“I have no idea. Kyle has a beautiful mind, one of the smartest kids I’ve ever had pass through here. I’m pretty sure no one here knows half the shit he writes on that board. But he does.” Walsh looked at Jacob. “Looks like the two of you are getting along.”
“Yeah.” He followed the man deeper into the barn, weaving in and out of the equipment.
“I haven’t asked and you haven’t offered.” He nodded at the treadmill. As much as Jacob didn’t want to climb aboard, he’d never fully recover if he didn’t rebuild his strength.
He waited until he walked at a steady pace before asking, “Asked what?”
“Don’t play me like that, son. I’m no fool, and neither are you.”
Having the man talk to him like the father he never had made it all that much harder to hate the guy. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”
“When you are.” He placed his back to Jacob and barked at the siblings, who’d gone back to snapping each other with towels like a couple of kids. No pushing. No demands. No threats. It was refreshing having a leader who didn’t lead by fear tactics.
Barrett approached Evan and didn’t slow as he got right in the smaller man’s face, hissing a demand Jacob couldn’t hear above the motor of the treadmill. Evan rolled his eyes and walked away, leaving Barrett standing there, fuming.
Jacob watched the show from the machine, biting back a grin. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it looked like a lover’s spat. At least there were two men other than him who preferred the same sex. How refreshing. Maybe he wouldn’t be judged here the way he’d been judged on the frontline.
“Shit!” Kyle exclaimed and erased an entire line with his sleeve, his brow furrowed in frustration.
Jacob hopped off the treadmill and approached the whiteboard. “What’s up, kid?”
“Tried to create a flux capacitor.”
He chuckled. “Next time, try something from Star Trek, or maybe Star Wars.”
He finished erasing and jumped right back into drawing out numbers, letters, and other scribbles, muttering to himself as if any of it made sense. “Don’t mix the stars, Jacob.”
“Sorry, runt.”
Kyle didn’t respond, his focus on the board. He wrote fiercely, scribbling so fast Jacob had a hard time believing what he saw. Within what seemed seconds, the kid had the entire whiteboard full. Kyle scanned the board, his eyes moving rapidly back and forth, his lips moving fast as he muttered incoherently. He then wiped off the board and started again.
“Did you just erase all your work?”
“No.” He’d already started in on the next line.
“But…” He didn’t feel like arguing the point and backed away. Kyle didn’t slow as he started in on a third line.
“He memorized it.” Walsh walked up and stopped next to Jacob. “Once it’s in his noggin, there’s no need to keep it cluttering up the board.”
“How old is he?”
“Hard to say. Sometimes he tells me he’s about to celebrate his thirteenth birthday. Other times he tells me he’s already celebrated it thirteen times. I’m guessing he’s probably between twelve and fourteen.”
“So thirteen.” Jacob rolled his eyes. The kid’s concept of time was just off. He focused on the number, telling Walsh his age even if he didn’t consciously know it. Subconsciously, he did. And now, so did Jacob.
“Let’s take a walk.” Walsh held the door for him as they left the barn. Although it wasn’t raining at the moment, the moisture clung to the tall blades of grass and soaked Jacob’s pants. He hated how wet everything stayed in the pacific northwest. He should have moved to Arizona years ago.
But Washington state was his home. He’d grown up south of Seattle, went to school in Olympia, and had been stationed at the joint military base in Fort Lewis. When TREX recruited him away from the military, he’d stayed in Seattle, close to the agency’s HQ. Even after he’d joined Sergio’s crew, they kept their work within the state lines.
“It’s tough adjusting to a life outside the agency, especially for a decorated frontline agent.” Walsh didn’t waste any time getting right to the point. “You’ve led an impressive career thus far.”
Thus far? Hell, as far as Jacob was concerned, his career ended the instant the agency kicked him to the curb. Everything he’d done after that, and would no doubt do after this, put him that much closer to the inevitable. He didn’t want to die. He wasn’t seeking it out. He didn’t have some sort of death wish. All the shrinks agreed. His mental state wasn’t in question.
