He reopened his eyes in time to witness a large bolt of lightning rip through the clouds, reminding Jonah of the restless energy surging inside him that had no way to escape. A loud clap of thunder boomed in the darkness, then rolled and rumbled for several seconds. Jonah recognized he was witnessing the tail end of the storm rather than the beginning. Too bad he couldn’t say that about the maelstrom wreaking havoc on his psyche.
Marla was dying. It was beyond his comprehension, yet he’d seen the truth in her eyes. She had accepted her fate, even if Jonah was struggling to do so.
“I’m still here, baby,” Marla had whispered when Jonah hugged her goodbye. “Please don’t mourn me yet.”
Jonah had nodded and forced a smile on his face. Sitting alone in the dark with his nightmares as company, Jonah didn’t have to pretend. He allowed himself to grieve for baby Abigail who’d never met her daddy. He mourned the brothers he lost to Al-Qaeda forces in Afghanistan ten years ago. Mostly, he cried for the dear friend he hadn’t lost yet.
Each remembrance of what he’d lost, or stood to lose, churned the emotional vortex stronger and faster until he thought his brain might explode. Another bolt of lightning rent the sky, reminding him of his granny’s wise words.
“No matter the ferocity of the storm, it always passes.”
Jonah saluted the sky with his bottle of beer. “Here’s to you, Granny.”
He sipped his beer and watched the resplendent display until he could no longer see the flashes of brilliant light or hear the rumble. Unfortunately for him, his private turmoil had only quieted instead of moving on.
Back in his bedroom, Jonah could hear Kendall and company starting up for round two. He buried his head beneath his pillow to drown out the sounds, but it didn’t work. He tried thinking about complex coding techniques to distract his mind, but it didn’t work either. The sounds of his roommate engaging in very enthusiastic sex steered his brain into a direction he seemed incapable of stopping. Behind Jonah’s closed eyelids, visions of the unattainable man tormented him until he could no longer ignore his aching dick.
Jonesing after your intern. Could you be any more cliché?
Flopping onto his back, Jonah looked at his right hand and said, “I guess it’s just you and me again, pal.”
The next morning, Jonah got the shock of his life when he returned to the corner market to pick up his Bugles and saw the skinny white guy standing behind the counter with Mr. Ling. The older man appeared to be teaching the leg pisser how to use the fucking thing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” he groused, startling a lady, who grabbed her kid’s hand and bolted out the door.
Mr. Ling looked up and smiled happily. “Ah, it’s Dirty Harry.”
SWG snapped his head up. His eyes widened in alarm, and he began to tremble like a Chihuahua. Good. “C-c-c-can I h-help you?” he managed to stammer out when Jonah reached the counter. His name tag read Dakota, and the red polo uniform shirt made the acne on his face look more prominent. If the Lings hired him to work in the store, the guy was at least twenty-one. He sure didn’t look it.
Jonah didn’t bother hiding his contempt for the pissant. After a long staredown, he shifted his attention to Mr. Ling. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jonah asked, gesturing to SWG Dakota in case his question wasn’t clear.
“Yes.” Mr. Ling nodded. “We’ll be just fine.”
“I didn’t rob the store,” Dakota said softly. “I would still be in the broom closet if you hadn’t yanked me out.”
Jonah jerked his focus back to SWG. “So, this is my fault?”
“N-n-no,” Dakota stuttered.
Jonah held out his hand, palm up. “Give me your ID.”
“My ID?” Dakota asked.
“Dirty Harry is a cop. Good guy,” Mr. Ling told Dakota. “Show him so he feels better about you working here.”
Dakota quickly pulled his driver’s license from his wallet and extended it to Jonah with a shaky hand. “Your name is Harry?” he asked.
Ignoring him, Jonah snapped a picture of the ID with his cell phone before returning it.
“His name is Jonah. I just call him Dirty Harry after my favorite character.” Mr. Ling squinted up his face, formed a pistol with his right thumb and forefinger, and lifted his hand. Jonah knew what was coming, but Dakota moved out of the way like he was about to get caught up in the crossfire. Mr. Ling narrowed his eyes and began reciting the famous lines from Dirty Harry, where Clint Eastwood asks a perpetrator if they’re feeling lucky. Dakota jumped when Mr. Ling put big emphasis on the word “punk” at the end.
