“So?” Simon repeated, more exasperated than he meant to sound.
“So.”
Dev walked away, and Simon slouched back against the doorjamb and shook his head. Fuck up in the military, and a dressing-down was the least you could expect, thebestyou could expect. More likely you’d get yourself, or someone else, killed.
A fuckup had ended his career in the military—dropped him back in his hometown with a messed-up shoulder and nightmares—and it hadn’t even beenhisfuckup.
This mess deserved a more savage payback than a “so.” Simon peeled his long body off the door. Not sleeping—despite Dev’s veiled order—would do.
THE APARTMENTwas huge and stylishly empty—all dull golden wood and heavy black furniture. Simon had bought it furnished and lived there for two years, and it was becoming clear that the only significant change he’d made in that time was Jacob. He had a boyfriend when he was discharged, but that crashed and burned because Dean was career military and Simon was actively fucked up. That was long before Simon moved in here.
There’d been a couple of one-night stands, a couple relationships that were just three one-night stands strung together by texts, and the month he’d spent dating Julie—because pretending to be straight and dating your AA sponsor was totally a good idea.
None of them had changed anything. Jacob’s handwriting was all over the whiteboard, scrawled in red pen and decorated with exclamation points. His spare phone charger was plugged in next to the bed, and three bottles of that disgusting sugar syrup he had in his coffee sat in the cupboard, since Simon would rather keep him in bed than lose him to a Starbucks run.
Simon stood on tables and unscrewed light fittings, dismantled picture frames, and scanned the rooms for bugs hidden under plaster. There wasn’t even a spider. He took his computer apart and broke the plastic down to circuits and wire, but there were no extraneous components.
He stared down at the dismantled Toshiba and chewed on the inside of his lip until he tasted salt. With nothing to aim it at, his temper was just a restless weight in his gut. It was like sourdough—wet, heavy, and feeding on itself to get bigger.
If he’d found some evidence of Jacob spying on him, of collecting information, at least it would make sense.
In a burst of frustration, he swiped his arm over the table and sent the components and plastic casing flying onto the floor. The single jolt of anger got him moving, and he supposed he might as well use the momentum. He stalked across the room, grabbed the few souvenirs of Jacob, and shoved the syrups, dog-eared magazines, and odds and ends into a bag. Glass rattled as he tied it shut, the plastic stretched under his fingers, and he tossed it in the garbage. Then he soaked a handful of paper towels under the tap and scrubbed the whiteboard. Jacob’s crooked scrawl disappeared in a smear of red.
It took under an hour to wipe away any trace that Jacob had been in the apartment. All that was left was the realization that the only person who could stand to spend time with him had been lying about it.
Simon paced the apartment restlessly and texted orders to the security teams until the sun came up and fatigue finally hit. From experience he knew he could keep going, but there was no point in pushing the limits until he had to. The bed in the other room tempted him, but he resisted the thought of its comfort. Instead he folded himself down on the couch, closed his eyes, and willed himself to unconsciousness.
He slept hard, and if he dreamed, it wasn’t anyone’s business. By five thirty the next morning, he was back at Syntech, sitting on the opposite side of Dev’s desk with Nora Reyes, his brother-in-law’s slick, professional second-in-command and computer expert. She’d been Becca’s best friend too. It wasn’t nepotism. Exceptional people just liked Simon’s sister. Always had.
One thing Nora wasn’t, though, was lenient. Simon wondered bleakly if he should have packed up his office before he came.
“Here’s my report,” Nora said as she tossed a folder onto the polished desk. She sat down, took her glasses off, and pressed her fingertips against her tear ducts. “It’s all in there, but I can tell you the short version. He cleaned us out. Last night a huge packet of data was uploaded to a secure location. The details of the transaction were wiped, so we don’t know what data he was after. However, the cyber forensic team was able to pinpoint the targeted computers, and they’re going to autopsy their hard drives.”
Simon forced his jaw to unclench long enough to ask, “Do you want to fire me, Dev? Or would you prefer my resignation?”
“Stop trying to quit.” Dev leaned back in his chair. Carrie had gotten the Uber driver and a clean shirt to him the night before, and Dev had already managed to make the stiff designer linen look crumpled and sweaty. He hooked a finger into his collar and absently tugged at it. “I’m not dealing with this without my chief of security.”
Nora cleared her throat. “Your chief of security got you into this,” she said. She shot Simon a quick apologetic look with a twist of glossy lips and a shrug. They were friends too—enough that she’d pass on a tip about a car she thought he’d like, not enough that he talked to her about his love life—but that just made her judge him to a higher standard. “The board will not be happy that he’s still on the payroll.”
“The board will be happy with what I tell them,” Dev said, and that old sullen scowl settled on his brow. He’d always been that guy, the one who would cut his nose off just to spite whoever had told him not to. Nora frowned and went to say something, but Dev stopped her. “Enough, Nora. The board isn’t your problem anymore, remember? I’ll deal with them, you find out what data was stolen, and Simon will find our Mr. Jacob Archer.”
Of its own volition, Simon’s hand clenched against his thigh. His knuckles showed bony and white through the callused skin. “And then?” he asked, his voice rough with frustration.At himself. “What will happen to him?”
“Do you care?”
“Yes,” Simon said. “I want to see him punished.”
That was true. But it maybe wasn’t the whole truth, not yet, and Dev looked like he knew that. It didn’t matter. By the time Simon caught up with Jacob, itwouldbe the truth. He changed the subject.
“The team I had on him lost his trail on Riverside last night,” he said. “I have them staking out his flat, but I don’t think there’s anything there he cares enough to go back for. The worry is that his client was from out of the city or the state, because as far as I can tell, he’s got no family or long-term ties here. I have teams watching any mass transit, but it is a big place, and you’re rich, but notthatrich.”
Dev leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen against his knee. It was the beat to some country song, but Simon couldn’t place it.
“What if he just drives out?”
Simon shrugged. “He can’t drive.”
It took a second, but Nora finally voiced the question that Simon asked himself every time he thought about Jacob.