It was his blind need to protect those close to him that would eventually take him down. He couldn’t protect everyone, and he knew that. Yet, that didn’t stop him from trying. Every. Time. Even if he did save them, they’d still turn on him. This he knew from experience.
“I talked to your old CO today.”
Jacob shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them warm. It may be the beginning of June, but with the wind and threat of yet another rain shower, the chills peppered his skin. “Spence prefers the term ex over old.”
“He’s both.”
Better not have him hear that. Spencer Allen may be many things. Stubborn. Edgy. Set in his ways. But tell him he was old and thems fighting words. Granger once mentioned the silver in the CO’s hair and ended up with a black eye.
Vince Granger. No matter how many times Jacob had called to check on him after he’d been shot, the man wouldn’t take his call. None of his brothers-in-arms would. He got it. He’d screwed up. But to shut him out like that? That killed him.
“He’s back in chemo.”
Jacob inhaled sharply. His ex-CO, now deputy director at the agency, was the strongest man he knew. If anyone could beat cancer, he could. “I didn’t know.”
“He doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because he’s more than a CO to you. He’s more than your former SAC. He’s a friend. He’s family.”
Jacob shot him a sideways look as shock rocked his system. He didn’t want more family. He didn’t want to be close enough to anyone, only to be forced apart. It happened far too much for his liking. His parents. His siblings. His team.
Jonathan.
“Son, I get that you’ve been handed loaded dice. It’s what you do with them that matters. Are you gonna roll? Bank on that seven? Or are you going to shove them right back into the dealer’s smug face and demand new dice?”
He took a breath to say something but stopped. What could he say to that? Hell, he barely understood what that even meant. But, he understand enough. Kicking dew off the grass, he responded with, “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Let me give you a little tip.” He leaned in. “I wouldn’t bank on that seven.”
Not for the first time, Jacob eyed Leo Walsh, wondering just how much he really knew.
6
“Is that really necessary?” Lee could look past the balloons, the cake, the decorations. Even the punch that had to be spiked, knowing his business partner here at Orchid, Inc. The entire office shifted into party mode whenever they released a new product.
It was the glitter his gatekeeper of an admin assistant tossed at every single one of their launch parties that got on his last nerve. He’d end up picking sparkly specks out of all his crevices for the next week. Luckily, he’d installed cloth filters over the fans keeping the server room cool. He’d already had to replace Hawkeye’s fan, and Trapper was on the fritz. If Hot Lips went down, so did their intranet. His farm of servers, all named after characters from M*A*S*H, had suffered enough keeping up with Orchid’s demands. They didn’t deserve to perish from a friendly fire of glitter.
“It’s tradition,” Pablo sang as he sent another pinch into the air. “Think of it as pixie dust. We’re flying!”
“You do realize that’s not how fairies fly?”
“It’s how this fairy flies.” He gave him a look as he launched more of the annoying flecks.
Lee coughed as some made
its way into his mouth. “I’m going to find your glitter stash someday. When I do, I’m going to burn it all.”
“Until then.” He released a large amount and grinned as it fell around him. Pablo did love his pixie dust. “Enjoy the sparkly pretties, Mr. Lamont. Happy Release Day!” He continued to chant the same three words as he spread the love across the office. A group of developers, most of the time barely cracking a single smile between them, all laughed and toasted as glitter rained down on them.
Lee blamed the spiked punch.
He stood and went to the window, tuning out the festivities behind him setting the office abuzz. It was just a product release. A freeware product release. Emphasis on free. They didn’t need to make it such a big deal.
Then again, it was Orchid’s first release of anything marketable since the attack. It may have taken him two months before he could sit in front of a keyboard without completely blanking on how to write a line of code. It may have taken him another two to actually produce a line of code. But, damn it, he kept pushing himself until he came back even better than before those men had attacked and left him for dead. Now, almost a year to the day, he was about to release his greatest creation yet.
