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by E. J. Russell

  Jared’s jaw thrust out, and he finally looked as if he had a chin. “You’re out of line, Wallace. I pay my people good money to—”

  “Fine, but who checks their work? What if they’re incompetent? How will you know?” Gideon leaned across the table until his face was inches from Jared’s. “When’s the last time you sauntered out of your corner office and talked to the people on the front lines? Do you depend on the Luddite for all your data?”

  “Who?” Color infused Jared’s cheeks. “If you’re planning to toss accusations around, let’s get all the players here, shall we? I’ll get Harrison to—” He started to reach inside his blazer, but Gideon grabbed his wrist.

  “No. That’s my point. What do you think? What direction do you want your company to go? Assuming you ever review my design proposal, how will you evaluate it? On whether you believe it has the potential to drive your business? Whether you like it? Or will you depend on somebody else to make the decision for you?”

  Jared pressed his lips together and dropped his gaze to the table.

  That’s what I thought. “How much of your company’s reputation is built on your father’s work rather than yours? It won’t take long before that goodwill is exhausted. I studied your website before I mocked up the new design. You haven’t developed a new product since your father retired.”

  “That’s not true. We released a new model—”

  “I’m not talking about upgrades—a few bug fixes or a couple of new bells and whistles. I’m talking about something new. Something innovative.”

  “I suppose you know all about innovation.” Jared sneered and took a gulp of Scotch. “That’s why you’re sweeping sawdust off the carpet.”

  “It was drywall dust, and so what? It was honest work. If you’re incapable of expanding on your father’s legacy, then you could at least try to live up to his principles. Or better yet, have the balls to scare up some of your own. Otherwise, what’s your legacy going to be? The only milestone I see in your future is a sexual harassment lawsuit.”

  The color drained out of his face. “You—”

  “Not from me. You’re not worth my time, but at the rate you’re going, it’s inevitable.” Gideon leaned in again. “This is a wake-up call.” For both of us. “The network burn-in is tomorrow morning. I’ll bring the system up, meet the terms of phase one. But I’m exercising my option to pull out of phase two, because frankly? Some things simply aren’t worth the fucking pain.”

  Alex knocked on the back door of the restaurant, and Landon opened it immediately.

  “Took you long enough. Did you come by way of San Francisco?”

  “No, asshole. Not all of us tear up the freeways.” Alex strode into the hallway, and Landon pulled the door closed with an ominous clunk.

  “Makes no sense. You’ve got a muscle car and you don’t flex it.”

  “Do we have to talk about my car? Where’s Gideon?”

  “In the bar. I couldn’t stall them anymore. I’ll take you through the storeroom so you can check things out from the restroom bay.”

  Alex followed Landon through the maze of industrial-steel shelving filled with cases of liquor and stacks of starched linen tablecloths. “Why do I feel like we’re in fucking eighth grade again?”

  “If we were in eighth grade, you’d be spending the next month in detention for profanity, douche bag.”

  “Yeah, and you’d be right beside me. Where—” Alex stopped in the shadows of the alcove between the restaurant and the bar. Gideon was sitting at a table with that asshole Haynes, their faces within kissing distance—and he was holding that bastard’s hand.

  Jesus. How had they moved so fricking fast? Alex’s heart pounded like it was trying to exit the building by way of his throat.

  It’s where he belongs. Like with like, just as he said. No messy family strings.

  He spun around and bolted back into the storeroom.

  “Dude. What the hell?” Landon loped after him on his stilt-like legs.

  “Nice try, pal. But it’s too late. I blew it.”

  “I thought blowing it was one of your major talents. Maybe you should blow it again.”

  “Let it go, Lan. I know you wanted to help but—”

  “You’re giving up? After however-the-fuck-many years you’ve spent obsessing over this guy—”

  “I don’t obsess.”

  “O-B-S-E-S-S. I know it when I see it. Fight for him, man.”

  “There’s no point.” Alex headed for the back door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I left my drill upstairs at the site. I need it to finish a job at home.”

