and bank account numbers, is a physical thing? Not something he has on a cloud somewhere that Bas Seaver could hack?”
The ache in his leg distracted him. He’d been getting better, slowly but surely, thanks to the physical therapy provided to him as an employee of Seaver Tech -Yet another thing he didn’t want to have to be grateful to the Seavers for- but he’d managed to set himself back in a big way thanks to those security goons. He fought the urge to rub it. It wouldn’t do much good, and he’d be damned if he’d call attention to it. For a second, he even contemplated the little bottle of pain medication calling to him from the kitchen counter, but he dismissed the idea just as quickly. He hadn’t had to take a pill in nearly a week before last night, and clearly his tolerance was all fucked up. He’d rather take the pain than the loss of control.
Cain shook his head and sat down on the coffee table. “Nah. No way. What did you say about Cort? That he was a Luddite?” He leaned forward, resting his hand on Damon’s leg in his excitement. “My father is the same. Not about everything. I mean, my parents at least have a coffee maker.” He rolled his eyes. “But he’s not a computer guy. Even when he and Cam’s dad founded Seaver Tech, he was one hundred percent behind the scenes, managing the contracts and negotiating deals. He never helped with development. When it comes to keeping records, it’s got to be in a physical location. And I can get you to those locations.”
“Ki…Cain,” he corrected himself just in time, although Cain’s narrowed eyes showed that he’d noted the slip. “Let’s say we can find this file, neatly labeledEvidence Against Me.Okay?”
Cain rolled his eyes again and nodded shortly.
“Okay, then what? You’ve said you don’t want to come forward about what happened on the plane, but if we can find the stuff you think we will, we’re going to have to present it to the authorities. And the media too. It’s going to come out, and your father will probably be arrested.”
Gentle fingers began to knead the muscles of Damon’s leg through his jeans, andholy shitit felt good. Cain instinctively applied the perfect level of pressure to loosen Damon’s knotted muscles without causing further pain. The man was staring into middle distance, his brow furrowed, like his mind was more occupied with his plan than the massage. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of Damon’s cock, which had woken up like a bear coming out of hibernation and scenting food for the first time in months. In the absence of pain, he couldn’t fail to appreciate Cain’s nearness, and the feeling of those long fingers pressing against him.
Jesus.
Not now. Not this guy. Inconvenient didn’t begin to describe the attraction he had going on. Impossible was closer to the truth. Even whole and uninjured, he wouldn’t have been anyone’s choice of partner, certainly not someone with as much beauty, charm, and potential as Cain Shaw. Not to mention, there was an entire lifetime of age between Damon’s forty and Cain’salmost-twenty-five -a long and fucked up lifetime.
“The thing is,” Cain was saying, drawing Damon’s thoughts back to reality. “It’s not that I don’t want to see my father punished, Damon.” His cheeks were flushed, but the gaze he shot Damon was firm. “But I can’t be the one to do it. I can’t risk him knowing it was me. Because if it didn’t work? If he managed to get out of it like he’s gotten out of everything so far?” He shook his head and looked away again. “I know it makes me a coward, but there are some things I can’t risk.”
Damon took a deep breath and tried to concentrate.
“That’s exactly what you’d be doing if I went along with your plan,” Damon reminded him. “If you sneak me into his office to look through his stuff, you think no one is going to know it was you?”
“I think it’sverypossible they won’t know it was me, yeah,” Cain said staunchly. “I’m not going to call my parents and announce my intentions, and they won’t be back in Nashville for weeks. I still live in their house, and there’s nothing so unusual about me entering my own home. Besides…” He gave a self-deprecating smile. “The upside of having your father think you’re mostly spineless is that you’re never going to be the first suspect.”
Damon shook his head. “I still don’t like it.” Cain looked like he was going to argue, but Damon grabbed his hand and squeezed, silencing him. “I appreciate you wanting to help. I do. But I can’t ask you to do this.”And I don’t know if I can trust you to go against your father. And I don’t know if I can handle having you near me for that long without kissing you again, and how the fuck would that end?
“You’re not— “
Whatever argument Cain would have made was cut off when Damon’s phone rang shrilly from the kitchen counter where he’d plugged it in that morning. He went to stand up, but Cain stood first. “Rest your leg. I’ll get it.” He stepped over Damon’s leg to get the phone and returned to his spot a minute later, holding the phone out.
“Who’s Chelsea?” he asked.
Damon stared at the screen for a second, too stunned to speak. He’d never expected to hear from her again, after the way they’d left things the other day.