Physically, the wounds had healed to noticeable but not deforming scars. Physically, he was fine. Mentally, he didn’t know if he’d ever recover. Every time he closed his eyes, that day replayed. The initial meeting. The flirting. The way A put that guy in his place for not minding his own business. Then the dinner. The kiss. The way he’d set Lee’s senses on fire. Everything about that part of the day still brought him regret of what could have been. What should have been.
But then he’d recall the confusion over the sudden change. The irritation coursing through him as he’d walked away. The terror when he’d wished A had been there to protect him as two men cornered him in an alley. The hallucination of A suddenly appearing to save the day instead of what had really happened. He tensed and labored his breathing at the memory, his fear still very real. The scar on his face throbbed, as it always did whenever he thought about that day.
He rubbed at the scar that ran along the left side of his jawbone to the tip of his chin, a permanent reminder burned into his skin as well as his psyche of the horrors he’d endured that night trapped in the alley. He’d never forget that day. Even if his fear of the dark disappeared. Even if he wasn’t now terrified of every shadow. The scars would always remind him of how close he’d come to dying in an alley.
Lee shrugged to loosen his muscles. He glanced out the window twenty-two floors above Seattle. Traffic was a shit show, as usual. The clouds had moved in, leaving it dark, gray, and dismal for the evening commute. Head and brake lights shined off the wet pavement. Today would mark the thirty-fifth straight day of rain. Awesome. It was the wettest spring on record. Also awesome.
If it weren’t for Orchid, Lee would have given up and moved away from this dreary city after the attack. But, since he had a city full of employees, he wouldn’t leave Seattle. He couldn’t do that to them. His want to run away did not surpass everyone else’s reliance on a steady paycheck. They had mouths to feed. Mortgages to pay. What did he have? Locks on all his doors and a prescription to help him sleep.
Besides, Lee Lamont was a survivor. He refused to let fear win, despite how he now went out of his way to avoid shadows. He wanted to prove to the cowards who’d attacked him that he wasn’t afraid, despite the new locks he’d installed on the doors at home, the top-of-the-line security system he’d put in place at the office, or the twenty-four-hour armed guards dedicated to his floor.
“We’re ready for you, Mr. Lamont.” Pablo announced. “Inferno will be live as soon as you give the word.”
Lee took another minute to gather himself, refusing to allow anyone to see what a mess he’d turned into after that attack. No, as President and CEO of Orchid, Inc., it was his job to appear at the top of his game to the rest of Orchid’s employees.
Even if he’d rather crawl under a rock and wallow in his own fear than face another day.
With a shudder, he straightened, adjusted his glasses, and turned to face Pablo just as the man pulled out another pinch of glitter. His admin took one look at Lee’s stilled expression and quickly shoved the little flecks back into the bag.
Good call.
Lee brushed at the glitter already on his dark dress shirt. “Has it been uploaded?”
“Yes, sir.” Pablo nodded and dropped his dark gaze. A beautiful Latino man, Pablo Garcia turned the heads of the most faithful men.
If the man was into beautiful Latino men.
But Lee had long since realized his interests swayed toward another beauty entirely. Thoughts of deep-hazel eyes burned into his senses, eyes so intense they penetrated Lee’s very core. It made no sense why he still thought of the man as anything other than a shallow asshole. Instead of giving them a chance, he’d given into his own insecurities and pushed Lee away. That should be enough to convince him the guy wasn’t worth his time.
“Is there a problem?” Lee knew better than to ignore the way Pablo kept his eyes down as if submitting. His admin only did that when he’d done something wrong.
“It’s just, uh…”
“Speak, Pablo. We haven’t got all night.” He still had a load of work to do after everyone left. The sooner they launched, the sooner everyone left, and he’d get back to work.
“Permission to speak freely, sir.”
He rolled his eyes. For as long as Pablo had worked at Orchid, he’d asked for permission to speak freely, which only annoyed Lee. They weren’t the military. He didn’t have that kind of relationship with his admin and never would. No, the permissions Lee granted those under him were quite literal. You may open your eyes. You may watch me pleasure you. You may cry my name.
