In the Ruins (Metahuman Files Book 2)

by Hailey Turner

  “What do they have on him?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d put good money on it being pictures or video of Edward in a compromising situation. I backtracked his whereabouts through the holidays. Edward showed up on the guest list to a swanky, invite-only house party thrown by a famous footballer. Guess who else was on the list?”

  “Jansen.”

  Katie nodded, rubbing at her eyes. The skin beneath them looked bruised and her blonde hair was a little on the stringy side. Jamie made a mental note to order her to bed after this. “Got it in one. I’d go with the act being sexual in nature over drugs. Edward is newly married and he’s played up the wholesome businessman identity because it helps the company’s bottom line. Cheating on his wife would be a scandal, at least in the business world.”

  “Can’t have that,” Jamie murmured.

  “A middleman contacted Edward with an offer to destroy the evidence—which we both know won’t happen—in exchange for the business agreeing to a cybersecurity company of their choosing to run integrity tests on the company’s system. Rather than go to the police, Edward agreed to the terms without his father knowing about it.”

  “Jansen probably got to him.”

  “He sure tried hard enough to break into our minds at lunch on Sunday. I’d be surprised if he didn’t lay the empathic groundwork in Edward’s mind during the party.” Katie rubbed at a stiff shoulder before crossing her arms over her chest. “We’re the company Jansen—and in extension the Pavluhkins—want to use to undermine Saunders & Associates. Our job is to create a zero-day exploit in their security system during the test and patch phase that allows the Pavluhkins to trawl their client information in secret through a backdoor, probably for new victims.”

  “Who’s on the list that they want?”

  “Aside from wealthy business types? More than two dozen current and former government officials from various different countries.”

  “So they’re not going to force Edward to buy up a shell company?”

  “Maybe they will at a later date, but right now it seems who they know is more important than what the Pavluhkins can get them to buy as a cover.” Katie chewed on her bottom lip, the skin there ragged. “We’d be destroying a lot of lives if we go forward with this. The amount of kompromat the Pavluhkins can pin to these people is ruining. It’s not a decision we should make alone.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Jamie agreed, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder. “Go get some rest, Katie. I’ll handle it from here. Thanks for your hard work.”

  “Anytime.”

  She wandered out of the office yawning, leaving Jamie behind to process the information she’d put together for him. After only a couple of minutes of hard thinking, Jamie called a number that wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him if his comms log was ever reviewed.

  “What?” Liam asked, sounding wide awake even at this early hour.

  “Breakfast is on me today. I expect to see you in a couple of hours. Zero seven hundred, sharp. Don’t be late,” Jamie said.

  “I’ll be late if I want to.”

  Liam wasn’t late, though he only gave himself about twenty seconds to spare.

  Jamie was dressed and waiting for him in the office when he finally arrived hours later. Everyone except for Katie was up and getting ready for the day ahead, all of them aware that Liam coming over this early wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

  “So what is it? Insider trading? Sex scandal? Selling of nuclear weapons on the black market?” Liam asked as he sat down opposite Jamie at the desk.

  “You jumped from white-collar crime to treason in less than a second. That’s not how normal people think,” Jamie replied.

  “We’re not normal. Katie work her magic?”

  “And then some.”

  Jamie briefed Liam as quickly and concisely as he could, laying out the job Jansen wanted them to do. Liam listened with a frown on his face that got steadily deeper as he flicked through the data Katie had compiled.

  “Edward Saunders and his father are British citizens. Allowing their ruination won’t play well in the press if this gets out,” Liam said slowly.

  “I know,” Jamie agreed. “To say nothing of the reputations of the international people their business relies on, or my own when it’s discovered Root Source, Inc. allowed a secondary breach to happen on purpose at the behest of a criminal enterprise.”

  Liam grimaced, tapping his fingers against the chair’s armrest. “It’s a shit situation all around. I need to bring this to headquarters. I can’t green light this on my own.”

  “I figured you’d say that.” Jamie handed over a spare solid state drive he’d copied all the data to. “We’re running tight, so if you can get me an answer before tonight, I’d appreciate it. We can’t move forward without approval, and an invitation to the gala is contingent on this job. Katie will still need a few days to initiate the business deal with Saunders & Associates.”

  “Think I’ll skip the sit-down meal and get moving. You’ll hear from me one way or another by tonight,” Liam promised, snagging a scone from the half-demolished breakfast platter sitting on the desk.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me yet.” Liam got to his feet, eyeing Jamie. “What are you going to do in the meantime?”

  Jamie spread his hands, encompassing the holoscreens layered in the air around the desk. “Plan accordingly.”

  “I’ll leave you to it.”

  Liam probably thought Jamie would immerse himself in the various ways this mission could all go spectacularly wrong and work his way out of the problems. Which, to be fair, was exactly what Jamie did throughout most of the morning. Once lunch was over however, Jamie pried Kyle away from monitoring the surveillance feed of the surrounding neighborhood, despite his protest, in favor of an afternoon out to see and be seen in keeping with their covers.