  Landon grabbed his shoulder. “What about finishing this job? Relationships are work, don’t get me wrong—that’s why I avoid ’em. But you’re all about the ties that bind.”

  “This is not about me.”

  “It fucking well should be. Your parents aren’t the only ones who deserve a break. You should—”

  “Don’t.” Alex disengaged Landon’s hand, squeezing it once before stepping away. “I know you mean well, man, but some things can’t be fixed. Not even if we want them like a son of a bitch.”

  Landon sighed, his big shoulders drooping. “I still think it’s a waste. Stop by for a drink afterward anyway, yeah? My offer still holds.”

  “I . . .” Suddenly empty of all desire to do anything at all, Alex shook his head. “No. Thanks, but no. See you.”

  Alex straight-armed the panic bar and strode out the back door. He should have known Gideon wouldn’t wait around for him to pull his head out of his ass. Why should he? Alex had let his temper and his guilt double-team him on Thanksgiving, and taken it out on Gideon.

  Transference. That’s what the therapist who’d worked with him when he’d first been adopted had called it whenever Alex acted out as a kid. You’re not a kid anymore. Isn’t it time you start acting like an adult?

  He punched the service elevator call button, and on the ride up to the sixteenth floor, he stared at his distorted reflection. Or maybe this was one of those truth-telling mirrors, and the twisted image was what he was really like inside. What they were all like.

  Lindsay was both right and wrong about their family. Yeah, they were totally fucked up, but not because they were shackled by niceness—hell, he’d proved beyond a doubt he could leave nice eating his dust. But because they’d barricaded themselves behind the wall of Ned’s illness. They had wanted to protect him, sure, but they’d been trying to protect themselves too.

  Shit, we can’t do this alone. If Alex’s food-flinging wasn’t a sign they were drowning, then Lindsay’s unexpected profanity-vomit sure was. They needed to let other people in, but only the right people. Not Aunt Ivy. She could stay on the outside forever. But Toshiko? Absolutely.

  Gideon?

  Damn it, Gideon had pushed beyond his own comfort zone for the Hennings more than once, and how had Alex thanked him? By locking him out, sticking him in the same camp as Aunt Ivy or Will Tuckett.

  He hadn’t deserved that, and now it was too fucking late. Gideon had moved on and left the Hennings to limp along on their own.

  His mom’s words—that his dad hadn’t taken care of the family single-handedly, no matter what he thought—came back to Alex as he left the elevator. Had he been trying to meet impossible expectations, fit into a role that had never existed?

  He had no intention of shirking his duty to his family, but he couldn’t do it alone. He didn’t want to do it alone. But he’d driven away the only person who’d shown the slightest interest in sharing the burden.

  Your own damn fault, Henning. Better learn to deal.

  Alex tracked down his missing Makita behind the HVAC console in the server room, right where he knew it would be. When he turned around, Gideon was standing in the doorway wearing his kick-ass suit and an expression to match.

  Pressing his lips together tightly, Gideon marched over to his workspace. “I’m not speaking to you.” He picked up a flash driv
e and shoved it into his laptop case.

  Alex ordered his feet to move, to take the first step toward the door before he said some other unforgivable thing, but his feet were clearly off the grid tonight, because they stayed put, pointing his body toward Gideon. “Why are you here?”

  “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to speak to you.” Gideon stuffed a wad of paper into a side pocket and zipped it shut with enough force to break the zipper pull.

  Despite his intentions, Alex’s temper kicked in, goosed by helpless jealousy. “Where’s Haynes? He have some pretentious hairdo emergency?” Great. Way to defuse the situation.

  Gideon paused in his flailing. His shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath, and the broken zipper fell to the floor with a tiny clatter. He advanced, chin thrust forward, fists clenched at his sides, until he was right in Alex’s face. “You. Have no right. To give me shit.”

  Maybe now was the time to step up and be the man his father would be proud of, even if it was too late for his heart. “Yeah. I know.”

  “If you wanted a say in my behavior, Alex, you shouldn’t have kicked me out the fucking door. How could you do that, you big,” Gideon smacked Alex in the chest with his clenched fists, “idiotic,” smack “insensitive,” smack “inconsiderate,” smacksmacksmack “douche bag?”

