Odd
Three months ago
“Who the hell is responsible for this setup?” I ask DB, staring at a tangle of wires so poorly labeled that I’ve given up on trying to figure out what goes where. This whole electrical closet needs to be redone.
We’ve been having comms issues on DB’s side of things, and he finally admitted that his Dallas office has been dealing with blackouts. I have a doctorate in electrical engineering, so I can certainly figure my way around a simple electrical issue. Besides, the pleased expression on his face when I dropped in unexpectedly was totally worth the four-hour drive.
Mostly.
The mistake I made in driving up from Austin is thinking that I would be some kind of knight in shiny engineering armor, maybe get him to shake loose some of his firmly held beliefs about cavorting with subordinates. Seemed like pretty solid reasoning at the time.
It all fell apart the second I saw him. I’d gotten used to his devastatingly handsome, subtly expensive style, so I was immediately and entirely thrown by DB in casual weekend attire.
Sure, other people wear gym clothes, lots of folks even make them look good. But I’ve never met anyone who can make an old college T-shirt and some Adidas track pants look so goddamn sexy. Seriously, I just want to be the moisture-wicking polyester that’s gently cupping his perfect ass right now. Don’t even talk to me about the way that cotton T-shirt strains itself across his every damn muscle.
Meanwhile, he’s just standing there in his old-school kicks, one hand in his pocket, the other gripping his onyx-on-ebony walking stick, looking like Hollywood’s idea of a special ops badass. He could be wearing a frilly maid’s outfit—not helpful, brain—and you’d clock him as military from fifty yards.
I have made ahugemistake.
“…Odd? Did you hear me?”
Anyway, his electrical closet is the stuff of nightmares. Clearly, someone without any knowledge of how electricity actually works got in here and simply made their best guess as to how things should be wired. This easily could have led to a fire, which makes me want to take a look at their electrical blueprints and make sure everything else is up to snuff.
I startle when DB’s hand lands on my shoulder, nearly bashing myself in the face with the closet door.
He’s looking at me strangely. “Odd? I’ve been trying to get your attention.”
His hand is still on my shoulder and I shudder from the contact. “Sorry. Um. Got hyper-focused. What were you saying?”
“I was just answering your question. I went with a recommendation. Just opened my wallet, handed money to the guy, and assumed he did a good job. What the hell do I know about any of this?”
I chuckle and try desperately not to moan as his hand drifts down my arm. “Honestly, I’m just glad you haven’t been electrocuted. Whoever did this should be put in jail.”
“At the very least they’re getting a sharply worded email,” he says, grinning at me.
I wonder if he’s at all aware that his self-assured half-smile is my undoing.
The reality is that he and I have been having a mutual imaginary affair for as long as we’ve known each other. He was always my commanding officer in some way and, even though we’ve never talked about it, I know in my heart that’s why neither of us has ever made an overt move. There were close calls—drunken flirtations, exchanged glances—and then his unfailing sense of duty would kick in and he’d go back to being my superior.
Not much has changed.
“I’ll have your electricity out for a few hours, but after I’m done, you shouldn’t see any more surges or blackouts here,” I say, holding back a sigh when he withdraws his hand.
“Here” is Blaylock Security and Investigations, hislegitimatebusiness. I make the distinction because I’m involved in hisillegitimatebusiness.
Working with clients in digital security, he uncovers a number of people who’ve managed to get away with injuring, murdering, and even enslaving others. Unwilling to let the innocent suffer, DB reached out to the special ops guys he’d worked with in the service. Even though he’s made it known that he hates what we do, he’s never shied away from the fact that sometimes you have to clear bad actors off the board.
Enter the Guardians.
It’s no surprise he focused on the former operators who are queer; our brotherhood is, and always has been, unassailable. Many of us migrated to the Austin area after retiring from the military because it’s a haven for LGBTQ+ folks. I think DB likes that he can manage the team from a remove.
Strangely enough, the Guardians are my more legitimate means of making the world a better place. My brother and I also work with a black ops site in Wimberley, Texas, just outside of Austin. While the Guardians make millions off the stolen assets of the suddenly deceased, Wimberley makesbillionsby stealing advanced tech taken from unsavory sources.
DB’s known about Wimberley for a long time, but he doesn’t know nearly as much as he thinks he does. That’s for the best.
Thankfully, his right-hand woman walks in and interrupts my woolgathering. Caliste, a short, sharp-featured Cajun, is incredibly intelligent, inappropriate, and pregnant. “Hey, boss, the signed sales order from those fuckers at Trager Oil and Gas finally came in. We’ve got finance processing it now. I still say you shoulda made ‘em pay up front. I bet you a hundred dollars this goes to collections.”
She notices me and her eyes light up as she brings me in for a bone-crushing hug. “Holy shit, Odd! Sweetie, it’s been months since you’ve darkened our door. How’re you doin’?”
