“You son of a bitch,” he said raggedly.
Davy glanced around at him and had the good manners to look apologetic. At least, superficially. He started to say something, paused as he listened to what whoever he was talking to had to say, and then tried again.
“I wish it didn’t matter,” he said. “But there’s consequences for failure.”
Hill supposed there would be. It had been hinted at—sidelong, in veiled terms—in a few of his sources. No one had gone into detail. Maybe they’d assumed that anyone desperate enough tocall the dead up wouldn’t get distracted from their task by their own petty pleasures.
The self-loathing sting to that made Hill flinch a little, but he supposed that pew-Hill had earned the right. He rubbed his injured hand. It didn’t hurt, but he remembered when it had.
Everything he’d done to get to this point. The years he’d poured into it—researching instead of living, turning himself into a specter in his own life—and he risked it all being wasted because the dead man had a pretty face.
Despite himself, he glanced at Davy to confirm that, as if he could foolhimselfby pretending to have forgotten. His gaze skimmed over Davy’s hard, handsome face and down to broad shoulders and…
…and a great ass.
He grimaced at that, not even sure if it was lust or a bad joke, and turned his back on temptation. Only to stare in dismay at the shattered remains of his plate-glass desk. It lay in shards and splinters on the floor, his monitor smashed in the middle of it. That hadn’t been like that before.
“What the hell happened?” he asked in shock as he spun back around to stare at Davy.
He got a shrug, wide innocent eyes, and a confidently mouthed “I dunno” in answer.
That was a lie. Anobviouslie.
Hill just didn’t understand whyhis broken desk was what mattered enough to lie about.
The ass—Hill admitted to himself as he watched Davy bend over to grab the smashed keyboard off the floor—was exceptional.
Technically, he supposed, Davy was right and that was Hill’s own ass. He’d definitely never filled out those sweats so well, though, so…
“And for the record,” Davy said as he straightened up. “I might enjoy fucking with Fraser, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a plan.”
A loose key—the B—slipped between his knuckles and bounced off his shoe. Hill cocked his head to watch it skitter under a nearby chair out of some weird habit, as if he’d care about retrieving it once he had fingers to do it with again.
“So what is it?” he asked as he looked back at Davy. When he got a blank look in return, he bit his tongue in irritation—and how didthatstill hurt?—before he filled in the question. “The plan. What is it?”
Davy dumped what had been, ten minutes ago, a top-of-the-range gamer keyboard into the trash. He picked a bit of glass out of his palm with his thumbnail.
“The first step is to destabilize Fraser,” he said, with a cool confidence. “Within the next twenty-four hours he’s going to be hit by a series of problems, large and small, that will affect his work, his finances, and his reputation. All within a span of time and time of year that make it difficult for him to respond decisively. Once he’s professionally on the back foot, that’s when we target his…call ’em moral foundations.”
The casual competence was undeniably attractive, but…
“So what you’re saying is the plan is to fuck with him?” Hill checked.
Davy cracked a grin. “Yeah,” he admitted with a shrug. “Pretty much, but the shits and giggles are just a bonus.”
“If you say so,” Hill said. He rubbed his hand around the back of his neck and finally said what was really bothering him. “Is there anything I can do? I feel like a spare part just watching you.”
Before Davy could answer, someone knocked on the door.
Both of them stopped for a beat. When the knock was repeated, Davy glanced at Hill and raised an expectant eyebrow.
Expecting anyone?he mouthed
Hill hesitated and then shook his head. It wasn’t that there was a list of people he had to run through; it was the opposite. He’d spent so long focused on the dead—their wrongs, their invocation—it was only now that Fraser’s judgement was at hand that Hill realized his life had flatlined. There was a short list of one who he’d expect at the door, and his mom would be getting ready for the party.
While Hill grappled with the unexpected realization that after Christmas Day, one way or another, he was going to have to find a new focus, Davy padded over to the door. The blithe disregard he showed for bare feet on glass-studded carpet made Hill clench his toes in his sneakers. Davy didn’t look through the peephole. He stooped down and peered, sidelong, through the gap underneath.
“What are you doing?” Hill asked. Davy glanced up briefly and brought a tentacle up to his mouth in a “shhh” gesture.