Chuckling, Jonah said, “No, I’m not feeling lucky. I went home without my stash of Caramel Bugles.”
“Oh, those were for you?” Dakota asked, then worried his bottom lip between his teeth.
“What do you mean were?”
Mr. Ling smiled apologetically. “I forgot to explain our arrangement to Dakota. He saw the delivery and assumed they were for sale and stocked them on the shelves this morning. I was arguing with distributors and hadn’t realized what was happening until they were all gone.”
“Sorry,” SWG Dakota mumbled.
Jonah tamped down his disappointment. “It’s fine.”
“Mrs. Ling is gathering some from our other stores. You can pick them up on your way home.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ling.”
“So, Caramel Bugles, huh?” Dakota asked.
“You got something against caramel-covered corn snacks?” Jonah countered.
“Well, no, but you seemed so…” Dakota waved his hands around while presumably searching for the right words. Either no adjectives came quickly, or he wasn’t willing to speak them out loud in front of his boss and ruin his second chance.
The phone rang, and Mr. Ling left him alone with Dakota to answer it.
“Who is Dirty Harry?” Dakota asked.
“It’s a movie franchise starring Clint Eastwood. Mr. Ling just performed some of the iconic lines from it.”
“Never heard of him,” SWG said.
“Scott Eastwood’s dad,” Jonah explained.
Awareness sparked in Dakota’s blue eyes. “Oh, I know him.”
“He looks just like his dad,” Jonah said.
“Where’s your gun and badge?” Dakota questioned.
“He’s not that kind of cop,” Mr. Ling said as he rejoined them. He tapped his temples, and Dakota looked even more confused. “Uses brain to catch bad guys instead of a gun.”
Jonah could happily go the rest of his life without holding a gun, let alone shooting one.
“I’m a criminal intelligence analyst,” Jonah explained. “I have to take all the same training and certifications as the field agents, but my position doesn’t require me to carry a gun.”
“Brain is a weapon,” Mr. Ling said emphatically.
“So, you’re like a cyber cop?” Dakota asked.
Jonah wasn’t in the mood to correct the kid’s assumptions, so he said, “Something like that.”
“How’d you get the scar?” Dakota asked. What the fuck was this? Twenty questions?
“Knife fight in a bar last year.”
“Cool,” the kid said nervously.
“Nonsense,” Mr. Ling said. “Big joker, this one. He got the scar in war. He’s a hero. Always be nice to him.”
Hero.
Jonah mentally cringed but tried not to show his contempt in front of Mr. Ling, who thought he was bestowing an honor on Jonah. “I’m a survivor, but that doesn’t make me a hero,” Jonah said. When Mr. Ling went to answer the phone again, Jonah snagged Dakota by his polo and jerked him forward. “Don’t you dare do anything to hurt the Lings. Don’t steal from them. Don’t show up for your shifts late or call in sick. Never make Mrs. Ling cry. If you do, I will come back here and show you how deadly a person can be without a gun. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Dakota replied, nodding like one of those bobblehead dolls.
“I’ll be watching,” he said befor
e releasing SWG’s shirt and leaving the store.
The first thing Jonah did when he reached his office was run a background check on Dakota, who was surprisingly clean. He didn’t like the Bugles blocker working for the Lings, but he had to trust their judgment.
Outside his office door, Jonah heard the familiar sounds of Avery’s arrival. His accelerated pulse matched the resurging gusts inside him. This was the moment Jonah anticipated and dreaded the most each workday. Avery would open the door and enter, bringing the brightest ray of sunshine with him. It would pierce Jonah’s gloomy universe, making it that much darker when Avery exited his office.
And, like last night’s storm, it wasn’t a matter of if he left. One of these days, Avery would leave for good, taking his warmth and brilliance with him.
Jonah hated clichés, but he was the moth to Avery Bradford’s flame. Over the past eight months, he flew closer and closer, longing to feel Avery’s heat against his skin just once.