  Alex didn’t try to ward off the blows, although Gideon packed a wallop for such a slight guy. Alex deserved it. “I never meant—”

  “You lied to me.”

  “Hold on.” This time, Alex caught Gideon’s fists. “I never lied. I was an asshole, and I should have put it better, but what I said was the truth. Like you said, our . . . our patterns don’t match.” I wish they did.

  “I’m not talking about what happened on the hell-iday, you idiot. You lied to me before. More than once.”

  “What—”

  “No harm, you said. You promised.” He raised his head, and the pain in those gorgeous brown eyes almost took Alex to his knees.

  “Jesus, did I hurt you? When? Was it your hand? Did something happen when we . . . you know . . . were in bed? Something in the kitchen? What?”

  “My body is fine, you jerk.” Gideon’s bangs clung to his damp forehead, and he pushed them up with a swipe of his hand. “But what about my heart?”

  His heart? Alex’s own beat hard against his ribs. “What do you mean?”

  “You ruined me. I had a perfectly good opportunity for meaningless sex tonight, and I didn’t take it, and it’s all your fault.”

  “Wait . . . What? Are you talking about Haynes?”

  “Oh fine.” Gideon pulled at the collar of his shirt. “I suppose you think I’m a slut too. How many guys do you imagine I keep on the string at one time?”

  “I don’t know. You—”

  “I’ll tell you. One. I may have been a serial dater, but I never dated in parallel. And now I can’t handle a single one, and it’s—”

  “I know. All my fault.”

  Gideon jabbed a finger at Alex’s chest. “Exactly.”

  “Listen.” Careful. You might have a chance, so don’t screw it up. “I think we should talk, but I think we probably need to cool down a little beforehand.”

  “Cool down? Why? You think I’m too hot under the collar to have a reasonable conversation? If it weren’t so warm in here, I—” Gideon’s eyebrows drew together. “Shit. It’s warm in here. And it’s not just our heated tempers.”

  Gideon broke away and rushed to the thermostat. “Alex.” His voice was threaded with panic. “It’s seventy-nine degrees in here, and that’s without the servers turned on. It should never be above seventy-two even with all the machines live.”

  Not good. Alex strode to the HVAC console. “Okay, chill for a minute while I run the diagnostic.”

  “Chill? How can I chill when it’s like a freaking sauna in here?” Gideon paced across the room, clutching his hair. “How could this happen? I may have drop-kicked the web design project to hell and back, but I need the paycheck from this phase. If the AC isn’t working—”

  “Check it out.” Alex pointed to the display. “The thermostat’s been forced to heat instead of cool. That can’t happen on its own. Someone had to do it on purpose.”

  Gideon peered over Alex’s shoulder at the messages scrolling up the tiny screen. “If I’d kept to the Luddite’s famous list, the network would be online already. But we made a last-minute decision to delay until tomorrow morning. Do you think this was deliberate? Intentional sabotage?

  “It’s programmed to cycle up to ninety-eight and hold for six hours before it returns to normal, so yeah, I’d say that’s a big, fat affirmative. But . . .” Alex tapped a code into the thermostat controls. “I enabled full logging, including user IDs.”

  “I thought you didn’t do HVAC.”

  Alex shrugged. “Told you. I’m versatile.”

  “Really?” Gideon croaked. “Uh . . .”

  Alex whistled through his teeth, a long descending note. “Manny’s gonna love this. It was the consultant.”

  “You’re shitting me. Where?” Gideon crowded closer. Alex pointed to the name on the readout to keep himself from wrapping an arm around Gideon’s waist. “Holy Mary, mother of pearl. Travis fucking Beatty? Travis is the Clueless Consultant?”

  “You know the guy?”

  “We’re acquainted in a back-room sort of way. I’ve been avoiding him for months, ever since I had the execrable taste to date him twice. God. I should have listened to Charles. She’s always right about men.”

  “What kind of a bastard would do this to you?”

