The problem was finding a clean phone in the middle of the night with no cash, no credit, no ID, and no coat. All he had were bruises, the taste of puke in his mouth, and a new ability to feel guilty about things that weren’t his fault. That wouldn’t even help him get a drinking problem.
And he was scared. He didn’t want to be on his own.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll tell you.”
Nothing. He kicked the door in a burst of frustration and then glanced around to pull an apologetic face at the woman letting herself back into her room.
“Simon,” he said. “Open the fucking door and stop being a cock. Okay? You want to know, let me in and I’ll tell you.”
The door opened, and Simon dragged him back inside with a hand cupped at the back of Jacob’s neck in—again—that familiar way that suddenly felt strange.
“Talk,” he said as he kicked the door shut. “What happened with Clayton?”
Jacob stalked past him into the room. He wished Comfort Inns stretched to a minibar instead of a tepid fridge. He wanted a drink with more of a kick than just caffeine and chemicals.
“I know Clayton isn’t behind this,” he said. The words dried up on his tongue, and he hesitated. He wasn’t even sure this was a good idea, but it wasn’t like he had a lot of choice. “Because those guys—I think they killed him.”
That was a lie too. Sometimes Jacob just couldn’t stop himself. They had definitely killed Clayton.
Chapter Six
PRIVACY WAShard to find in a hotel room with paper-thin walls. Simon took the elevator down to reception and kept his mind in neutral as he wondered what had left the Brazil-shaped stain on the carpet andnotwhat Jacob had gotten himself into. The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to reveal a lobby decked out in gold-and-green tinsel and a sweaty, bickering family in shorts with matching luggage.
He stepped out and held the door for them as they struggled into the space, and he hid his irritation behind tight lips.
“Thank you,” the mother said as she reached between the suitcases to slap a finger out of the smallest child’s nose.
“You’re welcome,” Simon said and let go of the door. It slid shut, and he dropped the social smile from his face. He stalked across the lobby, detoured around the clot of guests draining tepid coffee from a thermos, and headed out into the parking lot. A tired-looking woman with bags under her eyes and foundation drying around her hairline was smoking a cigarette in a businesslike way by the door. Simon caught her eye. “Don’t suppose I could snag one of those? I quit, but it’s been that sort of day.”
She pleated her mouth in a smile, offered him the pack, and flicked the lighter for him once he’d picked his poison.
It had been six months since Simon had last smoked. He sucked down a lungful of hot, acrid smoke and couldn’t remember why he’d stopped.
“Thanks,” he said and exhaled slowly. She gave him the addict’s smile and finished her butt while Simon stepped aside and pulled the phone out of his pocket. Dev was still third on his speed dial, since he’d never gotten around to taking Jacob’s number off. It didn’t mean anything. He hit the number and prowled out into the parking lot as it rang.
“Uhh?” Dev answered, audibly yawning until his jaw cracked.
“I found Jacob.”
“Fuck. Really?” Dev mumbled. “Hold on.”
Simon stalked across the dry tarmac to his car and winced at the sight of the damage, even though he was responsible for 40 percent of it. Bullet holes caused comments. Crushed car doors invited judgment. Even though it was only borrowed from the Syntech carpool, he ran a consoling hand over the hood.
“Okay,” Dev said, his voice unfuzzed by sleep. “What happened?”
“He turned himself in.” Simon shifted to keep an eye on the hotel. It seemed like making a break for it had been the last thing on Jacob’s mind, but then a month ago, Simon would have said stealing information was the last thing Jacob had planned for the day. “Apparently things got out of hand. Clayton was the buyer.”
“Clayton?HarryClayton.”
“Yeah.”
“No way. I went to college with Clayton. He’s a computer guy, right?”
“Social media. He’s the founder of PeaPod.”
“Yeah, that’s him,” Dev said. “Nothing to do with me or my research. Why the hell wouldHarrysend a corporate thief into my company? He’s cheap, and we’re friends. Were friends. What did he even want from Syntech? Our areas of interest don’t exactly form a Venn diagram.”
Simon leaned a hip against the hood of the car. He took a pull on the cigarette, and the tip glowed ember-bright as he exhaled smoke into the darkness. “He didn’t want anything. He thought you’d stolen code fromhiscompany. Or something. Jacob has the data, but we’ve not managed to access it yet. Like I said, things got a bit more complicated.”