Once was all it would take to reduce him to a pile of ash. Still, the lure became harder and harder to resist each day.
What have you done to me, Aunt Ellie?
A question he asked himself every day since his aunt, Ellen Rigby, the newly appointed police commissioner, had convinced him, and later the deputy director, that Jonah needed Avery’s assistance. She said he was brilliant with computers and was eager to use his skills for the greater good, so they’d hired the guy sight unseen. No interview. No resumé. That was the kind of influence Aunt Ellie had over him, or maybe it was the caramel macarons her wife had baked for Jonah that had softened him toward her big idea.
Or was it a big mistake?
Jonah’s door opened a few minutes later, and Avery breezed inside. He didn’t have to glance at his intern to know he held two mugs. One would hold the nectar of the gods, coffee, and one would contain a liquid Avery called tea. Based on the stench, Jonah surmised the brewing method required leaves, dried flowers, and sweaty gym socks. “You won’t believe the latest gossip,” Avery said excitedly.
“I’m sure I won’t care,” Jonah replied drolly, not taking his eyes off his computer screen displaying Dakota’s driver’s license picture.
“Okay,” Avery said coolly, placing Jonah’s mug on his desk. “Please tell me you’re not screening potential boyfriends.”
Jonah jerked his head in Avery’s direction. His intern’s hazel eyes glittered with mischief, and Jonah flapped his wings closer to the flame. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“That’s right,” Avery replied sagely, running his fingers over the row of buttons on his pale lavender dress shirt. Was it new or had he just never worn it to work before? The color made his hazel eyes look more green than brown and went well with his fair skin and golden hair. When Jonah had last seen Avery yesterday afternoon, his hairstyle had looked a bit shaggy with overlong bangs hanging in his face. This morning, Avery’s fade looked tighter and his quiff smoother. A new shirt and a trip to the barber? Jonah resented noticing these things at the same time he cataloged them in his brain. “You don’t do the boyfriend thing.”
“I don’t,” Jonah agreed. He fucked. Just not lately. “This jackass tried to rob the corner market store in my neighborhood last night.” Technically, SWG hid in the closet, then pissed himself, but it didn’t sound nearly as interesting. “The owners showed the guy mercy and hired him instead of pursuing charges. I wanted to make sure he had a clean record.”
“You don’t think people deserve a second chance?” Avery asked.
“I do,” Jonah said. “I also know that a high percentage of people don’t appreciate them. I don’t want to see Mr. and Mrs. Ling get hurt.”
Avery smiled and his eyes sparkled with admiration. “You’re a good man.”
Jonah’s skin heated, and his face felt like it was engulfed in flames. He usually recoiled when someone called him a hero or praised his character but not with Avery. He wanted to be the good man Avery saw, and on many days, Jonah could almost believe it was true.
Sensing Jonah’s discomfort, Avery nudged his coffee mug closer to him and changed the subject. “Bill is back with Ashley again.”
“Again? Does that make it the tenth time?”
“Aha! It’s the eleventh. You do pay attention when I repeat the water-cooler gossip.”
Jonah rolled his eyes. “I feign interest so you’ll spit it out and get to work.”
Avery studied him over the rim of his mug as he sipped his sweat-sock stew. He set his tea down and smiled devilishly. “You hang on to my every word. Admit it.”
“Do not.” He so fucking did. Sometimes Jonah watched those lips form each word, then replayed them later when he was alone. Especially in moments like these because Jonah could almost believe Avery was flirting with him.
“Is today the day you finally admit how much you like me?” Avery asked.
The corner of Jonah’s mouth twitched. “Like is such a strong word.” It wasn’t strong enough.
Avery smirked but didn’t press harder for an admission. “You look tired.”
“I’m sure you heard how badly the meetings went yesterday,” Jonah said. “I doubt anyone excludes me from the morning gossip.”
“Definitely not,” Avery admitted. “People go back and tell their assistants and interns how poorly Butch Trexler treats you, and they can’t wait to fill me in. There’s an office pool on how long you’ll last at this job.”