  “Obviously one with an agenda.” Gideon heaved a sigh. “I’m afraid I haven’t treated Travis particularly well.”

  “Fuck that. Nothing gives him the green light to destroy your reputation, not to mention thousands of dollars’ worth of company property.”

  Gideon blinked at him. “You’ve got a point. He’s their consultant. He’s supposed to protect their interests, not manipulate the situation for his own advantage, whatever that might be.” He glanced at the servers sleeping in their racks. “Even with the servers turned off, the heat might still damage them. They’re doomed. I’m doomed.” His eyes narrowed. “And Travis is definitely doomed.”

  “Hold on a sec, babe. I can fix this.” Alex tapped a few commands into the console and the AC kicked in with a hiss and a hum. “There. That’ll do—” He glanced at Gideon, who was staring at him with parted lips and wide eyes. “What?”

  “You called me ‘babe.’”

  Alex winced. “Sorry. Force of habit.” He shut off the HVAC display. “So what are you going to do now?”

  “Oh no, no, no. I’m not letting that pass.” Gideon shuffled forward until they were toe to toe. “We are going to have words, Alex Henning. Lots of them. Many will be of the four-letter variety because I’m not done being mad at you. We will talk, but first, I intend to go downstairs and punch Travis’s virtual lights out.”

  Alex put a hand on Gideon’s shoulder. “No more violence, right? I don’t think we handle it well.”

  “Don’t worry. Like I said, it will be a virtual beating. For him, I’ll haul out all the big, intimidating words.”

  “That works?”

  “Never fails. It’s how I made it through high school with my nose intact.”

  Geekspeak: Plonk

  Definition: To add an annoying forum user to one’s kill file, so their future posts are blocked, deleted, or otherwise ignored.

  Gideon headed for the main elevator. “Travis was downstairs a few minutes ago. If I’m lucky, I can get this settled right freaking now.”

  “Don’t go that way.”

  Gideon stopped his headlong rush and faced Alex. “Why not? I’m not bound by their stupid rules anymore. I quit.”

  “You quit?”

  “Why would I want to work for a total tool like Jared Haynes and his Luddite CFO? That man was clearly the valedictorian of his class at the School of Punitive Management.”

&nb
sp; “I can’t argue with that, but you said downstairs. Where downstairs?”

  “In the restaurant. The bar actually.”

  “Then let’s go down the service elevator. Landon’ll let us in the back door.”

  Face Landon after Jared’s little hissy fit? “I don’t think I’m Landon’s favorite person.”

  “He likes you fine, considering he’s never officially met you, but if you zoom through his restaurant like a heat-seeking missile, he might change his mind. If we go in the back, you can get to the bar without scaring the paying customers out of their appetizers.”

  Gideon took a deep breath. Right. A public fracas wouldn’t endear him to Landon. “Okay. You know best.”

  Alex hustled him into the service elevator. When the doors closed, Gideon wished he’d opted for the stairs, all umpteen flights. In the confines of the elevator, Alex’s scent—sawdust and sweat and the underlying tang of Irish Spring—sent Gideon’s nerves into overdrive. He counted down the floors.

  It felt wrong to be this close to Alex and not touch him. The urge to fling himself against that solid chest was nearly irresistible. But he tossed you out once. He could do it again. And what about you? When’s the last time you weren’t out the door before shit got real?

  The mechanical elevator voice announced, “Parking level.”

  When the doors slid open, Alex pointed down a service corridor. “This way.”

  At the back door of Downstairs Downtown, he pressed the buzzer in a pattern that Gideon didn’t catch. “Is that a code?”

  “Morse. Landon and I learned it when we were kids. His family lived behind us, on the next block. We used to signal each other with flashlights from our bedroom windows whenever we got grounded.”

  “Did that happen frequently?”

  Alex grinned. “Only every other week or so.”

  The door swung open, revealing Landon in his host’s not-quite-a-tux. God, he was taller than Alex. But so what? Gideon was so over that neurosis.

  Landon’s mouth twisted in disgust. “I thought I got rid of you.”