He hadn’t enjoyed a single session of play in over a year. It wasn’t for lack of want. He wanted to. Damn, how he wanted to. He’d even engaged in light play, but couldn’t follow through as the Dom, the thought of taking charge paralyzing. He’d switched to sub in the hopes that’d work, but only made it worse. Every action from the Dom had startled Lee into shouting out his safe word.
What place did he have in the lifestyle if he couldn’t play?
“What is it, Pablo?” Lee finally asked when he realized Pablo hadn’t said anything.
“Are you sure you want to do this? Inferno could net Orchid millions. A program that sets viruses against each other is brilliant.”
“It’s not about the money,” Lee answered absently, his focus elsewhere. Despite the obvious circumstances, Lee should thank those men for forcing him to recreate the prototype stolen that night. Not only did Lee create a better Inferno, he was now ready to release the product for free instead of demanding millions as he’d planned. Money no longer drove him. He had enough. Helping those defenseless against attacks they never saw coming now drove him. Arming the innocent with a way to ward off intruders now drove him.
“It should be.” Branson Wentworth, Lee’s business partner, scowled as he walked over. “It’s always about money.”
“To you, maybe.”
Branson widened his bright blue eyes, feigning shock. He grinned and tilted his head. Several locks of his wavy blond hair fell out from behind his ear. “My dear, sweet Mr. Lamont. What seems to be vexing thee?”
Lee hated the way he warmed to Branson’s English accent, even if he had the sneaking suspicion it wasn’t real. Regardless, it made him all that harder to resist. But the two had had their chance, and their relationship lasted all of five dates. They’d played on a trial basis, first with Branson in the Dom role, but he never really could pull it off. So, they’d switched. Branson couldn’t quite pull off being a sub, either. A few too many drinks that led to one disastrous night of sloppy, drunken sex told them both they were better off as friends. Lee wanted someone into his lifestyle. Branson wasn’t.
“Quit being so English,” Lee snapped.
Branson forced a frown to contort his
otherwise handsome face. “I do apologize.”
Pablo giggled and sighed. “I love your accent.”
“As do most.” He winked. Pablo sighed again.
“Don’t you have more glitter to toss?”
He nodded and twirled with the grace of a dancer. Lee suspected he’d had several years of training. “I’m off to spread the love.”
He leapt away, leaving the business partners to talk.
“In all seriousness.” Branson faced Lee and lost all expression. “I get that you’re in a different place now than you were a year ago. I get that what mattered to you before may not matter to you now, but it matters to me. It matters to this company. This whole pauper thing going on needs to bloody stop. Orchid isn’t a charity. We have bills to pay.”
“We have plenty of royalties rolling in that pay the bills,” he countered. “Don’t get greedy. Inferno is only the beginning. With this kind of technology, the possibilities are endless.”
“Our royalty streams are not.” Branson gave him a look. “You brought me in to keep you in line, remember? You are the smartest man I know, Lee. You really are.”
“Thanks.” He grinned.
“It’s common sense you lack.”
He dropped the smile.
“You don’t take a product like Inferno and release it to market without gaining something in return. That’s the very definition of profit. It doesn’t always have to be financial gain, but it does need to be some sort of gain. What are you gaining by giving it away?”
“The market,” he replied smugly. Branson frowned, so Lee went on to explain. “With Inferno, we put Orchid on the map as the counter-virus software. In fact, the only counter-virus software.”
“Don’t you mean anti-virus?”
“No. Anti means defensive. It sits back and waits for something to happen. By the time the anti-virus software kicks in, the virus has already attacked. Counter means offensive. It goes after the virus and knocks it on its ass before it has a chance to attack by using its own code against itself.”
Branson blinked several times before shaking his head. “You lost me at no financial gain.” When Lee took a breath to keep going, he brought up his hand. “That’s quite all right. I’ll let this one go if you promise me something in return.”
Jacob Page 5