“That’s everything I got off Syntech servers,” Jacob said.
“The only copy?” Simon tucked the case into his pocket behind his phone.
Jacob jabbed a key on the desktop. “It is now. Simon….” He wrinkled his nose at whatever he was thinking.
Simon knew he should let it go, that whatever Jacob came out withwasn’tgoing to be what Simon wanted to hear. Knowing didn’t help, though. He still asked. “What?”
After a beat Jacob snorted softly. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t really do good-byes, not usually.”
Simon closed his eyes for a second and then gave in for the last time. “It goes like this. No hard feelings. Have a good flight.”
“That it?”
“Yeah.”
Jacob glanced down at his feet and then back up and blew out whatever regret he had on a sigh that ended in a smile.
“Damn, I picked that up quick,” he said.
Simon snorted and headed for the door. He’d just reached for it when Jacob caught up with him, grabbed his head, and pulled him down into a kiss. The bite of pickled jalopenos lingered on his breath, and the spit and thrust of his tongue against Simon’s clenched a reaction all the way down to his cock.
“Come to Bali,” Jacob said against Simon’s mouth. He slid his hands into Simon’s hair and pulled on it. His body was hot and hard where it pressed against Simon’s, and his voice cracked with nerves and uncertainty. “We can fuck in the sea, eat… whatever the fuck they eat in Bali. You can learn to surf.”
The “yes” growled at the back of Simon’s throat. He wanted to say it so much that it made it easier to swallow it down—nearly as easy as it had been to set the bottle down that last time, when Dev offered him something to do other than self-destruct.
“No.” He pulled back from Jacob and wiped his mouth dry on the back of his hand. “I don’t run away, Jacob, and I spent enough time lying to my family about what I do, who I am. And you’re still you, still a liar. You’re not going to change in Bali.”
He saw the honesty in Jacob’s face for a second—a mixture of hurt feelings and feline calculation on how to pull an “I meant to do that.” Then he hid behind a smirk and a hand shoved boyishly through his hair.
“No,” he said and stepped back. “I suppose I won’t. Good thing we already said our good-byes, or this could be awkward.”
For all his crimes—literal crimes—he made Simon want to laugh when he least expected it.
“Good-bye, Jacob,” he said. “Take care of yourself.”
For once he even got the last word as he closed the door behind him.
THERE WASnothing out of place in his apartment. His clothes were either in the wardrobe or in the laundry basket, his fridge was stocked with basic provisions, and everything was laid at right angles. Usually Simon found it soothing, a reminder that he didn’t need the Corps to keep his life in order. Not today. Today it just looked like an echo chamber.
Simon stripped his jacket off and felt the weight of the hard drive tugging it down as he hung it over a chair in the kitchen. He pulled the fridge door open, grabbed a jug of orange juice, and sucked down the cold liquid until his chest cramped.
He needed a change of clothes, he had to book his car into the body shop, and he should probably already be at Syntech to drop off the hard drive with the cyber department.
It could wait. Simon took another swig of orange juice, tasted the bitterness that time, and twisted the top of the jug back on. At least it could all wait long enough for him to get into a clean suit. He shoved the jug back in the fridge, took off his holster, and set the gun on the counter.
He was almost into the bedroom with his shirt half-unbuttoned when his phone rattled against the shell of the hard drive. He shrugged the shirt back on and stalked over to grab it.
“Yeah?”
“Stay where you are,” Dev ground out between clenched teeth, and his words rasped down the phone. He was on the move. Simon could hear doors slam and loud voices in the background. “Don’t come in. Don’t take any calls.”
“What? Why?”
“Who have you talked to about our current situation?”
“You, Jacob. Why?”
“I’m being sued by Clayton’s company. Apparently they’ve got evidence I stole that piss-poor code he wrote. How the hell did they get that, Simon?”