  Jamie, never one to break a promise if he could avoid it, booked a private personal shopping appointment at a legacy luxury design house on Bond Street in the West End. Unlike some of the other shopping areas in London, Bond Street catered more to the wealthy than the middle class, with flagship stores of prominent design houses, jewelry stores, and everything in between taking up space street-side in the renovated buildings.

  A good portion of everyday shopping was done online, but people always needed time away from work and home. Physical stores hadn’t disappeared, they’d merely narrowed down into specific niches that survived the Digital Revolutions around the end of the twentieth century. Which meant nowadays the entire aesthetic of Bond Street was sleek and subtle on the outside while the interiors of well-branded stores overflowed with luxury products and fawning attention to their wealthy clientele. Three-dimensional holographic advertisements were relegated to one or two windows in each shop, showcasing the hottest styles of the season strutting down the fashion runways.

  Levels of wealth existed even in the retail environment, or rather, especially within retail. What a person could afford and show off was as much a status symbol as where they dined and who they were seen with. Jamie had learned young the skill of putting yourself out there in a calculating way to draw the exact kind of attention you wanted. Their arrival didn’t go unnoticed when the SUV pulled up in front of the shop in question, the manager hovering at the entrance, waiting for them.

  Jamie suffered through the effusive greeting, steering Kyle through the brightly lit store showcasing the latest men’s styles while other shoppers looked on curiously. Black-suited security guards manned the front entrance and kept an eye on the establishment while CCTV blanketed every conceivable angle save within the dressing rooms, for which Jamie was grateful.

  “I don’t see why you couldn’t have just bought a suit for me off the rack,” Kyle muttered, working to undo the buttons on his wrinkled dress shirt.

  Jamie eyed where Kyle stood on the slightly elevated dressing platform in front of a three-way mirror, enjoying the view. “Do I look like someone who buys off
the rack?”

  “It’s clothes. You could order it all online and a person wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

  Jamie chuckled, ignoring the scandalized look their personal shopping attendant tried to hide as the man ferried in various items for their appointment. Jamie took the glass of whiskey a different attendant handed him before she swept out of the room, the door sliding shut behind her. Donovan stood guard outside the dressing room, having no desire to be in there with them while they played this game.

  Despite the worry simmering in the back of Jamie’s mind, he had to admit he was enjoying certain aspects of their covers. Watching Kyle strip down to his underwear in public so he could be measured and dressed to Jamie’s liking wasn’t a bad way to pass an afternoon.

  Kyle, for his part, wasn’t exactly faking his dislike of the high-class shopping experience. Some of his reactions were truly his own, raw and telling, especially when it came to confirming the measurement of his inseam. The dressing room’s body scan listed out his measurements for the attendant on hand, who felt it was his duty to double-check using a more traditional method. The attendant might have asked Kyle to adjust himself out of the way of the measuring device that was slipped right up against the apex of his inner thigh, but he sure didn’t like it, judging by the look on Kyle’s face. Jamie had to cough to cover his laughter.

  “You think this is funny,” Kyle accused.

  “On the contrary, I think it’s educational,” Jamie replied around a grin. “Stop wriggling like a little boy getting fitted for his first pair of dress pants. I know you can stay still.”

  “The scan alone was more than enough.”

  “A good tailor and designer always checks their measurements twice. You pay for the attention to detail in a place like this.”

  Kyle shot him a murderous look before holding himself rigidly still as the attendant finished double-checking his measurements, comparing them to the numbers from the scan on the display his data rings produced. The man bustled out of the room, neither of them watching him leave. Kyle crossed his arms over his chest, not in the least embarrassed by his state of undress. Jamie lazily let his gaze trail up and down Kyle’s trim body before taking a sip of his drink.

  “Is this what you have to go through every time you get a new suit?” Kyle asked.

  “My measurements are on file with my tailor and they are rechecked quarterly. Bespoke designs clothes for you down to the last inch for a perfect fit. It’s too close to Friday to go to Savile Row and plan for multiple fittings, and a tuxedo takes a bit more work than a regular suit. I don’t know if anything will come up between now and then, which means we have to settle for the next best thing that isn’t off the rack.”

  “Like I care what I wear to the gala.”

  “I care what you’ll be wearing to the gala. If I want you in a tux, you’ll wear a tux. If I want you to go without, then you will.”

  Kyle arched an eyebrow, shifting on his feet. “Is that right? I don’t think I’d fit the dress code going mostly naked to a fancy party like that.”

  Jamie swallowed another sip of whiskey and set the glass aside. “Who says you’d be going? I’d leave you at home with instructions to wait for me.”

  Kyle sucked in a sharp breath at that offhand comment. They both knew exactly what Jamie would expect to see if he came home from a night out alone to Kyle in his bed. The thought made Jamie’s cock twitch in his pants, though he didn’t allow himself to dwell on the idea for very long. It really wasn’t the time and place.

  “I’d say let’s do that for this gala, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go without me,” Kyle finally said.

  “Then stop complaining about getting properly fitted for your clothes. I like seeing you dressed up.”

  “You like dressing me.”

  “That, too.”