“How long I’ll last?” He’d already worked for the bureau for three years. “Before I do what? Harm him or quit?”
Avery tipped his head to the side. “I’m not sure what ‘Hulk out’ entails.”
“Did you bet against me?”
“What do you think?” Avery punctuated his question with an exaggerated eye roll.
Jonah wasn’t sure he wanted to know. As his intern, Avery should be on his side. As Jonah goes, so does Avery, or something like that. He didn’t like thinking Avery was rooting against him, or worse, plotting against him.
“I would never bet against you.”
“Can we get to work now?”
“You’re the boss,” Avery said.
Jonah fumbled his coffee cup and nearly dropped it. He’d lain in bed the night before, fucking his fist while fantasizing about Avery saying that very same thing after Jonah ordered him to drop to his knees and suck his cock.
“What?” Avery asked. “You’re not the boss?”
Jonah swallowed hard. “I am the boss.”
Avery set his cup down on the desk and clapped. “That’s good, Jonah. Now say it with more conviction.”
Jonah traded the coffee cup for the legal notepad on his desk. He and Avery used it often to make notes for one another when they were working simultaneously on different aspects of their projects. Both men liked to listen to music while working, and constantly hitting pause to chat about different coding variables was just annoying. Most days, the notebook was filled with computer-geek jargon that most people wouldn’t understand. In between those scribblings were messages they wrote to one another and sometimes a rousing game of tic-tac-toe. What Avery didn’t know, and Jonah would never tell him, was that he’d kept every single page of gibberish in a drawer at home. So pathetic.
Jonah picked up a pen and wrote, You’re fired.
Avery pulled another pen from the cup on Jonah’s desk and wrote, Ha! You’re a funny guy. Then Avery returned the pen to the cup and smiled impishly.
Jonah had seen that same wicked grin behind his closed eyelids in the early morning hours. Recalling it in his office made him break out in a cold sweat.
“I don’t know why you insist on goofing around when there’s work to be done,” Avery said in a mockingly severe tone. His lips quivered, ruining the effect, but he continued. “We’re so close to completing your microchip design. It will change the way people view cybersecurity, so maybe you focus on that instead of Bill and Ashley.”
Jonah grimaced. “Do I really come off sounding that douchey?”
> Avery’s eyes widened. “God, no. I was trying to imitate Trexler. Seems I need to work on my skills.”
“Or, we could focus on the microchip,” Jonah suggested.
“Fine. Be a thundercloud,” Avery teased. “The storms woke me up this morning, and I started thinking about you.”
Jonah quirked a brow, and Avery’s eyes widened.
“I meant the chip. I have some ideas on how to improve it. To beat a hacker, you have to think like one. You”—Avery pointed at Jonah—“don’t think like a hacker. Do you want to hear my suggestions?”
“Of course.”
He’d be an idiot not to listen to Avery’s suggestions because Ellen had been right about his intern’s skillset. He was brilliant. Jonah just wished his admiration stopped there and didn’t wander to Avery’s lithe body, or his generous mouth, and pert ass. As fine as those attributes were, and he’d spent many hours thinking about them, Avery’s feisty spirit was the irresistible flame Jonah couldn’t ignore.
Too bad Avery’s exuberance also meant he liked to gesture with his hands, sometimes wildly. It was how Jonah’s coffee cup ended up knocked over a few hours later.
“Fuck!” Jonah said, shoving his chair back from his desk. He wasn’t fast enough.
“Oh no.” Avery’s horror-stricken voice matched his expression. “Not again.”
Jonah glared at his intern as he stood up. “Yes, again. I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose,” he said, striding toward the door.
“On purpose? For what reason?”
“To drive me crazy,” he replied, picking up the pace.
“How’s it working so far?”
Jonah yanked open the bathroom door down the hall and was relieved to see it was empty. “I found the perfect intern for you. You’ll wonder how you ever survived without him,” Jonah said, mimicking his aunt’s voice.
“Oh, that’s a great impersonation. Now, do me,” Avery said.
Ride the Lightning : Sinister in Savannah Book 1 Page 3