  Their attendant came back inside the dressing room with an armful of clothes, trailed by a second attendant. Between the two of them, they hung the suit jackets, dress shirts, pants, and vests around the private room on hidden hooks. Kyle shot Jamie a pleading look at the amount of clothes he was expected to try on, which Jamie ignored.

  “Nix the white and the gray outfits. I want him in black,” Jamie said as he bent his leg to rest his right ankle over his left knee, watching with a keen eye as Kyle was handed a crisp, white dress shirt.

  “Of course,” their attendant said, snapping his fingers at his helper.

  The white and gray tuxedos were taken out of the room. The design house didn’t carry a wide range of tuxedos, but what styles they produced were in a classically modern style Jamie preferred over a statement outfit some of his peers enjoyed. No crushed velvet or color of the season, just expensive Italian virgin wool cut into slim-fitting black pants with a subtle satin trim lining the sides that reminded him of their mess dress. The satin was repeated on the edge of the coat pockets and along the notched lapel in such a way that it wasn’t overwhelming.

  One tuxedo jacket came with tails, but Jamie waved that choice off. He’d never liked that older style and he didn’t think Kyle would either. What he ended up putting Kyle in was a classic outfit that would blend in with everyone else at the party wearing a similar look, which was exactly what Jamie wanted. He knew Kyle hated being on display for this mission, the sniper in him bemoaning the lack of actual physical cover. At least this way, Jamie hoped to ease his mind a little.

  Kyle pointed at the bow tie the attendant held in his hand. “No.”

  “Yes,” Jamie countered.

  “I hate this.”

  “You’ll thank me later.”

  “You wish I’ll thank you later,” Kyle muttered under his breath before submitting to the hands of the attendant.

  In the end, Jamie got Kyle in a tuxedo that passed his notoriously high approval level. The final result was a look Jamie really wouldn’t mind peeling Kyle out of if they were home and they didn’t have a countdown hanging over their heads. The attendant discreetly left with a mutter about booking for a rush alteration. Jamie barely heard him, all his attention focused on Kyle as he drank in the sight of the other man.

  Kyle didn’t squirm under Jamie’s thorough perusal, mindful of Jamie’s previous command. Jamie finally crooked a finger at him and Kyle stepped off the dressing platform, walking toward him in the shiny black wingtips Jamie had chosen for him.

  “You look good,” Jamie said as Kyle crawled onto his lap, knees on either side of Jamie’s legs.

  Kyle wrapped his arms around Jamie’s shoulders, casually running his fingers through the short blond hair at the nape of Jamie’s neck. “It’s too tight. Where the fuck am I supposed to hide a gun on me? You’d be able to see the imprint of it a mile away.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “Like hell I am. There’s barely any room to breathe in this thing.”

  Jamie rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen you weighted down with fifty pounds of gear and you never complained, yet a proper fit is what has you whining?”

  “I can carry my gear in uniform. I can’t carry anything while wearing this getup.”

  “This getup is your uniform for the gala. You’re not getting out of it.”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind helping me get out of it right now.”

  Jamie skimmed his hands up Kyle’s torso, liking the feel of the soft fabric beneath his hands, liking the feel of Kyle even more. “You’re wearing it. That’s final.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jamie leaned up and nipped at Kyle’s mouth, pleased when he immediately parted his lips to let Jamie kiss him. Jamie slipped his tongue into Kyle’s mouth, very thoroughly mapping out the taste of him, swallowing the soft moan Kyle couldn’t help but let out. He vaguely heard the door behind the couch they were seated in slide open before someone let out a strangled cough. Jamie broke the kiss with an irritated sigh.

  “We’ll be right out,” he called over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off Kyle.

  Kyle
buried his face against Jamie’s neck, laughing, his whole body shaking with it. Behind them, Jamie heard Donovan heave out a sigh and make their apologies for them. The door slid shut and Jamie let himself finally crack a smile now that no one could see him in the three-way mirror.

  “You’re impossible,” Jamie said, pushing Kyle off his lap.

  “Yeah, but you like me that way.”

  Jamie reeled him back in by the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket for one last kiss that was just as deep as the last. “Yeah, I do.”

  At 2137 on a Tuesday evening, Alpha Team got the green light to continue with their mission.

  The UMG, after an emergency meeting with their counterparts in the United States and the European Alliance, agreed to the parameters of the job that Nikolaas Jansen wanted them to do. That it would possibly destroy a family’s business and reputation, to say nothing of the people the Presnenskaya Bratva hoped to get their claws into, was a small price to pay, objectively speaking. If the means to an end resulted in unearthing the location of the labs where Splice experiments were being performed by the criminal alliance, then the governments of more than a dozen countries believed it was worth the risk.

  Kyle knew he should be appalled at the way the brass weighed out the decision—who was worth more, in the end, and who wasn’t—but he’d seen the same sort of decisions made in war. He’d made them himself in the uncertainty of battle. The majority outweighed the minority in democracy, and while this fight wasn’t a democracy, the results were still the same.

  None of them would sleep easy, despite the decision being taken out of their hands. There was no clear conscience to be had with any of them as they accepted their orders to proceed. Alpha Team was the bullet, even if someone else was pulling the trigger, and they couldn’t ever escape that.